Norton Anthology of American Literature (Shorter Sixth Edition)

SHORTER

S I X T H

EDITION

The Norton Anthology of American Literature SHORTER SIXTH EDITION Nina Baym, General

Editor

j

SWANLUND CHAIR AND CENTER ADVANCED STUDY PROFESSOR OF

FOR ENGLISH

JUBILEE PROFESSOR OF LIBERAL ARTS AND UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT

SCIENCES

URBANA-CHAMPAIGN

W • W • N O R T O N & C O M P A N Y • New York •

London

Copyright © 2003, 1999, 1995, 1989, 1985, 1979 by W. W. Norton & Company, Inc. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. Since this page cannot legibly accommodate all the copyright notices, the Permissions Acknowledgments constitute an extension of the copyright page. Editor: Julia Reidhead Project Editor: Anne Hellman Assistant Editor: Brian Baker Production Manager: Diane O'Connor Permissions Manager: Nancy Rodwan Permissions Clearing: Margaret Corenstein Text Design: Antonina Krass Art Research: Neil Ryder Hoos The text ol this book is composed in Fairfield Medium with the display set in Bernhard Modern. Composition by Binghamton Valley Composition. Manufacturing by R. R. Donnelley & Sons, Inc. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data The Norton anthology of American literature / Nina Baym, general editor. — Shorter 6 l h ed. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. I S B N 0 - 3 9 3 - 9 7 9 6 9 - 5 (PBK.)

1. American literature. 2. United States—Literary collections. I. Baym, Nina. PS507.N65 2002b 810.8—dc21 2002032417 W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 101 10 www.wwnorton.com W. W. Norton & Company Ltd., Castle House, 75/76 Wells Street, London WIT 3QT 3 4567890

Native American Literatures • K R U P A T Literature to 1700 • F R A N K L I N American Literature 1 7 0 0 - 1 8 2 0 • G U R A • M U R P H Y American Literature 1 8 2 0 - 1 8 6 5 • P A R K E R American Literature 1 8 6 5 - 1 9 1 4 • G O T T E S M A N American Literature between the Wars, 1 9 1 4 - 1 9 4 5 BAYM

•

HOLLAND

American Prose since 1945 • K L I N K O W I T Z American Poetry since 1945 • W A L L A C E

• •

PRITCHARD KALSTONE

W a y n e Franklin NORTHEASTERN

UNIVERSITY

Ronald Gottesman UNIVERSITY OF S O U T H E R N

CALIFORNIA

Philip F. G u r a UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA, C H A P E L

HILL

L a u r e n c e B. H o l l a n d LATE OF THE J O H N S HOPKINS UNrVERSITY

David K a l s t o n e LATE OF R U T G E R S , T H E STATE UNIVERSITY OF N E W J E R S E Y

J e r o m e Klinkowitz U N I V E R S I T Y O F N O R T H E R N IOWA

Arnold K r u p a t SARAH L A W R E N C E

COLLEGE

Francis Murphy EMERITUS, SMITH

COLLEGE

H e r s h e l Parker E M E R I T U S , UNIVERSITY OF DELAWARE

William H . Pritchard AMHERST COLLEGE

Patricia B. W a l l a c e VASSAR

COLLEGE

The Norton Anthology of American Literature S H O R T E R S I X T H

E D I T I O N

Contents P R E F A C E TO T H E S H O R T E R SIXTH EDITION ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

XXIX XXXI11

Literature to

1700 1

Introduction

15

Timeline STORIES OF THE BEGINNING OF THE WORLD T h e Iroquois Creation Story (version by David C u s i c k ) 17 Pima Stories of the Beginning of the World (versions by J . W . Lloyd) T h e Story of the Creation 22

17 21

CHRISTOPHER C O L U M B U S (1451-1506) From Letter to Luis de Santangel Regarding the First Voyage [February 15, 1493] 26 From Letter to Ferdinand and Isabella Regarding the Fourth Voyage [July 7, 1503] 27

25

ALVAR N U N E Z C A B E Z A D E VACA (c. 1 4 9 0 - 1 5 5 8 ) T h e Relation of Alvar N u n e z C a b e z a de Vaca 30 [Dedication] 30 [The M a l h a d o Way of Life] 31 [Our Life a m o n g the Avavares and Arbadaos] 33 [ C u s t o m s of That Region] 34 [The First Confrontation] 35 [The Falling-Out with O u r C o u n t r y m e n ] 35

29

G A R C I L A S O D E LA V E G A ( 1 5 3 9 - 1 6 1 6 ) 37 T h e Florida of the Inca ( 1 6 0 5 ) 38 C h a p t e r IV. Of the Magnanimity of the C u r a c a or C a c i q u e M u c o c o , to whom the Captive C o m m e n d e d Himself 38 C h a p t e r V. T h e Governor S e n d s for J u a n Ortiz 40 JOHN SMITH (1580-1631) T h e General History of Virginia, New E n g l a n d , and the S u m m e r Isles 44 T h e Third Book. From C h a p t e r 2. What H a p p e n e d till the First Supply 44 T h e Fourth Book. [Smith's Farewell to Virginia] 53

42

viii

/

CONTENTS

From A Description of New England From N e w England's Trials 57

53

NATIVE AMERICAN TRICKSTER TALES

59

WINNEBAGO 61 Felix White Sr.'s Introduction to Wakjankaga (transcribed and translated by Kathleen Danker and Felix White) 62 F r o m T h e W i n n e b a g o Trickster Cycle (edited by Paul Radin) 65 KOASATI 70 T h e Bungling Host (versions by Bel Abbey and Selin Williams; recorded and translated by J o h n R. Swanton and Geoffrey Kimball) 70

WILLIAM BRADFORD (1590-1657) 75 O f Plymouth Plantation 76 Book I C h a p t e r IX. O f Their Voyage and How They P a s s e d the S e a ; and of Their S a f e Arrival at C a p e C o d 76 From C h a p t e r X. Showing How They S o u g h t O u t a Place of Habitation; and VvTiat Befell T h e m T h e r e a b o u t 79 Book II C h a p t e r XI. T h e Remainder of Anno 1 6 2 0 84 [The Mayflower C o m p a c t ] 84 [The Starving T i m e ] 85 [Indian Relations] 86 C h a p t e r XII. Anno 1621 [First Thanksgiving] 89 C h a p t e r XIX. Anno D o m : 1628 [ T h o m a s Morton of Merrymount] 89 C h a p t e r XXIII. Anno D o m : 1 6 3 2 [Prosperity Brings Dispersal of Population] 93 JOHN WINTHROP( 1588-1649) A Model of Christian Charity 95 From T h e Journal of J o h n Winthrop

94 106

A N N E B R A D S T R E E T (c. 1 6 1 2 - 1 6 7 2 ) T h e Prologue 115 T o Her Father with S o m e Verses 117 Contemplations 117 T h e Author to Her Book 124 Before the Birth of O n e of Her Children 124 T o My Dear and Loving H u s b a n d 125 A Letter to Her H u s b a n d , Absent upon Public Employment In Memory of My D e a r Grandchild Elizabeth Bradstreet Here Follows S o m e Verses upon the Burning of O u r H o u s e T o My D e a r Children 128

114

125 126 127

CONTENTS

/

ix

In Honor of that High and Mighty Princess Queen Elizabeth of Happy Memory 131 MARY R O W L A N D S O N (c. 1 6 3 6 - 1 7 1 1 ) A Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of M r s . Mary Rowlandson 136 T h e First Remove 138 T h e S e c o n d Remove 138 T h e Third Remove 139 T h e Twelfth Remove 142 T h e Twentieth Remove 143

135

E D W A R D T A Y L O R (c. 1 6 4 2 - 1 7 2 9 )

152

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS

153

Prologue 153 Meditation 8 (First Series) 154 Meditation 2 2 (First Series) 155 Meditation 4 2 (First Series) 156 Upon Wedlock, and Death of Children Upon a W a s p Chilled with C o l d 159 Huswiferv 160

1 57

COTTON MATHER (1663-1728) MAGNALIA CHRISTI AMERICANA

161 163

Galeacius Secundus: T h e Life of William Bradford, E s q . , Governor of Plymouth Colony 163

American Literature

1700-1820

Introduction

171

Timeline

180

JONATHAN EDWARDS (1703-1758) Personal Narrative 183 A Divine and Supernatural Light 194 Sinners in the H a n d s of an Angry G o d

182

207

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN (1706-1790) T h e Way to Wealth 221 Remarks C o n c e r n i n g the S a v a g e s of North America T h e Autobiography 231 [Part O n e ] 231 [Part Two] 276 SAMSON O C C O M (1723-1792) A Short Narrative of My Life

219 227

293 294

J . H E C T O R S T . J O H N D E C R E V E C O E U R ( 1 7 3 5 1813) Letters from an American F a r m e r 300 Letter III. What Is an American 300 Letter IX. Description of Charles-Town 310

299

x

/

CONTENTS

ANNIS BOUDINOT STOCKTON (1736-1801) 5 A S a r c a s m against the ladies in a newspaper; An impromptu answer 316 T o my B u r r i s s a — 316 T o L a u r a — a card 317 An O d e on the birth day of the illustrious G e o r g e Washington, President of the United S t a t e s 317 Sensibilityt,] an ode 319 T e a r s of friendship^] Elegy the third.—to a friend j u s t married, and who promised to write, on parting, but had neglected it. 319 T H O M A S PAINE (1737-1809) Common Sense 321 Introduction 321 From III. T h o u g h t s on the Present S t a t e of American Affairs T h e Crisis, N o . 1 328 THOMAS JEFFERSON (1743-1826) T h e Autobiography of T h o m a s Jefferson 336 From T h e Declaration of Independence 336 Notes on the State of Virginia 342 Query XVII. Religion 342 Letter to J o h n A d a m s (October 2 8 , 1 8 1 3 ) [The Natural Aristocrat]

320

322

334

346

OLAUDAH EQUIANO (1745-1797) From T h e Interesting Narrative of the Life of O l a u d a h E q u i a n o , or G u s t a v u s V a s s a , the African, Written by Himself 351

350

PHILIP FRENEAU (1752-1832) On the Emigration to America and Peopling the Western Country On Mr. Paine's Rights of M a n 364 On the Religion of N a t u r e 365

361 362

P H I L L I S W H E A T L E Y (c. 1 7 5 3 - 1 7 8 4 ) On Being Brought from Africa to America 367 T o the University of C a m b r i d g e , in N e w England 368 O n the Death of the Rev. Mr. G e o r g e Whitefield, 1 7 7 0 368 T h o u g h t s on the Works of Providence 370 T o S . M . , A Young African Painter, on S e e i n g His Works 373 T o His Excellency General Washington 374 T o the Right Honorable William, Earl of Dartmouth 375 To Maecenus 376

366

ROYALL TYLER ( 1 7 5 7 - 1 8 2 6 ) The Contrast 379

378

B R I T O N H A M M O N (fl. 1760) 419 Narrative Of the U n c o m m o n Sufferings, and Surprizing Deliverance of Briton H a m m o n , a Negro M a n 420

CONTENTS

American Literature

1820—1865

Introduction Timeline W A S H I N G T O N IRVING (1783-1859) Rip Van Winkle 448 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER (1789-1851) T h e Pioneers 462 C h a p t e r III. [The Slaughter of the Pigeons]

462

WILLIAM C U L L E N BRYANT (1794-1878) Thanatopsis 470 T o a Waterfowl 472 T h e Prairies 473 WILLIAM APESS (1798-1839) An Indian's Looking-Glass for the White M a n

477

RALPH WALDO E M E R S O N (1803-1882) Nature 485 T h e American Scholar 514 T h e Divinity School Address 527 Self-Reliance 539 Experience 556

THE CHEROKEE MEMORIALS [Note on the Accompanying M e m o r i a l s , February 15, 1 8 3 0 ] [Memorial of the C h e r o k e e C o u n c i l , N o v e m b e r 5, 1829] [Memorial of the C h e r o k e e Citizens, D e c e m b e r 18, 1829] NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE (1804-1864) My K i n s m a n , Major Molineux 584 Roger Malvin's Burial 597 Young G o o d m a n Brown 610 T h e May-Pole of Merry M o u n t 619 T h e Minister's Black Veil 626 T h e Birth-Mark 635 Rappaccini's Daughter 647 HENRY WADSWORTH L O N G F E L L O W (1807-1882) A P s a l m of Life 668 T h e Slave's D r e a m 669 T h e Jewish C e m e t e r y at Newport 671 J O H N GREENLEAF WHITTIER (1807-1892) Ichabod! 674 S n o w - B o u n d : A Winter Idyl 675

573 574 578

xii

/

CONTENTS

EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809-1849) Sonnet—To Science 696 T o Helen 697 T h e Raven 697 To . U l a l u m e : A Ballad 701 Annabel L e e 703 Ligeia 704 T h e Fall of the H o u s e of Usher 714 T h e Tell-Tale Heart 727 T h e Purloined Letter 731 T h e C a s k of Amontillado 743 T h e Philosophy of C o m p o s i t i o n 748

694

ABRAHAM L I N C O L N (1809-1865) Address Delivered at the Dedication of the C e m e t e r y at Gettysburg, November 19, 1863 758 S e c o n d Inaugural Address, M a r c h 4, 1865 759

757

MARGARET FULLER (1810-1850) T h e Great Lawsuit. MAN versus MEN. WOMAN WOMEN. 763 [Four Kinds of Equality] 763 [The Great Radical Dualism] 767

760 versus

HARRIET B E E C H E R STOWE (1811-1896) U n c l e T o m ' s C a b i n ; or, Life a m o n g the Lowly 774 C h a p t e r VII. T h e Mother's Struggle 774 C h a p t e r IX. In Which It Appears that a S e n a t o r Is but a M a n C h a p t e r XII. Select Incident of Lawful T r a d e 794

771

783

FANNY F E R N (SARAH WILLIS PARTON) ( 1 8 1 1 - 1 8 7 2 ) M a l e Criticism on L a d i e s ' Books 808 " F r e s h Leaves, by Fanny F e r n " 809 A Law More Nice Than Just 810

806

H A R R I E T J A C O B S (c. 1 8 1 3 - 1 8 9 7 ) Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl 813 I. Childhood 813 VII. T h e Lover 816 X. A Perilous P a s s a g e in the Slave Girl's Life XIV. Another Link to Life 824 XXI. T h e Loophole of Retreat 826 X L I . Free at Last 829

812

H E N R Y DAVID T H O R E A U ( 1 8 1 7 - 1 8 6 2 ) Resistance to Civil Government 837 Walden, or Life in the W o o d s 853 Economy 853 Where I Lived, and What I Lived For Sounds 905 Solitude 915

820

834

895

CONTENTS

/

xiii

Spring 920 Conclusion 931 FREDERICK DOUGLASS (1818-1895) 939 Narrative of the Life of Frederick D o u g l a s s , an American Slave, Written by Himself 942 Chapter I 942 C h a p t e r VI 945 C h a p t e r VII 947 C h a p t e r IX 951 Chapter X 954 LOUISA AMELIA SMITH CLAPPE (1819-1906) California, in 1 8 5 2 : R e s i d e n c e in the M i n e s 974 Letter 12 (January 2 7 , 1852) 974 Letter 22 (October 2 7 , 1 8 5 2 ) 979

973

WALT WHITMAN (1819-1892) Preface to Leaves of Grass ( 1 8 5 5 ) 989 S o n g of Myself ( 1 8 8 1 ) 1003 Letter to Ralph Waldo E m e r s o n (August 1856) [Whitman's 1856 Manifesto] 1047 Live Oak, with M o s s 1054

985

CHILDREN

O F ADAM

1058

Spontaneous Me 1058 O n c e I Pass'd through a Populous City Facing West from California's S h o r e s CALAMUS

1060

Trickle Drops 1060 Here the Frailest Leaves of M e C r o s s i n g Brooklyn Ferry 1061 SEA-DRIFT

1061

1066

Out of the C r a d l e Endlessly Rocking li\

I III

1060 1060

ROADSIDE

1066

1070

When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer DRUM-TAPS

1070

1071

Beat! Beat! D r u m s ! 1071 Cavalry C r o s s i n g a Ford 1072 The Wound-Dresser 1072 Reconciliation 1074 MEMORIES OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN

1074

When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd WHISPERS

OF HEAVENLY DEATH

A Noiseless Patient Spider

1

1074

080

1080

HERMAN MELVILLE (1819-1891) Bartleby, the Scrivener 1086 Benito C e r e n o 1111

1081

xiv

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CONTENTS

EMILY D I C K I N S O N ( 1 8 3 0 - 1 8 8 6 ) 4 9 ("I never lost as m u c h but twice") 1171 6 7 ( " S u c c e s s is counted sweetest") 1171 1172 130 " T h e s e are the days when Birds c o m e b a c k — " ) ' F a i t h ' i s a fine invention") 1172 185 1172 2 1 4 "I taste a liquor never b r e w e d — " ) 1173 2 1 6 " S a f e in their Alabaster C h a m b e r s — " ) 1174 2 4 1 "I like a look of Agony") 1174 2 4 9 "Wild Nights—Wild Nights!") 1174 2 5 8 "There's a certain Slant of light") 1175 2 8 7 "A C l o c k s t o p p e d — " ) 1175 3 0 3 "The Soul selects her own Society—") 1176 3 2 8 "A Bird c a m e down the W a l k — " ) 1176 341 "After great pain, a formal feeling c o m e s — " ) 1177 3 4 8 "I dreaded that first Robin, so") 1178 4 3 5 " M u c h M a d n e s s is divinest S e n s e — " ) 1178 4 4 1 "This is my letter to the World") 1178 4 4 8 "This was a Poet—It is T h a t " ) 1179 4 4 9 "I died for B e a u t y — b u t was scarce") 1179 4 6 5 "I heard a Fly buzz—when I d i e d — " ) 1180 501 "This World is not C o n c l u s i o n " ) 505 "I would not p a i n t — a picture—") 1180 5 1 0 "It was not D e a t h , for I stood up") 1181 6 3 2 " T h e Brain—is wider than the Sky—") 1182 6 4 0 "I cannot live with Y o u — " ) 1182 6 5 0 " P a i n — h a s an Element of B l a n k — " ) 1183 7 1 2 " B e c a u s e I could not stop for D e a t h — " ) 1184 7 5 4 " M y Life had s t o o d — a L o a d e d G u n — " ) 1184 9 8 6 "A narrow Fellow in the G r a s s " ) 1185 1078 ("The Bustle in a H o u s e " ) 1186 1186 1129 ("Tell all the Truth but tell it s l a n t — " ) 1624 ("Apparently with no surprise") 1187 1 7 3 2 ("My life closed twice before its close;") 1187 Letters to T h o m a s Wentworth Higginson 1187 [Say If My Verse Is Alive?] (April 15, 1 8 6 2 ) 1187 [My B u s i n e s s Is Circumference] (July 1 8 6 2 ) 1188 R E B E C C A H A R D I N G DAVIS ( 1 8 3 1 - 1 9 1 0 ) Life in the Iron-Mills 1191 E M M A LAZARUS (1849-1887) In the Jewish Cemetery at Newport 1492 1220 T h e New C o l o s s u s 1221

1219

American Literature

1865—1914

Introduction Timeline M A R K T W A I N ( S a m u e l L. C l e m e n s ) ( 1 8 3 5 - 1 9 1 0 ) T h e Notorious J u m p i n g Frog of Calaveras County

1240

CONTENTS

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xv

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn 1244 Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses 1432 W. D. H O W E L L S ( 1 8 3 7 - 1 9 2 0 ) Editha 1443

1441

AMBROSE BIERCE (1842-1914?) O c c u r r e n c e at Owl Creek Bridge

1453 1454

NATIVE AMERICAN ORATORY

1460

C O C H I S E (c. 1 8 1 2 - 1 8 7 4 ) [I am alone] 1462

1461

CHARLOT(c. 1831-1900) [He has filled graves with our bones]

1463 1464

S A R A H M O R G A N BRYAN P I A T T ( 1 8 3 6 - 1 9 1 9 ) T h e Palace Burner 1468 A Pique at Parting 1469 In a Queen's D o m a i n 1470 Her Word of Reproach 1471 Army of O c c u p a t i o n 1471 Answering a Child 1472

1467

BRET HARTE (1836-1902) T h e O u t c a s t s of Poker Flat

1473 1474

CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON (1840-1894) Miss Grief 1483

1482

HENRY JAMES (1843-1916) Daisy Miller: A Study 1501 T h e Real T h i n g 1539 T h e Beast in the J u n g l e 1556

1498

SARAH O R N E J E W E T T (1849-1909) A White Heron 1587

1586

KATE C H O P I N ( 1 8 5 0 - 1 9 0 4 ) 1 596 At the 'Cadian Ball The Storm 1603 Desiree's Baby 1607

1594

MARY E . W I L K I N S F R E E M A N ( 1 8 5 2 - 1 9 3 0 ) A New England Nun 1612

1611

B O O K E R T. W A S H I N G T O N ( 1 8 5 6 ? - 1 9 1 5 ) U p from Slavery 1622 C h a p t e r XIV. T h e Atlanta Exposition Address

1621 1622

xvi

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CONTENTS

C H A R L E S W. C H E S N U T T ( 1 8 5 8 - 1 9 3 2 ) T h e G o o p h e r e d Grapevine 1632 T h e Wife of His Youth 1639

1630

ABRAHAM CAHAN (1860-1951) A Sweat-Shop Romance 1649

1647

CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN (1860-1935) T h e Yellow Wall-paper 1659

1658

EDITH WHARTON (1862-1937) S o u l s Belated 1673

1671

S U I S I N FAR (Edith M a u d Eaton) ( 1 8 6 7 - 1 9 1 4 ) M r s . Spring Fragrance 1693

1692

W. E . B. D U B O I S ( 1 8 6 8 - 1 9 6 3 ) T h e S o u l s of Black Folk 1703 T h e Forethought 1703 I. Of Our Spiritual Strivings 1704 III. O f Mr. Booker T . Washington and Others

1702

1710

STEPHEN CRANE (1871-1900) T h e Open Boat 1721 T h e Blue Hotel 1738 An E p i s o d e of War 1758

1719

JACK LONDON (1876-1916) T o Build a Fire 1762

1761

NATIVE AMERICAN CHANTS AND SONGS T H E NAVAJO N I G H T C H A N T The S a c r e d M o u n t a i n s 1774 D a n c e of the Atsalei, Thunderbirds

1773 1773

1776

CHIPPEWA S O N G S S o n g of the C r o w s 1781 My Love H a s Departed 1782 Love-Charm S o n g 1783 T h e Approach of the Storm 1784 1 784 T h e Sioux W o m e n G a t h e r Up Their W o u n d e d T h e Sioux W o m a n Defends Her Children 1785 S o n g of the Captive Sioux W o m a n 1785

1780

GHOST DANCE SONGS S o n g s of the Arapaho 1786 [Father, have pity on me] 1786 [When I met him approaching] 1787 S o n g s of the Sioux 1788

1786

CONTENTS

[The father says so] 1788 [Give me my knife] 1788 [The whole world is coming]

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xvii

1789

WOVOKA(c. 1856-1932) T h e M e s s i a h Letter: C h e y e n n e Version 1791 T h e M e s s i a h Letter: Mooney's Free Rendering

1789 1792

ZITKALA SA (Gertrude S i m m o n s Bonnin) ( 1 8 7 6 - 1 9 3 8 ) Impressions of an Indian Childhood 1794

American Literature between the Wars

1792

1914-1945

Introduction

1807

Timeline

1821

B L A C K E L K ( 1 8 6 3 - 1 9 5 0 ) a n d J O H N G. N E I H A R D T ( 1 8 8 1 - 1 9 7 3 ) Black Elk S p e a k s 1824 III. T h e Great Vision 1824

1823

EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON (1869-1935) L u k e Havergal 1837 Richard Cory 1838 Miniver Cheevy 1838 Mr. Flood's Party 1839

1836

WILLACATHER (1873-1947) Neighbour Rosicky 1843 T h e Sculptor's Funeral 1863

1841

AMY L O W E L L ( 1 8 7 4 - 1 9 2 5 ) The Captured Goddess 1874 Venus Transiens 1875 M a d o n n a of the Evening Flowers S e p t e m b e r , 1918 1877 St. Louis 1877

1873

ROBERT FROST (1874-1963) T h e Pasture 1879 Mowing 1880 Mending Wall 1880 T h e Death of the Hired M a n 1881 After Apple-Picking 1885 T h e Wood-Pile 1886 T h e Road Not T a k e n 1887 T h e Oven Bird 1888 Birches 1888 "Out, O u t — " 1889 Fire and Ice 1890 Nothing Gold C a n Stay 1890

1876

1878

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CONTENTS

Stopping by Woods-on a Snowy Evening Desert Places 1891 Design 1892 T h e Gift Outright 1892

1891

SUSAN GLASPELL (1876-1882) Trifles 1894

1893

SHERWOOD ANDERSON (1876-1941)

1903

WINESBURG, OHIO

Mother "Queer"

1905

1905 1910

CARL SANDBURG (1878-1967) Chicago 1917 Fog 1918 Grass 1918

1916

WALLACE STEVENS (1879-1955) The Snow Man 1920 A High-Toned Old Christian W o m a n 1921 T h e E m p e r o r of Ice-Cream 1922 Disillusionment of T e n O ' c l o c k 1922 S u n d a y Morning 1923 Anecdote of the J a r 1926 Peter Quince at the Clavier 1926 Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird 1928 T h e Idea of Order at Key W e s t 1930 Of M o d e r n Poetry 1931 T h e Plain S e n s e of Things 1932 A Quiet N o r m a l Life 1932

1919

WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS (1883-1963) T h e Young Housewife 1935 Portrait of a Lady 1935 Queen-Anne's-Lace 1936 T h e Widow's L a m e n t in Springtime 1936 Spring and All 1937 T o Elsie 1938 T h e Red Wheelbarrow 1940 This Is J u s t to Say 1940 A Sort of a S o n g 1941 T h e D a n c e ("In Brueghel's great picture, T h e K e r m e s s " ) Burning the C h r i s t m a s G r e e n s 1941 Lear 1943 L a n d s c a p e with the Fall of Icarus 1944 T h e D a n c e ("When the snow falls the flakes") 1945

1933

EZRA P O U N D ( 1 8 8 5 - 1 9 7 2 ) Portrait d'une F e m m e 1948 A Pact 1949

1941

1946

In a Station of the Metro 1949 T h e River-Merchant's Wife: A Letter THE CANTOS

1949

1950

I ("And then went down to the ship") X L V ("With Usura") 1952

1950

H. D. ( H I L D A D O O L I T T L E ) ( 1 8 8 6 - 1 9 6 1 ) Mid-day 1955 Oread 1956 Helen 1956 T h e Walls D o Not Fall 1957 1-2 1957 21-24 1959 41-43 1961 ROBINSON JEFFERS (1887-1962) T o the Stone-Cutters 1964 S h i n e , Perishing Republic 1965 Carmel Point 1965 Birds and Fishes 1966 MARIANNE MOORE (1887-1972) Poetry 1968 T h e Paper Nautilus 1969 T h e M i n d Is an E n c h a n t i n g T h i n g In Distrust of Merits 1971 O to B e a Dragon 1973

1970

T . S. E L I O T ( 1 8 8 8 - 1 9 6 5 ) T h e Love S o n g of J . Alfred Prufrock Gerontion 1979 The Waste Land 1981 T h e Hollow M e n 1994 Journey of the Magi 1997 FOUR QUARTETS

Burnt Norton

1975

1998

1998

E U G E N E O'NEILL (1888-1953) L o n g Day's Journey into Night

2005

C L A U D E MCKAY (1889-1948) Africa 2084 T h e Harlem D a n c e r 2084 T h e Lynching 2084 Harlem S h a d o w s 2085 America 2085 If W e M u s t Die 2086 KATHERINE ANNE PORTER (1890-1980) Flowering J u d a s 2088

xx

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CONTENTS

ZORA N E A L E H U R S T O N ( 1 8 9 1 - 1 9 6 0 ) H o w It Feels to B e Colored M e 2097 T h e Gilded Six-Bits 2100

2096

E D N A ST. V I N C E N T MILLAY (1892-1950) Recuerdo 2109 I Think I S h o u l d Have Loved You Presently Apostrophe to M a n 2110 In the Grave N o Flower 2111 I T o o beneath Your M o o n , Almighty Sex I Forgot for a M o m e n t 2112

2109 2110

2111

E. E. C U M M I N G S ( 1 8 9 4 - 1 9 6 2 ) in Just2113 0 sweet s p o n t a n e o u s 2114 Buffalo B i l l ' s 2115 "next to of c o u r s e god america i 2115 1 sing of Olaf glad and big 2116 somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond anyone lived in a pretty how town 2117 my father moved through d o o m s of love 2118

2112

2117

JEAN T O O M E R (1894-1967) Cane 2121 Georgia D u s k 2121 Fern 2122 Portrait in Georgia 2125 Seventh Street 2125

2120

F. S C O T T F I T Z G E R A L D ( 1 8 9 6 - 1 9 4 0 ) Winter D r e a m s 2127 Babylon Revisited 2143

2126

WILLIAM FAULKNER (1897-1962) A Rose for Emily 2160 That Evening S u n 2166 Barn Burning 2178

2157

HART CRANE (1899-1932) Chaplinesque 2191 At Melville's T o m b 2192

2190

THE BRIDGE

2193

T o Brooklyn Bridge 2193 II. Powhatan's Daughter 2194 T h e River 2194 The Dance 2198 VII. T h e T u n n e l 2201 VIII. Atlantis 2204 ERNEST HEMINGWAY(1899-1961) T h e Snows of Kilimanjaro 2209

2206

CONTENTS

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xxi

LANGSTON HUGHES (1902-1967) T h e Negro S p e a k s of Rivers 2227 Mother to S o n 2227 I, T o o 2228 Mulatto 2228 S o n g for a Dark Girl 2229 Silhouette 2230 Visitors to the Black Belt 2230 N o t e on C o m m e r c i a l Theatre 2231 Democracy 2231

2225

JOHN STEINBECK (1902-1968) T h e G r a p e s of Wrath 2233 C h a p t e r 11 2233 C h a p t e r 12 2234 C h a p t e r 15 2238

2232

COUNTEE C U L L E N (1903-1946) Yet D o I Marvel 2245 Incident 2246 Heritage 2246

2245

D'ARCY M C N I C K L E ( 1 9 0 4 - 1 9 7 7 ) Hard Riding 2250

2249

RICHARD WRIGHT (1908-1960) T h e M a n W h o W a s Almost a Man

2255 2257

C A R L O S B U L O S A N (191 1 - 1 9 5 6 ) B e American 2266 MURIEL RUKEYSER (1913-1980) Effort at S p e e c h Between T w o People "Long Enough" 2273 Myth 2274

2265

2271 2272

American Prose since

1945

Introduction

2275

Timeline

2286

EUDORA WELTY (1909-2001) Petrified M a n 2289

2288

T E N N E S S E E WILLIAMS (1911-1983) A Streetcar N a m e d Desire 2301

2298

JOHN CHEEVER (1912-1982) The Swimmer 2365

2363

xxii

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CONTENTS

RALPH E L L I S O N (1914-1994) Invisible M a n 2374 C h a p t e r I [Battle Royal] 2374

2373

S A U L B E L L O W (b. 1 9 1 5 ) Looking for Mr. Green

2384 2386

G R A C E P A L E Y (b. 1922) A Conversation with My Father

2400 2401

K U R T V O N N E G U T (b. 1922) Fates Worse T h a n Death 2407

2405

JAMES BALDWIN (1924-1987) G o i n g to M e e t the M a n 2415

2414

FLANNERY O'CONNOR (1925-1964) G o o d Country People 2428

2427

P A U L E M A R S H A L L (b. 1 9 2 9 ) Reena 2443

2442

T O N I M O R R I S O N (b. 1931) Recitatif 2457

2455

J O H N U P D I K E (b. 1932) Separating 2472

2470

P H I L I P R O T H (b. 1933) Defender of the Faith

2480 2481

N. S C O T T M O M A D A Y (b. 1 9 3 4 ) T h e Way to Rainy M o u n t a i n Headwaters 2504 Introduction 2504 IV 2509 XIII 2509 XVII 2510 XXIV 2511 Epilogue 2512 Rainy M o u n t a i n C e m e t e r y

2503 2504

2513

R U D O L F O A. ANAYA (b. 1937) T h e C h r i s t m a s Play 2515

2514

T H O M A S P Y N C H O N (b. 1 9 3 7 ) Entropy 2522

2521

R A Y M O N D C A R V E R (b. 1 9 3 8 ) Cathedral 2533

2532

TONI CADE BAMBARA (1939-1995) Medley 2544 M A X I N E H O N G K I N G S T O N (b. 1940) No Name Woman 2557 G L O R I A A N Z A L D U A (b. 1 9 4 2 ) How to T a m e a Wild T o n g u e El sonavabitche 2575

2567

A L I C E W A L K E R (b. 1 9 4 4 ) Everyday U s e 2581 L E S L I E M A R M O N S I L K O (b. 1 9 4 8 ) Lullaby 2588 S A N D R A C I S N E R O S (b. 1954) My Lucy Friend who Smells Like C o r n

2595

L O U I S E E R D R I C H (b. 1954) Fleur 2598

American Poetry since

1945

Introduction Timeline S T A N L E Y K U N I T Z (b. 1905) Father and S o n 2625 After the Last Dynasty 2626 T h e Wellfleet W h a l e 2627 ROBERT PENN WARREN (1905-1989) Bearded Oaks 2633 Audubon 2634 I. W a s Not the Lost D a u p h i n 2634 VI. Love and Knowledge 2635 VII. Tell M e a Story 2635 A c q u a i n t a n c e with T i m e in Early A u t u m n After the Dinner Party 2637 THEODORE ROETHKE (1908-1963) Cuttings 2639 Cuttings (later) 2640 My Papa's Waltz 2640 Night Crow 2641 I Knew a W o m a n 2641 Wish for a Young Wife 2642 In a Dark T i m e 2642 T h e Waking 2643

2636

xxiv

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CONTENTS

CHARLES OLSON (1910-1970) THE MAXIMUS POEMS 2645 M a x i m u s , to Himself 2645 Celestial Evening, October 1967

2643

2646

ELIZABETH BISHOP (1911-1979) T h e Unbeliever 2649 T h e Fish 2650 At the F i s h h o u s e s 2652 T h e Armadillo 2653 Sestina 2655 In the Waiting R o o m 2656 The Moose 2658 O n e Art 2662

2648

ROBERT HAYDEN (1913-1980) Middle P a s s a g e 2664 H o m a g e to the E m p r e s s of the B l u e s T h o s e Winter S u n d a y s 2669

2662

RANDALL JARRELL (1914-1965) T h e Death of the Ball Turret G u n n e r S e c o n d Air Force 2671 Well Water 2673 Thinking of the Lost World 2673 J O H N BERRYMAN (1914-1972) H o m a g e to Mistress Bradstreet 17-39 DREAM SONGS 2683 2 9 ("There sat down, o n c e , a thing 45 ("He stared at ruin. Ruin stared 3 8 5 ("My daughter's heavier. Light

2669

2670 2671

2675 2676

on Henry's heart") 2683 straight back") 2683 leaves are flying") 2684

ROBERT LOWELL (1917-1977) T h e Quaker Graveyard in Nantucket Mr. Edwards and the Spider 2691 M e m o r i e s of West Street and Lepke Skunk H o u r 2693 For the Union D e a d 2695

2684 2687 2692

GWENDOLYN BROOKS (1917-2000) A S T R E E T IN B R O N Z E V I L L E 2698 kitchenette building 2698 the mother 2698 T h e White T r o o p s H a d Their Orders But the N e g r o e s Looked Like Men 2699 T h e B e a n Eaters 2700 T h e Last Quatrain of the Ballad of E m m e t t Till 2700 T o the Diaspora 2700

,2697

1 CONTENTS

/

xxv

T h e C o o r a Flower 2701 W e Real Cool 2702 R I C H A R D W I L B U R (b. 1921) T h e Death of a T o a d 2703 Ceremony 2704 T h e Beautiful C h a n g e s 2704 Love Calls U s to the Things of This World

2702

2705

D E N I S E L E V E R T O V (b. 1 9 2 3 ) T o the S n a k e 2707 The Jacob's Ladder 2708 In Mind 2708 Death in Mexico 2709

2706

A. R. A M M O N S ( 1 9 2 6 - 2 0 0 1 ) S o I S a i d I Am Ezra 2712 C o r s o n s Inlet 2712 Easter Morning 2715 Garbage 2717 Section 2 2717

2710

JAMES MERRILL (1926-1995) An Urban C o n v a l e s c e n c e 2722 Family Week at Oracle Ranch 2724

2721

ALLEN GINSBERG (1926-1997) Howl 2732 A Supermarket in California 2739

2730

GALWAY K I N N E L L (b. 1927) T h e Porcupine 2741 After M a k i n g Love W e H e a r Footsteps ( 1 9 8 0 )

2740 2744

J O H N A S H B E R Y (b. 1927) Illustration 2746 Soonest Mended 2747 Myrtle 2749 JAMES WRIGHT (1927-1980) A u t u m n Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio T o the Evening Star: Central M i n n e s o t a A Blessing 2752

2744

2749 2751 2751

ANNE SEXTON (1928-1974) T h e Starry Night 2753 Sylvia's Death 2754 Little Girl, My String B e a n , My Lovely W o m a n T h e Death of Fathers 2758 2. H o w W e D a n c e d 2758

2752

2756

xxvi

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CONTENTS

A D R I E N N E R I C H (b. 1929) Storm Warnings 2761 S n a p s h o t s of a Daughter-in-Law A Valediction Forbidding M o u r n i n g Diving into the Wreck 2766 Power 2768 Transcendental E t u d e 2769

2759 2762 2766

GARY S N Y D E R (b. 1930) Riprap 2774 August on S o u r d o u g h , A Visit from Dick Brewer 2775 Beneath My H a n d and Eye the Distant Hills. Your Body

2773

2775

SYLVIA P L A T H ( 1 9 3 2 - 1 9 6 3 ) Morning S o n g 2778 Lady Lazarus 2778 Daddy 2781 Blackberrying 2783 Child 2784

2776

AUDRE LORDE (1934-1992) Coal 2786 The Woman Thing 2786 Harriet 2787

2784

A M I R I B A R A K A (LeRoi J o n e s ) (b. 1934) An Agony. As Now. 2789 A P o e m for Willie Best 2790

2788

M I C H A E L S. H A R P E R (b. 1938) Dear J o h n , Dear Coltrane 2796 American History 2798 Deathwatch 2798 Martin's B l u e s 2799

2795

R O B E R T P I N S K Y (b. 1940) T h e Street 2802 Shirt 2803 At Pleasure Bay 2805

2800

B I L L Y C O L L I N S (b. 1 9 4 1 ) 2807 Forgetfulness 2808 Tuesday, J u n e 4, 1991 2809 I C h o p S o m e Parsley While Listening to Art Blakey's Version of "Three Blind M i c e " 2810 T h e Night H o u s e 2811 S I M O N J . O R T I Z (b. 1941) Earth and Rain, the Plants & S u n Vision S h a d o w s 2815 Poems from the Veterans Hospital

2814 2816

2812

CONTENTS

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xxvii

8:50 A M Ft. Lyons VAH 2816 Travelling 2817 F r o w From S a n d C r e e k 2817 J O R I E G R A H A M (b. 1 9 5 0 ) The Geese 2820 At L u c a Signorelli's Resurrection of the Body RITA D O V E (b. 1952) Banneker 2825 Parsley 2826 Adolescence—I 2828 Adolescence—II 2828 THOMAS AND BEULAH 2829 T h e Event 2829 Straw Hat 2830 Dusting 2831 Poem in Which I Refuse Contemplation J O Y H A R J O ( b . 1951) Call It Fear 2834 White Bear 2835 S H E HAD S O M E H O R S E S

III. Drowning Horses A L B E R T O R I O S (b. 1952) Madre Sofia 2837 Wet C a m p 2839 Advice to a First C o u s i n Domingo Limon 2840

2818 2821 2823

2832 2833

2836 2836 2836

2839

C A T H Y S O N G (b. 1955) T h e White Porch 2844 Lost Sister 2845 Heaven 2847

2843

L I - Y O U N G L E E (b. 1957) Persimmons 2849 Eating Alone 2851 Eating Together 2852 This Room and Everything in It

2848

2852

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHIES

2855

PERMISSIONS ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

2913

INDEX

2921

Preface to tke Skorter Sixtk Edition

L i k e earlier editions of the o n e - v o l u m e , shorter Norton Anthology of American Literature, this Sixth Edition is d e s i g n e d for the o n e - s e m e s t e r c o u r s e a n d draws on the full r e s o u r c e s of the five-volume p a r e n t edition. It a i m s to p r e s e n t a selection of works sufficiently rich, diverse, a n d c o m p l e t e to e n a b l e the b o o k to s t a n d a l o n e for t e a c h e r s who prefer to u s e a single anthology, while serving a s a c o r e text for t h o s e who wish to a s s i g n additional individual works as well. As with earlier editions, the editors have worked closely with t e a c h e r s w h o a s s i g n the book a n d , t h r o u g h t h e s e t e a c h e r s , with the s t u d e n t s w h o u s e it. F r o m the anthology's i n c e p t i o n , three goals have b e e n p a r a m o u n t : first, to p r e s e n t a variety of works rich a n d s u b s t a n t i a l e n o u g h to e n a b l e t e a c h e r s to build their own c o u r s e s a c c o r d i n g to their own ideals (thus, t e a c h e r s are offered m o r e a u t h o r s a n d m o r e s e l e c t i o n s t h a n they will probably c h o o s e to t e a c h ) ; s e c o n d , to m a k e the anthology self-sufficient by featuring m a n y works in their entirety a n d longer selections s o that individual a u t h o r s c a n be covered in d e p t h ; a n d third, to b a l a n c e traditional interests with d e v e l o p i n g critical c o n c e r n s . T h i s c o m m i t m e n t to b a l a n c e has b e e n evident from the first edition of 1 9 7 9 , w h e r e , in r e s p o n s e to t e a c h e r s w h o f o u n d that the traditional c a n o n w a s insufficiently representative of A m e r i c a n literary history, we i n c l u d e d A n n e B r a d s t r e e t , M a r y R o w l a n d s o n , S a r a h K e m b l e Knight, Phillis Wheatley, M a r g a r e t Fuller, Harriet B e e c h e r S t o w e , F r e d e r i c k D o u g l a s s , S a r a h O r n e J e w e t t , K a t e C h o p i n , M a r y E . Wilkins F r e e m a n , B o o k e r T . W a s h i n g t o n , C h a r l e s C h e s n u t t , Edith W h a r t o n , W . E . B. D u B o i s , a n d m a n y o t h e r s . Yet we did not s h o r t c h a n g e writers like F r a n k l i n , E m e r s o n , T h o r e a u , H a w t h o r n e , P o e , Melville, H e m i n g w a y , Fitzgerald, or F a u l k n e r , w h o m t e a c h e r s then a n d now would not think of d o i n g without. T h a t the " u n t r a d i t i o n a l " a u t h o r s listed a b o v e have now b e c o m e part of the A m e r i c a n literary c a n o n s h o w s that c a n o n s are not fixed, but e m e r g e a n d c h a n g e . At the s a m e t i m e , t e a c h e r s over the last thirty years have s e e n a striking expansion in the extent a n d diversity of the a u t h o r s they a r e e x p e c t e d a n d want to t e a c h . In e n d e a v o r i n g to e n s u r e that our i n c l u s i o n s — e x t e n s i v e as they a r e — d o not o u t r u n what might conceivably b e of u s e in the c l a s s r o o m , we have always revised our selections in r e s p o n s e to d e t a i l e d s u g g e s xxix

xxx

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PREFACE

TO THE S H O R T E R

SIXTH

EDITION

tions from m a n y t e a c h e r s . F o r this S h o r t e r Sixth E d i t i o n , we have drawn on the careful c o m m e n t a r y of 111 reviewers. W e are delighted with the n e w m a t e r i a l s we bring to this S h o r t e r Sixth Edition, which take several f o r m s : U n d e r the new rubric L i t e r a t u r e to 1 7 0 0 , for the o p e n i n g section, we i n c o r p o r a t e Native A m e r i c a n a n d explorer materials with settler literature up through the S a l e m witchcraft e p i s o d e . T h i s configuration c o r r e s p o n d s to the new e m p h a s i s in early A m e r i c a n literary studies on the Atlantic R i m , on the multiethnicity of the early c o l o n i e s , a n d on the p o s i t i o n of P u r i t a n N e w E n g l a n d as a key but not the only d e t e r m i n a n t in early A m e r i c a n writing. T h e multilingual, multiethnic colonies are s t r e s s e d in the e x p a n d e d period introduction a n d in the newly i n c l u d e d biographical narrative of G a r c i l a s o de la V e g a . A m e r i c a n L i t e r a t u r e 1 7 0 0 - 1 8 2 0 In this section, newly edited by Philip F. G u r a , University of N o r t h C a r o l i n a at C h a p e l Hill, we distinguish the eighteenth c e n t u r y as a period of c o n s o l i d a t i o n a n d d e v e l o p m e n t in a n emergent A m e r i c a n literature. Newly i n c l u d e d to better convey the r a n g e of genres a n d writers that found readers in early A m e r i c a are v o i c e s , free a n d slave, from the Atlantic R i m : the slave Briton H a m m o n , the p o e t A n n i s B o u d i n o t S t o c k t o n , a n d the playwright Royall Tyler, r e p r e s e n t e d by his c o m e d y The Contrast. A m e r i c a n L i t e r a t u r e 1 8 2 0 — 1 8 6 5 b r o a d e n s our g e o g r a p h i c a l s c o p e by i n t r o d u c i n g the California writer, L o u i s e A m e l i a S m i t h C l a p p e . C l a p p e ' s " D a m e Shirley" letters, a m o n g the earliest c l a s s i c s for s t u d e n t s of w e s t e r n A m e r i c a n literature, c o n s t i t u t e a vivid report from the gold m i n e s . T h e e s t e e m e d p o e t E m m a L a z a r u s is newly i n c l u d e d with p o e m s , m o s t f a m o u s l y " T h e N e w C o l o s s u s , " that gave a highly c u l t u r e d voice to J e w i s h A m e r i c a n identity. S e l e c t i o n s by P o e , S t o w e , a n d D o u g l a s s d e e p e n the r e p r e s e n t a t i o n of t h e s e central figures. A m e r i c a n L i t e r a t u r e 1 8 6 5 — 1 9 1 4 S a r a h M o r g a n Bryan Piatt, i n c r e a s ingly recognized a s a m a j o r w o m a n p o e t in the era, is newly r e p r e s e n t e d in this s e c t i o n , a s are fiction writers C o n s t a n c e F e n i m o r e W o o l s o n , A b r a h a m C a h a n , a n d S u i S i n Far. T h e s e three writers extend this period's regional a n d ethnic r e p r e s e n t a t i o n , while d e m o n s t r a t i n g a n e w the c a p a c i o u s p o s s i bilities of A m e r i c a n r e a l i s m . A m e r i c a n L i t e r a t u r e b e t w e e n t h e W a r s , 1 9 1 4 — 1 9 4 5 , now i n c l u d e s c h a p t e r s from J o h n S t e i n b e c k ' s The Grapes of Wrath; two stories by Willa C a t h e r , " T h e S c u l p t o r ' s F u n e r a l " a n d " N e i g h b o u r Rosicky"; a s e c o n d story by F. S c o t t Fitzgerald, the 1 9 2 2 Metropolitan Magazine version of "Winter D r e a m s " ; a n d two new fiction writers, the Native A m e r i c a n writer D'Arcy M c N i c k l e a n d the Filipino A m e r i c a n C a r l o s R u l o s a n . Trifles, S u s a n G l a s pell's t e a c h a b l e short play, is newly i n c l u d e d . A m e r i c a n P r o s e s i n c e 1 9 4 5 s t r e n g t h e n s the anthology's offerings by L a t i n o a n d L a t i n a writers with the addition of R u d o l f o A. Anaya's short story " T h e C h r i s t m a s Play," a n d s e l e c t i o n s from G l o r i a A n z a l d u a ' s influential work of theory, Borderlands ILa Frontera. A m e r i c a n P o e t r y s i n c e 1 9 4 5 newly anthologizes work by three important p o e t s : U n i t e d S t a t e s Poet L a u r e a t e Billy C o l l i n s , S t a n l e y Kunitz, a n d J o r i e G r a h a m . R e c e n t work by G a l w a y Kinnell a n d Rita D o v e is newly anthologized. 6

P R E F A C E TO THE

SHORTER

SIXTH

EDITION

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T h e s t u d e n t W e b site to a c c o m p a n y the anthology ( w w w . w w n o r t o n . c o m / n a a l ) , by B r u c e M i c h e l s o n , offers timelines, outlines of the period i n t r o d u c tions, over 4 0 0 a n n o t a t e d links, a u t h o r r e s o u r c e p a g e s for 1 6 0 writers in the anthology, s e a r c h a b l e " E x p l o r a t i o n s " that provide q u e s t i o n s a n d r e s e a r c h p r o j e c t s , a n d , a n e w f e a t u r e , self-grading quizzes. Teaching with T h e N o r t o n Anthology of A m e r i c a n Literature: A Guide for Instructors, by B r u c e M i c h e l son a n d Marjorie Pryse, is a lively, practical r e s o u r c e for q u e s t i o n s to motivate c l o s e r e a d i n g a n d d i s c u s s i o n , a s well as c o n c i s e t e a c h i n g notes for individual p e r i o d s , a u t h o r s , a n d works; m o d e l e x a m q u e s t i o n s a n d e s s a y topics; a n d r e a d i n g lists for a wide variety of c o u r s e s u s i n g the anthology. A s in p a s t editions, editorial f e a t u r e s — p e r i o d i n t r o d u c t i o n s , h e a d n o t e s , a n d a n n o t a t i o n — a r e d e s i g n e d to be c o n c i s e yet full a n d to give s t u d e n t s the information n e e d e d without i m p o s i n g an interpretation. In the S h o r t e r Sixth Edition, m u c h of this editorial material has b e e n revised in r e s p o n s e to new s c h o l a r s h i p . Several period i n t r o d u c t i o n s have b e e n entirely or substantially rewritten, a n d a n u m b e r of h e a d n o t e s have b e e n tightened or rewritten to be m o r e useful to s t u d e n t s . T h e S e l e c t e d B i b l i o g r a p h i e s have b e e n thoroughly u p d a t e d . T h e S h o r t e r Sixth Edition retains two editorial f e a t u r e s that help s t u d e n t s p l a c e their r e a d i n g in historical a n d cultural c o n t e x t — e n d p a p e r m a p s a n d a T e x t s / C o n t e x t s timeline following e a c h period introduction. O u r policy has b e e n to reprint e a c h text in the form that a c c o r d s , a s far as it is p o s s i b l e to d e t e r m i n e , to the intention of its a u t h o r . T h e r e is o n e exception: we have m o d e r n i z e d m o s t spellings a n d (very sparingly) the p u n c tuation in the s e c t i o n s Literature to I 700 a n d American Literature I 700— 1820 on the principle that a r c h a i c spellings a n d typography p o s e u n n e c e s sary p r o b l e m s for b e g i n n i n g s t u d e n t s . W e have u s e d s q u a r e b r a c k e t s to indic a t e titles s u p p l i e d by the editors for the c o n v e n i e n c e of s t u d e n t s . W h e n e v e r a portion of a text h a s b e e n o m i t t e d , we have i n d i c a t e d that o m i s s i o n with three asterisks. T h e editors of this anthology were s e l e c t e d on the b a s i s of their e x p e r t n e s s in their individual a r e a . W e note with p l e a s u r e the addition to the editorial t e a m of Philip F. G u r a , William S. N e w m a n D i s t i n g u i s h e d P r o f e s s o r of A m e r i c a n L i t e r a t u r e a n d C u l t u r e a n d A d j u n c t P r o f e s s o r of Religious S t u d i e s at the University of N o r t h C a r o l i n a at C h a p e l Hill. H e s u c c e e d s F r a n c i s M u r p h y a s period editor of American Literature I 700—1820. E a c h editor w a s given ultimate responsibility for his or her period, but all c o l l a b o r a t e d in the final enterprise. Arnold K r u p a t edited Native A m e r i c a n L i t e r a t u r e s a n d the oratory, s o n g s , a n d c h a n t s , E a s t m a n , O s k i s o n , a n d B l a c k E l k s e l e c t i o n s . Ronald G o t t e s m a n p r e p a r e d the texts a n d i n t r o d u c t i o n s for A b r a h a m L i n c o l n a n d F r e d e r i c k D o u g l a s s ; a n d N i n a B a y m p r e p a r e d the texts a n d i n t r o d u c t i o n s for Harriet B e e c h e r S t o w e a n d Harriet J a c o b s . W e take this opportunity to thank the h u n d r e d s of t e a c h e r s t h r o u g h o u t the country who have a n s w e r e d our q u e s t i o n s . T h o s e t e a c h e r s w h o p r e p a r e d detailed critiques, or w h o offered special help in p r e p a r i n g texts, are listed u n d e r A c k n o w l e d g m e n t s , on a s e p a r a t e p a g e . T h e editors would like to

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PREFACE

TO T H E

SHORTER

SIXTH

EDITION

express a p p r e c i a t i o n for their a s s i s t a n c e to K e n n e t h L. B a u g h m a n , B r a d C a m p b e l l , S a m u e l L. G l a d d e n , V i n c e G o t e r a , T i m G u s t a f s o n , K a t r i n a Huffm a n , J u l i e Huffman-Klinkowitz, J u l i e H u s b a n d , J u d i t h Kicinski, D a n i e l L a n e , M a u r i c e L e e , David W e i Li, B r e n d a L i n , Allison M c C a b e , A n n e Myles, J a m e s O'Loughlin, Steven Olsen-Smith, Julian Rice, Todd Richardson, H e d d y Richter, M o n i c a R o d r i g u e z , J a c o b S c h o e n l y , B e t h S h u b e , Alan S h u card, J e s s e Swan, J o h n Swope, Karen Tracey, Catherine Waitinas, Jennie W a n g , R a c h e l W a t s o n , a n d T h o m a s W o l f e . W e a l s o t h a n k the m a n y p e o p l e at N o r t o n w h o c o n t r i b u t e d to the Sixth E d i t i o n : J u l i a R e i d h e a d , w h o supervised the Sixth E d i t i o n ; M a r i a n J o h n s o n , d e v e l o p m e n t editor; C a n d a c e Levy, A n n e H e l l m a n , a n d C a r o l F l e c h n e r , m a n u s c r i p t editors; Brian B a k e r , w h o p r e p a r e d timelines a n d m a p s ; E i l e e n C o n n e l l , W e b site editor; D i a n e O ' C o n n o r , p r o d u c t i o n m a n a g e r ; T o n i K r a s s , d e s i g n e r ; Neil Ryder H o o s , art researcher; Nancy Rodwan, permissions manager; and Margaret Gorenstein, who cleared p e r m i s s i o n s . W e a l s o wish to a c k n o w l e d g e our d e b t to the late G e o r g e P. Brockway, former p r e s i d e n t a n d c h a i r m a n at N o r t o n , w h o invented this anthology, a n d to M . H . A b r a m s , N o r t o n ' s advisor on E n g l i s h texts. All have h e l p e d u s to c r e a t e a n anthology that, m o r e than ever, is testimony to the c o n t i n u i n g r i c h n e s s of A m e r i c a n literary traditions. NINA

•

•

•

BAYM

Acknowledgments D o n n a Allego (Adrian C o l l e g e ) , Gilbert Allen ( F u r m a n University), G e o r g e F. B a g b y , J r . ( H a m p d e n - S y d n e y C o l l e g e ) , Philip D . B e i d l e r (University of A l a b a m a ) , R i c h a r d R. B o l l e n b a c h e r ( E d i s o n C o m m u n i t y C o l l e g e ) , L e o n o r a Brodwin ( S t . J o h n ' s University), D e b r a B u r g a u e r (Bradley University), Vicki B u r s e y ( C u e s t a C o l l e g e ) , G e o r g e C h a m b e r s ( B r a d l e y University), S u e C o o k (Wilmington C o l l e g e ) , David C o w a r t (University of S o u t h C a r o l i n a ) , J o s e p h C o s e n z a ( S t . J o h n ' s University), C h r i s t i n e L. C r a n f o r d ( E a s t C a r o l i n a University), W a l t D a r r i n g (University of S o u t h A l a b a m a ) , C y n t h i a D a v i s ( U n i versity of S o u t h C a r o l i n a ) , D e l m e r Davis (Andrews University), C h r i s t o p h e r R. D o u g l a s ( F u r m a n University), T e d E d e n ( H a n o v e r C o l l e g e ) , G r e g o r y W . Fowler (Pennsylvania S t a t e University E r i e - B e h r e n d C o l l e g e ) , Granville G a n t e r ( S t . J o h n ' s University), William T . H a m i l t o n ( M e t r o p o l i t a n S t a t e C o l lege of D e n v e r ) , G r e g H o r u ( S o u t h w e s t Virginia C o m m u n i t y C o l l e g e ) , L a w r e n c e Ianni ( S a n F r a n c i s c o S t a t e University), Robert I n c h a u s t i (California Polytechnic S t a t e University), S t e v e n H . J o b e ( H a n o v e r C o l l e g e ) , R e b e c c a King ( M i d d l e T e n n e s s e e S t a t e University), David R. J a r r a w a y (University of O t t a w a ) , Kris L a c k e y (University of N e w O r l e a n s ) , M . L a w m a n ( P e n s a c o l a C h r i s t i a n C o l l e g e ) , Lori L u c a s (University of C o l o r a d o ) , M i c h a e l E . Nowlin (University of Victoria), S c o t t P e e p l e s ( C o l l e g e of C h a r l e s t o n ) , L a u r a P o g u e ( H a r d i n S i m m o n s University), T a m a r a M . Powell ( L o u i s i a n a T e c h n i c a l University), David R a m p t o n (University of O t t a w a ) , G a r y N . Richa r d s (University of N e w O r l e a n s ) , Valerie A. Rohy ( B o w l i n g G r e e n S t a t e University), T i m S c h r o e d e r ( M a r t i n L u t h e r C o l l e g e ) , E u g e n e L. S t a r t z m a n ( B e r e a C o l l e g e ) , Kevin S t e i n (Bradley University), M i c h a e l Strysick ( W a k e F o r e s t University), Robert A. Taylor (Florida Institute of T e c h n o l o g y ) B a r b Thompson (Columbus State Community College), Andrew Tomko (Bergen C o m m u n i t y C o l l e g e ) , K a r e n T r a c e y (University of N o r t h e r n I o w a ) , Kathryn V a n S p a n c k e r e n (University of T a m p a ) , J a n e Varley ( M u s k i n g u m C o l l e g e ) , S u e W a l k e r (University of S o u t h A l a b a m a ) , H e l e n A. W e i n b e r g ( C l e v e l a n d Institute of Art), A i m e e W e s t (University of M a r y l a n d B a l t i m o r e C o u n t y ) , Kristin Bailey W i l s o n ( M o b e r l y Area C o m m u n i t y C o l l e g e ) , S c o t t D . Yarb r o u g h ( C h a r l e s t o n S o u t h e r n University).

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E D I T I O N

Literature to 1 7 0 0 THE MARVELS OF SPAIN—AND

AMERICA

In 1 4 9 4 a m a n w h o h a d c r o s s e d the Atlantic in a large ship returned h o m e to a m a z e t h o s e w h o m he h a d left behind with tales of a new world full of "marv e l s . " N o n e of t h o s e w h o listened to him h a d a c c o m p l i s h e d anything remotely like this. N o n e had h e a r d of this other world, let a l o n e s e e n it, a n d n o n e c o u l d begin to c o m p r e h e n d what its discovery might m e a n for their own familiar univ e r s e . As they listened with rapt attention, the voyager told of things u n d r e a m e d of, p l a n t s a n d a n i m a l s a n d m o s t of all s t r a n g e p e o p l e s w h o s e u n c a n n y c u s t o m s , c o s t u m e s , a n d beliefs a s t o n i s h e d all who h e a r d him. T h e m a n in q u e s t i o n might have b e e n C h r i s t o p h e r C o l u m b u s or any of the d o z e n s of E u r o p e a n s w h o a c c o m p a n i e d him on his first voyage, b u t h e w a s not. In fact, this teller of tales did j o i n in that voyage, but he h a d not sailed from P a l o s , S p a i n , with the other m e n on A u g u s t 6, 1 4 9 2 , a n d h a d not b e e n with t h e m w h e n , at two in the m o r n i n g of O c t o b e r 12, they sighted the B a h a m i a n island they n a m e d S a n S a l v a d o r . T w i c e h e c r o s s e d the Atlantic with C o l u m b u s , but in reverse: first to S p a i n from the Indies a n d then b a c k a g a i n . W e d o not know his original n a m e , but we know that he w a s a T a i n o Indian from the B a h a m a s , o n e of seven natives w h o m C o l u m b u s seized a n d took to S p a i n . T h e r e h e w a s baptized a n d r e n a m e d D i e g o C o l o n , after the son of C o l u m b u s himself. ( C o l o n w a s the S p a n i s h version of the family's n a m e . ) O f the other natives, all of w h o m were similarly r e c h r i s t e n e d , o n e r e m a i n e d in S p a i n , w h e r e h e died within a few years. F o u r others died of s i c k n e s s on the p a s s a g e b a c k to A m e r i c a with C o l u m b u s a n d C o l o n . C o l o n a n d the sixth m a n e s c a p e d the s a m e fate only "by a hair's b r e a d t h , " a s the fleet's p h y s i c i a n , D i e g o Alvarez C h a n c a , wrote in his i m p o r t a n t letter on the s e c o n d voyage. R e t u r n e d to the C a r i b b e a n , the two served a s translators for the m u c h larger party of S p a n i a r d s , p e r h a p s fifteen h u n d r e d strong, w h o arrived in s e v e n t e e n s h i p s early in N o v e m b e r 1 4 9 3 . C o l o n himself already had s e e n service a s a n intermediary during the first voyage. O f the two m e n , only C o l o n is reported by the historian A n d r e s B e r n a l d e z , w h o knew C o l u m b u s a n d u s e d the mariner's own lost a c c o u n t of the s e c o n d voyage, to have regaled the other natives with tales of "the things which h e h a d s e e n in C a s t i l e a n d the marvels of S p a i n , . . . the great cities a n d fortresses a n d c h u r c h e s , . . . the p e o p l e a n d h o r s e s a n d a n i m a l s , . . . the great nobility a n d wealth of the sovereigns a n d great lords, . . . the kinds of food, . . . the festivals a n d t o u r n a m e n t s [and] bull-fighting." P e r h a p s the other m a n h a d died by this point in the s e c o n d voyage. P e r h a p s C o l u m b u s singled out C o l o n for special m e n t i o n b e c a u s e C o l o n had learned C a s t i l i a n well e n o u g h to s p e a k it a n d had s h o w n himself to be a n intelligent m a n a n d a g o o d g u i d e . H e w a s to a c c o m p a n y C o l u m b u s on the w h o l e of this voyage, which lasted three years. 1

2

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LITERATURE

TO

1700

T h e story of C o l o n c a t c h e s in m i n i a t u r e the extraordinary c h a n g e s that were to o c c u r a s natives of the O l d W o r l d e n c o u n t e r e d natives of the N e w for the first time in r e c o r d e d history. His story r e m i n d s us first that discovery w a s m u t u a l rather t h a n o n e s i d e d . T o be s u r e , far m o r e E u r o p e a n s voyaged to A m e r i c a than A m e r i c a n s to E u r o p e , a n d they sent h o m e t h o u s a n d s of reports a n d letters detailing what they s a w a n d did in the N e w W o r l d . B e c a u s e m a n y of t h e s e E u r o p e a n travelers c a m e to A m e r i c a to stay, however, the Indians s o o n h a d a colonial imitation of E u r o p e d e v e l o p i n g before their eyes, c o m p l e t e with fortresses, c h u r c h e s , h o r s e s , n e w foods (on the s e c o n d voyage, C o l u m b u s brought w h e a t , m e l o n s , o n i o n s , r a d i s h e s , s a l a d g r e e n s , g r a p e v i n e s , s u g a r c a n e , a n d various fruit t r e e s ) , a n d m u c h else that C o l o n in 1 4 9 3 c o u l d have f o u n d only in E u r o p e . Over t i m e the natives of A m e r i c a could discover E u r o p e e n c r o a c h i n g on their villages a n d fields as the i m p o r t e d E u r o p e a n l a n d s c a p e vied with their own. E u r o p e w a s p r e s e n t in the textiles on the c o l o n i s t s ' b o d i e s , in the tools in their h a n d s (for both of which the A m e r i c a n Indians t r a d e d ) , a n d in the institutions of the c h u r c h a n d state (slavery b e i n g the m o s t obvious e x a m p l e ) that h a d b e g u n to r e s h a p e the identities a n d reorganize the lives of Native A m e r i c a n p e o p l e s . In s u c h c o n c r e t e t e r m s a n e w world w a s b e i n g c r e a t e d in the W e s t I n d i e s . It was not the new world C o l u m b u s h i m s e l f w a s s p e a k i n g of near the e n d of his life when h e wrote in 1 5 0 0 to the S p a n i s h sovereigns F e r d i n a n d a n d Isabella that he h a d " b r o u g h t u n d e r [their] d o m i n i o n . . . a n o t h e r world, whereby S p a i n , which w a s called poor, is now m o s t r i c h . " T h e n e w world that mattered w a s not j u s t a n e x p a n s e of s p a c e previously u n k n o w n to E u r o p e a n s ; it w a s a genuinely new set of social relationships that would evolve over the next c e n t u r i e s a s E u r o p e a n d the A m e r i c a s c o n t i n u e d to interact. With the E u r o p e a n introduction of African slaves early in the sixteenth century, the terms of this new world b e c a m e m u c h m o r e c o m p l e x . T h e cultural a n d social relations of A m e r i c a n s t o o k their origin in a great mixing of p e o p l e s from the whole Atlantic b a s i n d u r i n g the first c e n t u r y a n d a half after 1 4 9 2 . Discovery b e g a n with w o n d e r — t h a t of C o l o n ' s listeners o n his return in 1 4 9 4 a n d that of C o l u m b u s a s he d e s c a n t e d on the green b e a u t y of the i s l a n d s — e v o k i n g a m o o d that has r e m a i n e d s t r o n g in A m e r i c a n writing ever s i n c e : he saw "trees of a t h o u s a n d k i n d s " on S a n S a l v a d o r in N o v e m b e r 1 4 9 2 , trees that s e e m e d to " t o u c h the sky . . . as green a n d a s lovely a s they are in S p a i n in M a y . " B u t beyond that t r a n s c e n d e n t m o m e n t , discovery entailed a many-sided p r o c e s s of influence a n d e x c h a n g e that ultimately p r o d u c e d the hybrid cultural universe of the Atlantic world, of which the E n g l i s h colonies were o n e small part. M u c h of this universe c a m e through struggle rather than c o o p e r a t i o n . E a c h p e o p l e u s e d its own traditions or e l e m e n t s recently borrowed from others to e n d u r e or c o n q u e r or outwit its o p p o s i t e n u m b e r s , a n d violence often swallowed up the primal w o n d e r g l i m p s e d in the earliest d o c u m e n t s . With g u n p o w d e r a n d steel, E u r o p e a n s h a d the t e c h n o l o g i c a l e d g e in warfare, a n d it would s e e m t h a t — d e s p i t e c e n t u r i e s of p r o p a g a n d a to the c o n t r a r y — t h e y took violence m o r e seriously than did the A m e r i c a n I n d i a n s . T h e natives at first f o u n d the s c a l e of E u r o p e a n warfare a p p a l l i n g . In N e w E n g l a n d , the c o l o n i s t s ' native allies a g a i n s t the P e q u o t tribe in 1 6 3 7 c o m p l a i n e d that the E n g l i s h m a n n e r of fighting, a s soldier J o h n Underhill noted in his Newes from America ( 1 6 3 8 ) , "[was] too f u r i o u s , a n d slay[ed] too m a n y m e n . " T h e natives were q u i c k to a d o p t E u r o p e a n w e a p o n s a n d tactics,

INTRODUCTION

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3

however, applying t h e m to their own d i s p u t e s a n d to their d i s p u t e s with the E u r o p e a n s . T h e ferocity of what E u r o p e a n s have called the " I n d i a n w a r s " w a s the violent recoil in the f a c e of violence from interlopers who t h r e a t e n e d the very life of the native p e o p l e s . A l m o s t literally from 1 4 9 2 , native p e o p l e s b e g a n to die in large n u m b e r s , if not from war then from e n s l a v e m e n t , brutal m i s t r e a t m e n t , d e s p a i r , or d i s e a s e . O n e of the m o r e insidious forms of " e x c h a n g e " involved the transfer to the A m e r i c a n I n d i a n s of the m i c r o b e s to which E u r o p e a n s h a d b e c o m e inured but to which the Indians h a d virtually no r e s i s t a n c e . N o t h i n g better displays the isolation of the c o n t i n e n t s a n d the d r a m a of e n c o u n t e r that b e g a n in 1 4 9 2 than the e p i d e m i c disasters that smallpox, m e a s l e s , typhus, a n d other Old World m a l a d i e s u n l e a s h e d on the Native A m e r i c a n s . W h o l e p o p u l a t i o n s p l u m m e t e d as s u c h d i s e a s e s , c o m b i n e d with the other severe s t r e s s e s p l a c e d o n the natives, s p r e a d t h r o u g h o u t the C a r i b b e a n a n d then on the m a i n l a n d of C e n t r a l a n d S o u t h A m e r i c a . T h e institutional d i s e a s e of slavery further d e c i m a t e d the native p e o p l e s . It is widely a g r e e d that the original p o p u l a t i o n of the island of H i s p a n i o l a ( e s t i m a t e d at anywhere from o n e h u n d r e d t h o u s a n d to eight million in 1 4 9 2 ) p l u n g e d o n c e the S p a n i s h took over the island, partly through d i s e a s e a n d partly through the a b u s e s of the encomienda system of virtual e n s l a v e m e n t . In the face of this s u d d e n d e c l i n e in available native labor, S p a i n i n t r o d u c e d African slavery into Hisp a n i o l a a s early as 1 5 0 1 . By the middle of the sixteenth century the native p o p u l a t i o n h a d b e e n so c o m p l e t e l y d i s p l a c e d by African slaves that the S p a n ish historian A n t o n i o de H e r r e r a called the island "an effigy or a n i m a g e of E t h i o p i a itself." T h u s the d e s t r u c t i o n of o n e p e o p l e w a s a c c o m p a n i e d by the d i s p l a c e m e n t a n d e n s l a v e m e n t of a n o t h e r . By that point, the naive " w o n d e r " of discovery w a s all but u n r e c o v e r a b l e . It would be i n a c c u r a t e to picture the I n d i a n s , however, a s merely victims, suffering d e c l i n e . T h e natives m a d e shrewd u s e of the E u r o p e a n p r e s e n c e in A m e r i c a to forward their own a i m s , as C o l o n r e m i n d s u s . In 1 5 1 9 the disaffected natives in the Aztec E m p i r e clearly threw their lot in with C o r t e s b e c a u s e they saw in him a c h a n c e to settle the s c o r e with their overlord M o n t e z u m a , which they a s s u r e d l y did. In N e w E n g l a n d , the P e q u o t W a r of 1 6 3 7 saw a similar a l i g n m e n t on the E n g l i s h side of tribes s u c h a s the Narr a g a n s e t t s a n d the M o h e g a n s , w h o h a d g r i e v a n c e s with the fierce P e q u o t s , interlopers in the region. U n d e r ordinary c i r c u m s t a n c e s , a s a m o n g the Iroq u o i s in the N o r t h e a s t , E u r o p e a n technology a n d the E u r o p e a n market were seized o n a s a m e a n s of c o n s o l i d a t i n g a d v a n t a g e s g a i n e d before the arrival of the colonists. T h e Iroquois h a d b e g u n to organize their f a m o u s L e a g u e of the Five N a t i o n s before E u r o p e a n s e t t l e m e n t , but they solidified their earlier victories over other native p e o p l e s by forging c a n n y a l l i a n c e s with the D u t c h a n d then the English in N e w York. In the S o u t h e a s t , r e m n a n t p e o p l e s b a n d e d together in the early eighteenth century to c r e a t e the C a t a w b a , a n e w political g r o u p that c o n s t r u c t e d what o n e historian has called a " n e w world" for itself. N o longer known by a bewildering diversity of n a m e s , the former N a s saw a n d Suttirie a n d C h a r r a a n d S u c c a p e o p l e s b a n d e d together with several others in an a t t e m p t to deal m o r e effectively with the e n c r o a c h i n g E u r o A m e r i c a n s of C h a r l e s t o n a n d the L o w C o u n t r y . T h i s hardly w a s a c a s e of d i m i n i s h m e n t or r e d u c t i o n . Even a s fewer a n d fewer of the original millions r e m a i n e d , they s h o w e d t h e m s e l v e s resourceful in resisting, t r a n s f o r m i n g ,

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and exploiting the exotic c u l t u r e s the E u r o p e a n s were i m p o s i n g on their original l a n d s c a p e .

NATIVE AMERICAN

ORAL

LITERATURE

W h e n C o l u m b u s sailed from E u r o p e in 1 4 9 2 , h e left b e h i n d him a n u m b e r of relatively centralized nation-states with largely agricultural e c o n o m i e s . E u r o p e a n s s p o k e s o m e two or three dozen l a n g u a g e s , m o s t of t h e m closely related; a n d they were generally C h r i s t i a n in religious belief a n d worldview, a l t h o u g h m a n y g r o u p s h a d h a d c o n t a c t — a n d conflict—with a d h e r e n t s of J u d a i s m a n d I s l a m . A written a l p h a b e t h a d b e e n u s e d by E u r o p e a n s to preserve a n d c o m m u n i c a t e information for m a n y c e n t u r i e s a n d G u t e n b e r g ' s invention of m o v e a b l e type in the m i d - 1 4 0 0 s h a d s h o w n the way to a m e c h a n i c a l m e a n s of "writing"; by 1 4 9 2 , E u r o p e w a s on its way to b e c o m i n g a print c u l t u r e . By c o n t r a s t , in 1 4 9 2 in N o r t h A m e r i c a , native p e o p l e s p o k e h u n d r e d s of l a n g u a g e s , b e l o n g i n g to entirely different linguistic families (e.g., A t h a p a s c a n , U t o - A z t e c a n , C h i n o o k a n , S i o u a n , a n d A l g o n q u i a n ) a n d s t r u c t u r e d their c u l t u r e s in extraordinarily diverse e c o n o m i c a n d political f o r m s . In the G r e a t B a s i n of the W e s t , s m a l l , loosely organized b a n d s of U t e s e k e d o u t a b a r e s u b s i s t e n c e by h u n t i n g a n d gathering, while the s e d e n t a r y P u e b l o p e o p l e s of the S o u t h w e s t a n d the I r o q u o i a n s of the N o r t h e a s t h a d both highly develo p e d agricultural e c o n o m i e s a n d c o m p l e x m o d e s of political organization. In spite of s o m e c o m m o n f e a t u r e s , religious a n d mythological beliefs were also diverse. A m o n g N o r t h A m e r i c a n p e o p l e s a l o n e , eight different types of creation stories have b e e n d o c u m e n t e d , with wide variations a m o n g t h e m . All of t h e s e differ substantially from the c r e a t i o n stories of J u d a i s m , Christianity, and Islam. Also unlike E u r o p e a n c u l t u r e s , N o r t h A m e r i c a n p e o p l e s did not u s e a written a l p h a b e t . T h e i r s were oral c u l t u r e s , relying on the s p o k e n w o r d — w h e t h e r c h a n t e d , s u n g , or p r e s e n t e d in lengthy n a r r a t i v e s — a n d the m e m o r y of t h o s e words to preserve i m p o r t a n t cultural i n f o r m a t i o n . T h e term literature c o m e s from the L a t i n littera, "letter." N a t i v e A m e r i c a n literatures were not, until long after the arrival of the E u r o p e a n s , written "littera-tures." I n d e e d , a s the p h r a s e oral literature might a p p e a r to be a c o n t r a d i c t i o n in t e r m s , s o m e have c h o s e n to call the e x p r e s s i o n s of the oral tradition orature. T h e s e e x p r e s s i o n s were, like the l a n g u a g e s , political e c o n o m i e s , a n d relig i o u s beliefs of Native A m e r i c a n p e o p l e s , extremely v a r i o u s . E u r o p e a n s in 1 4 9 2 c o u l d n a m e the tragedy, the c o m e d y , the e p i c , the o d e , a n d a variety of lyric f o r m s a s types of literature. In Native A m e r i c a t h e r e w e r e a l m o s t surely (almost, b e c a u s e we have no a c t u a l r e c o r d s that p r e d a t e 1 4 9 2 ) s u c h things a s Kwakiutl winter c e r e m o n i e s , W i n n e b a g o trickster tale c y c l e s , A p a c h e j o k e s , H o p i p e r s o n a l n a m i n g a n d g r i e v a n c e c h a n t s , Yaqui d e e r s o n g s , Y u m a n d r e a m s o n g s , P i m a n s h a m a n i c c h a n t s , I r o q u o i s c o n d o l e n c e rituals, N a v a j o c u r i n g a n d b l e s s i n g c h a n t s , a n d C h i p p e w a s o n g s of the G r e a t M e d icine S o c i e t y , to n a m e only s o m e of the types of N a t i v e A m e r i c a n verbal expression. T h a t there are m a n y s u c h types is u n q u e s t i o n a b l e , b u t a r e t h e s e literary types? T h i s q u e s t i o n would not m a k e s e n s e to traditional native p e o p l e s , w h o

INTRODUCTION

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5

do not have a category of l a n g u a g e u s e c o r r e s p o n d i n g to our category of literature. F r o m a W e s t e r n p e r s p e c t i v e , however, the types of native verbal expression c o u l d only be c o n s i d e r e d as literature after that late-eighteentha n d early-nineteenth-century revolution in E u r o p e a n c o n s c i o u s n e s s known as R o m a n t i c i s m . In that period the c o n c e p t of literature shifted away from being defined by the medium of expression (all l a n g u a g e preserved in letters) to the kind of expression (those texts that e m p h a s i z e d the imaginative a n d e m o t i o n a l possibilities of l a n g u a g e ) . With this shift in the m e a n i n g of literature, m a n y Native A m e r i c a n verbal types c o u l d quite comfortably be considered literary. W e read t h e s e f o r m s on the p a g e , but it b e a r s r e p e a t i n g that traditional Native A m e r i c a n literatures originate a s oral p e r f o r m a n c e s . T h e y are offered to a u d i e n c e s a s d r a m a t i c events in t i m e , l a n g u a g e for the ear, rather than o b j e c t s in s p a c e for the eye. A n d in p e r f o r m a n c e , a p a u s e , a q u i c k e n i n g of p a c e or a s u d d e n retardation, a g e s t u r e , or a lowering of the voice affects m e a n i n g . N o t surprisingly, s c h o l a r s differ a b o u t the b e s t way to transfer p e r f o r m a n c e to the p a g e . S o m e have o p t e d for a stylized typography where type size and a r r a n g e m e n t s e e k to convey s o m e t h i n g of the feeling of what an a c t u a l p e r f o r m a n c e might have b e e n like. O t h e r s , a c k n o w l e d g i n g that b l a c k m a r k s on a white p a g e c a n n o t r e p r o d u c e a living v o i c e , have left it to the r e a d e r to i m a g i n e t h e s e words in p e r f o r m a n c e . T h i s matter of translating the words effectively is controversial. W h e n we know that the original p e r f o r m a n c e u s e d a r c h a i c a n d u n f a m i l i a r t e r m s , s h o u l d we u s e a r c h a i c a n d unfamiliar t e r m s in the translation, even t h o u g h they may a p p e a r stiff a n d old-fashioned on the p a g e ? W h a t would the c o n temporary reader think of the following excerpt from J . N. B. Hewitt's rendition of the Iroquois creation story: " T h r o u g h the crafty m a c h i n a t i o n s of the Fire D r a g o n of the W h i t e Body, the c o n s u m i n g j e a l o u s y of the a g e d presiding chief w a s kindled a g a i n s t his y o u n g s p o u s e . " S h o u l d we instead opt for the n o n s t a n d a r d E n g l i s h , the Red E n g l i s h , or R e s e r v a t i o n E n g l i s h a s it h a s b e e n c a l l e d , of native c o l l a b o r a t o r s in the translation p r o c e s s — e v e n if it may strike s o m e readers not a s lively a n d colloquial but illiterate? H e r e are a few lines from a c o n t e m p o r a r y translation in Red E n g l i s h of a folktale from the N o r t h w e s t : " H e told the chief: 'Yes, I r e m e m b e r , I t h o u g h t of it, I have a worker[,] a boy, a n d I a s k e d him [to c o m e ] but n o , he didn't want to leave his work a n d his e a t i n g s . ' " O f c o u r s e , if we t r a n s l a t e t h e s e texts into standard, or "literary," E n g l i s h , we may have substantially m i s r e p r e s e n t e d verbal expression that, in the original, would surely strike u s a s s t r a n g e . C o n s i d e r the following translation: You have b e e n falling falling H a v e you fallen from the top of the s a l m o n berry b u s h e s falling falling

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This is attractive by c o n t e m p o r a r y s t a n d a r d s , but, for the s a k e of a e s t h e t i c s , it gives u p a g o o d deal of fidelity to the original, w h i c h never a p p e a r e d o n the p a g e . While the q u e s t i o n of how best to t r a n s l a t e Native A m e r i c a n verbal expression m u s t r e m a i n o p e n , r e a d i n g the w o r d s of native oral literature conveys s o m e s e n s e of i n d i g e n o u s literary e x p r e s s i o n a s it m a y have b e e n before the c o m i n g of the E u r o p e a n s .

VOYAGES OF

DISCOVERY

C o l u m b u s w a s still m a k i n g voyages to A m e r i c a ( 1 4 9 2 - 9 3 ; 1 4 9 3 - 9 6 ; 1 4 9 8 ; a n d 1 5 0 2 - 0 4 ) a s other E u r o p e a n s , following his e x a m p l e , f o u n d their way to the W e s t Indies. G i o v a n n i C a b o t o (known a s J o h n C a b o t to the E n g l i s h for w h o m he sailed) a n d his fellow Italian A m e r i g o V e s p u c c i both c r o s s e d the o c e a n before 1 5 0 0 , a s did the P o r t u g u e s e native P e d r o C a b r a l . After that d a t e the voyagers b e c a m e too m a n y to track. Unlike the Viking invasion of five h u n d r e d years b e f o r e , which h a d e s t a b l i s h e d m o d e s t c o a s t a l s e t t l e m e n t s in N o r t h A m e r i c a that Native A m e r i c a n s s o o n w i p e d o u t , this s e c o n d E u r o p e a n wave quickly gathered m o m e n t u m a n d e x t e n d e d itself far to the north a n d s o u t h of the C a r i b b e a n b a s i n that C o l u m b u s explored. C a b o t w a s n e a r the m o u t h of the S t . L a w r e n c e in C a n a d a the year before V e s p u c c i f o u n d that of the A m a z o n , nearly five t h o u s a n d miles away in S o u t h A m e r i c a . S o o n the E u r o p e a n s were e s t a b l i s h i n g c o l o n i e s everywhere. T h e first c o l o n i s t s lingered on the C a r i b b e a n island of H i s p a n i o l a following the d e p a r t u r e of C o l u m b u s in 1 4 9 3 . A l t h o u g h that small s e t t l e m e n t of L a N a v i d a d w a s soon destroyed in a c l a s h with T a i n o natives u n d e r the c a c i q u e C a o n a b o of M a g u a n a , the m a s s i v e s e c o n d voyage in 1 4 9 3 c a m e e q u i p p e d to stay, a n d from that point on S p a i n a n d E u r o p e generally m a i n t a i n e d a n a g g r e s s i v e p r e s e n c e in the W e s t Indies. T h e c o n s t a n t battles a l o n g v a g u e frontiers with Native A m e r i c a n s a d d e d fuel to the d i s s e n s i o n a n d political in-fighting a m o n g the settlers t h e m s e l v e s , w h o s e riots a n d m u t i n i e s nearly ruined s e t t l e m e n t after s e t t l e m e n t . J o h n S m i t h ' s e x p e r i e n c e d u r i n g the first J a m e s t o w n voyage of 1 6 0 7 provides probably the m o s t f a m o u s e x a m p l e from A n g l o - A m e r i c a . Arrested a n d nearly e x e c u t e d (probably for offending his " b e t t e r s , " s o m e t h i n g he h a d the habit of doing) en route to A m e r i c a in 1 6 0 7 , S m i t h w a s r e l e a s e d in Virginia w h e n the colony's s e a l e d instructions were o p e n e d , revealing that this apparently m o d e s t soldier h a d b e e n n a m e d to the p r e s t i g i o u s governing council even before the s h i p s h a d left E n g l a n d . C o l u m b u s himself b e c a m e the f o c u s of fierce c o m p e t i t i o n s a m o n g greedy settlers a n d officials in Hisp a n i o l a by the time of his third voyage a n d , stripped of his property a n d p o w e r s by a royal official m a d d e n e d by the u p r o a r , went b a c k to S p a i n in c h a i n s in 1 5 0 0 . E u r o p e c o n t i n u e d to e x p a n d in the N e w W o r l d a m i d the disorder within s e t t l e m e n t walls a n d the great violence o u t s i d e . C o l u m b u s f o u n d the mainland of S o u t h A m e r i c a in 1 4 9 8 a n d C e n t r a l A m e r i c a in 1 5 0 2 , by which time J o h n C a b o t a n d the P o r t u g u e s e C o r t e - R e a l b r o t h e r s , G a s p a r a n d M i g u e l , h a d b e e n d o w n the c o a s t of N o r t h A m e r i c a from L a b r a d o r to the C h e s a p e a k e , a n d C a b r a l a n d V e s p u c c i h a d c o v e r e d the e a s t c o a s t of S o u t h A m e r i c a from the O r i n o c o River in p r e s e n t - d a y V e n e z u e l a to well s o u t h of the Rio de la Plata on the border of p r e s e n t - d a y U r u g u a y a n d A r g e n t i n a . B e t w e e n 1 5 1 5

INTRODUCTION

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7

a n d the 1 5 2 0 s , S p a i n , u n d e r the reign of C h a r l e s V, aggressively r e a c h e d o u t over the G u l f of M e x i c o , toward the Y u c a t a n p e n i n s u l a a n d M e x i c o a n d Florida a n d the I s t h m u s of P a n a m a , then s e n t expeditions into the heart of N o r t h A m e r i c a from the 1 5 2 0 s to the 1 5 4 0 s , c o v e r i n g a vast region s t r e t c h i n g from Florida to the G u l f of C a l i f o r n i a a n d north a s far a s K a n s a s a n d the T e n n e s s e e River. At the s a m e t i m e , other S p a n i s h explorers a n d c o n q u i s t a dors s p r e a d out over S o u t h A m e r i c a , especially its west c o a s t , w h e r e in imitation of C o r t e s ' s C o n q u e s t of M e x i c o a d e c a d e earlier J u a n Pizarro overc a m e the I n c a n E m p i r e , recently b e s e t with violent civil war. In that s a m e period, the P o r t u g u e s e e s t a b l i s h e d their first p e r m a n e n t s e t t l e m e n t s in Brazil, a n d the F r e n c h explorer J a c q u e s C a r t i e r sailed into the G u l f of S t . L a w r e n c e , then u p its c h i e f river a s far a s the site of the future M o n t r e a l . Within fifty years of 1 4 9 2 , then, the e a s t c o a s t s of m u c h of b o t h c o n t i n e n t s h a d b e e n explored, a n d m a n y of their m a j o r r e g i o n s had b e e n t r a v e r s e d ; the m o s t s p e c t a c u l a r of their p e o p l e s , the Aztecs a n d the I n c a s , h a d b e e n c o n q u e r e d ; a n d E u r o p e h a d settled in for a l o n g stay. S p a i n u n d e r F e r d i n a n d a n d Isabella a n d their g r a n d s o n C h a r l e s V took the m o s t aggressively expansive role in A m e r i c a . O t h e r E u r o p e a n n a t i o n s , m o s t c o n s p i c u o u s l y F r a n c e a n d E n g l a n d , were m o r e s e l f - a b s o r b e d , awake n i n g slowly to what w a s h a p p e n i n g a c r o s s the s e a . T h e i r first explorers enjoyed b a d luck a n d i n c o n s i s t e n t s u p p o r t . J o h n a n d S e b a s t i a n C a b o t h a d sailed for E n g l i s h m e r c h a n t s a n d the m o n a r c h s H e n r y VII a n d H e n r y VIII, b u t the first C a b o t w a s lost on his voyage in 1 4 9 8 , a n d the s e c o n d kept his interest in A m e r i c a alive only by e n t e r i n g the service of the S p a n i s h C r o w n after 1 5 1 2 . A return to his a d o p t e d h o m e l a n d of E n g l a n d a n d a royal p e n s i o n from E d w a r d VI c a m e to him only in the 1 5 4 0 s , by w h i c h p o i n t he h a d c o m m i t t e d h i m s e l f to the s e a r c h for an e a s t w a r d route to C h i n a via the s e a s north of R u s s i a . In F r a n c e , C a r t i e r enjoyed early s u p p o r t from F r a n c i s I, but his failure to find gold a n d other riches in the S t . L a w r e n c e valley a n d his d i s p u t e with the n o b l e m a n Roberval, w h o m the king a p p o i n t e d to c o m m a n d Cartier's third voyage in 1 5 4 1 , led to p r o f o u n d d i s e n c h a n t m e n t in F r a n c e . F i s h e r m e n from b o t h n a t i o n s c o n t i n u e d to harvest the f a b u l o u s riches of the s h o a l s off N o r t h A m e r i c a a n d s u m m e r e d on the s h o r e , drying their c a t c h . B u t not until the 1 5 7 0 s for E n g l a n d a n d the b e g i n n i n g of the next c e n t u r y for F r a n c e , a s a n e w g e n e r a t i o n of a d v e n t u r e r s a r o s e a n d a p e r i o d of c o m mercial e x p a n s i o n set in, did b r o a d p u b l i c s u p p o r t a n d g o v e r n m e n t a l s a n c tion c o m b i n e to stir lasting curiosity a n d i n v e s t m e n t . A series of l u c k l e s s N o r t h A m e r i c a n voyages by the E n g l i s h u n d e r Martin F r o b i s h e r , H u m p h r e y Gilbert, a n d then W a l t e r R a l e g h e n d e d in the tragedy of the " L o s t C o l o n y " of R o a n o k e I s l a n d in t h e 1 5 8 0 s . F o r a n o t h e r twenty y e a r s few E n g l i s h explorers m a d e s e r i o u s new efforts, a l t h o u g h the p r e s s b u b b l e d with p u b l i c a t i o n s regarding the N e w W o r l d , particularly the works of R i c h a r d Hakluyt the younger, w h o s e great c o l l e c t i o n s g a t h e r e d t h e fugitive r e c o r d s of E n g l i s h , a n d i n d e e d E u r o p e a n , e x p a n s i o n o v e r s e a s . Hakluyt's m a s t e r w o r k , The Principall Navigations ( 1 5 9 8 — 1 6 0 0 ) , b r o u g h t the literary p r o d u c t i o n s of c o u n t less E u r o p e a n m a r i n e r s to the attention of a public newly stirred by w h a t S h a k e s p e a r e s o o n w a s to call this "brave n e w w o r l d " of E u r o - A m e r i c a . H a k luyt n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g , only in 1 6 0 6 did a s e c o n d Virginia c o l o n y set forth, a n d this o n e faltered grievously at the start with a s h i p w r e c k on B e r m u d a (which w a s to inspire S h a k e s p e a r e ' s The Tempest), riots at J a m e s t o w n , n e a r starvation, a n d violent e n c o u n t e r s . By 1 6 0 3 F r e n c h interest h a d revived u n d e r the

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direction of a g r o u p of explorers a n d e x p a n s i o n i s t s , S a m u e l d e C h a m p l a i n m o s t significantly, w h o h o p e d for profit from the N e w W o r l d a n d , even m o r e , a r o u t e through it to the fabled riches of A s i a . S e a s o n e d from his voyages to S p a n i s h A m e r i c a , C h a m p l a i n picked up w h e r e C a r t i e r h a d left off sixty years earlier, f o u n d e d p e r m a n e n t s e t t l e m e n t s in the S t . L a w r e n c e valley, a n d through his a g e n t s a n d followers p u s h e d F r e n c h exploration a s far west as L a k e S u p e r i o r at a time w h e n the E n g l i s h were still struggling in Virginia a n d N e w E n g l a n d s e t t l e m e n t h a d j u s t b e g u n at P l y m o u t h .

LITERARY C O N S E Q U E N C E S

OF

1492

T h e period of E u r o p e a n exploration in the N e w W o r l d p r o d u c e d a surprisingly large a n d intriguing body of literature. W h i l e m a n y m a n u s c r i p t s were archived a n d out of r e a c h until the n i n e t e e n t h century, a n u m b e r of texts f o u n d their way into print a n d were widely d i s p e r s e d , t h a n k s to the establishm e n t of printing in the half century before 1 4 9 2 . Shortly after C o l u m b u s ' s return to S p a i n in early 1 4 9 3 , there a p p e a r e d in print his letter to the court official L u i s de S a n t a n g e l , narrating the voyage a n d lushly d e s c r i b i n g the perpetual spring C o l u m b u s h a d f o u n d in the W e s t Indies the previous a u t u m n . F r o m the a p p e a r a n c e of that letter o n , the printing p r e s s a n d the E u r o p e a n e x p a n s i o n into A m e r i c a were reciprocal p a r t s of a single e n g i n e . W i t h o u t the ready d i s p e r s a l of texts rich with imagery that stirred individual i m a g i n a t i o n a n d national a m b i t i o n in regard to the W e s t I n d i e s , E u r o p e ' s m o v e m e n t westward would have b e e n b l u n t e d a n d p e r h a p s thwarted. T h e sword of c o n q u e s t found in the p e n , a n d in the printing p r e s s , a n i n d i s p e n s a b l e ally. T h e great m a s s of early A m e r i c a n writings c a m e from the h a n d s of Euro p e a n s rather than the native p e o p l e s of the N e w W o r l d . I m p o r t a n t exceptions happily exist. T h e natives h a d a lively oral c u l t u r e that v a l u e d m e m o r y over m e c h a n i c s as a m e a n s of preserving texts, a l t h o u g h a m o n g s o m e g r o u p s s u c h as the Aztecs written traditions existed (in N o r t h A m e r i c a t h e s e r e c o r d s included shellwork belts a n d p a i n t e d a n i m a l h i d e s , t e p e e s , a n d shields) a n d m a n y m o r e g r o u p s u s e d visual r e c o r d s in s u b t l e a n d s o p h i s t i c a t e d ways. S u c h c a t a c l y s m s a s the C o n q u e s t of M e x i c o p r o d u c e d not only the S p a n i s h narratives of C o r t e s , Bernal Diaz del C a s t i l l o , a n d o t h e r s b u t a l s o native r e s p o n s e s , m a n y of which p e r i s h e d with t h o s e w h o knew t h e m . T h o s e that survived in original native c h a r a c t e r s or in transliterated form have inestim a b l e e t h n o g r a p h i c a n d literary v a l u e . F o r i n s t a n c e , a n o n y m o u s native writers working in the N a h u a t l l a n g u a g e of the Aztecs in 1 5 2 8 — s i g n i f i c a n t l y , they u s e d the R o m a n a l p h a b e t i n t r o d u c e d by the S p a n i s h — l a m e n t e d the fall of their capital to C o r t e s in the following lines: Rroken s p e a r s lie in the r o a d s ; we have torn o u r hair in our grief. T h e h o u s e s are roofless now, a n d their walls are red with blood. N o o n e r e a d i n g t h e s e four lines will easily glorify the C o n q u e s t of M e x i c o or of the A m e r i c a s m o r e generally. T h e story of the t r a n s o c e a n i c e n c o u n t e r , however, c e a s e s to be a m a t t e r of e a s y c o n t r a s t s o n c e o n e r e a d s widely in

INTRODUCTION

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9

the texts on either s i d e . A l t h o u g h E u r o p e a n s c o m m i t t e d atrocities in the N e w World, often they did s o a s a result of b l u n d e r i n g a n d m i s c o m m u n i c a t i o n rather than cool, deliberate policy. In fact, the split b e t w e e n policy a n d action g o e s to the heart of the infant Atlantic world of the sixteenth century a n d is mirrored in a n d influenced by the c h a r a c t e r of the writing that survives from the period. T h e great d i s t a n c e s e p a r a t i n g the h e m i s p h e r e s m a d e the coordination of intention a n d p e r f o r m a n c e extremely difficult. T h e authorities at h o m e lacked the k n o w l e d g e to form p r u d e n t or practical policy; a s a result m a n y texts written by explorers or colonists were i n t e n d e d a s " b r i e f s " m e a n t to inform or influence policy d e c i s i o n s m a d e at a d i s t a n c e . T o cite a s i m p l e e x a m p l e , C o l u m b u s h i m s e l f wrote a point-by-point description of his s e c o n d voyage in 1 4 9 5 , a d d r e s s e d to F e r d i n a n d a n d Isabella in a series of " i t e m s " to which the specific r e s p o n s e s of the sovereigns were a d d e d by a court s c r i b e . M o r e complexly, C o r t e s s o u g h t to justify his patently illegal invasion of Mexico in 1 5 1 9 by s e n d i n g several long letters to C h a r l e s V d e f e n d i n g his a c t i o n s a n d p r o m i s i n g lavish returns if his c o n q u e s t c o u l d p r o c e e d . M o s t d o c u m e n t s sent from A m e r i c a to the E u r o p e a n p o w e r s reveal s u c h generally political intentions. E u r o p e r e s p o n d e d by i s s u i n g directives a i m e d at controlling events a c r o s s the s e a . Even w h e n g o o d policies were a r t i c u l a t e d in E u r o p e , however, applying t h e m in the N e w World entailed further p r o b l e m s . By the time instructions arrived in H i s p a n i o l a , M e x i c o , J a m e s t o w n , or Q u e b e c , new events in the colony might have r e n d e r e d t h e m p o i n t l e s s . Dist a n c e m a d e control both crucial a n d difficult. W h e r e a s formal authority typically resided in E u r o p e , power a s a n informal fact of life a n d e x p e r i e n c e a n d c i r c u m s t a n c e b e l o n g e d to A m e r i c a , to t h o s e w h o c o u l d seize a n d u s e it or w h o a c q u i r e d it by virtue of what they did rather than the official investitures they bore. M u t i n y b e c a m e s o pervasive a fact or fear in A m e r i c a precisely b e c a u s e individuals a n d g r o u p s h a d , morally a n d geographically, great latitude in the thinly p o p u l a t e d colonial e n c l a v e s . If writing served in this a m b i g u o u s universe as a m e a n s to influence official policy at h o m e , it a l s o e m e r g e d as a m e a n s of justifying a c t i o n s (as with C o r t e s ) that violated or ignored E u r o p e a n directives.

fluid,

Early A m e r i c a n writing h a d , t h o u g h , a third a n d m o r e c o m p e l l i n g p u r p o s e as a literature of w i t n e s s . T h a t we know so m u c h a b o u t the E u r o p e a n devastation of the W e s t Indies c o m e s from the fact that s o m e E u r o p e a n s r e s p o n d e d powerfully to that devastation in writing. A l t h o u g h no o n e typifies this m o o d better than B a r t o l o m e de las C a s a s , w h o a s s a i l e d S p a i n ' s r u t h l e s s destruction of whole p e o p l e s in A m e r i c a , it is the rare E u r o p e a n d o c u m e n t that d o e s not reveal the bloody truths of E u r o p e ' s colonial d r e a m s . S t a r t i n g on the C o l u m b i a n voyages t h e m s e l v e s a n d flowering in the S p a n i s h W e s t Indies, especially in the 1 5 4 0 s a n d 1 5 5 0 s w h e n d e b a t e s a b o u t the mistreatm e n t of the natives earnestly m o v e d the clerics a n d g o v e r n m e n t officials at h o m e , the N e w World inspired an o u t p o u r i n g of written e x p r e s s i o n . N o t all the literature of witness s p e a k s to specific i s s u e s of policy, or particular p u b lic d e b a t e s , but in m a n y of the texts o n e s e n s e s a critical eye, a point of view not likely to be swayed by the s l o g a n s of e m p i r e or faith or even wealth. Writers s u c h as D i a z del C a s t i l l o , the chronicler of C o r t e s , a n d E n g l a n d ' s J o h n S m i t h c a m e from the u n d e r c l a s s of their native c o u n t r i e s , where but for the opportunities r e p r e s e n t e d by A m e r i c a they might well have s p e n t their days in s i l e n c e . As a result, their writing c o u l d be subversive, even m u t i n o u s ,

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achieving its g r e a t e s t d e p t h w h e n it c a p t u r e d a vision of A m e r i c a a s m o r e than a d e p e n d e n t province of the O l d W o r l d , rather a s a p l a c e w h e r e m u c h that w a s genuinely new might b e l e a r n e d .

PILGRIM

A N D

PURITAN

T h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t of P l y m o u t h P l a n t a t i o n on the s o u t h s h o r e of M a s s a c h u s e t t s in 1 6 2 0 b r o u g h t to N o r t h A m e r i c a a n e w kind of E n g l i s h settler. T h e f o u n d e r s of the colony (later called Pilgrims by their l e a d e r a n d historian William B r a d f o r d ) s h a r e d with their allies, the P u r i t a n s , a wish to purify C h r i s t i a n belief a n d p r a c t i c e . W h e r e a s the P u r i t a n s initially were willing to work within the confines of the e s t a b l i s h e d C h u r c h of E n g l a n d , the Pilgrims t h o u g h t it so c o r r u p t that they w i s h e d to s e p a r a t e t h e m s e l v e s from it completely. W h i l e still in E n g l a n d , they set u p their own secret congregation in the village of S c r o o b y in N o t t i n g h a m s h i r e . Often s u b j e c t to p e r s e c u t i o n a n d i m p r i s o n m e n t , the S c r o o b y S e p a r a t i s t s (as they were also called) saw little c h a n c e for r e m a i n i n g true to their faith a s long a s they r e m a i n e d in E n g l a n d . In 1 6 0 8 , five years after Q u e e n Elizabeth h a d b e e n s u c c e e d e d by J a m e s S t u a r t , a n e n e m y of all s u c h r e f o r m e r s , the S c r o o b y c o n g r e g a t i o n left E n g l a n d a n d settled in T h e N e t h e r l a n d s , w h e r e , William B r a d f o r d tells u s , they saw "fair a n d beautiful c i t i e s " — b u t , a s foreigners, they were c o n f r o n t e d by the "grisly f a c e of poverty." I s o l a t e d by their lang u a g e a n d u n a b l e to farm, they took u p t r a d e s like weaving, Bradford's c h o i c e , that p r o m i s e d a living. Eventually, fearing that they m i g h t l o s e their religious identity a s their children were s w a l l o w e d u p in D u t c h c u l t u r e , they petitioned for the right to settle in the vast A m e r i c a n territories of E n g l a n d ' s Virginia C o m p a n y . B a c k e d by E n g l i s h investors, the v e n t u r e w a s c o m m e r cial as well a s religious in n a t u r e . A m o n g the h u n d r e d p e o p l e on the Mayflower there were a l m o s t three t i m e s a s m a n y s e c u l a r settlers a s S e p a r a t i s t s . T h i s initial g r o u p , set d o w n on the raw M a s s a c h u s e t t s s h o r e in N o v e m b e r 1 6 2 0 , m a d e hasty a r r a n g e m e n t s to f a c e the winter. T h e colonists were h e l p e d over this "starving t i m e " by their own fortitude a n d the essential aid of the nearby W a m p a n o a g I n d i a n s a n d their leader, M a s s a s o i t . F r o m t h e s e " s m a l l b e g i n n i n g s , " a s B r a d f o r d w a s e a g e r to d e c l a r e , grew a c o m m u n i t y of mythical import to the later n a t i o n . M u c h larger at the start w a s the well-financed effort that b r o u g h t a contingent of P u r i t a n s u n d e r J o h n W i n t h r o p to M a s s a c h u s e t t s B a y , not far north of P l y m o u t h , in 1 6 3 0 . A l t h o u g h t h e s e settlers initially e x p r e s s e d no overt intention to sever their ties with the C h u r c h of E n g l a n d , a n d they are generally r e g a r d e d a s n o n s e p a r a t i n g d i s s e n t e r s , the d i s t a n c e they p u t b e t w e e n t h e m s e l v e s a n d that c h u r c h ' s hierarchy w a s e l o q u e n t t e s t i m o n y of a different p u r p o s e . O n other i s s u e s , they s h a r e d with the Pilgrims the s a m e b a s i c beliefs: both a g r e e d with M a r t i n L u t h e r that no p o p e or b i s h o p h a d a right to i m p o s e any law on a C h r i s t i a n without c o n s e n t a n d both a c c e p t e d J o h n Calvin's view that G o d freely c h o s e (or " e l e c t e d " ) t h o s e he w o u l d save a n d t h o s e h e would d a m n eternally. By 1 6 9 1 , w h e n a n e w c h a r t e r s u b s u m e d P l y m o u t h a s a n i n d e p e n d e n t colony u n d e r M a s s a c h u s e t t s B a y , the Pilgrims a n d P u r i t a n s h a d m e r g e d in all b u t m e m o r y . T o o m u c h c a n b e m a d e of the Calvinist doctrine of e l e c t i o n ; t h o s e w h o have not read the a c t u a l Puritan s e r m o n s often c o m e away from s e c o n d a r y

INTRODUCTION

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11

s o u r c e s with the m i s t a k e n notion that Puritans talked a b o u t n o t h i n g but d a m n a t i o n . P u r i t a n s did indeed hold that G o d h a d c h o s e n , before their birth, t h o s e w h o m he w i s h e d to s a v e ; but it d o e s not follow that P u r i t a n s c o n s i d e r e d m o s t of u s to be born d a m n e d . P u r i t a n s a r g u e d that A d a m broke the " C o v e n a n t of W o r k s " (the p r o m i s e G o d m a d e to A d a m that he w a s i m m o r t a l a n d c o u l d live in P a r a d i s e forever a s long as he obeyed G o d ' s c o m m a n d m e n t s ) when he disobeyed a n d a t e of the tree of knowledge of g o o d a n d evil, thereby bringing sin a n d d e a t h into the world. T h e i r central d o c t r i n e , however, w a s the n e w " C o v e n a n t of G r a c e , " a b i n d i n g a g r e e m e n t that C h r i s t m a d e with all p e o p l e who believed in him a n d that he s e a l e d with his Crucifixion, p r o m ising t h e m eternal life. P u r i t a n s t h u s a d d r e s s e d t h e m s e l v e s not to the h o p e lessly u n r e g e n e r a t e but to the indifferent, a n d they a d d r e s s e d the heart m o r e often than the m i n d , always d i s t i n g u i s h i n g b e t w e e n " h i s t o r i c a l " or rational u n d e r s t a n d i n g a n d heartfelt "saving f a i t h . " T h e r e is m o r e joy in Puritan life a n d t h o u g h t than we often credit, a n d this joy is the direct result of m e d i tation on the doctrine of Christ's r e d e e m i n g power. E d w a r d Taylor is not a l o n e in m a k i n g his r a p t u r o u s litany of Christ's a t t r i b u t e s : " H e is altogether lovely in everything, lovely in His p e r s o n , lovely in H i s n a t u r e s , lovely in H i s properties, lovely in His offices, lovely in His titles, lovely in His p r a c t i c e , lovely in His p u r c h a s e s a n d lovely in His r e l a t i o n s . " All of Taylor's art is a meditation on the m i r a c u l o u s gift of the I n c a r n a t i o n , a n d in this r e s p e c t his sensibility is typically P u r i t a n . A n n e B r a d s t r e e t , w h o is remarkably frank a b o u t c o n f e s s i n g her religious d o u b t s , told her children that it w a s " u p o n this rock C h r i s t J e s u s " that s h e built her faith. N o t surprisingly, the P u r i t a n s held to the strictest r e q u i r e m e n t s regarding c o m m u n i o n , or, a s they preferred to call it, the Lord's S u p p e r . It w a s the m o r e i m p o r t a n t of the two s a c r a m e n t s they recognized ( b a p t i s m b e i n g the o t h e r ) , a n d they g u a r d e d it with a zeal that set t h e m apart from all other d i s s e n t e r s . In the b e g i n n i n g c o m m u n i o n w a s r e g a r d e d as a sign of election, to be taken only by t h o s e w h o h a d b e c o m e c h u r c h m e m b e r s by s t a n d i n g before their minister a n d elders a n d giving a n a c c o u n t of their conversion. T h i s i n s i s t e n c e on c h a l l e n g i n g their m e m b e r s m a d e t h e s e N e w E n g l a n d c h u r c h e s m o r e rigorous than any others a n d c o n f i r m e d the feeling that they were a special few. T h u s w h e n J o h n W i n t h r o p a d d r e s s e d the i m m i g r a n t s to the Bay C o l o n y a b o a r d the flagship Arbella in 1 6 3 0 , he told t h e m that the eyes of the world were on t h e m a n d that they would be a n e x a m p l e for all, a "city u p o n a hill." Like William B r a d f o r d for the Pilgrims, W i n t h r o p in his history of the P u r i t a n s w i s h e d to record the a c t u alization of that d r e a m .

W R I T I N G

IN

T O N G U E S

While the N e w E n g l a n d c o l o n i e s have conventionally b e e n r e g a r d e d a s the c e n t e r p i e c e of early A m e r i c a n literature, the first N o r t h A m e r i c a n settlem e n t s h a d b e e n f o u n d e d e l s e w h e r e years, even d e c a d e s , earlier. S t . A u g u s tine, J a m e s t o w n , S a n t a F e , Albany, a n d N e w York, for i n s t a n c e , are all older than B o s t o n . M o r e important, E n g l i s h w a s not the only l a n g u a g e in which early N o r t h A m e r i c a n texts were written. I n d e e d , it w a s a tardy arrival in A m e r i c a , a n d its eventual e m e r g e n c e as the d o m i n a n t l a n g u a g e of c l a s s i c A m e r i c a n literature hardly w a s inevitable. T o s o m e extent, the large initial

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immigration to B o s t o n in the 1 6 3 0 s , the high articulation of Puritan cultural ideals, a n d the early e s t a b l i s h m e n t of a college a n d a printing p r e s s in C a m bridge all gave N e w E n g l a n d a s u b s t a n t i a l e d g e . L a t e r political events w o u l d m a k e E n g l i s h a useful lingua f r a n c a for the c o l o n i e s at large a n d , in t i m e , the literary m e d i u m of c h o i c e . B e f o r e 1 7 0 0 , however, a n d often long after it, other l a n g u a g e s r e m a i n e d actively in u s e not only for m u n d a n e p u r p o s e s but a l s o a s expressive vehicles. Particularly beyond the v a g u e b o r d e r s of the E n g l i s h colonial world (the shifting lines b e t w e e n F r e n c h C a n a d a a n d N e w E n g l a n d a n d the s o u t h e r n colonies a n d S p a n i s h Florida, for e x a m p l e ) , t h o s e other l a n g u a g e s were c o m pletely d o m i n a n t . Even within the limits of the eventual thirteen c o l o n i e s , however, large e n c l a v e s of s p e a k e r s of other l a n g u a g e s existed, especially in the m i d d l e c o l o n i e s . A m o n g the noteworthy settlers of N e w N e t h e r l a n d , for i n s t a n c e , were B e l g i a n W a l l o o n s , near n e i g h b o r s of the D u t c h in E u r o p e b u t s p e a k e r s of a radically different l a n g u a g e . T h e mix of " f o r e i g n e r s " in Albany, b e g u n a s a fur trade p o s t by N e t h e r l a n d e r m e r c h a n t s o n the u p p e r H u d s o n , m a d e it a minority D u t c h town, its p o p u l a t i o n m a d e u p of settlers of S c a n dinavian, F r e n c h , P o r t u g u e s e , E n g l i s h , Irish, S c o t s , G e r m a n , A f r i c a n , a n d W e s t Indian d e r i v a t i o n — e v e n p e o p l e from S p a i n , then the e n e m y of the N e t h e r l a n d e r s , a n d from faraway C r o a t i a . F o r two c e n t u r i e s after N e w N e t h erland w a s c o n q u e r e d by the E n g l i s h in 1 6 6 4 a n d r e n a m e d N e w York, D u t c h a n d other l a n g u a g e s were widely u s e d there in public a n d private life before eventually dying out. S i m i l a r linguistic t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s , with the social a n d personal losses they bring, o c c u r r e d in other E n g l i s h - c o n t r o l l e d regions that would eventually form the U n i t e d S t a t e s . In P e n n s y l v a n i a , w h e r e large g r o u p s of P r o t e s t a n t s from continental E u r o p e w e r e w e l c o m e d by William P e n n , G e r m a n in particular r e m a i n s a vital l a n g u a g e to this day, a l t h o u g h the friction b e t w e e n G e r m a n c o m m u n i t i e s there a n d "the E n g l i s h " r e m i n d s u s that l a n g u a g e is a g r o u n d of c o n t e s t b e t w e e n e t h n i c g r o u p s , not j u s t of self-expression within e a c h . In fact, the first item printed in P e n n s y l v a n i a , a l t h o u g h it i s s u e d from the p r e s s e s t a b l i s h e d by a n i m m i g r a n t E n g l i s h m a n , was in G e r m a n , a n d the largest b o o k printed in any of the c o l o n i e s before the Revolution w a s in the s a m e l a n g u a g e . W h e n we read A m e r i c a n history b a c k w a r d , looking for early p r e c e d e n t s of national institutions, p r a c t i c e s , a n d v a l u e s , we are likely to m i s s the radical linguistic a n d cultural diversity of the colonial world. R e a d e r s of the colonial record n e e d to a t t e n d to the m a n y t o n g u e s t h r o u g h which the c o l o n i s t s articulated their e x p e r i e n c e s , vision, a n d v a l u e s . It is to this e n d that t r a n s l a t e d s e l e c t i o n s from works written by n o n - E n g l i s h colonists are i n c l u d e d a l o n g with E n g l i s h texts to represent the first full century of N o r t h A m e r i c a n writing. Part of the u s e f u l n e s s of s u c h a b r o a d survey is the insight it offers into the t h e m e s , f o r m s , a n d c o n c e r n s s h a r e d by many p e o p l e s involved in the cultural a n d territorial e x p a n s i o n of E u r o p e a n p e o p l e s at the t i m e .

AMERICAN

LITERATURE

IN

1700

Along the e a s t e r n s e a b o a r d by 1 7 0 0 , m o s t of the c o l o n i e s that were to unite in s e e k i n g i n d e p e n d e n c e from Britain toward the e n d of the e i g h t e e n t h century h a d b e e n f o u n d e d — G e o r g i a w a s to follow in the 1 7 3 0 s . As Britain

INTRODUCTION

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13

s o u g h t to c o n s o l i d a t e a n d unify its overseas p o s s e s s i o n s , the m a p b e g a n to r e s e m b l e that of 1 7 7 6 , a n d E n g l i s h had already e m e r g e d a s a powerful intercolonial tool. B u t up a n d d o w n the c o a s t , a s u r p r i s i n g variety of p e o p l e s w a s in e v i d e n c e , m o s t of w h o m h a d b e c o m e a c c u s t o m e d to the transatlantic or local publication of their writings. At the e n d of the first full century of E u r o p e a n colonization, the printing p r e s s w a s active in m a n y a r e a s , from C a m b r i d g e a n d B o s t o n to N e w York, Philadelphia, a n d A n n a p o l i s . F r o m 1 6 9 6 to 1 7 0 0 , to be s u r e , only a b o u t 2 5 0 s e p a r a t e i t e m s were i s s u e d in all these p l a c e s c o m b i n e d . Although this is a small n u m b e r c o m p a r e d to the o u t p u t of the printers of L o n d o n at the t i m e , it m u s t be r e m e m b e r e d that printing w a s e s t a b l i s h e d in the A m e r i c a n c o l o n i e s before it w a s allowed in m o s t of E n g l a n d , where restrictive laws, the last of t h e m r e p e a l e d a s late a s 1 6 9 3 , had long confined printing to four locations: L o n d o n , York, Oxford, a n d C a m b r i d g e . In this regard, if only b e c a u s e of the isolation of the American provinces by the o c e a n , they ventured into the m o d e r n world earlier than their provincial E n g l i s h c o u n t e r p a r t s . T h e literary situation in A m e r i c a three c e n t u r i e s a g o is s u g g e s t e d by a brief examination of the p r o d u c t s of the p r e s s e s then in o p e r a t i o n . A m o n g t h o s e 2 5 0 items p u b l i s h e d at the century's e n d w a s a whole library of texts by the m o s t prolific colonial a u t h o r , C o t t o n M a t h e r . In this period, he p u b l i s h e d m o r e than three dozen titles, i n c l u d i n g s u c h things a s his a c c o u n t of the "tearful d e c a d e " (1688—98) of warfare b e t w e e n N e w E n g l a n d a n d N e w F r a n c e a n d the latter's Indian allies, which incorporated his f a m o u s narrative of the bloody e s c a p e of H a n n a h D u s t a n from her c a p t o r s . M a t h e r also p u b lished several b i o g r a p h i e s of N e w E n g l a n d ' s f o u n d i n g ministers a n d p e n n e d treatises on the p r o p e r behavior of servants toward their m a s t e r s , on the "well-ordered family," a n d on the spiritual risks run by s e a m e n . H e a l s o i s s u e d a w a r n i n g a g a i n s t " i m p o s t o r s p r e t e n d i n g to be m i n i s t e r s . " A n d he wrote Pillars of Salt, a venture into criminal biography that had religious origins but that also reflected the i m p o r t a n c e of an e m e r g e n t p o p u l a r (as o p p o s e d to elite) literary c u l t u r e on both sides of the Atlantic. D e s p i t e their t e n d e n c y to mirror the self-regarding a s p e c t of Puritan t h o u g h t , even M a t h e r ' s works remind u s that A m e r i c a in 1 7 0 0 w a s o p e n i n g o u t w a r d . In the Magnalia Christi Americana, p u b l i s h e d j u s t after the start of the new century, M a t h e r himself told a n a n e c d o t e that conveys the c h a n g e at h a n d . A newly trained minister w h o h a d j o u r n e y e d north from M a s s a c h u setts Bay to M a i n e was p r e a c h i n g to a g r o u p of h a r d e n e d fishermen. H e w a s urging his listeners not to " c o n t r a d i c t the m a i n end of Planting this Wildern e s s , " the service of G o d a n d G o d ' s p u r p o s e s , w h e n a m e m b e r of the m a k e shift gathering h a d the effrontery to contradict him: "Sir, you are m i s t a k e n , you think you are P r e a c h i n g to the P e o p l e at the Bay; our m a i n e n d w a s to c a t c h F i s h . " Even in N e w E n g l a n d , M a t h e r s u g g e s t s , m a i n e n d s differed profoundly from p l a c e to p l a c e a n d from c o m m u n i t y to c o m m u n i t y . E l s e where, the rich array of p u r p o s e s w a s reflected in the diverse items i s s u e d by A m e r i c a n printers at the time when M a t h e r ' s Magnalia w a s j u s t a p p e a r i n g (this large book w a s first p u b l i s h e d in L o n d o n , not in B o s t o n , it might be n o t e d ) . T h e r e was a pair of texts, for i n s t a n c e , d e a l i n g with the Native Ameri c a n s of N e w York that s u g g e s t how colonialism was altered by the drive toward cross-cultural interaction. O n e reported on a c o n f e r e n c e held in 1 6 9 6 between the governor of that " p r o v i n c e , " a s all the c o l o n i e s were then b e i n g

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called, a n d the "Five . . . N a t i o n s of I n d i a n s , " the I r o q u o i s , a d y n a m i c confederacy of p e o p l e s who h a d long controlled m u c h of N e w York's territory a n d exacted tribute from far distant native p e o p l e s a s well. T h i s w a s a kind of text that proliferated t h r o u g h o u t N e w York's colonial era, w h e n the governor a n d his a g e n t s m a d e regular visits to the important Iroquois capital at O n o n d a g a to listen to the c o n c e r n s of t h e s e E n g l i s h allies. T h e s e c o n d text c o n c e r n i n g native p e o p l e s in N e w York a l s o reflected this u n i q u e c r o s s cultural pattern. In the 1 6 9 0 s , w h e n the F r e n c h a n d E n g l i s h e m p i r e s were c o m i n g into s e r i o u s conflict in A m e r i c a , native p e o p l e s were frequently swept up in the fray. T h e " P r o p o s i t i o n s M a d e by the Five N a t i o n s of I n d i a n s " to N e w York's governor in 1 6 9 8 accordingly e n t r e a t e d him to protect the Iroq u o i s from h a r a s s m e n t by N e w F r a n c e ' s Indian allies, w h o were moving e a s t w a r d into Iroquoia a n d fiercely raiding the villages t h e r e . S u c h texts, r e a c h i n g a c r o s s the b o u n d a r i e s b e t w e e n the I n d i a n nations a n d colonial p o w e r s , c a t c h the d i p l o m a t i c t o n e of c r o s s - c u l t u r a l relations in the M i d a t l a n t i c region. T h e complexity of the political c u l t u r e in early America is b o r n e out in other texts of the era a s well, s u c h a s God's Protecting Providence ( 1 6 9 9 ) , P h i l a d e l p h i a n J o n a t h a n D i c k i n s o n ' s m u c h reprinted a c c o u n t of his shipwreck a n d Indian captivity in S p a n i s h F l o r i d a , which c o m b i n e d piety, a d v e n t u r e , a n d e x o t i c i s m . Similarly exotic w a s Barbarian Cruelties ( 1 7 0 0 ) , which told of E u r o p e a n c a p t i v e s in N o r t h Africa, a n a r e a of the g l o b e that w a s long to be the f o c u s of W e s t e r n e r s ' anxieties a n d , in the post-Revolutionary era, an A m e r i c a n war or two. B u t s u c h a d v e n t u r o u s narratives were not all sited in exotic a n d d i s t a n t l o c a l e s . S o m e , like the seemingly m u n d a n e textbook in the E n g l i s h l a n g u a g e written by F r a n c i s D a n i e l P a s t o r i u s a n d a i m e d not only at y o u n g A m e r i c a n s but a l s o (as the author's own G e r m a n i c - s o u n d i n g E n g l i s h s u g g e s t e d ) at " t h o s e w h o from foreign c o u n t r i e s a n d nations c o m e to settle a m o n g s t u s , " s u g g e s t less d r a m a t i c but still i m p o r t a n t cross-cultural c o n c e r n s . Religion, a d o m i n a n t t h e m e in the A m e r i c a n p r e s s in 1 7 0 0 , w a s itself linked to strong social i s s u e s , a s was d e m o n s t r a t e d by D a n i e l G o u l d ' s a c c o u n t of the e x e c u t i o n of Quaker diss e n t e r s in B o s t o n fifty years earlier, a work that a p p e a r e d in N e w York in 1 7 0 0 . T h e printer of G o u l d ' s book, in fact, a l s o i s s u e d a pair of d i s s e n t i n g tracts by Quaker a n d S a l e m m e r c h a n t T h o m a s M a u l e , i n c l u d i n g o n e called New England's Persecutors Mauled with Their Own Weapons. M a u l e ' s n a m e b e c a m e f a m o u s to later g e n e r a t i o n s of r e a d e r s t h r o u g h N a t h a n i e l Hawthorne's n o n e too a c c u r a t e a s s o c i a t i o n of it with the c u r s e d o o m i n g the Pync h e o n family in his S a l e m novel The House of the Seven Gables. Finally, r o u n d i n g out the century, c a m e The Selling of Joseph by S a m u e l Sewall, a m o n g the earliest antislavery tracts written a n d p u b l i s h e d in A m e r i c a a n d t h u s a work of growing i m p o r t a n c e in the future. A l t h o u g h the p u b l i s h e d items from this half d e c a d e of the s e v e n t e e n t h century also c o m p r i s e d a l m a n a c s a n d g o v e r n m e n t a l p u b l i c a t i o n s , s u c h i t e m s c o n t r i b u t e d a s well to the e s t a b l i s h m e n t of print c u l t u r e a n d , ultimately, of literary traditions in British A m e r i c a . It w a s to be the a l m a n a c , o n e recalls, that h e l p e d m a k e B e n j a m i n Franklin's fortune a s a printer, a n d it w a s Franklin w h o c o n v e r t e d that everyday form into a vehicle of rare wit a n d sturdy E n g l i s h .

LITERATURE TO TEXTS

1700 CONTEXTS

Peoples indigenous to the Americas orally perform and transmit a variety of "literary" genres that include, among others, speeches, songs, and stories 1000—1300 Anasazi communities inhabit southwestern regions. 1492 Christopher Columbus arrives in the Bahamas • between 4 and 7 million Native Americans estimated in present-day United States, including Alaska 1493 Columbus, "Letter to Luis de Santangel Regarding the First Voyage" 1500 Native American populations begin to be ravaged by European diseases 1514 Bartolome de las Casas petitions Spanish crown to treat Native American peoples like other human (subject) populations 1519—21 Cortes conquers Aztecs in Mexico I 526 Spanish explorers bringfirstAfrican slaves to South Carolina 1539 First printing press in the Americas set up in Mexico City • Hernando de Soto invades Florida 1542 Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca, The Relation of Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca

1552 Bartolome de las Casas, The Very Brief Relation of the Devastation of the Indies

1558-1603

Reign of Elizabeth I

c. 1 568 Bernal Diaz del Castillo composes The True History of the Conquest of New Spain (pub. 1632)

1 584 Walter Ralegh lands on "island" of Roanoke; names it "Virginia" for Queen Elizabeth 1588 Thomas Harriot, A Brief and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia

1603—13 Samuel de Champlain explores the St. Lawrence River; founds Quebec 1605 Garcilaso de la Vega, The Florida of the Inca

Boldface titles indicateworks in the anthology.

1 5

CONTEXTS

TEXTS

1607 Jamestown is established in Virginia • Powhatan confederacy prevents colonists from starving; teaches them to plant tobacco 1613 Samuel de Champlain, The Voyages of Sietir de Champlain

1619 Twenty Africans arrive in Jamestown on a Dutch vessel as indentured servants 1620 Mayflower drops anchor in Plymouth Harbor 1621 First Thanksgiving, at Plymouth 1624 John Smith, The General History of Virginia, New England, and the Summer Isles

1630-43 Immigration of English Puritans to Massachusetts Bay

1630 John Winthrop delivers his sermon A Model of Christian Charity (pub. 1838)

1630-50 William Bradford writes Of Plymouth Plantation (pub. 1856)

1637 PequotWar

1637 Thomas Morton, New England Canaan

1638 Anne Hutchinson banished from Bay Colony for challenging Puritan beliefs. 1643 Roger Williams, A Key into the Langitage of America

1650 Anne Bradstreet, The Tenth Muse 1655 Adriaen Van der Donck, A Description of New Netherland

1661 Jacob Steendam, "The Praise of New Netherland" 1662 Michael Wigglesworth, Tlte Day of Doom

1673-1729 Samuel Sewall keeps his Diary (pub. 1878-82) 1675—78 King Philip's War destroys power of Native American tribes in New England 1681 William Penn founds Pennsylvania 1682 Mar) Rowlandson's Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration

1682—1 725 Edward Taylor continues his Preparatory Meditations (pub. 1939, 1960)

1684 Francis Daniel Pastorius, Positive Information from America

1692 Salem witch trials 1702 Cotton Mather, Magtialia Christi Americana

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S t o r i e s

o f

t h e

B e g i n n i n g

o f

t h e

W o r l d

Stories about the creation of the world tell people who they are by telling them where they come from. Native American creation stories, although never written down or gathered into a bible, serve for native cultures in much the same way as the Book of Genesis serves for the Judeo-Christian world: they posit a general cultural outlook and offer perspectives on what life is and how to understand it. All native peoples have stories of the earliest times; reprinted here are two, one from the Iroquois of the Northeast and one from the Akimel O'odham or Pima of the Southwest. These peoples encountered European explorers, missionaries, and colonists very early in the period of contact, and information and conjecture about the Iroquois and the Pima appear in European texts that go back almost four hundred years. But these early records offer only bare sketches of what native people said, sang, chanted, and narrated; and of course, North American Indians did not themselves write down their stories. It was not until the mid- to late nineteenth century that Euro-Americans developed the linguistic skills and cultural understanding necessary to translate and transcribe Native American creation stories in a manner that begins to do justice to them. It was also not until then that native people collaborated extensively in recording the myths and legends of their people. In the Southwest, the army doctor Washington Matthews began to work on the Navajo Night Chant and Mountain Chant in the 1880s, while Frank Hamilton Cushing, employed by the Bureau of American Ethnology, had installed himself among the Zuni and begun to record their legends in 1879. J . W. Fewkes, after the turn of the century, and J. W. Lloyd, somewhat later, both worked with the Pima man Thin Leather to record stories of the earliest times. Among the Iroquois, David Cusick, a Tuscarora (the Tuscarora joined the Iroquois Confederacy early in the eighteenth century), had begun to document the legends of his people as early as 1825. He was followed by the distinguished Tuscarora anthropologist J . N. B. Hewitt shortly after the turn of the century.

T H E

I R O Q U O I S

C R E A T I O N

S T O R Y

The people known collectively as the Iroquois were made up of the Mohawk, Seneca, Oneida, Onondaga, and Cayuga nations. Joined in the early eighteenth century by the Tuscarora of North Carolina, the Five Nations became the Six Nations. The original Five Nations occupied lands that ranged from the area northeast of lakes Ontario_and F.rie around the St. Lawrence and Ottawa rivers, then south of the lakes, and eastward almost to the Hudson River. Named Iroquois by the f r p n r h (the Dutch and English called all these peoples Mohawk", Maqua, or Seneca), the Six Nations called themselves People of the Longhouse (Haudenosaunee in Seneca, Kanosoni in Mohawk), in reference to their primary type of dwelling. Iroquois Ionghouses were some twenty feet wide and from forty to two hundred feet long, accommodating several families who shared cooking fires. The largest towns of the Iroquois contained as many as two thousand people. Warfare was an important element of Iroquois life. Late in the fifteenth century, in response to the terrible consequences of ongoing wars, a man named Hiawatha founded the_League, or Confederacy, of the Five Nations. According to Iroquois 17

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THE

IROQUOIS

CREATION

STORY

^ ^ - ^ / ^

legend, having lost all of his daughters in war, Hiawatha, in a rage of grief and despair, went by himself into the forest. There he encountered a supernatural being named Deganawirlah, the Pearrmskpr, p e r h a p c a reincarnation of the Good Twin of the Iroquois creation story. Deganawidah comforted Hiawatha and taught him Rituals of Condolence that were to be the core of a new creed, the Good News of Peace and Power. Thus the cultural ideal of peace was established. While war continued as a central reality of Iroquois life, there were now ritual means of comforting the bereaved—and an ongoing hope for more lasting peace. Of special note is the importance of women in Iroquois life. Women owned the property and took responsibility for major decisions of social life (indeed, society is referred to as "she"), attending to agricultural duties in the clearings while the men hunted in the woods or warred against traditional enemies such as the Huron to the north. The principal male figure in an Iroquois child's life was not the father but the mother's brother, and the image of mother-dominated families is established strongly in the creation legend. In the version printed here males are entirely absent at the beginning of the tale, appearing neither as husbands nor as fathers. Indeed, stories of fatherless boys who become heroes are common in Iroquois folk history. The Iroquois creation myth exists in some twenty-five versions, the earliest of which was taken down by the Frenchman Gabriel Sagard in 1623 from the Huron. Other early accounts derive from the Mohawk and the Seneca. There is, however, no actual transcription and translation of an Iroquois cosmogonic myth—a narrative of the establishment of the world—until that of David Cusick, a Tuscarora, in the nineteenth century. Little is known about Cusick. He was born in Madison County, New York, before 1800, when his family moved to the lands granted the Tuscarora by the Seneca and Oneida in Niagara County, New York. Most likely, he attended a mission school where he learned to read and write English. He died in 1840. Cusick's Tuscarora version shares many elements with the creation stories of other members of the Iroquois League; indeed, it has surely been influenced by them. But it also omits much material that other versions include. Other accounts begin with a man and a woman who live together in the sky world on opposite sides of a fire. Although these two do not sleep together, the woman finds herself pregnant and eventually gives birth to a daughter. The man falls ill and dies, and the daughter grieves intensely for him. When the young woman is grown, her father's spirit instructs her to make a difficult journey to a place where she will meet the man destined to become her husband. When at last she finds this man, he too is ill, but the young woman cures him. The two marry but do not sleep together; nonetheless, as had happened to her mother, she becomes pregnant. It is at this point that Cusick picks up the story of the woman who "would have the twin born." Other versions continue past the point where Cusick's terminates. Some tell, for example, of a toad that hoards water long enough to cause a flood. Cusick's English, as the phrase quoted above makes clear, is not standard. Aware of that, he noted in the preface to his work that he found himself "so small educated that it was impossible for me to compose the work without much difficulty." His style is a curious combination of an Indian-inflected English and what the Euro-American culture of the period would have defined as polite literary style. We have selected Cusick's version of the Iroquois creation story because it is early, because it is by a native person (Cusick was the first Native American to record on his own the founding myths of his own people), and because it is fairly accessible to the contemporary reader.

THE

IROQUOIS CREATION STORY

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19

T h e Iroquois Creation Story1 A Tale of the Foundation of the Great Island, Now North America;— the Two Infants Born, and the Creation of the Universe A m o n g t h e a n c i e n t s there were two worlds in e x i s t e n c e . T h e lower world w a s in great d a r k n e s s ; — t h e p o s s e s s i o n of the great m o n s t e r ; b u t t h e u p p e r world w a s inhabited by m a n k i n d ; a n d there w a s a w o m a n c o n c e i v e d 2 a n d would have t h e twin born. W h e n her travail drew near, a n d her situation s e e m e d to p r o d u c e a great distress on her m i n d , a n d s h e w a s i n d u c e d by s o m e o f her relations to lay herself on a m a t t r e s s which w a s p r e p a r e d , s o a s to gain r e f r e s h m e n t s to her wearied body; b u t while s h e w a s a s l e e p t h e very p l a c e s u n k d o w n towards t h e dark w o r l d . 1 T h e m o n s t e r s 4 o f t h e great water were a l a r m e d at her a p p e a r a n c e o f d e s c e n d i n g to t h e lower world; in cons e q u e n c e all t h e s p e c i e s of the c r e a t u r e s were i m m e d i a t e l y c o l l e c t e d into where it w a s e x p e c t e d s h e would fall. W h e n the m o n s t e r s were a s s e m b l e d , a n d they m a d e c o n s u l t a t i o n , o n e of t h e m w a s a p p o i n t e d in h a s t e to s e a r c h the great d e e p , in order to p r o c u r e s o m e earth, if it c o u l d b e o b t a i n e d ; a c c o r d ingly the m o n s t e r d e s c e n d s , which s u c c e e d s , a n d returns to t h e p l a c e . Another requisition w a s p r e s e n t e d , w h o would b e c a p a b l e to s e c u r e t h e w o m a n from t h e terrors of t h e great water, but n o n e w a s a b l e to c o m p l y except a large turtle c a m e forward a n d m a d e proposal to t h e m to e n d u r e her lasting weight, which w a s a c c e p t e d . T h e w o m a n w a s yet d e s c e n d i n g from a great d i s t a n c e . T h e turtle e x e c u t e s u p o n t h e spot, a n d a small quantity o f earth w a s varnished on t h e back part of the turtle. T h e w o m a n alights on the seat p r e p a r e d , a n d s h e receives a s a t i s f a c t i o n . 5 While h o l d i n g her, t h e turtle i n c r e a s e d every m o m e n t a n d b e c a m e a c o n s i d e r a b l e island of e a r t h , a n d apparently covered with small b u s h e s . T h e w o m a n r e m a i n e d in a state of unlimited d a r k n e s s , a n d s h e w a s overtaken by her travail to which s h e w a s s u b j e c t . While s h e w a s in t h e limits of distress o n e of t h e infants in her w o m b w a s moved by a n evil opinion a n d h e w a s d e t e r m i n e d to p a s s o u t u n d e r the side o f t h e parent's a r m , a n d t h e other infant in vain e n d e a v o u r e d to prevent his d e s i g n . 6 T h e w o m a n w a s in a painful condition d u r i n g t h e time of their d i s p u t e s , a n d t h e infants entered t h e dark world by c o m p u l s i o n , a n d their p a r e n t expired in a few m o m e n t s . T h e y h a d t h e p o w e r o f s u s t e n a n c e without a n u r s e , a n d r e m a i n e d in t h e dark regions. After a time t h e turtle i n c r e a s e d to a great Island a n d t h e infants were grown u p , a n d o n e o f t h e m p o s s e s s e d w i t h a gentle disposition, a n d n a m e d E N I G O R I O , i.e. the ppnd m i n d T h e other youth p o s s e s s e d a n i n s o l e n c e of c h a r a c t e r ' ~ a n d w a s n a m e d E N I 1. The text is from Sketches of the Ancient History

of the Six Nations (1827). 2. The woman who conceives is, in most Iroquois accounts of the creation, the second generation of sky women to become pregnant without sexual activity. "Mankind": i.e., humans rather than "monsters"—undefined creatures of a time before the world as we know it was established—although these humans have powers quite different from those humans usuallv possess. 3. Other versions have Sky Woman either being pushed out of the upper world or accidentally falling. 4. In other versions the monsters are a variety of

familiar animals. Cusick conveys the mysterious and dangerous state of affairs in the as-yetunformed universe. 5. I.e., she lands safely, without harm. 6. Other versions of the story have Sky Woman give birth to a daughter, who again becomes supernaturally pregnant (perhaps by the spirit of the turtle), and it is she who conceives the twins. The tw ins argue even in the womb, the Evil Twin deciding not to be born in the normal way but to burst through his mother's side, which leads to her death. The theme of rival twins is widespread in the Americas.

20

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THE

IROQUOIS

CREATION

STORY

i.e. the bad m i n d . 7 T h e g o o d m i n d w a s not c o n t e n t e d to remain in a dark situation, a n d he w a s a n x i o u s to c r e a t e a great light in the dark world; but the b a d mind w a s d e s i r o u s that the world s h o u l d r e m a i n in a natural s t a t e . T h e good m i n d d e t e r m i n e s to p r o s e c u t e his d e s i g n s , a n d therefore c o m m e n c e s the work of c r e a t i o n . At first he took the parent's h e a d , (the d e c e a s e d ) of which he c r e a t e d an orb, a n d e s t a b l i s h e d it in the c e n t r e of the f i r m a m e n t , a n d it b e c a m e of a very superior n a t u r e to b e s t o w light to the new world, (now the s u n ) a n d again he took the r e m n a n t of the body a n d f o r m e d a n o t h e r orb, which w a s inferior to the light (now m o o n ) . In the orb a c l o u d of legs a p p e a r e d to prove it w a s the body of the g o o d m i n d , ( p a r e n t ) . T h e former w a s to give light to the day a n d the latter to the night; a n d he a l s o c r e a t e d n u m e r o u s spots of light, (now s t a r s ) : t h e s e were to regulate the days, nights, s e a s o n s , years, e t c . W h e n e v e r the light e x t e n d e d to the dark world the m o n s t e r s were d i s p l e a s e d a n d i m m e d i a t e l y c o n c e a l e d t h e m s e l v e s in the d e e p p l a c e s , lest they s h o u l d be d i s c o v e r e d by s o m e h u m a n b e i n g s . T h e g o o d m i n d c o n t i n u e d the works of c r e a t i o n , a n d he f o r m e d n u m e r o u s creeks a n d rivers on the G r e a t Island, a n d then c r e a t e d n u m e r o u s s p e c i e s of a n i m a l s of the s m a l l e s t a n d the greatest, to inhabit the forests, a n d fishes of all kinds to inhabit the w a t e r s . W h e n he h a d m a d e the universe h e w a s in d o u b t r e s p e c t i n g s o m e being to p o s s e s s the G r e a t I s l a n d ; a n d he f o r m e d two i m a g e s of the d u s t of the g r o u n d in his own likeness, m a l e a n d f e m a l e , a n d by his b r e a t h i n g into their nostrils he gave t h e m the living s o u l s , a n d n a m e d t h e m E A - G W E - H O W E , i.e., a real p e o p l e ; " a n d he gave the G r e a t Island all the a n i m a l s of g a m e for their m a i n t e n a n c e a n d he a p p o i n t e d thunder to water the earth by frequent r a i n s , a g r e e a b l e of the n a t u r e of the syst e m ; after this the Island b e c a m e fruitful a n d vegetation afforded the a n i m a l s s u b s i s t e n c e . T h e b a d m i n d , while his brother w a s m a k i n g the u n i v e r s e , went t h r o u g h o u t the Island a n d m a d e n u m e r o u s high m o u n t a i n s a n d falls of water, a n d great s t e e p s , a n d a l s o c r e a t e s various reptiles which would be injurious to m a n k i n d ; but the g o o d m i n d restored the Island to its former condition. T h e bad mind p r o c e e d e d further in his motives a n d h e m a d e two i m a g e s of clay in the form of m a n k i n d ; but while h e w a s giving t h e m exist e n c e they b e c a m e apes; 1 ' a n d when h e h a d not the p o w e r to c r e a t e m a n k i n d he w a s e n v i o u s a g a i n s t his brother; a n d again he m a d e two of clay. T h e g o o d mind discovered his brothers c o n t r i v a n c e s , a n d aided in giving t h e m living s o u l s , (it is s a i d t h e s e h a d the m o s t k n o w l e d g e of good a n d evil). T h e g o o d mind now a c c o m p l i s h e s the works of c r e a t i o n , n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g the imaginations of the b a d mind were continually evil; a n d he a t t e m p t e d to e n c l o s e all the a n i m a l s of g a m e in the earth, s o a s to deprive t h e m from m a n k i n d ; but the good mind r e l e a s e d t h e m from c o n f i n e m e n t , (the a n i m a l s were disp e r s e d , a n d traces of t h e m were m a d e on the rocks n e a r the c a v e w h e r e it G£>FTIHAHETGEA,

7. MORE COMMONLY, THE GOOD TWIN IS CALLED THARONHIAWAGON (SKY-GRASPER, CREATOR, OR UPHOLDER OF THE FLEAVENS), AND THE EVIL TWIN IS NAMED TAWISCARON (EVIL-MINDED, FLINT, ICE, PATRON OF WINTER, AND OTHER DISASTERS). CUSICK'S ENIGORIO IS A ROUGH TRANSLATION OF THE TUSCARORA WORD FOR"GOOD MINDED" INTO MOHAWK, AND HIS ENIGONHAHETGEA IS AN EQUALLY ROUGH TRANSLATION INTO SENECA, ONONDAGA, OR CAYUGA OF THE TUSCARORA WORD FOR "BAD MINDED." CUSICK HAS PROBABLY CHANGED THE TUSCARORA WORDS BEST KNOWN TO HIM INTO THESE OTHER IROQUOIS LANGUAGES, BECAUSE THEY WERE CONSIDERED TO BE MORE PRESTIGIOUS THAN TUSCARORA, THE TUS-

CARORAS ONLY RECENTLY HAVING JOINED THE IROQUOIS CONFEDERACY. 8. HUMANS. " E a - g w e - h o w e " : TUSCARORA TERM USED BY SPEAKERS OF ALL THE LANGUAGES OF THE SIX NATIONS; TODAY, IT SIMPLY MEANS INDIAN, OR INDIANS. 9 . CUSICK MAY HAVE SEEN AN APE OR A DEPICTION OT APES (THERE ARE NO APES NATIVE TO THE NEW WORLD) AND DECIDED TO NAME THEM AS THE CREATURES MADE BY THE EVIL TWIN IN CONTRAST TO THE HUMANS MADE BY THE GOOD TWIN. JOHN BUCK AND CHIEF JOHN GIBSON, IN THEIR LATER RENDITIONS OF THE IROQUOIS CREATION NARRATIVE, ALSO REFER TO APES AT THIS POINT IN THE NARRATIVE.

PIMA

STORIES OF THE

BEGINNING

OF THE W O R L D

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21

was c l o s e d ) . T h e g o o d mind experiences that his brother w a s at variance with the works of c r e a t i o n , a n d feels not d i s p o s e d to favor a n y of his p r o c e e d i n g s , b u t gives a d m o n i t i o n s of his future s t a t e . Afterwards the g o o d m i n d r e q u e s t e d his brother to a c c o m p a n y him, a s h e w a s p r o p o s e d to i n s p e c t the g a m e , e t c . , but w h e n a short d i s t a n c e from their m o n i n a l 1 [sic] r e s i d e n c e , the b a d m i n d b e c a m e so u n m a n l y that he c o u l d not c o n d u c t his brother any m o r e . 2 T h e b a d m i n d offered a c h a l l e n g e to his brother a n d resolved that who g a i n s the victory s h o u l d govern the u n i v e r s e ; a n d a p p o i n t e d a day to m e e t the c o n t e s t . T h e g o o d m i n d w a s willing to s u b m i t to the offer, a n d he enters the reconciliation with his brother; which he falsely m e n t i o n s that by whipping with flags would destroy his temporal life; 3 a n d he earnestly solicits his brother also to notice the i n s t r u m e n t of d e a t h , which he manifestly relates by the u s e of d e e r h o r n s , b e a t i n g his body he w o u l d expire. O n the day a p p o i n t e d the e n g a g e m e n t c o m m e n c e d , which lasted for two days: after pulling u p the trees a n d m o u n t a i n s a s the track of a terrible whirlwind, at last the g o o d m i n d g a i n e d the victory by u s i n g the h o r n s , as m e n t i o n e d the i n s t r u m e n t of d e a t h , which h e s u c c e e d e d in deceiving his brother a n d he c r u s h e d him in the e a r t h ; a n d the last words uttered from the b a d mind were, that he would have equal power over the s o u l s of m a n k i n d after d e a t h ; a n d he sinks down to eternal d o o m , a n d b e c a m e the Evil S p i r i t . 4 After this t u m u l t the g o o d m i n d repaired to the battle g r o u n d , a n d then visited the p e o p l e a n d retires from the e a r t h . 5 1827 1. CUSICK PERHAPS MEANS nominal, THEIR NAMED OR DESIGNATED RESIDENCE. 2. I.E., THE EVIL TWIN BECAME SO RUDE AND OBNOXIOUS THAT THE GOOD TWIN COULD NOT LEAD ("CONDUCT") HIS BROTHER TO THE APPOINTED PLACE ANY LONGER. 3. THE GOOD TWIN TELLS HIS BROTHER THAT HE CAN BE KILLED BY BEING BEATEN WITH CORN STALKS, RUSHES, REEDS, OR CATTAILS. CUSICK CALLS THIS A DECEPTION;

PIMA

STORIES OF

OF

THE

OTHER ACCOUNTS TREAT IT AS A CONFESSION OF WEAKNESS. BELOW, THE EVIL TWIN ADMITS THAT HE WOULD DIE IF BEATEN WITH THE ANTLERS OF DEER. 4 . THIS MAY REFLECT AN AWARENESS OF THE CHRISTIAN BELIEF IN THE DEVIL AS THE EVIL SPIRIT, RULER OVER THE LOWER DEPTHS. 5. OTHER VERSIONS GO ON TO SAY THAT THE GOOD TWIN TEACHES THE PEOPLE HOW TO GROW CORN AND HOW TO KEEP FROM HARM BY MEANS OF PRAYER AND RITUAL.

THE

BEGINNING

WORLD

The Akimel O'odham, or Pima, live along the Gila and Salt Rivers in the desert of central Arizona and are close relations of the Tohono O'odham (formerly known as the Papago), who occupy lands in the mostly riverless desert to the south of them. Farming close to the rivers, the Akimel O'odham grew corn and beans, gathered wild plants, and hunted small game. Late in the sixteenth century, they encountered the Spanish, who named them "Pima" sometime around 1600. Because of their remoteness from Spanish and Mexican centers of power, the Pima were not immediately subjected to strong European influence. In 1694 Spanish missionaries were sent out to convert them. Today, like many native peoples, most Pima are Christian, although their Christianity both includes and exists alongside traditional beliefs and practices. The first Pima mythological narrative to be recorded dates from a 1694 journal account written by the Spaniard Juan Manje; Pedro Font, another Spaniard, also recorded a Pima story in 1775. These stories concern the ancestors of the Pima, the

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PIMA

STORIES OF THE

B E G I N N I N G OF THE

WORLD

Hohokam (meaning, roughly, the "finished ones" or "those who are gone"). Of great importance to the Pima, the narratives offer an account of how the cultural practices of everyday Pima life came to be established. But these earliest stories do not tell of the creation of the world, of the origins of things, or the actions of the most distant ancestors. Such tales were not recorded until the turn of the twentieth century. At the Pan-American Fair in Buffalo, New York, in July 1901, J. W. Lloyd met a man named Edward H. Wood, a full-blood Pima, who told him that his greatest dream was to preserve the ancient legends and tales of his people. Wood's grand-uncle, Thin a recognized master who knew all the ancient stories. Leather, was a see-nee-yaw-kum, Thin Leather, as Wood told Lloyd, had no successor and feared that with his death the stories would be lost to his people and to the world. Wood persuaded Lloyd to go to the Southwest and work with him and his uncle to record the stories in English. In 1903 Lloyd traveled to Sacaton, Arizona, where he met Thin Leather and, with Wood acting as interpreter, recorded a number of his tales. Lloyd published the results of his work with Wood and Thin Leather privately in 1911, as Aw-aw-tam, Indian

Nights,

Being

the Myths and Legends

of the Pimas

of Arizona.

The title refers

to the fact that these stories were traditionally told over a period of four nights. Although the Stoiy of the Creation was not narrated until the twentieth century, it is little influenced by the origin story in Genesis, which, however, Thin Leather probably knew. The important animals and vegetation, the chief protagonists, and their personalities and actions are all specific to Pima culture. The text is from Aw-aw-tam, Pimas of Arizona (1911).

Indian

Nights,

Being

the Myths and Legends

of the

T h e Story of the Creation1 In the b e g i n n i n g there w a s no earth, n o w a t e r — n o t h i n g . T h e r e w a s only a P e r s o n . fuh-wert-a-Mah-kai (The^Doctor of the- E a r t h ) . 2 H e j u s f f l o a t e d , forThere w a s n o p l a c e for him to s t a n d u p o n . T h e r e w a s no s u n , no light, a n d h e j u s t floated a b o u t in the d a r k n e s s , which w a s Darkn e s s itself. H e w a n d e r e d a r o u n d in t h e n o w h e r e till h e t h o u g h t h e h a d w a n d e r e d e n o u g h . T h e n h e r u b b e d on his b r e a s t a n d r u b b e d o u t moah-haht-tack, that is perspiration, or greasy e a r t h . T h i s h e r u b b e d o u t on t h e p a l m of his h a n d a n d held o u t . It tipped over three t i m e s , b u t t h e fourth t i m e 3 it staid straight in t h e m i d d l e of the air a n d there it r e m a i n s n o w a s t h e world. T h e first b u s h h e c r e a t e d w a s t h e g r e a s e w o o d b u s h . 4 A n d h e m a d e a n t s , little tiny a n t s , to live on that b u s h , on its g u m which c o m e s o u t of its s t e m . B u t t h e s e little ants did not d o any g o o d , s o h e c r e a t e d white a n t s , a n d t h e s e worked a n d enlarged t h e e a r t h ; a n d they kept on i n c r e a s i n g it, larger a n d larger, until at last it w a s b i g e n o u g h for himself to rest o n .

1. T h e e d i t o r is i n d e b t e d t o D o n a l d B a h r f o r h i s help with t h e a n n o t a t i o n of t h e P i m a selections. 2. This title is e q u i v a l e n t t o r e s p e c t f u l l y c a l l i n g Juhvvertamahkai a medicine person, or shaman, w i t h g r e a t p o w e r s , a l t h o u g h h i s p o w e r s s e e m , in a W e s t e r n s e n s e , to b e godlike. 3 . T h i s i s t h e first o f s e v e r a l a c t i o n s t h a t m u s t b e a t t e m p t e d f o u r t i m e s b e f o r e it is a c h i e v e d | a d a p t e d

f r o m L l o y d ' s n o t e ] . F o u r is t h e p a t t e r n n u m b e r ol t h e P i m a , a s it i s o f a g r e a t m a n y n a t i v e p e o p l e s ; it corresponds to the importance of three a n d seven a s p a t t e r n n u m b e r s in W e s t e r n c u l t u r e s . 4 . " T h e l o c a l t o u c h in m a k i n g t h e g r e a s e w o o d h u s h t h e First v e g e t a t i o n i s v e r y s t r o n g " [ L l o y d ' s n o t e ] . G r e a s e w o o d b u s h e s a r e a b u n d a n t in t h e Pima homelands.

THE

STORY

OF THE

CREATION

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23

T h e n he c r e a t e d a P e r s o n . H e m a d e him out of his eye, out of the s h a d o w of his eyes, to assist him, to be like him, a n d to help him in c r e a t i n g trees a n d h u m a n beings a n d everything that w a s to be on the e a r t h . T h e n a m e of this being w a s Noo-ee (the B u z z a r d ) . 5 N o o e e was given all power, but he did not do the work h e w a s c r e a t e d for. H e did not c a r e to help J u h w e r t a m a h k a i , but let him go by himself. And so the D o c t o r of the E a r t h himself c r e a t e d the m o u n t a i n s a n d everything that has s e e d a n d is good to eat. F o r if he h a d c r e a t e d h u m a n b e i n g s first they would have h a d nothing to live on. B u t after m a k i n g N o o e e a n d before m a k i n g the m o u n t a i n s a n d s e e d for food, J u h w e r t a m a h k a i m a d e the s u n . In order to m a k e the s u n h e first m a d e water, a n d this h e p l a c e d in a hollow vessel, like a n earthen dish (hwas-hah-ah) to h a r d e n into s o m e t h i n g like ice. A n d this h a r d e n e d ball he p l a c e d in the sky. First he p l a c e d it in the N o r t h , but it did not work; then he p l a c e d it in the W e s t , but it did not work; then he p l a c e d it in the S o u t h , but it did not work; then he p l a c e d it in the E a s t a n d there it worked a s h e w a n t e d it to. A n d the m o o n he m a d e in the s a m e way a n d tried in the s a m e p l a c e s , with the s a m e results. B u t when he m a d e the stars he took the water in his m o u t h a n d s p u r t e d it up into the sky. B u t the first night his stars did not give light e n o u g h . S o he took the Doctor-stone'' ( d i a m o n d ) , the tone-dum-haw-teh, and smashed it u p , a n d took the p i e c e s a n d threw t h e m intcTthe sky to mix with the water in the s t a r s , a n d then there w a s light e n o u g h . Juhwertamahkai

s Song of

Creation

J u h w e r t a m a h k a i m a d e the w o r l d — C o m e a n d s e e it a n d m a k e it useful! H e m a d e it r o u n d — C o m e a n d s e e it a n d m a k e it useful! A n d now J u h w e r t a m a h k a i , r u b b e d again on his b r e a s t , a n d from the s u b s t a n c e he o b t a i n e d there m a d e two little dolls, a n d t h e s e h e laid on the e a r t h . A n d they were h u m a n b e i n g s , m a n a n d w o m a n . And now for a time the p e o p l e i n c r e a s e d till they filled the e a r t h . F o r the first p a r e n t s were perfect, a n d there w a s no s i c k n e s s a n d no d e a t h . B u t w h e n the earth was full, then there was nothing to eat, so they killed a n d a t e e a c h other. B u t J u h w e r t a m a h k a i did not like the way his p e o p l e a c t e d , to kill a n d eat e a c h other, a n d s o he let the sky fall to kill t h e m . B u t w h e n the sky d r o p p e d h e , himself, took a staff a n d broke a hole thru, thru which he a n d N o o e e e m e r g e d a n d e s c a p e d , leaving b e h i n d t h e m all the p e o p l e d e a d . And J u h w e r t a m a h k a i , being now on the top of this fallen sky, a g a i n m a d e a m a n a n d a w o m a n , in the s a m e way a s b e f o r e . B u t this m a n a n d w o m a n

5. HE IS A PERSON AND ALSO A BUZZARD, WHICH, IN THE EARLIEST TIMES, IS NOT A CONTRADICTION OR PARADOX. 6. I.E., IT IS A PARTICULARLY POWERFUL STONE. LLOYD'S

INTERPRETER CALLED IT A DIAMOND, BUT AS DIAMONDS ARE UNCOMMON IN NORTH AMERICA, THIS IS PROBABLY A QUARTZ CRYSTAL.

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PIMA

STORIES

OF THE

BEGINNING

OF THE

WORLD

b e c a m e grey w h e n old, a n d their children b e c a m e grey still younger, a n d their children b e c a m e grey y o u n g e r still, a n d so on till the b a b i e s were grey in their c r a d l e s . A n d J u h w e r t a m a h k a i , w h o h a d m a d e a new earth a n d sky, j u s t a s there h a d b e e n before, did not like his p e o p l e b e c o m i n g grey in their c r a d l e s , so he let the sky fall on t h e m a g a i n , a n d again m a d e a hole a n d e s c a p e d , with N o o e e , as b e f o r e . A n d J u h w e r t a m a h k a i , on top of this s e c o n d sky, again m a d e a n e w h e a v e n a n d a new e a r t h , j u s t a s he h a d d o n e b e f o r e , a n d n e w p e o p l e . B u t t h e s e new p e o p l e m a d e a vice of s m o k i n g . B e f o r e h u m a n b e i n g s h a d never s m o k e d till they were old, but now they s m o k e d y o u n g e r , a n d e a c h g e n e r a t i o n still y o u n g e r , till the infants w a n t e d to s m o k e in their c r a d l e s . A n d J u h w e r t a m a h k a i did not like this, a n d let the sky fall a g a i n , a n d created everything n e w a g a i n in the s a m e way, a n d this time h e c r e a t e d the earth as it is now. B u t at first the w h o l e slope of the world w a s w e s t w a r d , 7 a n d tho there were p e a k s rising from this s l o p e there were n o true valleys, a n d all the water that fell ran away a n d there w a s no water for the p e o p l e to drink. S o J u h w e r t a m a h k a i sent N o o e e to fly a r o u n d a m o n g the m o u n t a i n s , a n d over the earth, to c u t valleys with his wings, so that the water c o u l d b e c a u g h t a n d distribu t e d a n d there might be e n o u g h for the p e o p l e to drink. N o w the s u n w a s m a l e a n d the m o o n w a s f e m a l e a n d they m e t o n c e a m o n t h . A n d the m o o n b e c a m e a m o t h e r a n d went to a m o u n t a i n called Tahsmy-et-tahn Toe-ahk (sun striking m o u n t a i n ) a n d there w a s b o r n her baby. B u t s h e h a d d u t i e s to attend to, to turn a r o u n d a n d give light, s o s h e m a d e a p l a c e for the child by t r a m p i n g d o w n the w e e d y b u s h e s a n d there left it. A n d the child, having no milk, w a s n o u r i s h e d on the e a r t h . A n d this child w a s the c o y o t e , 8 a n d a s h e grew, he went out to walk a n d in his walk c a m e to the h o u s e of J u h w e r t a m a h k a i a n d N o o e e , w h e r e they lived. A n d w h e n h e c a m e there J u h w e r t a m a h k a i knew him a n d called him Toehahvs,9 b e c a u s e he w a s laid o n the w e e d y b u s h e s of that n a m e . B u t now o u t of the N o r t h c a m e a n o t h e r powerful p e r s o n a g e , w h o h a s two n a m e s , See-ur-huh a n d Ee-ee-toy.] N o w S e e u r h u h m e a n s older brother, a n d w h e n this p e r s o n a g e c a m e to J u h w e r t a m a h k a i , N o o e e a n d T o e h a h v s he called t h e m his y o u n g e r brothers. B u t they c l a i m e d to have b e e n here first, a n d to b e older t h a n h e , a n d there w a s a d i s p u t e b e t w e e n t h e m . B u t finally, b e c a u s e h e insisted s o strongly, a n d j u s t to p l e a s e h i m , they let h i m be called older brother. 1911 7. A SPECIFICALLY LOCAL ELEMENT OF THE PIMA STORY, AS BOTH THE GILA AND THE SALT RIVERS, IMPORTANT TO THE PIMA, FLOW WESTWARD [ADAPTED FROM LLOYD'S NOTE]. 8. IT IS APPROPRIATE THAT THE NIGHT-PROWLING COYOTE IS BORN OF THE MOON, AND THERE IS A SYMMETRY IN HAVING THE BUZZARD SERVE AS JUHWERTAMAHKAI'S AGENT OF THE SKY AND THE COYOTE AS HIS AGENT OF THE EARTH [ADAPTED FROM LLOYD'S NOTE], 9. OR TOHAWES; BRITTLEBUSH, A COMMON PLANT IN PIMA COUNTRY. 1. THE NAME EITHER MEANS "DRINK IT ALL UP" OR,

ACCORDING TO PRESENT-DAY PIMAS, JUST SOUNDS LIKE THE WORD THAT MEANS "DRINK IT ALL UP," I.E., IT IS NOT TRANSLATABLE. THIS CHARACTER IS "THE MOST ACTIVE AND MYSTERIOUS PERSONALITY IN PIMAN MYTHOLOGY. OUT OF THE NORTH, APPARENTLY SELF-EXISTENT, BUT LITTLE INFERIOR IN POWER TO JUHWERTAMAHKAI, AND CLAIMING GREATER AGE, HE APPEARS, BY PURE 'BLUFF,' AND PERSISTENT PUSH AND WHEEDLING, TO HAVE INDUCED THE REALLY MORE POWERFUL, BUT GOOD-NATURED AND RATHER LAZY JUHWERTAMAHKAI TO GIVE OVER MOST OF THE REAL WORK AND GOVERNMENT OF THE WORLD TO HIM" [LLOYD'S NOTE].

CHRISTOPHER

COLUMBUS

1451-1506 Born into a family of wool workers near the once supreme Mediterranean port of Genoa, Christopher Columbus turned to the sea as a young man; developed a plan to find a commercially viable Atlantic route to Asia; and in 1492 won the support of the Spanish monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, for this "enterprise of the Indies." His series of four voyages between 1492 and 1504 produced a brief moment of wonder followed by a long series of disasters and disenchantments. Apparently friendly relations with the Taino Indians on the island of Hispaniola in 1492 turned sour as the settlers Columbus left behind demanded gold and sexual partners from their hosts; on his return there in 1494, none of the Europeans were alive. A new settlement established on the island following this discovery fell into such disorder during the absence of Columbus in Cuba and Jamaica that in 1496 he was forced to return to Spain to clear his name of politically motivated charges made against him by other Europeans in the Indies. A third voyage, begun in 1498, took him for the first time to the South American mainland; the lushness of nature there made him believe himself near Paradise, but that illusion vanished when, on his return to Hispaniola, he encountered Spanish settlers there in open rebellion against his authority. Able to reach a truce only at the expense of the Taino Indians, who were to be virtually enslaved by the rebels, Columbus soon found himself under arrest, sent in chains to Spain in 1500 to answer yet more charges. His last voyage, intended to recoup his tarnished reputation, resulted in a long period of suffering in Panama and shipwreck in Jamaica, and these outer woes were accompanied by nearly delusional periods as Columbus underwent a virtual breakdown. Rescued at last from this extremity, he returned to Europe, where soon afterward he died. The West Indies, as his discoveries were called, remained disordered and bloody. Several documents regarding the four voyages survive from Columbus's hand. The supposed Journal of his first voyage is actually a summary prepared by the cleric and reformer Bartolome de las Casas. A letter sent by Columbus to Luis de Santangel, a royal official and an early supporter of his venture, provides a more authentic account and served as the basis for the first printed description of America, issued in 1493 in Spain and widely translated and reprinted across Europe. A memorandum regarding the second voyage, intended by Columbus for the Spanish monarchs (whose responses to each point also survive), offers useful insights into the emerging ambiguities and problems of the colony on Hispaniola. For the third and fourth voyages, three letters from Columbus, two sent to the Crown and one to a woman of the Spanish court, detail his deepening worldly and spiritual troubles. The texts are from Select Documents Illustrating the Four Voyages of Columbus, translated and edited by Cecil Jane ( 1 9 3 0 - 3 3 ) .

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From

CHRISTOPHER

COLUMBUS

L e t t e r to L u i s d e S a n t a n g e l 1 R e g a r d i n g t h e F i r s t V o y a g e [At s e a , F e b r u a r y 1 5 , 1 4 9 3 ]

Sir, As I know that you will be p l e a s e d at the great victory with which O u r L o r d has c r o w n e d my voyage, I write this to you, from which you will learn how in thirty-three d a y s , I p a s s e d from the C a n a r y Islands to the Indies with the fleet which the m o s t illustrious king a n d q u e e n our sovereigns gave to m e . A n d there I f o u n d very m a n y i s l a n d s filled with p e o p l e i n n u m e r a b l e , a n d of t h e m all I have taken p o s s e s s i o n for their h i g h n e s s e s , by p r o c l a m a t i o n m a d e a n d with the royal s t a n d a r d unfurled, a n d n o o p p o s i t i o n w a s offered to m e . T o the first island which I f o u n d I gave the n a m e San Salvador,2 in r e m e m b r a n c e of the Divine M a j e s t y , W h o has marvelously b e s t o w e d all this; the Indians call it " G u a n a h a n i . " T o the s e c o n d I gave the n a m e Isla de Santa Maria de Conception; to the third, Fernandina; to the fourth, Isabella; to the fifth, Isla Juana,1, a n d so to e a c h o n e I gave a n e w n a m e . W h e n I r e a c h e d J u a n a I followed its c o a s t to the w e s t w a r d , a n d I found it to be s o extensive that I thought that it m u s t be the m a i n l a n d , the province of C a t a y o . 4 A n d s i n c e there were neither towns nor villages on the s e a s h o r e , but only small h a m l e t s , with the p e o p l e of which I c o u l d not have s p e e c h b e c a u s e they all fled immediately, I went forward on the s a m e c o u r s e , thinking that I s h o u l d not fail to find great cities a n d t o w n s . And at the end of m a n y l e a g u e s , s e e i n g that there w a s no c h a n g e a n d that the c o a s t w a s b e a r i n g m e n o r t h w a r d s , which I w i s h e d to avoid s i n c e winter w a s already b e g i n n i n g a n d I p r o p o s e d to m a k e from it to the s o u t h , a n d a s moreover the wind w a s carrying m e forward, I d e t e r m i n e d not to wait for a c h a n g e in the w e a t h e r a n d retraced my p a t h a s far a s a certain harbor known to m e . A n d from that point I sent two m e n inland to learn if there were a king or great cities. T h e y traveled three d a y s ' j o u r n e y a n d f o u n d an infinity of small h a m l e t s a n d p e o p l e without n u m b e r , but n o t h i n g of i m p o r t a n c e . F o r this r e a s o n they returned. I u n d e r s t o o d sufficiently from other I n d i a n s , w h o m I h a d already taken, that this land was n o t h i n g but an island. A n d therefore I followed its c o a s t e a s t w a r d s for o n e h u n d r e d a n d seven l e a g u e s to the point w h e r e it e n d e d . And from that c a p e I saw a n o t h e r island distant e i g h t e e n l e a g u e s from the former, to the e a s t , to which I at o n c e g a v e the n a m e " E s p a f t o l a . " 5 And I went there a n d followed its northern c o a s t , a s I h a d in the c a s e of J u a n a , to the e a s t w a r d for o n e h u n d r e d a n d eighty-eight great l e a g u e s in a straight line. T h i s island a n d all the others a r e very fertile to a limitless d e g r e e , a n d this island is extremely s o . In it there are m a n y h a r b o r s o n the c o a s t of the s e a , beyond c o m p a r i s o n with others which I know in C h r i s t e n d o m , a n d m a n y rivers, good a n d large, which is m a r v e l o u s . Its l a n d s are high, a n d there are in it very m a n y sierras a n d very lofty m o u n t a i n s , beyond c o m p a r i s o n with 1. A former merchant and a court official since 1478 who had supported Columbus's proposal to the Spanish Crown and had helped secure financing for thefirstvoyage. 2. The precise identity of the Bahamian island Columbus named San Salvador is not known today, although many theories have been put for-

ward. 3. Of these four islands, only the identity of Juana (Cuba) is today certain. 4. I.e., China (or "Cathay"). 5. I.e., Hispaniola, where the countries of Haiti and the Dominican Republic are located.

LETTER

TO F E R D I N A N D AND I S A B E L L A

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the island of T e n e r i f e . 6 All are most beautiful, of a t h o u s a n d s h a p e s , a n d all a r e a c c e s s i b l e a n d filled with trees of a t h o u s a n d kinds and tall, a n d they s e e m to t o u c h the sky. A n d I a m told that they never lose their foliage, a s I c a n u n d e r s t a n d , for I s a w t h e m a s green a n d as lovely a s they a r e in S p a i n in M a y , a n d s o m e of t h e m were flowering, s o m e b e a r i n g fruit, a n d s o m e in a n o t h e r s t a g e , a c c o r d i n g to their n a t u r e . A n d the nightingale w a s s i n g i n g a n d other birds of a t h o u s a n d kinds in the m o n t h of N o v e m b e r there w h e r e I went. T h e r e are six or eight kinds of p a l m , which are a w o n d e r to b e h o l d on a c c o u n t of their beautiful variety, but so are the otheTTrelsS^ncTrruits a n d p l a n t s . In it are m a r v e l o u s pine groves, a n d there are very large tracts of cultivatable l a n d s , a n d there is h o n e y , 7 a n d there are birds of m a n y kinds a n d fruits in great diversity. In the interior are m i n e s of m e t a l s , a n d the population is without n u m b e r . E s p a n o l a is a marvel.1493

From

L e t t e r to F e r d i n a n d a n d I s a b e l l a R e g a r d i n g the Fourth Voyage1 [ J a m a i c a , J u l y 7, 1 5 0 3 ]

O f E s p a n o l a , P a r i a , 2 and the other l a n d s , I never think without weeping. I believed that their e x a m p l e would have b e e n to the profit of o t h e r s ; on the contrary, they are in a n e x h a u s t e d s t a t e ; a l t h o u g h they a r e not d e a d , the infirmity is incurable or very extensive; let him w h o b r o u g h t t h e m to this s t a t e c o m e now with the remedy if he c a n or if h e knows it; in d e s t r u c t i o n , everyone is a n a d e p t . It w a s always the c u s t o m to give t h a n k s a n d p r o m o t i o n to him who imperiled his p e r s o n . It is not j u s t that he who h a s b e e n so hostile to this undertaking s h o u l d enjoy its fruits or that his children s h o u l d . T h o s e w h o left the Indies, flying from toils a n d s p e a k i n g evil of the m a t t e r a n d of m e , have returned with official e m p l o y m e n t . 1 S o it has now b e e n ordained in the c a s e of V e r a g u a . 4 It is a n ill e x a m p l e a n d without profit for the b u s i n e s s a n d for j u s t i c e in the world. T h e fear of this, with other sufficient r e a s o n s , which I saw clearly, led m e to pray your h i g h n e s s e s before I went to discover these i s l a n d s a n d T e r r a F i r m a , that you would leave t h e m to m e to govern in your royal n a m e . It p l e a s e d you; it w a s a privilege a n d a g r e e m e n t , a n d u n d e r seal a n d o a t h , a n d you granted m e the title of viceroy a n d admiral a n d governor g e n e r a l of all. A n d you fixed the b o u n d a r y , a h u n d r e d l e a g u e s beyond the Azores a n d the 6. The largest of the Canary Islands. 7. The honeybee, presumably the source of the honey found on the island, is not native to the Western Hemisphere. Nor is the nightingale, mentioned above. 1. Written on J a m a i c a in 1503, this letter was hand-carried from there to Hispaniola by Diego Mendez. 2. Paria was the mainland region of what is now

Venezuela, near the island of Trinidad. C o l u m b u s , who had first landed in South America ("Terra Firma," as he terms it later) in 1498, argued that the terrestrial paradise lay nearby. 3. Although it appears that C o l u m b u s has specific personal enemies in mind, it is not clear who he means. 4. I.e., Panama, where C o l u m b u s was shipwrecked earlier in this voyage.

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CHRISTOPHER

COLUMBUS

C a p e V e r d e I s l a n d s , by a line p a s s i n g from pole to pole, a n d you gave m e wide p o w e r over this a n d over all that I might further discover. T h e d o c u m e n t states this very fully. T h e other m o s t i m p o r t a n t matter, which calls aloud for r e d r e s s , r e m a i n s inexplicable to this m o m e n t . S e v e n years I was at your royal c o u r t , where all to w h o m this u n d e r t a k i n g w a s m e n t i o n e d , u n a n i m o u s l y d e c l a r e d it to be a d e l u s i o n . N o w all, down to the very tailors, s e e k p e r m i s s i o n to m a k e discoveries. It c a n be believed that they go forth to p l u n d e r , a n d it is g r a n t e d to t h e m to d o s o , so that they greatly p r e j u d i c e my h o n o r a n d d o very great d a m a g e to the enterprise. It is well to give to G o d that which is His d u e a n d to C a e s a r that which b e l o n g s to him. T h i s is a j u s t s e n t i m e n t a n d b a s e d on justice. T h e l a n d s which here obey Your H i g h n e s s e s are m o r e extensive a n d richer than all other C h r i s t i a n l a n d s . After I, by the divine will, h a d p l a c e d t h e m u n d e r your royal a n d exalted lordship, a n d w a s on the point of s e c u r i n g a very great r e v e n u e , s u d d e n l y , while I w a s waiting for ships to c o m e to your high p r e s e n c e with victory a n d with great news of gold, b e i n g very s e c u r e a n d joyful, I w a s m a d e a p r i s o n e r a n d with my two brothers w a s thrown into a ship, laden with fetters, stripped to the skin, very ill-treated, a n d without b e i n g tried or c o n d e m n e d . W h o will believe that a p o o r foreigner could in s u c h a p l a c e rise a g a i n s t Your H i g h n e s s e s , without c a u s e , a n d without the s u p p o r t of s o m e other p r i n c e , a n d b e i n g a l o n e a m o n g your v a s s a l s a n d natural s u b j e c t s , a n d having all my children at your royal c o u r t ? I c a m e to serve at the a g e of twenty-eight years, a n d n o w I have not a hair on my body that is not gray, a n d my body is infirm, a n d whatever r e m a i n e d to m e from t h o s e years of service has b e e n spent a n d t a k e n away from m e a n d sold, a n d from my b r o t h e r s , d o w n to my very c o a t , without my b e i n g h e a r d or s e e n , to my great dishonor. It m u s t be believed that this was not d o n e by your royal c o m m a n d . T h e restitution of my honor, the reparation of my l o s s e s , a n d the p u n i s h m e n t of him w h o did this, will s p r e a d a b r o a d the f a m e of your royal nobility. T h e s a m e p u n i s h m e n t is d u e to h i m who robbed m e of the p e a r l s , a n d to him w h o infringed my rights a s a d m i r a l . ' Very great will b e your merit, f a m e without parallel will be y o u r s , if you do this, a n d there will r e m a i n in S p a i n a glorious m e m o r y of Y o u r H i g h n e s s e s , as grateful and just princes. T h e p u r e devotion which I have ever b o r n e to the service of Your Highn e s s e s , a n d the u n m e r i t e d w r o n g that I have s u f f e r e d , will not p e r m i t m e to r e m a i n silent, a l t h o u g h I would fain do s o ; I pray Your H i g h n e s s e s to p a r d o n m e . I a m so ruined a s I have said; hitherto I have w e p t for o t h e r s ; now, H e a v e n have mercy u p o n m e , a n d m a y the earth w e e p for m e . O f worldly g o o d s , I have not even a b l a n c a 6 for an offering in spiritual t h i n g s . H e r e in the Indies I have b e c o m e c a r e l e s s of the p r e s c r i b e d f o r m s of religion. A l o n e in my t r o u b l e , sick, in daily expectation of d e a t h , a n d e n c o m p a s s e d a b o u t by a million s a v a g e s , full of cruelty a n d our foes, a n d s o s e p a r a t e d from the holy S a c r a m e n t s of Holy C h u r c h , my soul will b e forgotten if it here leaves my body. W e e p for m e , whoever h a s charity, truth, a n d j u s t i c e . I did not sail u p o n this voyage to gain h o n o r or w e a l t h ; this is c e r t a i n , for 5. T h e reference is to Alonso de Ojeda (c. 1 4 6 8 c. 1516), who had taken pearls (part of what was reserved to C o l u m b u s under his agreement with

the Spanish Crown) from Paria to Espanola. 6. A small S p a n i s h coin.

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already all h o p e of that was d e a d . I c a m e to Your H i g h n e s s e s with true devotion a n d with ready zeal, a n d I d o not lie. I h u m b l y pray Your H i g h n e s s e s that if it p l e a s e G o d to bring m e forth from this p l a c e , that you will be p l e a s e d to permit m e to go to R o m e a n d to other p l a c e s of p i l g r i m a g e . M a y the Holy Trinity preserve your life a n d high e s t a t e , a n d grant you i n c r e a s e of prosperity. D o n e in the Indies in the island of J a m a i c a , o n the s e v e n t h of July, in the year o n e t h o u s a n d five h u n d r e d a n d three. 1505

ALVAR

NUNEZ c.

CABEZA

DE

VACA

< ^

X „

(

l

r ^

1490-1558

Among those who may have witnessed the disgrace of Columbus as he passed in-, \y&\^{" chains through Cadiz in 1498 was a boy from the nearby village of Jerez de la FronteraU^jri^^i Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca was the son of the village a l d e r m a n , grandson ot the conqueror of the Guanache people of Grand Canary Island, and a descendant on his mother's side from a hero of the wars against the Moors who was given the family name "Cabeza de Vaca" (or "cow'shead") when he used a cow's skull to mark a strategic route through an unguarded mountain pass. Mindful of this family heritage, as a young man Cabeza de Vaca went off to the wars in Italy (he later was to say that the American Indians of Texas were as shrewd in battle "as if they had been reared in Italy in continual feuds"), then fought in Spain itself before, in 1527, he sailed on Panfilo de Narvaez's Florida expedition as acjuacil mayor (provost marshal) and treasurer. The expedition endured many disasters. Narvaez, an impetuous, self-centered man and a poor leader^ first took his six hundred men to Hispaniola, where a quarter of them deserted, and then to Cuba, where two of the six ships were lost in a hurricane. Ten months after leaving Spain the expedition landed in the vicinity of Sarasota Bay, on Florida's west coast. Against Cabeza de Vaca's advice, Narvaez sent the ships farther along the shore in search of a rumored port where his army might rejoin them, but the ships were never seen again. Effectually stranded, Narvaez took possession of Florida while the inhabitants of Sarasota Bay (probably Calusa Indians) made "many signs and threats [that] left little doubt that they were bidding us to go." Soon the expedition, reduced to eating its horses, sought to escape other groups of Florida Indians, from the Timnrnan of the Suwannee River area to the Apalachees of the Panhandle, by building clumsy "barges" and retreating to the sea. Narvaez took the best oarsmen in his own craft and left the other barges behind him as they neared Mobile Bay; when he pulled away from the others he told them, with false magnanimity, that "it was no longer a time when one should command another"—that is, every man for himself! With that, Narvaez and his crew disappeared, apparently lost at sea. The other rafts passed the mouth of what must have been the Mississippi, and finally wrecked on Galveston Island, now Texas, in November 1528. Here began a further whittling away of the survivors and a time of extraordinary struggles for Cabeza de Vaca and the three men who survived with him: the Spaniards Andres Dorantes and Alonso del Castillo Maldonado, and Dorantes's black slave, hstevanico, a native"

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of the Moroccan town of Azemmor. The itinerary of Cabeza de Vaca's North American odyssey was long and involved. Alone or with drifting groups of other survivors, he spent his first two years on the Texas coast as a prisoner and slave of the Han and Capoque clans of the Karankawa Indian^anH then gradually progressed north and West, gaining Status allcHpower among t h T C a d d os, Atakapas, Coahuiltecans, and other natives from his activities as a merchant and especially his skill as a healer. By 1 535, he reached present-day New Mexico, where he encountered the Jumanos and Conchos, then headed southwest into Mexico as the leader of a vast crowd of Pimas and Opatas who, revering him, followed him from village to village. The heady mood of the journey dissipated the following March, however, when the wanderers encountered a party of Spanish slave hunters under Diego de Alcaraz in western Mexico. Seeing the terror of his American Indian escorts at these "Christian slavers," as he acerbically called them, Cabeza de Vaca became openly critical of Alcaraz, who arrested him, sent him south, and seized as slaves the six hundred natives in his company. From Mexico City, where he agitated against the cruel (and strictly illegal) activities of the likes of Alcaraz, Cabeza de Vaca went to Spain in 1 537, intent on making similar representations to F . m p p m r Charles V A l l m v p r l \n lead an expe- . dition back to the New World himsell, (Jabeza de Vaca hoped to enact an enlightened American Indian policy, but his Rio He la Plata colonists, profiting from the old injustices, removed him forcibly from office and sent him in chains back to Spain in 1 545. Afterlonp, delays in setjjingthe dispute, in 1551 he was exiled to modern Algeria and forbidden to return to America. During the three years he spent in Spain before his departure for Rio de la Plata in 1 540, Cabeza de Vaca completed his first narrative of the Narvaez expedition. It was published in Spain in 1 542; a corrected and expanded version that includes the story of his later American experience appeared in 1555. Addressed to Charles V, the 1 542 account sought to justify his conclusions regarding Spanish policy and behavior in America as well as to argue for renewed explorations and settlement in the regions he had traversed (several later Spanish expeditions, including those of Coronado and de Soto, clearly drew on Cabeza de Vaca's arguments and knowledge). More important, however, The Relation of Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca sought to recount (with remarkable understatement) his sufferings and many brushes with death and to explore his complex feelings regarding the Native Americans and his own countrymen's dealings with them.

From

T h e R e l a t i o n o f Alvar N u n e z C a b e z a d e V a c a 1 [DEDICATION]

Sacred Caesarian Catholic Majesty: A m o n g all t h e p r i n c e s w h o have reigned, I know o f n o n e w h o h a s enjoyed the universal e s t e e m o f Your M a j e s t y 2 at this day, w h e n s t r a n g e r s vie in a p p r o b a t i o n with t h o s e motivated by religion a n d loyalty. Although everyone w a n t s what a d v a n t a g e m a y b e g a i n e d from a m b i t i o n a n d a c t i o n , w e s e e everywhere great inequalities of f o r t u n e , b r o u g h t a b o u t not by c o n d u c t b u t by a c c i d e n t , a n d not through anybody's fault b u t a s t h e will of G o d . T h u s the d e e d s o f o n e far e x c e e d his e x p e c t a t i o n , while a n o t h e r c a n s h o w n o higher p r o o f o f p u r p o s e than his fruitless effort, a n d even t h e effort m a y g o u n n o t i c e d . 1. The text is based on Adventures in the Unknown Interior of America, edited and translated by Cyclone Covey ( 1 9 6 1 ) .

2. Emperor Charles V (1500—1558), grandson and successor of Ferdinand and Isabella.

THE

RELATION

OF A L V A R N U N E Z C A B E Z A

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I c a n say for myself that I u n d e r t o o k the m a r c h a b r o a d , on royal a u t h o r i zation, with a firm trust that my service would be as evident a n d d i s t i n g u i s h e d a s my a n c e s t o r s ' , a n d that I would not n e e d to s p e a k to be c o u n t e d a m o n g t h o s e Your M a j e s t y h o n o r s for diligence a n d fidelity in affairs of s t a t e . B u t my c o u n s e l a n d c o n s t a n c y availed nothing toward t h o s e objectives w e set out to gain, in your interests, for our sins. In fact, no other of the m a n y a r m e d expeditions into t h o s e parts has found itself in s u c h dire straits a s o u r s , or c o m e to so futile a n d fatal a c o n c l u s i o n . M y only r e m a i n i n g duty is to transmit what I s a w a n d h e a r d in the nine years I w a n d e r e d lost a n d m i s e r a b l e over m a n y r e m o t e l a n d s . I h o p e in s o m e m e a s u r e to convey to Your M a j e s t y not merely a report of p o s i t i o n s a n d d i s t a n c e s , flora a n d f a u n a , but of the c u s t o m s of the n u m e r o u s , b a r b a r o u s p e o p l e I talked with a n d dwelt a m o n g , as well a s any other m a t t e r s I could hear of or o b s e r v e . M y h o p e of going out from a m o n g t h o s e n a t i o n s was always small; n e v e r t h e l e s s , I m a d e a point of r e m e m b e r i n g all the particulars, so that s h o u l d G o d our L o r d eventually p l e a s e to bring m e where I a m now, I might testify to my exertion in the royal behalf. S i n c e this narrative, in my opinion, is of n o trivial v a l u e for t h o s e who go in your n a m e to s u b d u e t h o s e c o u n t r i e s a n d bring t h e m to a knowledge of the true faith a n d true L o r d a n d bring t h e m u n d e r the imperial d o m i n i o n , I have written very exactly. Novel or, for s o m e p e r s o n s , difficult to believe t h o u g h the things narrated may b e , I a s s u r e you they c a n b e a c c e p t e d without hesitation a s strictly factual. Better than to e x a g g e r a t e , I have minimized all things; it is e n o u g h to say that the relation is offered Your M a j e s t y for truth. I b e g that it m a y be received a s h o m a g e , s i n c e it is the m o s t o n e c o u l d bring who returned t h e n c e n a k e d . *

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[ T H E M A L H A D O WAY O F

LIFE]

T h e p e o p l e ' we c a m e to know there are tall a n d well-built. T h e i r only w e a p o n s are bows a n d arrows, which they u s e with great dexterity. T h e m e n bore through o n e of their nipples, s o m e b o t h , a n d insert a joint of c a n e two and a half p a l m s long by two fingers thick. T h e y also b o r e their lower lip a n d wear a p i e c e of c a n e in it half a finger in d i a m e t e r . Their w o m e n toil incessantly. F r o m O c t o b e r to the e n d of February every year, which is the s e a s o n these Indians live on the island, they s u b s i s t on the roots I have m e n t i o n e d , 4 which the w o m e n get from u n d e r water in N o v e m b e r a n d D e c e m b e r . Only in these two m o n t h s , too, do they take fish in their c a n e weirs. W h e n the fish is c o n s u m e d , the roots furnish the o n e s t a p l e . At the e n d of F e b r u a r y the islanders go into other parts to s e e k s u s t e n a n c e , for then the root is b e g i n n i n g to grow a n d is not edible. T h e s e p e o p l e love their offspring m o r e than any in the world a n d treat t h e m very mildly. If a son dies, the whole village j o i n s the p a r e n t s a n d kindred in w e e p i n g . T h e p a r e n t s set off the wails e a c h day b e f o r e d a w n , again at n o o n , a n d at 3. T h e C a p o q u e s and Hans of coastal Texas, near today's Galveston Island, which Cabeza de Vaca calls Malhado, or the Island of Doom.

4. I.e., "certain roots which taste like nuts, mostly grubbed from [under] the water with great labor."

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s u n s e t , for o n e year. T h e funeral rites o c c u r w h e n the year of m o u r n i n g is u p . Following t h e s e rites, the survivors w a s h off the s m o k e stain of the cere m o n y in a symbolic purgation. All the d e a d a r e l a m e n t e d this way except the a g e d , who merit n o regrets. T h e d e a d are b u r i e d , except m e d i c i n e - m e n , w h o a r e c r e m a t e d . Everybody in the village d a n c e s a n d m a k e s merry while the pyre of a m e d i c i n e - m a n kindles, a n d until his b o n e s b e c o m e p o w d e r . A year later, w h e n his rites are c e l e b r a t e d , the entire village again participating, this p o w d e r is p r e s e n t e d in water for the relatives to drink. E a c h m a n h a s an a c k n o w l e d g e d wife, except the m e d i c i n e - m e n , w h o m a y have two or three wives a p i e c e . T h e several wives live together in perfect amity. W h e n a d a u g h t e r m a r r i e s , s h e m u s t take everything her h u s b a n d kills in h u n t i n g or c a t c h e s in fishing to the h o u s e of her father, without d a r i n g to eat or to withhold any part of it, a n d the h u s b a n d gets provided by f e m a l e carrier from his father-in-law's h o u s e . N e i t h e r the bride's father nor m o t h e r m a y enter the son-in-law's h o u s e after the m a r r i a g e , nor h e theirs; a n d this holds for the children of the respective c o u p l e s . If a m a n a n d his in-laws s h o u l d c h a n c e to be walking s o they w o u l d m e e t , they turn silently a s i d e from e a c h other a n d go a c r o s s b o w - s h o t o u t of their way, averting their g l a n c e to the g r o u n d . T h e w o m a n , however, is free to fraternize with the p a r e n t s a n d relatives of her h u s b a n d . T h e s e m a r r i a g e c u s t o m s prevail for m o r e than fifty l e a g u e s inland from the island. At a h o u s e where a son or brother may die, no o n e g o e s o u t for food for three m o n t h s , the n e i g h b o r s a n d other relatives providing w h a t is e a t e n . B e c a u s e of this c u s t o m , which the I n d i a n s literally w o u l d not b r e a k to save their lives, great h u n g e r reigned in m o s t h o u s e s while we resided there, it b e i n g a time of r e p e a t e d d e a t h s . T h o s e w h o s o u g h t food w o r k e d h a r d , b u t they c o u l d get little in that severe s e a s o n . T h a t is why I n d i a n s w h o kept m e left the island by c a n o e for oyster bays on the m a i n . T h r e e m o n t h s out of every year they e a t nothing b u t oysters a n d drink very b a d water. W o o d is s c a r c e ; m o s q u i t o e s , plentiful. T h e h o u s e s a r e m a d e of m a t s ; their floors c o n s i s t of m a s s e s of oyster shells. T h e natives s l e e p o n t h e s e s h e l l s — i n a n i m a l skins, t h o s e w h o h a p p e n to own s u c h . M a n y a time I would have to g o three days without eating, a s w o u l d the natives. I t h o u g h t it i m p o s s i b l e that life c o u l d be so p r o l o n g e d in s u c h protracted h u n g e r ; t h o u g h afterwards I f o u n d myself in yet g r e a t e r w a n t , a s shall be seen. T h e I n d i a n s w h o h a d A l o n s o del C a s t i l l o , A n d r e s D o r a n t e s , a n d the o t h e r s of their b a r g e w h o r e m a i n e d alive, s p o k e a different d i a l e c t a n d c l a i m e d a different d e s c e n t from t h e s e I lived a m o n g . T h e y f r e q u e n t e d the o p p o s i t e s h o r e of the m a i n to e a t oysters, staying till the first of April, t h e n returning. T h e d i s t a n c e to the m a i n is two l e a g u e s at the widest part of the c h a n n e l . T h e island itself, which s u p p o r t s the two tribes c o m m o d i o u s l y , is half a l e a g u e wide by five long. T h e i n h a b i t a n t s of all t h e s e p a r t s g o n a k e d , except that the w o m e n cover s o m e part of their p e r s o n s with a wool that grows o n t r e e s , 5 a n d d a m s e l s d r e s s in d e e r s k i n . T h e p e o p l e a r e g e n e r o u s to e a c h other with what little they have. T h e r e 5. I.e., Spanish moss.

THE

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is n o chief. All b e l o n g i n g to the s a m e lineage keep together. T h e y s p e a k two languages: Capoque and Han. T h e y have a s t r a n g e c u s t o m w h e n a c q u a i n t a n c e s m e e t or o c c a s i o n a l l y visit, of w e e p i n g for half a n hour before they s p e a k . T h i s over, the o n e w h o is visited rises a n d gives his visitor all h e h a s . T h e latter a c c e p t s it a n d , after a while, carries it away, often without a word. T h e y have other s t r a n g e c u s t o m s , b u t I have told the principal a n d m o s t r e m a r k a b l e of t h e m . In April [ 1 5 2 9 ] we went to the s e a s h o r e a n d a t e blackberries all m o n t h , a time of [ d a n c e c e r e m o n i e s ] a n d fiestas a m o n g the I n d i a n s .

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*

[OUR L I F E A M O N G T H E AVAVARES A N D ARBADAOS]

All the I n d i a n s of this r e g i o n 6 are ignorant of t i m e , either by the s u n or m o o n ; nor d o they reckon by the m o n t h or year. T h e y u n d e r s t a n d the s e a s o n s in t e r m s of the ripening of fruits, the dying of fish, a n d the position of stars, in which d a t i n g they are a d e p t . T h e Avavares always treated u s well. W e lived a s free a g e n t s , d u g our own food, a n d l u g g e d o u r l o a d s of wood a n d water. T h e h o u s e s a n d our diet were like t h o s e of the nation we h a d j u s t c o m e from, b u t the Avavares suffer yet greater want, having no c o r n , a c o r n s , or p e c a n s . W e always went n a k e d like t h e m a n d covered ourselves at night with d e e r s k i n s . Six of the eight m o n t h s we dwelled with t h e s e p e o p l e we e n d u r e d a c u t e h u n g e r ; for fish are not f o u n d where they a r e either. At the e n d of the eight m o n t h s , w h e n the prickly p e a r s were j u s t b e g i n n i n g to ripen again [ m i d - J u n e 1 5 3 5 ] , I traveled with the N e g r o 7 — u n k n o w n to o u r h o s t s — t o o t h e r s a day's j o u r n e y farther on: the M a l i a c o n e s . 8 W h e n three days h a d p a s s e d , I sent E s t e v a n i c o to fetch C a s t i l l o a n d D o r a n t e s . W h e n they got there, the four of u s set out with the M a l i a c o n e s , w h o were going to find the small fruit of certain trees which they s u b s i s t o n for ten or twelve days while the prickly p e a r s are m a t u r i n g . T h e y j o i n e d a n o t h e r tribe, the A r b a d a o s , w h o a s t o n i s h e d u s by their weak, e m a c i a t e d , swollen c o n d i tion. W e told the M a l i a c o n e s with w h o m we h a d c o m e that we w a n t e d to s t o p with t h e s e A r b a d a o s . T h e M a l i a c o n e s d e s p o n d e n t l y r e t u r n e d the way they c a m e , leaving u s a l o n e in the b r u s h l a n d n e a r the A r b a d a o h o u s e s . T h e observing A r b a d a o s talked a m o n g t h e m s e l v e s a n d c a m e u p to u s in a body. F o u r of t h e m took e a c h of u s by the h a n d a n d led u s to their dwellings. A m o n g t h e m we u n d e r w e n t fiercer h u n g e r t h a n a m o n g the Avavares. W e a t e not m o r e t h a n two h a n d f u l s of prickly p e a r s a day, a n d they were still s o green a n d milky they b u r n e d our m o u t h s . In our lack of water, e a t i n g b r o u g h t great thirst. At nearly the e n d of our e n d u r a n c e we b o u g h t two d o g s for s o m e n e t s , with other things, a n d a skin I u s e d for cover. I have already s a i d that we went n a k e d t h r o u g h all this country; not b e i n g a c c u s t o m e d to g o i n g s o , we s h e d our skins twice a year like s n a k e s . T h e s u n a n d air raised g r e a t , painful s o r e s o n our c h e s t s a n d s h o u l d e r s , a n d our heavy l o a d s 6. At this point in his story, having escaped from his captivity among the C a p o q u e s and H a n s , Cabeza de Vaca is among the Avavares and Arbadaos in inland Texas.

7. Estevanico, a Moorish slave from the west coast of Morocco. 8. Neighbors of the Avavares and Arbadaos.

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c a u s e d the c o r d s to c u t o u r a r m s . T h e region is so b r o k e n a n d so overgrown that often, when we g a t h e r e d w o o d , b l o o d flowed from u s in m a n y p l a c e s w h e r e the thorns a n d s h r u b s tore our flesh. At t i m e s , w h e n my turn c a m e to get wood a n d I h a d c o l l e c t e d it at heavy c o s t in blood, I c o u l d neither d r a g nor b e a r it out. M y only s o l a c e in t h e s e labors w a s to think of the sufferings of our R e d e e m e r , J e s u s C h r i s t , a n d the blood H e s h e d for m e . H o w m u c h w o r s e m u s t have b e e n his t o r m e n t from the thorns t h a n m i n e h e r e ! I bartered with t h e s e Indians in c o m b s I m a d e for t h e m a n d in b o w s , arrows, a n d n e t s . W e m a d e m a t s , which are what their h o u s e s c o n s i s t of a n d for which they feel a keen necessity. A l t h o u g h they know how to m a k e t h e m , they prefer to devote their full time to finding food; w h e n they do not, they g e t too p i n c h e d with h u n g e r . S o m e days the I n d i a n s would set m e to s c r a p i n g a n d s o f t e n i n g skins. T h e s e were my days of g r e a t e s t prosperity in that p l a c e . I w o u l d s c r a p e thoroughly e n o u g h to s u s t a i n myself two or three days on the s c r a p s . W h e n it h a p p e n e d that t h e s e or any p e o p l e we h a d left b e h i n d gave us a p i e c e of m e a t , we a t e it raw. H a d we put it to roast, the first native w h o c a m e a l o n g w o u l d have filched it. N o t only did w e think it better not to risk this, we were in s u c h a c o n d i t i o n that r o a s t e d m e a t would have given u s p a i n . W e c o u l d digest it m o r e easily raw. S u c h w a s our life there, w h e r e we e a r n e d our m e a g e r s u b s i s t e n c e by trade in i t e m s which were the work of our own h a n d s . [ C U S T O M S OF THAT REGION]

F r o m the Island of D o o m to this land, all the I n d i a n s we s a w have the c u s t o m of not s l e e p i n g with their wives from the t i m e they are d i s c o v e r e d p r e g n a n t to two years after giving birth. C h i l d r e n are s u c k l e d until they are twelve, w h e n they a r e old e n o u g h to find their own s u p p o r t . W e a s k e d why they t h u s p r o l o n g e d the n u r s i n g p e r i o d , a n d they said that the poverty of the land frequently m e a n t — a s we w i t n e s s e d — g o i n g two or three days without eating, s o m e t i m e s four; if children were not allowed to s u c k l e in s e a s o n s of scarcity, t h o s e w h o did not f a m i s h would b e weaklings. Anyone w h o c h a n c e s to fall sick on a f o r a g i n g trip a n d c a n n o t k e e p u p with the rest is left to die, u n l e s s he be a son or brother; him they will help, even to carrying on their b a c k . It is c o m m o n a m o n g t h e m all to leave their wives w h e n there is d i s a g r e e m e n t , a n d directly r e c o n n e c t with w h o m e v e r they p l e a s e . T h i s is the c o u r s e of m e n who are c h i l d l e s s . T h o s e w h o have children never a b a n d o n their wives. W h e n Indian m e n get into a n a r g u m e n t in their villages, they fist-fight until e x h a u s t e d , then s e p a r a t e . S o m e t i m e s the w o m e n will g o b e t w e e n a n d part t h e m , but m e n never interfere. N o m a t t e r w h a t the disaffection, they d o not resort to b o w s a n d arrows. After a fight, the d i s p u t a n t s t a k e their h o u s e s (and families) a n d g o live apart from e a c h other in the s c r u b w o o d until they have c o o l e d off; then they return a n d from that m o m e n t a r e friends a s if nothing h a d h a p p e n e d . N o intermediary is n e e d e d to m e n d their friendship. In c a s e the q u a r r e l e r s are single m e n , they repair to s o m e n e i g h b o r i n g p e o p l e (instead of the s c r u b w o o d ) , w h o , even if e n e m i e s , w e l c o m e t h e m warmly a n d give so largely of what they have that w h e n the q u a r r e l e r s ' animosity s u b s i d e s , they return to their h o m e village rich.

THE

RELATION

OF ALVAR N U N E Z C A B E Z A

DE VACA

/

35

[THE FIRST CONFRONTATION]

W h e n we s a w for certain that we were drawing n e a r the C h r i s t i a n s , w e gave t h a n k s to G o d our L o r d for c h o o s i n g to bring us o u t of s u c h a m e l a n choly a n d wretched captivity. T h e joy we felt c a n only b e c o n j e c t u r e d in terms of the time, the suffering, a n d the peril we h a d e n d u r e d in that land. T h e evening of the day we r e a c h e d the r e c e n t c a m p s i t e , I tried hard to get C a s t i l l o or D o r a n t e s to hurry on three days, u n e n c u m b e r e d , after the C h r i s tians w h o were now circling b a c k into the a r e a we h a d a s s u r e d p r o t e c t i o n . T h e y both r e a c t e d negatively, e x c u s i n g t h e m s e l v e s for w e a r i n e s s , t h o u g h y o u n g e r a n d m o r e athletic than I; but they b e i n g unwilling, I took the N e g r o a n d eleven I n d i a n s next m o r n i n g to track the C h r i s t i a n s . W e went ten l e a g u e s , p a s t three villages where they h a d slept. T h e day after that, I overtook four of t h e m on their h o r s e s . T h e y were d u m b f o u n d e d at the sight of m e , strangely u n d r e s s e d a n d in c o m p a n y with I n d i a n s . T h e y j u s t s t o o d staring for a long t i m e , not thinking to hail m e or c o m e closer to a s k q u e s t i o n s . " T a k e m e to your c a p t a i n , " I at last r e q u e s t e d ; a n d we went together half a l e a g u e to a p l a c e where we f o u n d their c a p t a i n , D i e g o d e A l c a r a z . W h e n we h a d talked awhile, he c o n f e s s e d to m e that h e w a s c o m p l e t e l y u n d o n e , having b e e n u n a b l e to c a t c h any I n d i a n s in a long t i m e ; he did not know which way to turn; his m e n were getting too hungry a n d e x h a u s t e d . I told him of C a s t i l l o a n d D o r a n t e s ten l e a g u e s away with a n e s c o r t i n g multitude. H e i m m e d i a t e l y d i s p a t c h e d three of his h o r s e m e n to t h e m , a l o n g with fifty of his Indian allies. T h e N e g r o went, too, a s a g u i d e ; I stayed b e h i n d . I a s k e d the C h r i s t i a n s to furnish m e a certificate of the year, m o n t h , a n d day I arrived h e r e , a n d the m a n n e r of my c o m i n g ; which they did. 1 ' F r o m this river to the C h r i s t i a n town, S a n t M i g u e l 1 within the g o v e r n m e n t of the recently c r e a t e d province of N e w G a l i c i a , is a d i s t a n c e of thirty l e a g u e s . [THE F A L L I N G - O U T WITH OUR

COUNTRYMEN]

After five days, A n d r e s D o r a n t e s a n d A l o n s o del C a s t i l l o arrived with t h o s e who h a d g o n e for t h e m ; a n d they b r o u g h t m o r e than 6 0 0 natives of the vicinity w h o m the Indians w h o h a d b e e n e s c o r t i n g u s drew out of the w o o d s a n d took to the m o u n t e d C h r i s t i a n s , w h o t h e r e u p o n d i s m i s s e d their own escort. W h e n they arrived, Alcaraz b e g g e d u s to order the villagers of this river out of the w o o d s in the s a m e way to get u s food. It w o u l d b e u n n e c e s s a r y to c o m m a n d t h e m to bring food, if they c a m e at all; for the I n d i a n s were always diligent to bring us all they c o u l d . W e sent o u r heralds to call t h e m , a n d presently there c a m e 6 0 0 Indians with all the corn they p o s s e s s e d . T h e y b r o u g h t it in clay-sealed e a r t h e n p o t s which h a d b e e n buried. T h e y a l s o b r o u g h t whatever else they h a d ; but we w i s h e d only a m e a l , so gave the rest to the C h r i s t i a n s to divide a m o n g t h e m selves. After this we h a d a hot a r g u m e n t with t h e m , for they m e a n t to m a k e slaves of the I n d i a n s in our train. W e got so angry that we went off forgetting the m a n y T u r k i s h - s h a p e d b o w s , the m a n y p o u c h e s , a n d the five e m e r a l d arrowh e a d s , e t c . , which we t h u s lost. And to think we h a d given t h e s e C h r i s t i a n s a 9. It was probably March 1536. 1. I.e., Culiacan, the northernmost Spanish set-

tlement in Mexico at that time, located in Sinaloa near the mouth of the Gulf of California.

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supply of c o w h i d e s a n d other things that our retainers h a d carried a long distance! It proved difficult to p e r s u a d e our e s c o r t i n g I n d i a n s to go b a c k to their h o m e s , to feel a p p r e h e n s i v e no longer, a n d to plant their c o r n . B u t they did not w a n t to do anything until they h a d first delivered u s into the h a n d s of other I n d i a n s , a s c u s t o m b o u n d t h e m . T h e y feared they w o u l d die if they returned without fulfiling this obligation w h e r e a s , with u s , they said they feared neither C h r i s t i a n s nor l a n c e s . T h i s s e n t i m e n t r o u s e d our c o u n t r y m e n ' s j e a l o u s y . A l c a r a z b a d e his interpreter tell the I n d i a n s that we were m e m b e r s of his r a c e w h o h a d b e e n long lost; that his g r o u p were the lords of the l a n d w h o m u s t be o b e y e d a n d served, while we were i n c o n s e q u e n t i a l . T h e I n d i a n s p a i d n o attention to this. C o n ferring a m o n g t h e m s e l v e s , they replied that the C h r i s t i a n s lied: W e h a d c o m e from the s u n r i s e , they from the s u n s e t ; we h e a l e d the sick, they killed the s o u n d ; we c a m e n a k e d a n d b a r e f o o t , they c l o t h e d , h o r s e d , a n d l a n c e d ; we coveted nothing b u t gave whatever we were given, while they r o b b e d w h o m ever they f o u n d a n d b e s t o w e d n o t h i n g on a n y o n e .

T o the last I c o u l d not c o n v i n c e the I n d i a n s that we were of the s a m e p e o p l e as the C h r i s t i a n slavers. Only with the g r e a t e s t effort were we able to i n d u c e t h e m to g o b a c k h o m e . W e o r d e r e d t h e m to fear n o m o r e , reestablish their t o w n s , a n d f a r m . Already the c o u n t r y s i d e h a d grown r a n k from neglect. T h i s is, n o d o u b t , the m o s t prolific land in all t h e s e I n d i e s . It p r o d u c e s three c r o p s a year; the trees b e a r a great variety of fruit; a n d beautiful rivers a n d b r i m m i n g springs a b o u n d t h r o u g h o u t . T h e r e a r e gold- a n d silver-bearing o r e s . T h e p e o p l e a r e well d i s p o s e d , serving s u c h C h r i s t i a n s a s are their friends with great g o o d will. T h e y are c o m e l y , m u c h m o r e so t h a n the M e x i c a n s . T h i s l a n d , in short, lacks n o t h i n g to be r e g a r d e d a s blest. W h e n the I n d i a n s took their leave of u s they s a i d they w o u l d do a s we c o m m a n d e d a n d rebuild their towns, if the C h r i s t i a n s let t h e m . A n d I solemnly s w e a r that if they have not d o n e s o it is the fault of the C h r i s t i a n s . After we h a d d i s m i s s e d the Indians in p e a c e a n d t h a n k e d t h e m for their toil in our behalf, the C h r i s t i a n s subtly s e n t u s o n our way in the c h a r g e of a n alcalde n a m e d C e b r e r o s , a t t e n d e d by two h o r s e m e n . 2 T h e y took u s t h r o u g h forests a n d w a s t e s s o we w o u l d not c o m m u n i c a t e with the natives a n d would neither s e e nor learn of their crafty s c h e m e afoot. T h u s we often m i s j u d g e the motives of m e n ; we t h o u g h t w e h a d effected the I n d i a n s ' liberty, w h e n the C h r i s t i a n s were but p o i s i n g to p o u n c e . *

c. 1 5 3 6 - 4 0

2. I.e., they were, in effect, under arrest.

#

#

1542

37

GARCILASO

DE

LA

VEGA

1539-1616 With his origins equally in the culture of Spain and that of the lncas who were conquered by Francisco Pizarro, the historian Garcilaso de la Vega well might be seen as the first distinctively American writer. Child of a conquistador and the Inca princess Chimpu Ocllo, he was baptized Gomez Suarez de Figueroa in April of 1539 in Cuzco, Peru's old imperial capital. His mother, whose family and culture he memorialized in Royal Commentaries of the lncas and General History of Peru (1609—17), was the granddaughter of an Incan emperor; her family dynasty, already riven by internal violence, was brought to an end by Pizarro's conquest. Like many Inca survivors, Chimpu Ocllo was converted to Catholicism, taking the name Isabel Suarez and uniting with one of Pizarro's followers, Sebastian Garcilaso de la Vega. A veteran of the Spanish imperial service in Mexico and Guatemala, he was descended on both sides from knights who had achieved fame in the Spanish wars against the Moors. To signify his mixed ancestry, Gomez Suarez de Figeroa proudly called himself Garcilaso de la Vega, "EI Inca." He drew his character, his values, and his literary inspiration from the crossing of cultures and families that he himself represented. The Royal Commentaries tells how he questioned his mother's family about the Inca kings and "the old times," learning stories that had been preserved in the quipu, an archive composed of knotted strings whose intricacies recorded key data. He also heard stories from the conquistadors in his father's circle. After he moved to Spain as a young man in 1560, he wove this diverse lore into the Royal Commentaries and The Florida of the Inca, his account of Hernando de Soto's illfated expedition of 1539—43. Well educated in Peru but denied full recognition as the son of a conqueror, the mestizo author saw himself as a defender of Native American character and intellect against Old World prejudice. Although he never returned to Peru, while in Spain he circulated among and corresponded with "Americans," among them veterans of the de Soto expedition, who provided him with the narratives that he shaped into The Florida of the Inca. The Florida of the Inca interweaves several historical accounts—a genealogy of the author's ancestor, the knight Garci Perez de Vargas, as well as tales of encounter relayed by members of the Narvaez and de Soto expeditions to the Florida peninsula and north and west into the continent. It was completed by 1596, when the author was fifty-seven, and was published in Lisbon in 1605. The selection printed here is a quasi-independent narrative, derived from Alonso de Carmona, recounting the misfortunes of Juan Ortiz, a Spanish soldier taken prisoner by the Florida chief Hirrihigua during the Narvaez expedition (in which Cabeza de Vaca also took part). Saved from execution by a young Indian woman— an episode long predating John Smith's fabled rescue by Pocahontas—Ortiz endured his own array of troubles in Florida while Cabeza de Vaca and his three colleagues labored westward. When finally liberated, he provided de Soto with a skilled interpreter until he took sick and died at the new expedition's winter camp near present-day Fort Smith, Arkansas, in 1 5 4 1 - 4 2 .

38

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G A R C I L A S O D E LA V E G A

From

T h e Florida of the I n c a 1

C H A P T E R IV. O F T H E M A G N A N I M I T Y O F T H E C U R A C A O R M U C O C O , TO W H O M T H E CAPTIVE C O M M E N D E D

CACIQUE

HIMSELF

J u a n Ortiz, a s a m a n w h o w a s fleeing, r e a c h e d the p l a c e b e f o r e d a w n but, for fear of c a u s i n g a d i s t u r b a n c e , did not d a r e e n t e r it. W h e n it w a s day he s a w two I n d i a n s c o m e o u t from the p u e b l o a l o n g the s a m e r o a d that he was taking. T h e y a t t e m p t e d to s h o o t him with their b o w s a n d a r r o w s , a s they always go a r m e d with t h e s e w e a p o n s . J u a n Ortiz, w h o a l s o h a d t h e m , p u t an arrow in his b o w to d e f e n d h i m s e l f from t h e m a n d a l s o to a t t a c k t h e m . H o w p o t e n t is a little favor, especially if it b e from a lady! F o r we s e e that shortly before h e did not know where to hide himself, b e i n g in fear of d e a t h ; now he d a r e d give it [death] to o t h e r s with his own h a n d , simply b e c a u s e of having b e e n favored by a pretty, d i s c r e e t a n d g e n e r o u s girl, w h o s e favor e x c e e d s all other h u m a n gifts. With w h i c h , having r e c o v e r e d spirit a n d strength a n d even p r i d e , h e told t h e m that h e w a s not a n e n e m y but that h e w a s c o m i n g with a m e s s a g e from a lady for the lord of that p l a c e . H e a r i n g this, the I n d i a n s did not s h o o t him but r e t u r n e d with him to the p u e b l o a n d notified the c a c i q u e that the slave of Hirrihigua w a s t h e r e with a m e s s a g e for h i m . M u c o f o or M 0 C 0 5 0 — f o r it is the s a m e — i n f o r m e d of this, w e n t o u t to the plaza to receive t h e m e s s a g e J u a n Ortiz w a s b r i n g i n g to him. After having s a l u t e d him a s b e s t he c o u l d after the m a n n e r of t h e I n d i a n s t h e m s e l v e s , J u a n Ortiz told him briefly of the m a r t y r d o m his m a s t e r h a d i m p o s e d u p o n h i m , a s e v i d e n c e of w h i c h he s h o w e d on his body the s c a r s of the b u r n s , blows a n d w o u n d s they h a d given h i m , a n d h o w now finally his lord w a s d e t e r m i n e d to kill him in order to c e l e b r a t e a n d s o l e m n i z e with his d e a t h s u c h a n d s u c h a feast day, w h i c h h e e x p e c t e d to hold s o o n . H e told how the wife a n d d a u g h t e r s of t h e c a c i q u e , his m a s t e r , t h o u g h they h a d often saved his life, did not now d a r e to s p e a k in his favor b e c a u s e of t h e lord's having forbidden it u n d e r p e n a l t y of his a n g e r ; a n d how t h e eldest d a u g h t e r of his lord, d e s i r i n g that he s h o u l d not d i e , a s t h e last a n d b e s t r e m e d y h a d o r d e r e d a n d e n c o u r a g e d him to flee a n d , giving him a g u i d e , h a d set him o n his way to his p u e b l o a n d h o u s e . In her n a m e h e p r e s e n t e d h i m s e l f before h i m , w h o m he s u p p l i c a t e d by the love that h e h a d for her to receive him u n d e r his p r o t e c t i o n , a n d a s a thing c o m m e n d e d by her to favor h i m , a s he o u g h t to d o . M u c o c o received him affably a n d h e a r d h i m with pity at l e a r n i n g of the a b u s e s a n d t o r m e n t s that h e h a d e x p e r i e n c e d , w h i c h w e r e plainly s h o w n by t h e s c a r s on his body, for, d r e s s e d after the m a n n e r of the I n d i a n s of the country, he wore only a loincloth. A l o n s o de C a r m o n a 2 tells at this p o i n t , in addition to w h a t we h a v e s a i d , that he e m b r a c e d him a n d k i s s e d him o n t h e f a c e a s a sign of p e a c e . H e [the c a c i q u e ] replied that h e w a s w e l c o m e a n d told him to try to forget the fears of his p a s t life; that in his c o m p a n y a n d h o u s e he w o u l d have a very I. T h e text is based on the translation prepared by Charmion Shelby in the 1930s and first published in The De Soto Chronicles: The Expedition of Hernando de Soto ( 1 9 9 3 ) , ed. Lawrence A. Clayton, Vernon J a m e s Knight Jr., and Edward C . Moore.

T h e selection is from the second book, first part of The Florida of the Inca. 2. O n e of the men from whom Garcilaso de la Vega gathered stories of the de Soto expedition in Spain.

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different a n d o p p o s i t e e x i s t e n c e ; that for the s a k e of serving the p e r s o n w h o h a d sent him, a n d for him w h o h a d c o m e to his p e r s o n a n d h o u s e for s u c c o r , h e would d o all he c o u l d , a s he would s e e by future a c t i o n s ; a n d that h e might be certain that while he lived n o o n e would be allowed to m o l e s t h i m . All that this good c a c i q u e said in favor of J u a n Ortiz h e p e r f o r m e d , a n d i n d e e d m u c h m o r e than h e p r o m i s e d , for h e i m m e d i a t e l y m a d e him his steward a n d kept him c o n s t a n t l y with h i m , day a n d night, d o i n g him m u c h honor, m o r e particularly after h e learned that he h a d killed the lion with the dart. In short, h e treated him like a well-beloved brother (for there are brothers w h o love o n e a n o t h e r like water a n d fire), a n d a l t h o u g h Hirrihigua, s u s p e c t i n g that he h a d g o n e to M o c o c o for p r o t e c t i o n , a s k e d for him m a n y t i m e s , M u c o ^ o always m a d e an e x c u s e for not giving him u p , saying finally, a m o n g other things, that s i n c e h e h a d c o m e to his h o u s e to let him b e , a n d that h e w a s s o o d i o u s that h e [Hirrihigua] h a d lost very little in losing s u c h a slave. H e m a d e the s a m e reply to a n o t h e r c a c i q u e , his brother-in-law, n a m e d Urribarracuxi, t h r o u g h w h o m Hirrihigua m a d e the r e q u e s t . S e e i n g that his m e s s a g e s were of n o effect, he went personally to a s k him, a n d in his p r e s e n c e M o c o c o replied the s a m e a s in his a b s e n c e , a d d i n g other angry w o r d s , a n d told him that s i n c e h e w a s his brother-inlaw it w a s u n j u s t to order him to d o a thing a g a i n s t his r e p u t a t i o n a n d honor; that h e would not be d o i n g his duty if h e s h o u l d turn over to his own e n e m y an u n f o r t u n a t e w h o h a d c o m e to him for refuge, so that the Hirrihigua might sacrifice a n d kill him like a wild b e a s t for his own entertainment and pastime. M o c o c o d e f e n d e d J u a n Ortiz from t h e s e two c a c i q u e s , w h o a s k e d for him so urgently a n d insistently, with s u c h generosity that he w a s willing to forgo (as he did) the m a r r i a g e h e affectionately desired to m a k e with the d a u g h t e r of Hirrihigua, a n d the relationship a n d friendship of the father-in-law, rather than return the slave to him who a s k e d for him in order to kill h i m . M 0 C 0 5 0 kept the latter c o n s t a n t l y with him, m u c h e s t e e m e d a n d well treated, until G o v e r n o r H e r n a n d o de S o t o e n t e r e d L a Florida. J u a n Ortiz w a s a m o n g t h o s e Indians for ten years, o n e a n d a half in the power of Hirrihigua a n d the rest with the g o o d M 0 C 0 5 0 . T h o u g h a b a r b a r i a n , he dealt with this C h r i s t i a n in quite a n o t h e r m a n n e r than t h o s e m o s t f a m o u s m e n of the T r i u m v i r a t e w h o at L a y n o , a p l a c e n e a r B o l o g n a , m a d e that never sufficiently c o n d e m n e d proscription a n d a g r e e m e n t to give a n d e x c h a n g e their relatives, friends, a n d d e f e n d e r s for e n e m i e s a n d a d v e r s a r i e s . A n d h e did m u c h better than other C h r i s t i a n p r i n c e s w h o later have c o m m i t t e d here other a c t s a s a b o m i n a b l e a n d worse than that o n e , c o n s i d e r i n g the i n n o c e n c e of t h o s e given u p , the r a n k of s o m e of t h e m , a n d the faith that their betrayers s h o u l d have h a d a n d kept with t h e m ; c o n s i d e r i n g a l s o that the former were h e a t h e n a n d the latter prided t h e m s e l v e s on the C h r i s t i a n n a m e a n d religion. T h e s e latter, b r e a k i n g the laws a n d s t a t u t e s of their k i n g d o m s a n d not r e s p e c t i n g their own position a n d rank, they b e i n g kings a n d great p r i n c e s , a n d d i s r e g a r d i n g their sworn a n d p r o m i s e d word (a thing unworthy of s u c h n a m e s ) , simply for the p u r p o s e of a v e n g i n g their own anger, delivered u p t h o s e w h o h a d not offended t h e m in order to obtain the offenders, exchanging the i n n o c e n t for the guilty, a s both a n c i e n t a n d m o d e r n historians will testify. B u t we shall leave t h e m , s o a s not to offend powerful ears a n d distress the p i o u s .

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It suffices to d e s c r i b e the m a g n a n i m i t y of a h e a t h e n so that faithful p r i n c e s may be forced to imitate a n d excel him if they c a n , not in his h e a t h e n i s m , a s do s o m e w h o are unworthy of that n a m e , but in virtue a n d similar noble qualities, to which they are m o r e o b l i g a t e d b e c a u s e of their higher e s t a t e . Certainly, c o n s i d e r i n g wejl the c i r c u m s t a n c e s of the c o u r a g e o u s action of this Indian, a n d s e e i n g by w h o m a n d a g a i n s t w h o m it w a s p e r f o r m e d , a n d the a m o u n t that h e w a s willing to p u t a s i d e a n d l o s e , g o i n g even a g a i n s t his own affection a n d desires in refusing the s u c c o r a n d favor d e m a n d e d a n d p r o m i s e d by h i m , it will be s e e n that it a r o s e from a m o s t g e n e r o u s a n d heroic m i n d , which did not d e s e r v e to have b e e n b o r n a n d to live a m i d s t the b a r b a r o u s h e a t h e n d o m of that country. B u t G o d a n d h u m a n n a t u r e often p r o d u c e s u c h spirits in s u c h uncultivated a n d sterile d e s e r t s for the greater humiliation a n d s h a m e of t h o s e w h o are born a n d reared in l a n d s that are fertile a n d a b o u n d in all good d o c t r i n e , s c i e n c e s , a n d the C h r i s t i a n religion. C H A P T E R V. T H E G O V E R N O R 1 S E N D S F O R J U A N O R T I Z

T h e governor h e a r d this a c c o u n t , which we have given, of the life of J u a n Ortiz, a l t h o u g h in a c o n f u s e d form, in the p u e b l o of the c a c i q u e Hirrihigua, where we have left him at p r e s e n t ; a n d he had heard it b e f o r e , m o r e briefly, in L a H a v a n a from o n e of the four I n d i a n s w h o m we said that the a c c o u n t ant, J u a n d e A n a s c o , 4 h a d seized when he w a s sent to explore the c o a s t of L a Florida, a n d w h o h a p p e n e d to be a s u b j e c t of this c a c i q u e . W h e n this Indian m e n t i o n e d J u a n Ortiz in the a c c o u n t that h e gave in L a H a v a n a , leaving off the n a m e J u a n , b e c a u s e he did not know it, h e said Ortiz, a n d as to the p o o r s p e e c h of the Indian w a s a d d e d the w o r s e u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the g o o d interpreters w h o stated what h e w a s trying to say, a n d a s all the listeners had for their chief p u r p o s e g o i n g to seek gold, on h e a r i n g the Indian say " O r o t i z , " without waiting for further s t a t e m e n t s on his part they thought that h e w a s plainly saying that in his country there w a s m u c h oro, or gold, a n d they c o n g r a t u l a t e d t h e m s e l v e s a n d rejoiced merely at h e a r i n g it m e n t i o n e d , a l t h o u g h with s u c h a different significance a n d s e n s e . B u t when the governor a s c e r t a i n e d that J u a n Ortiz w a s in the p o w e r of the c a c i q u e M u c o £ o , he t h o u g h t it would b e well to s e n d for h i m , alike in order to deliver him from the power of the I n d i a n s a n d b e c a u s e he w a s in n e e d of a s p e a k e r a n d interpreter u p o n w h o m he c o u l d d e p e n d . H e therefore c h o s e a g e n t l e m a n from Sevilla n a m e d B a l t a s a r de G a l l e g o s , 5 w h o w a s serving a s alguacil mayor of the fleet a n d the a r m y — w h o b e c a u s e of his great virtue, strength a n d valor d e s e r v e d to b e g e n e r a l of a greater army than that o n e — a n d told him to take sixty l a n c e r s with him a n d go to M u c o ^ o , a n d tell him on his b e h a l f how gratified were h e a n d all the S p a n i a r d s w h o a c c o m p a n i e d him by the h o n o r a n d favors he h a d s h o w n to J u a n Ortiz, a n d how m u c h he d e s i r e d that he might have a n o p p o r t u n i t y of requiting t h e m . At p r e s e n t he b e g g e d that h e give him [ J u a n Ortiz] to him [de S o t o ] , for h e n e e d e d him for very i m p o r t a n t m a t t e r s , a n d h e a s k e d 3. I.e., Hernando de Soto. 4. Sent to reconnoiter the Florida coast while the de Soto expedition lingered in C u b a the year before, he brought back four native captives to

serve as guides and interpreters. 5. A kinsman of C a b e z a de Vaca who served the expedition as provost marshal, or head of the military police.

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when it would b e convenient for him to m a k e him a visit, a s it would give him great p l e a s u r e to know a n d have him for a friend. In a c c o r d a n c e with the orders given him, B a l t a s a r de G a l l e g o s left the c a m p with the sixty l a n c e r s a n d a n Indian g u i d e . T h e c a c i q u e Mucocjo, on the other h a n d , having l e a r n e d of the c o m i n g of the governor H e r n a n d o d e S o t o with s u c h a force of m e n a n d h o r s e s , a n d that he h a d l a n d e d so n e a r his own country, a n d f e a r i n g that he might do him s o m e h a r m there, desired very prudently a n d advisedly to avert the evil that might c o m e to him. In order to do s o , he s u m m o n e d J u a n Ortiz a n d said to h i m : "You m u s t know, brother, that in the p u e b l o of your g o o d friend Hirrihigua there is a S p a n i s h c a p t a i n with a t h o u s a n d fighting m e n a n d m a n y h o r s e s , w h o are c o m i n g to c o n q u e r this country. You well know what I have d o n e for you, a n d how in order to save your life a n d not deliver you to him who held you a s a slave a n d desired to kill y o u , I c h o s e rather to fall into d i s g r a c e with all my relatives a n d n e i g h b o r s than to d o what they a s k e d m e a g a i n s t you. N o w a time a n d o c c a s i o n h a s c o m e in which you can repay m e for the g o o d r e c e p t i o n , e n t e r t a i n m e n t a n d friendship I have a c c o r d e d you, t h o u g h I never did it with the expectation of any reward, but s i n c e events have h a p p e n e d t h u s it will be w i s e not to lose what is offered u s . " G o to the S p a n i s h general a n d on your b e h a l f a n d my own b e g him that, in return for the service that I have d o n e him a n d his w h o l e nation through you (since I would do the s a m e for any of t h e m ) , he be p l e a s e d not to do m e h a r m in this small land that I h a v e , a n d that he deign to receive m e into his friendship a n d service; that from this time forth I offer him my p e r s o n , h o u s e a n d e s t a t e to be p l a c e d u n d e r his g u a r d i a n s h i p a n d p r o t e c t i o n ; a n d s o that you may b e e s c o r t e d as b e c o m e s both you a n d m e , I s e n d with you fifty nobles of my h o u s e h o l d , a n d you will p r o t e c t t h e m a n d m e a s our friendship obligates you to d o . " J u a n Ortiz, rejoicing at the g o o d news a n d inwardly giving t h a n k s to G o d for it, replied to M U C 0 9 0 that he w a s m u c h p l e a s e d that a time a n d o c c a sion h a d arisen in which to repay the k i n d n e s s a n d benefits that he h a d d o n e him, not only in saving his life, but a l s o in the m a n y favors, a n d the e s t e e m a n d h o n o r he h a d received from his great virtue a n d courtesy. H e would give a very full a c c o u n t a n d report of all this to the S p a n i s h c a p t a i n a n d all his p e o p l e , so that h e might c o n c e d e to a n d reward him with that which h e a s k e d of t h e m now in his n a m e , a n d in what might c o m e u p in the future. H e w a s very confident that the g e n e r a l on his part would do what h e a s k e d , for the S p a n i s h nation prided itself u p o n b e i n g a p e o p l e grateful for favors received, a n d t h u s certainly he c o u l d confidently h o p e to obtain that which h e sent to a s k of the governor. T h e fifty Indians w h o m the c a c i q u e h a d ordered to p r e p a r e c a m e at o n c e , a n d with J u a n Ortiz they took the public road that g o e s from o n e p u e b l o to the other; a n d they set out on the s a m e day that B a l t a s a r de G a l l e g o s left the c a m p to find him [Ortiz]. It h a p p e n e d that, after the S p a n i a r d s h a d m a r c h e d m o r e than three l e a g u e s a l o n g the wide a n d straight highway that went to the p u e b l o of M u c o c o , the Indian w h o g u i d e d t h e m , thinking that it w a s not a g o o d thing to b e h a v e so loyally toward p e o p l e w h o were c o m i n g to s u b j u g a t e t h e m a n d take away their lands a n d f r e e d o m , a n d w h o long before h a d

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s h o w n t h e m s e l v e s to b e d e c l a r e d e n e m i e s — t h o u g h u p to the p r e s e n t they h a d not received injuries of which they c o u l d c o m p l a i n from that a r m y — c h a n g e d his p l a n in g u i d i n g t h e m a n d took the first f o o t p a t h h e s a w that led into the highway. After following it a short d i s t a n c e , he left it, a s it w a s not straight, a n d t h u s he led t h e m m o s t of the day without a road a n d lost, drawing t h e m always in a n arc toward the s e a c o a s t with the d e s i g n of c o m ing u p o n s o m e s w a m p , creek, or bay in which to drown t h e m , if p o s s i b l e . T h e C a s t i l i a n s did not discover the d e c e p t i o n of the I n d i a n , s i n c e they were not a c q u a i n t e d with the country, until o n e of t h e m saw, t h r o u g h the trees of a n o p e n forest t h r o u g h w h i c h they were m a r c h i n g , the topsails of the s h i p s they h a d left a n d s a w that they were very n e a r the c o a s t , of which fact he advised C a p t a i n B a l t a s a r de G a l l e g o s . T h e latter, s e e i n g the guide's iniquity, t h r e a t e n e d him with d e a t h , m a k i n g a g e s t u r e of throwing a l a n c e at him. F e a r i n g that they w o u l d kill him, the I n d i a n i n d i c a t e d with signs a n d s u c h w o r d s a s he c o u l d that they s h o u l d return to the highway, but that it w a s n e c e s s a r y to retrace all their route that lay off the road, a n d thus they returned by the s a m e way to s e e k i t . 6 1605 6. In subsequent chapters, de la Vega explains how Ortiz escaped further dangers before arriving at de Soto's c a m p , where a great celebration was held.

JOHN

SMITH

1580-1631 Under the patent granted to Sir Walter Ralegh by Queen Elizabeth I in 1584, the English undertook their first serious effort at colonization in Virginia. By 1590 this attempt, in the vicinity of Roanoke, had ended in disaster. When the English renewed their involvement in America in the 1600s, they replaced the older heroic model of exploration and colonization with a more corporate one. Under this new model, the single controlling figure of Ralegh's era was replaced by larger companies of investors (often merchants), who had more capital to support costly expansion overseas. In fact, King James I split the vaguely defined region of Virginia, which ran from Florida to Canada, into two more manageable parts, giving the direction of each to separate but related groups of investors who together composed the Virginia Company. The southern part (including the area now known as the state of Virginia) came under the care of the company's members from London, while the northern part (from which New England was to be developed) fell to members in the West Country towns of Bristol, Plymouth, and Exeter. Although the so-called First Charter was succeeded by new ones in 1609 and 1612, its broad base of formalized support set the standard for English colonial practice over the next hundred years. As a compromise between large-scale governmental action and isolated individual effort, the format of the colonial "company" proved both useful and enduring. The push toward corporate structures did not mean that interesting individuals disappeared. Indeed, one of the most colorful of all the Englishmen ever involved in America, the legendary Captain John Smith, proved by his crucial role in the establishment and continuance of the new colony at Jamestown that success in such ven-

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tures still required individual initiative and commitment. Few people had more pertinent preparation to reteach the English this old lesson. When named by the London partners to the ruling council (that is, the local governing committee) for the Virginia colony sent out in late December 1606, John Smith brought rich experience to his charge. His early life was deceptively sedate: born into a farmer's family in Lincolnshire, he was apprenticed at fifteen to a shopkeeper near his home. But tales of exploration, piracy, and military adventure already had stirred his imagination. In 1593 he may have tried to join a punitive expedition Sir Francis Drake was thought to be readying against England's enemy Spain, although his father apparently intervened. Shortly after his father's death in 1596, the fiery sixteen-year-old managed to have his indenture to the shopkeeper canceled and went to The Netherlands as a volunteer soldier to fight for the Dutch in their long war of independence from Philip II. Following his tour of duty in The Netherlands, he saw action in the Mediterranean on a privateer, winning a good share of the prize money when a Venetian galley was captured. Smith next joined the Austrian army in its continuing war (1593—1606) against the Turks, and while in the Austrian service, he fought valiantly in Hungary and was promoted to a captaincy. Eventually, after defeating and beheading a succession of three Turkish officers in single combat in Rumania (his coat of arms, awarded later, showed the three severed heads), Smith was wounded in battle, taken prisoner, and sold into slavery to a Turk. Smith was passed from place to place until, held prisoner on the Black Sea, he murdered his master and fled back to Rumania via Russia and Poland, returning to England in the winter of 1604—05. Many of these details come to us only through Smith's own at times garbled narratives, most of them penned long after the events. But when the Jamestown backers encountered him as they readied their expedition, he must have had the air of someone deeply experienced in the skills that the quasi-military venture would require. Smith's military background (and temperament), however, also carried liabilities in that age when warfare was brutal and soldiers were far from professional: he sometimes used force unnecessarily, and his hard-to-control temper and stubborn selfreliance made him an often troublesome companion. Already on the voyage over, Smith ran afoul of those in charge, was placed under arrest while the fleet was near the Canary Islands in February 1607, and was threatened with execution in the West Indies the following month. By June 10, some weeks after the arrival in Virginia and the opening of the heretofore secret list of the council members (not revealed sooner so as to prevent difficulties on shipboard), Smith had been given a reprieve and was sworn in to his seat on the council. From then until his final departure for England in October 1609, he was in the middle of the tumultuous colony's affairs. Smith survived the grim period of sickness in 1607 and missed the bleaker "starving time" that came shortly after his departure, but during his years there, he was always at the epicenter of the various political earthquakes that rocked early Virginia. Placed in charge of its supplies in the fall of 1607, he was elected president of the council—in effect, the colony's governor—the following year, after a series of wideranging explorations that made him the most knowledgeable of the settlers regarding the new land. The explorations also led to his imprisonment at the hands of Powhatan, overlord of the Chesapeake Bay Indians, from whom he claimed (much later) that the king's young daughter Pocahontas rescued him. Whatever the role Pocahontas played, what Smith took to be his impending execution may have been nothing more than a harmless adoption ceremony inducting him into Powhatan's tribe. In this episode as in others, Smith's volatile and unpredictable relations with the Native Americans were characteristic. Also characteristic was the fact that as a writer Smith milked the story of his rescue by Pocahontas. Although he failed to have the lasting influence on Virginia's affairs that he sought, in recasting that story fifteen years after the fact he found the immortality that otherwise eluded him. How easily we forget that on his return to Jamestown from Powhatan's village he was charged with the loss of two soldiers and would have been hanged had a fleet with much-needed supplies

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not arrived from England. Or that when he left Virginia in 1609 (never to return), it was because he had been severely injured when his gunpowder bag mysteriously exploded in his lap while he napped on the deck of an exploring vessel. Smith and his works form an important bridge between the first two permanent English colonies in North America. The first of his publications, A True Relation of Such

Occurrences

and Accidents

of Note as Hath Happened

in Virginia

(1608), was a

badly edited version of a letter he had sent back from the colony without intending that it be published. It was followed by a work to which many colonists including Smith contributed, A Map of Virginia,

with a Description

of the Country

. . . [and]

The Proceedings of those Colonies {sic) (1612). Some years later, Smith enlarged this book by adding more texts by other hands, expanding his own prose, and extending its geographical range and chronological coverage. More its editor than its author, Smith published the resulting General

History

of Virginia,

New England,

and the

Summer Isles (that is, Bermuda) in 1624. This book demonstrated the later reach of Smith's American ambitions beyond Virginia proper, for his knowledge of New England was based on a voyage he made there in 1614 and on his continuing involvement with the region—which in fact he, not the Puritans, named. During his life, Smith published more works on New England than on Virginia (A Description of New England,

1616; New England's

Inexperienced

Planters

Trials,

1620 and 1622; and Advertisements

of New England,

or Anywhere,

for the

1631). But for some unfortu-

nate setbacks (bad weather several times forced him to abandon other voyages for New England), he might well have become more famous for this second aspect of his American career than for the first. An energetic promoter of the potential of this new region for English settlers, Smith offered the Pilgrims his services as guide for their voyage in 1620, but they chose instead to put Smith's helpful books in the hands of the more temperate Myles Standish. From that point on Smith's America was not the geographical realm about which he had entertained such bright hopes at the century's start but rather the verbal domain he continued to explore in his later writings. When he closed the Virginia part of his General History by writing "Thus far have I travelled in this Wilderness of Virginia," he was revealing how much like a country of his mind Virginia had become. Long gone from that still-struggling colony by then, he had internalized it so well that he helped to make it a permanent part of the English— and the Anglo-American—imagination. The texts are from The Complete

Works of Captain

John

Smith,

edited by Philip L.

Barbour (1986).

From

General History of Virginia, N e w E n g l a n d , a n d the S u m m e r Isles' F r o m The Third

FROM

C H A P T E R 2.

Book.

WHAT HAPPENED TILL T H E FIRST

SUPPLY

B e i n g t h u s left to o u r f o r t u n e s , it f o r t u n e d that within ten d a y s , 2 s c a r c e ten a m o n g s t u s c o u l d either g o or well s t a n d , s u c h e x t r e m e w e a k n e s s a n d 1. T h e Bermuda Islands. T h e Third Book is titled "The Proceedings and Accidents of the English Colony in Virginia" and is derived from Smith's Virginia book of 1612. T h e bulk of this chapter, which opens with an account of the sickness whose dire results were chronicled by George Percy, may have been written by John Smith himself, although at its publication in 1612 it was credited solely to T h o m a s Studley, chief storekeeper of the colony. In 1624, Smith added to Studley's signature at the end of this section of the text not only his own

initials but also the names of Robert Fenton and Edward Harrington as part authors. According to Percy, Studley died early in the first year, on August 2 8 , 1607, four days after Harrington, so neither could have written much of what is in part attributed to them. Of Robert Fenton nothing is known. 2. By the end of J u n e 1607, after Captain Christopher Newport (d. 1617) left to fetch new supplies from England. "Fortuned": happened.

VIRGINIA, NEW ENGLAND,

AND T H E S U M M E R

ISLES

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s i c k n e s s o p p r e s s e d u s . A n d thereat n o n e n e e d marvel if they c o n s i d e r the c a u s e a n d r e a s o n which w a s this: While the s h i p s stayed, o u r a l l o w a n c e w a s s o m e w h a t bettered by a daily proportion of biscuit which the sailors would pilfer to sell, give, or e x c h a n g e with u s for m o n e y , s a s s a f r a s , 1 furs, or love. B u t w h e n they d e p a r t e d , there r e m a i n e d neither tavern, b e e r - h o u s e , nor p l a c e of relief but the c o m m o n kettle. 4 H a d we b e e n a s free from all sins as [we were free from] gluttony a n d d r u n k e n n e s s we might have b e e n c a n o n i z e d for s a i n t s , but our P r e s i d e n t would never have b e e n a d m i t t e d for e n g r o s s i n g to his private, o a t m e a l , s a c k , oil, a q u a vitae, beef, e g g s , or w h a t not b u t the kettle; 5 that i n d e e d he allowed equally to b e distributed, a n d that w a s half a pint of wheat a n d a s m u c h barley boiled with water for a m a n a day, a n d this, having fried s o m e twenty-six w e e k s in the ship's hold, c o n t a i n e d a s m a n y w o r m s a s grains s o that we might truly call it rather so m u c h b r a n than corn; our drink w a s w a t e r , 6 our lodgings c a s t l e s in the air. With this lodging a n d diet, our extreme toil in b e a r i n g a n d p l a n t i n g palis a d e s so strained a n d b r u i s e d u s a n d our c o n t i n u a l labor in the extremity of the heat h a d s o w e a k e n e d u s , a s were c a u s e sufficient to have m a d e u s a s m i s e r a b l e in our native country or any other p l a c e in the world. F r o m M a y to S e p t e m b e r , t h o s e that e s c a p e d lived u p o n s t u r g e o n a n d s e a c r a b s . Fifty in this time we buried; the rest s e e i n g the P r e s i d e n t ' s 7 projects to e s c a p e t h e s e m i s e r i e s in o u r p i n n a c e by flight (who all this time h a d neither felt want nor s i c k n e s s ) so m o v e d our d e a d spirits a s we d e p o s e d him a n d e s t a b l i s h e d Ratcliffe in his p l a c e ( G o s n o l d b e i n g d e a d ) , Kendall d e p o s e d . S m i t h newly recovered, M a r t i n 8 a n d Ratcliffe were by his c a r e preserved a n d relieved, a n d the m o s t of the soldiers recovered with the skillful diligence of M a s t e r T h o m a s W o t t o n our s u r g e o n g e n e r a l . B u t now w a s all our provision s p e n t , the s t u r g e o n g o n e , all helps a b a n d o n e d , e a c h h o u r expecting the fury of the s a v a g e s , w h e n G o d , the patron of all g o o d e n d e a v o r s , in that d e s p e r a t e extremity s o c h a n g e d the hearts of the s a v a g e s that they b r o u g h t s u c h plenty of their fruits a n d provision a s no man wanted.9 A n d now w h e r e s o m e affirmed it w a s ill d o n e of the C o u n c i l to s e n d forth m e n s o badly provided, this i n c o n t r a d i c t a b l e r e a s o n will s h o w t h e m plainly they are too ill a d v i s e d to n o u r i s h s u c h ill c o n c e i t s : First, the fault of our going w a s our o w n ; what c o u l d be thought fitting or n e c e s s a r y we h a d , but what we s h o u l d find, or w a n t , or w h e r e we s h o u l d b e , we were all ignorant a n d s u p p o s i n g to m a k e our p a s s a g e in two m o n t h s , with victual to live a n d the a d v a n t a g e of the spring to work; we were at s e a five m o n t h s w h e r e we both spent o u r victual a n d lost the opportunity of the time a n d s e a s o n to 3. T h e bark of the sassafras tree, sold for its supposed medicinal qualities, was a valuable commodity in London. 4. The communal resources. 5. I.e., President Edward Maria Wingfield (c. 1560—1613), a man of high connections in England, would not have been canonized as a saint because he diverted many supplies (everything except the contents of the c o m m o n kettle) for his own use, including sack (wine) and aqua vitae (brandy). 6. It was more customary to drink wine or beer. "Corn": grain. 7. I.e., Wingfield.

8. Captain John Martin (c. 1 5 6 7 - 1 6 3 2 ? ) was a colonist best known for his contentiousness. " C a p tain John Ratcliffe" was an alias of J o h n Sicklemore, master of one ol the vessels on the voyage over and a member of the local council. T h e most enigmatic figure in J a m e s t o w n , he was elected president of the council in September 1607, but later fell out with Smith. Captain Bartholomew Gosnold (c. 1572—1607), who had explored NewEngland before the first Jamestown voyage, probably had been responsible for Smith's recruitment to the venture. Captain George Kendall (d. 1607) was executed for mutiny later in the year. 9. I.e., was in want.

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plant, by the unskillful p r e s u m p t i o n of our ignorant t r a n s p o r t e r s that unders t o o d not at all what they u n d e r t o o k . S u c h a c t i o n s have ever s i n c e the world's b e g i n n i n g b e e n s u b j e c t to s u c h a c c i d e n t s , a n d everything of worth is f o u n d full of difficulties, b u t n o t h i n g [is] so difficult a s to e s t a b l i s h a c o m m o n w e a l t h so far r e m o t e from m e n a n d m e a n s a n d w h e r e m e n ' s m i n d s are s o u n t o w a r d 1 a s neither d o well themselves nor suffer o t h e r s . B u t to p r o c e e d . T h e n e w P r e s i d e n t a n d M a r t i n , b e i n g little beloved, of w e a k j u d g m e n t in d a n g e r s , a n d less industry in p e a c e , c o m m i t t e d the m a n a g i n g of all things a b r o a d 2 to C a p t a i n S m i t h , w h o , by his own e x a m p l e , g o o d w o r d s , a n d fair p r o m i s e s , set s o m e to m o w , others to bind t h a t c h , s o m e to build h o u s e s , others to t h a t c h t h e m , h i m s e l f always b e a r i n g the greatest t a s k for his own s h a r e , so that in short time he provided m o s t of t h e m lodgings, n e g l e c t i n g any for himself. T h i s d o n e , s e e i n g the s a v a g e s ' superfluity begin to d e c r e a s e , [ S m i t h ] (with s o m e of his w o r k m e n ) s h i p p e d h i m s e l f in the shallop to s e a r c h the country for t r a d e . T h e w a n t of 3 the l a n g u a g e , k n o w l e d g e to m a n a g e his b o a t without sails, the want of a sufficient power (knowing the m u l t i t u d e of the s a v a g e s ) , a p p a r e l for his m e n , a n d other n e c e s s a r i e s , were infinite i m p e d i m e n t s yet no discouragement. B e i n g b u t six or seven in c o m p a n y h e went d o w n the river to K e c o u g h t a n 4 where at first they s c o r n e d h i m a s a f a m i s h e d m a n a n d would in derision offer him a handful of c o r n , a p i e c e of b r e a d for their swords a n d m u s k e t s , a n d s u c h like proportions a l s o for their a p p a r e l . B u t s e e i n g by trade a n d c o u r t e s y there w a s n o t h i n g to be h a d , he m a d e bold to try s u c h c o n c l u s i o n s a s n e c e s s i t y e n f o r c e d ; t h o u g h contrary to his c o m m i s s i o n , [he] let fly'i his m u s k e t s , ran his boat on s h o r e ; w h e r e a t they all fled into the w o o d s . S o m a r c h i n g towards their h o u s e s , they might s e e great h e a p s of corn; m u c h a d o he h a d to restrain his hungry soldiers from p r e s e n t taking of it, expecting a s it h a p p e n e d that the s a v a g e s w o u l d a s s a u l t t h e m , a s not long after they did with a m o s t h i d e o u s n o i s e . Sixty or seventy of t h e m , s o m e black, s o m e red, s o m e white, s o m e p a r t i c o l o r e d , c a m e in a s q u a r e o r d e r , 6 singing a n d d a n c i n g out of the w o o d s with their O k e e (which w a s an idol m a d e of skins, stuffed with m o s s , all p a i n t e d a n d h u n g with c h a i n s a n d c o p p e r ) b o r n e before t h e m , a n d in this m a n n e r , b e i n g well a r m e d with c l u b s , targets, b o w s , a n d arrows, they c h a r g e d the E n g l i s h that so kindly 7 received t h e m with their m u s k e t s loaded with pistol shot that down fell their g o d , a n d divers lay sprawling on the g r o u n d ; the rest fled a g a i n to the w o o d s a n d ere long sent o n e of their Q u i y o u g h k a s o u c k s 8 to offer p e a c e a n d r e d e e m their Okee. S m i t h told t h e m if only six of t h e m w o u l d c o m e u n a r m e d a n d l o a d his boat, h e would not only be their friend b u t restore t h e m their O k e e a n d give t h e m b e a d s , c o p p e r , a n d h a t c h e t s b e s i d e s , which o n both s i d e s w a s to their c o n t e n t s 9 p e r f o r m e d , a n d then they b r o u g h t him v e n i s o n , turkeys, wild fowl, 1. Intractable. 2. I.e., outside the palisade. 3. Inability to speak. "Shallop": an open boat. 4. A village near the mouth of the J a m e s River whose inhabitants, the Kecoughtans, were members of the Powhatan Confederacy. 5. Fired. 6. Formation. "Particolored": i.e., painted for the

battle. 7. In such a way. "Targets": small shields. 8. Smith elsewhere defines this term as referring to the "petty g o d s " of the Algonquian-speaking peoples, but here it may be used to mean priests. "Divers": several. 9. I.e., in mutual contentment.

VIRGINIA, NEW ENGLAND,

AND T H E S U M M E R

ISLES

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47

b r e a d , a n d what they h a d , singing a n d d a n c i n g in sign of friendship till they departed. In his return h e d i s c o v e r e d the town a n d country of W a r r a s k o y a c k . 1 T h u s G o d u n b o u n d l e s s by His power, M a d e t h e m t h u s kind, would u s devour. S m i t h , perceiving (notwithstanding their late misery) not any r e g a r d e d but from h a n d to m o u t h , 2 (the c o m p a n y b e i n g well recovered) c a u s e d the pinn a c e to be provided with things fitting to get provision for the year following, but in the interim he m a d e three or four j o u r n e y s a n d d i s c o v e r e d the p e o p l e of C h i c k a h o m i n y , 3 yet w h a t he carefully provided the rest c a r e l e s s l y s p e n t . Wingfield a n d K e n d a l l , living in d i s g r a c e * * * s t r e n g t h e n e d t h e m s e l v e s with the sailors a n d other c o n f e d e r a t e s to regain their former credit a n d authority, or at least s u c h m e a n s a b o a r d the p i n n a c e ( b e i n g fitted to sail a s S m i t h h a d a p p o i n t e d for t r a d e ) , to alter her c o u r s e a n d to g o for E n g l a n d . S m i t h , u n e x p e c t e d l y returning, h a d the plot discovered to him, m u c h trouble he h a d to prevent it, till with store of saker* a n d m u s k e t shot he f o r c e d t h e m [to] stay or sink in the river: which a c t i o n c o s t the life of C a p t a i n Kendall. T h e s e brawls are so disgustful, a s s o m e will say they were better forgotten, yet all m e n of g o o d j u d g m e n t will c o n c l u d e it were better their b a s e n e s s s h o u l d be m a n i f e s t to the world, than the b u s i n e s s b e a r the scorn a n d s h a m e of their e x c u s e d d i s o r d e r s . 5 T h e P r e s i d e n t a n d C a p t a i n A r c h e r 6 not long after i n t e n d e d also to have a b a n d o n e d the country, which project a l s o w a s c u r b e d a n d s u p p r e s s e d by Smith. T h e S p a n i a r d never m o r e greedily desired gold than he victual, nor his soldiers m o r e to a b a n d o n the country than he to keep it. B u t [he f o u n d ] plenty of c o r n in the river of C h i c k a h o m i n y , w h e r e h u n d r e d s of s a v a g e s in divers p l a c e s stood with b a s k e t s expecting his c o m i n g . A n d now the winter a p p r o a c h i n g , the rivers b e c a m e so covered with s w a n s , g e e s e , d u c k s , a n d c r a n e s that we daily f e a s t e d with g o o d b r e a d , Virginia p e a s , p u m p k i n s , a n d p u t c h a m i n s , fish, fowl, a n d divers sort of wild b e a s t s as fast a s we c o u l d eat t h e m , so that n o n e of our tuftaffety h u m o r i s t s 7 desired to go for E n g l a n d . B u t our c o m e d i e s never e n d u r e d long without a tragedy, s o m e idle exceptions" b e i n g m u t t e r e d a g a i n s t C a p t a i n S m i t h for not d i s c o v e r i n g the h e a d of C h i c k a h o m i n y river a n d [he being] taxed by the C o u n c i l to b e too slow in s o worthy an a t t e m p t . T h e next voyage h e p r o c e e d e d s o far that with m u c h labor by c u t t i n g of trees a s u n d e r he m a d e his p a s s a g e , b u t w h e n his b a r g e c o u l d p a s s n o farther, he left her in a b r o a d bay out of d a n g e r of shot, 1. A village on the south side of the J a m e s River near the mouth of the modern Pagan River, approximately opposite Smithfield. 2. I.e., none of the settlers, despite their recent sufferings, gave any thought to gathering a store of provision for the future. 3. T h e region along the Chickahominy River, which empties into the J a m e s River a short distance west of Jamestown. 4. Shot for a small cannon used in sieges and on shipboard. "Discovered": revealed. 5. I.e., it is necessary to rehearse the troubles to lay the blame on the responsible individuals

(Wingfield and Kendall), rather than let the whole "business" of the colony suffer ill repute. 6. Gabriel Archer (c. 1 5 7 5 - 1 6 0 9 ? ) had been an associate of Bartholomew Gosnold before the Jamestown voyage. Having gone hack to England in 1608 as a confirmed opponent of Smith, he showed up in Virginia again the following year to head an anti-Smith faction but died during the starving time the next winter. Ratcliffe (Sicklemore) was still president. 7. Self-indulgent persons who might be given to wearing lace. " P u t c h a m i n s " : persimmons. 8. Objections.

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c o m m a n d i n g n o n e s h o u l d go a s h o r e till his return; h i m s e l f with two E n g l i s h a n d two s a v a g e s went u p higher in a c a n o e , but he w a s not long a b s e n t but his m e n went a s h o r e , w h o s e want of g o v e r n m e n t gave both o c c a s i o n a n d opportunity to the s a v a g e s to surprise o n e G e o r g e C a s s e n w h o m they slew a n d m u c h failed not to have c u t off the b o a t a n d all the r e s t . 9 S m i t h little d r e a m i n g of that a c c i d e n t , b e i n g got to the m a r s h e s at the river's h e a d twenty miles in the desert, 1 h a d his two m e n slain (as is s u p p o s e d ) s l e e p i n g by the c a n o e , while himself by fowling s o u g h t t h e m victual, w h o finding he w a s b e s e t with 2 0 0 s a v a g e s , two of t h e m h e slew, still d e f e n d i n g h i m s e l f with the aid of a s a v a g e his g u i d e , w h o m he b o u n d to his a r m with his garters a n d u s e d him a s a b u c k l e r , 2 yet he w a s shot in his thigh a little, a n d h a d m a n y arrows that s t u c k in his c l o t h e s but no great hurt, till at last they took him prisoner. W h e n this n e w s c a m e to J a m e s t o w n , m u c h w a s their sorrow for his loss, few expecting what e n s u e d . Six or seven w e e k s t h o s e b a r b a r i a n s kept him prisoner, m a n y s t r a n g e triu m p h s a n d c o n j u r a t i o n s they m a d e of h i m , yet h e s o d e m e a n e d * h i m s e l f a m o n g s t t h e m , a s h e not only diverted t h e m from s u r p r i s i n g the fort, but p r o c u r e d his own liberty, a n d got h i m s e l f a n d his c o m p a n y s u c h e s t i m a t i o n a m o n g s t t h e m , that t h o s e s a v a g e s a d m i r e d him m o r e than their own Quiyoughkasoucks. T h e m a n n e r how they u s e d a n d delivered him is a s followeth: T h e s a v a g e s having drawn from G e o r g e C a s s e n whither C a p t a i n S m i t h w a s g o n e , p r o s e c u t i n g that opportunity they followed him with 3 0 0 b o w m e n , c o n d u c t e d by the King of P a m u n k e y , w h o in divisions s e a r c h i n g the t u r n i n g s of the river f o u n d R o b i n s o n a n d E m i y 1 by the fireside; t h o s e they shot full of arrows a n d slew. T h e n finding the C a p t a i n , a s is said, that u s e d the s a v a g e that w a s his g u i d e a s his shield (three of t h e m b e i n g slain a n d divers o t h e r s s o g a l l e d 5 ) , all the rest would not c o m e n e a r h i m . T h i n k i n g t h u s to have r e t u r n e d to his b o a t , regarding t h e m , a s h e m a r c h e d , m o r e t h a n his way, [he] slipped up to the m i d d l e in a n oozy c r e e k a n d his s a v a g e with h i m , yet d a r e d they not c o m e to him till b e i n g near d e a d with cold he threw away his a r m s . T h e n a c c o r d i n g to their c o m p o s i t i o n 6 they d r e w him forth a n d led h i m to the fire w h e r e his m e n were slain. Diligently they c h a f e d his b e n u m b e d limbs. H e d e m a n d i n g for their c a p t a i n , they s h o w e d him O p e c h a n c a n o u g h , 7 King of P a m u n k e y , to w h o m he gave a r o u n d ivory d o u b l e c o m p a s s dial. M u c h they marveled at the playing of the fly 8 a n d n e e d l e , which they c o u l d s e e s o plainly a n d yet not t o u c h it b e c a u s e of the g l a s s that covered t h e m . B u t w h e n h e d e m o n s t r a t e d by that globe-like j e w e l the r o u n d n e s s of the earth a n d skies, the s p h e r e of the s u n , m o o n , a n d s t a r s , a n d how the s u n did c h a s e the night r o u n d a b o u t the world continually, the g r e a t n e s s of the l a n d a n d s e a , 9. I.e., only through fault of their own did they fail to wipe out Cassen's whole party. "Government": discipline. 1. Wilderness. 2. Shield. "Garters": laces used for tying clothing. 3. Behaved. 4. T h e two men mentioned above as having been killed while they slept. T h o m a s Emry was a carpenter. John Robinson was a "gentleman."

5. Wounded. 6. Agreement for surrender. 7. Powhatan's younger half-brother and Smith's captor, O p e c h a n c a n o u g h (d. 1644) was to lead the Indian Confederacy's attack on the colonists in 1622 and as late as 1644 attempted one last time to expel them from the country. 8. C o m p a s s card.

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the diversity of n a t i o n s , variety of c o m p l e x i o n s , a n d how we were to t h e m a n t i p o d e s 9 a n d m a n y other s u c h like m a t t e r s , they all stood a s a m a z e d with admiration. N o t w i t h s t a n d i n g , within a n hour after, they tied him to a tree, a n d a s m a n y a s c o u l d s t a n d a b o u t him p r e p a r e d to shoot him, b u t the King h o l d i n g up the c o m p a s s in his h a n d , they all laid down their b o w s a n d arrows a n d in a t r i u m p h a n t m a n n e r led him to O r a p a k s 1 w h e r e he w a s after their m a n n e s kindly f e a s t e d a n d well u s e d . T h e i r order in c o n d u c t i n g him w a s t h u s : D r a w i n g t h e m s e l v e s all in file, the King in the m i d s t h a d all their p i e c e s a n d s w o r d s b o r n e before h i m . C a p t a i n S m i t h w a s led after him by three great s a v a g e s holding h i m fast by e a c h a r m , a n d on e a c h side six went in file with their arrows n o c k e d . 2 B u t arriving at the town (which w a s but only thirty or forty h u n t i n g h o u s e s m a d e of m a t s , which they remove a s they p l e a s e , a s we our t e n t s ) , all the w o m e n a n d children staring to b e h o l d him, the soldiers first all in file p e r f o r m e d the form of a b i s s o m * so well a s c o u l d b e , a n d on e a c h flank, officers a s s e r g e a n t s to s e e t h e m keep their orders. A good time they c o n t i n u e d this exercise a n d then c a s t t h e m s e l v e s in a ring, d a n c i n g in s u c h several p o s t u r e s a n d singing a n d yelling out s u c h hellish notes a n d s c r e e c h e s ; b e i n g strangely p a i n t e d , every o n e [had] his quiver of arrows a n d at his b a c k a c l u b , on his a r m a fox or an otter's skin or s o m e s u c h m a t t e r for his v a m b r a c e , their h e a d s a n d s h o u l d e r s p a i n t e d red with oil a n d p o c o n e s mingled together, which scarletlike color m a d e an e x c e e d i n g h a n d s o m e show, his bow in his h a n d a n d the skin of a bird with her wings a b r o a d , 4 dried, tied on his h e a d , a p i e c e of c o p p e r , a white shell, a long feather with a small rattle growing at the tails of their s n a k e s tied to it, or s o m e s u c h like toy. All this while, S m i t h a n d the King stood in the m i d s t , g u a r d e d a s before is s a i d , a n d after three d a n c e s they all d e p a r t e d . S m i t h they c o n d u c t e d to a long h o u s e w h e r e thirty or forty tall fellows did g u a r d him, a n d ere long m o r e bread a n d venison w a s b r o u g h t him than would have served twenty m e n . I think his s t o m a c h at that time w a s not very g o o d ; what he left they put in b a s k e t s a n d tied over his h e a d . A b o u t midnight they set the m e a t again before him; all this time not o n e of them would eat a bit with him, till the next m o r n i n g they b r o u g h t him a s m u c h m o r e , a n d then did they eat all the old a n d reserved the new a s they h a d d o n e the other, which m a d e him think they would fat him to eat h i m . Yet in this d e s p e r a t e e s t a t e , to defend him from the cold, o n e M a o c a s s a t e r brought him his gown in r e q u i t a l 5 of s o m e b e a d s a n d toys S m i t h h a d given him at his first arrival in Virginia. T w o days after, a m a n w o u l d have slain him (but that the g u a r d p r e v e n t e d it) for the d e a t h of his s o n , to w h o m they c o n d u c t e d him to recover the p o o r m a n then b r e a t h i n g his last. S m i t h told t h e m that at J a m e s t o w n he h a d a water would d o it, if they would let him fetch it, but they w o u l d not permit that, but m a d e all the p r e p a r a t i o n s they c o u l d to a s s a u l t J a m e s t o w n , craving his advice, a n d for r e c o m p e n c e he s h o u l d have life, liberty, land, a n d w o m e n . In part of a table b o o k 6 he wrote his mind to t h e m at the fort, what w a s 9. On the opposite side of the globe. 1. A village located farther inland, later the residence of Powhatan. 2. Notched; i.e.. with their arrows fitted on the bowstring ready to use. 3. From an Italian term denoting a snakelike for-

mation. 4. Outspread. "Vambrace": forearm protection. "Pocones": a dye of vegetative origin. 5. Payment. 6. A notebook.

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i n t e n d e d , how they s h o u l d follow that direction to affright the m e s s e n g e r s , a n d without fail s e n d him s u c h things a s he wrote for. A n d a n inventory with t h e m . T h e difficulty a n d d a n g e r , h e told the s a v a g e s , of the m i n e s , great g u n s , a n d other e n g i n e s 7 exceedingly affrighted t h e m , yet a c c o r d i n g to his r e q u e s t they went to J a m e s t o w n in a s bitter w e a t h e r a s c o u l d b e of frost a n d snow, a n d within three days returned with a n a n s w e r . B u t w h e n they c a m e to J a m e s t o w n , s e e i n g m e n sally out a s h e h a d told t h e m they w o u l d , they fled, yet in the night they c a m e again to the s a m e p l a c e where he h a d told t h e m they s h o u l d receive a n a n s w e r a n d s u c h things a s he h a d p r o m i s e d t h e m , which they f o u n d accordingly, a n d with which they returned with n o small expedition to the w o n d e r of t h e m all that h e a r d it, that he c o u l d either divine 8 or the p a p e r c o u l d s p e a k . T h e n they led him to the Y o u g h t a n u n d s , the M a t t a p a n i e n t s , the Piankat a n k s , the N a n t a u g h t a c u n d s , a n d O n a w m a n i e n t s 9 u p o n the rivers of R a p p a h a n n o c k a n d P o t o m a c , over all t h o s e rivers a n d b a c k again by divers other several n a t i o n s ' to the King's habitation at P a m u n k e y w h e r e they e n t e r t a i n e d him with m o s t s t r a n g e a n d fearful c o n j u r a t i o n s : 2 As if near led to hell A m o n g s t the devils to dwell. N o t long after, early in a m o r n i n g , a great fire w a s m a d e in a l o n g - h o u s e a n d a m a t s p r e a d on the o n e side as o n the other; o n the o n e they c a u s e d him to sit, a n d all the g u a r d went out of the h o u s e , a n d presently c a m e skipping in a great grim fellow all p a i n t e d over with coal* m i n g l e d with oil, a n d m a n y s n a k e s ' a n d w e a s e l s ' skins stuffed with m o s s , a n d all their tails tied together s o a s they m e t o n the crown of his h e a d in a tassel, a n d r o u n d a b o u t the tassel w a s a s a c o r o n e t of f e a t h e r s , the skins h a n g i n g r o u n d a b o u t his h e a d , b a c k , a n d s h o u l d e r s a n d in a m a n n e r c o v e r e d his f a c e , with a hellish voice, a n d a rattle in his h a n d . With m o s t s t r a n g e g e s t u r e s a n d p a s s i o n s b e b e g a n his invocation a n d e n v i r o n e d 4 the fire with a circle of m e a l ; which d o n e , three m o r e s u c h like devils c a m e r u s h i n g in with the like antic tricks, p a i n t e d half black, half red, but all their eyes were p a i n t e d white a n d s o m e red strokes like m u s t a c h e s a l o n g their c h e e k s . R o u n d a b o u t him t h o s e fiends d a n c e d a pretty while, a n d then c a m e in three m o r e a s ugly a s the rest, with red eyes a n d white strokes over their b l a c k f a c e s . At last they all sat d o w n right a g a i n s t him, three of t h e m on the o n e h a n d of the chief priest a n d three on the other. T h e n all with their rattles b e g a n a s o n g ; w h i c h e n d e d , the chief priest laid d o w n five wheat c o r n s ; 5 then straining his a r m s a n d h a n d s with s u c h violence that h e sweat a n d his veins swelled, he b e g a n a short o r a t i o n ; 6 at the c o n c l u s i o n they all gave a short g r o a n a n d then laid d o w n t h r e e grains m o r e . After that, b e g a n their s o n g a g a i n , a n d then a n o t h e r oration, ever laying d o w n so m a n y c o r n s a s before till they h a d twice e n c i r c l e d the fire; that d o n e , they took a b u n c h of little sticks p r e p a r e d for that p u r p o s e , continuing still their devotion, a n d at the e n d of every s o n g a n d oration they laid d o w n a stick betwixt the divisions of c o r n . Till night, neither h e nor they did either e a t or drink, a n d then they f e a s t e d merrily with the b e s t provisions 7. Weaponry. 8. Perform magic. "Expedition": speed. 9. T h e s e groups were part of the confederacy that was under the rule of Powhatan. 1. Other Algonquian-speaking groups. 2. Incantations; but the following couplet Smith

derived from a translation of S e n e c a published by Bishop Martin Fotherby in his Atheomastix ( 1 6 2 2 ) . 3. I.e., charcoal. 4. Encircled. 5. I.e., five kernels of Indian corn. 6. Prayer.

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they c o u l d m a k e . T h r e e days they u s e d this c e r e m o n y ; the m e a n i n g whereof, they told him, w a s to know if he i n t e n d e d t h e m well or n o . T h e circle of m e a l signified their country, the circles of corn the b o u n d s of the s e a , a n d the sticks his country. T h e y i m a g i n e d the world to be flat a n d r o u n d , like a t r e n c h e r , 7 a n d they in the midst. After this they b r o u g h t him a b a g of g u n p o w d e r , which they carefully preserved till the next spring, to plant as they did their c o r n , b e c a u s e they would b e a c q u a i n t e d with the n a t u r e of that s e e d . O p i t c h a p a m , the King's b r o t h e r , 8 invited him to his h o u s e , w h e r e , with a s m a n y platters of b r e a d , fowl, a n d wild b e a s t s a s did environ him, h e bid him w e l c o m e , but not any of t h e m would eat a bit with him but put u p all the r e m a i n d e r in b a s k e t s . At his return to O p e c h a n c a n o u g h ' s , all the King's w o m e n a n d their children flocked a b o u t him for their p a r t s , 9 a s a d u e by c u s t o m , to be merry with such fragments: B u t his waking m i n d in h i d e o u s d r e a m s did oft s e e w o n d r o u s s h a p e s , O f b o d i e s s t r a n g e , a n d h u g e in growth, a n d of s t u p e n d o u s m a k e s . 1 At last they b r o u g h t him to W e r o w o c o m o c o , 2 where w a s P o w h a t a n , their E m p e r o r . H e r e m o r e than two h u n d r e d of t h o s e grim c o u r t i e r s s t o o d wondering at him, a s [if] he h a d b e e n a m o n s t e r , till P o w h a t a n a n d his train h a d p u t t h e m s e l v e s in their greatest b r a v e r i e s . 3 B e f o r e a fire u p o n a s e a t like a b e d s t e a d , h e sat covered with a great r o b e m a d e of r a c c o o n skins a n d all the tails h a n g i n g by. O n either h a n d did sit a y o u n g w e n c h of sixteen or e i g h t e e n years a n d a l o n g o n e a c h side [of] the h o u s e , two rows of m e n a n d b e h i n d t h e m a s m a n y w o m e n , with all their h e a d s a n d s h o u l d e r s p a i n t e d red, m a n y of their h e a d s b e d e c k e d with the white d o w n of b i r d s , b u t every o n e with s o m e t h i n g , a n d a great chain of white b e a d s a b o u t their n e c k s . At his e n t r a n c e before the King, all the p e o p l e g a v e a great s h o u t . T h e Q u e e n of A p p o m a t t o c 4 w a s a p p o i n t e d to bring him water to w a s h his h a n d s , a n d a n o t h e r b r o u g h t him a b u n c h of f e a t h e r s , i n s t e a d of a towel, to dry t h e m ; having f e a s t e d him after their b e s t b a r b a r o u s m a n n e r they c o u l d , a long c o n s u l t a t i o n w a s held, but the c o n c l u s i o n w a s , two great s t o n e s were b r o u g h t before P o w h a t a n ; then as m a n y a s c o u l d , laid h a n d s o n h i m , d r a g g e d him to t h e m , a n d thereon laid his h e a d a n d b e i n g ready with their c l u b s to b e a t out his b r a i n s , P o c a h o n t a s , 5 the King's d e a r e s t d a u g h t e r , w h e n n o entreaty c o u l d prevail, got his h e a d in her a r m s a n d laid her own u p o n his to save him from d e a t h , whereat the E m p e r o r w a s c o n t e n t e d h e s h o u l d live to m a k e him h a t c h e t s , a n d her bells, b e a d s , a n d c o p p e r , for they t h o u g h t him a s well of all o c c u p a t i o n s as t h e m s e l v e s . 6 F o r the King h i m s e l f will m a k e his own r o b e s , s h o e s , b o w s , a r r o w s , p o t s ; plant, h u n t , or do anything s o well a s the rest. 7. A flat wood dish. 8. Actually the c h i e f s half-brother; he succeeded Powhatan in 1618. 9. Gifts. 1. From a translation of Lucretius by Fotherby. 2. Powhatan's village on the north shore of the York River, almost due north of Jamestown. 3. Finery; i.e., costumes. 4. Opossunoquonuske was the weroansqua, or leader, of a small village (Appamatuck) near the

future site of Petersburg, Virginia. In 1610, she was killed by the English in retaliation for the deaths of fourteen settlers. 5. Daughter of Powhatan (c. 1 591—1617), s h e w a s mentioned in Smith's earlier versions of his captivity narrative, but first emerged as its heroine only in the History, which was published seven years after her death in England. 6. I.e., they thought him as variously skilled as themselves.

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T h e y say he bore a p l e a s a n t show, B u t s u r e his heart w a s s a d . F o r w h o c a n p l e a s a n t b e , a n d rest, T h a t lives in fear a n d d r e a d : A n d having life s u s p e c t e d , doth It still s u s p e c t e d l e a d . 7 T w o days after, P o w h a t a n , having d i s g u i s e d h i m s e l f in the m o s t fearfulest m a n n e r h e c o u l d , c a u s e d C a p t a i n S m i t h to b e b r o u g h t forth to a great h o u s e in the w o o d s a n d there u p o n a m a t by the fire to be left a l o n e . N o t long after, from b e h i n d a m a t that divided the h o u s e , w a s m a d e the m o s t dolefulest noise h e ever h e a r d ; then P o w h a t a n m o r e like a devil t h a n a m a n , with s o m e two h u n d r e d m o r e a s b l a c k a s himself, c a m e u n t o him a n d told him now they were friends, a n d presently he s h o u l d g o to J a m e s t o w n to s e n d him two great g u n s a n d a g r i n d s t o n e for which he would give him the country of C a p a h o w a s i c a n d forever e s t e e m him a s his son N a n t a q u o u d . 8 S o to J a m e s t o w n with twelve g u i d e s P o w h a t a n s e n t him. T h a t night they q u a r t e r e d in the w o o d s , he still e x p e c t i n g (as h e h a d d o n e all this long time of his i m p r i s o n m e n t ) every h o u r to be p u t to o n e d e a t h or other, for all their feasting. B u t almighty G o d (by His divine p r o v i d e n c e ) h a d mollified the hearts of t h o s e stern b a r b a r i a n s with c o m p a s s i o n . T h e next m o r n i n g b e t i m e s they c a m e to the fort, w h e r e S m i t h having u s e d the s a v a g e s with what kindn e s s h e c o u l d , he s h o w e d R a w h u n t , P o w h a t a n ' s trusty servant, two d e m i c u l v e r i n s 9 a n d a millstone to carry [to] P o w h a t a n ; they f o u n d t h e m s o m e w h a t too heavy, but w h e n they did s e e him d i s c h a r g e t h e m , b e i n g l o a d e d with s t o n e s , a m o n g the b o u g h s of a great tree l o a d e d with icicles, the ice a n d b r a n c h e s c a m e so t u m b l i n g d o w n that the p o o r s a v a g e s ran away half d e a d with fear. B u t at last we r e g a i n e d s o m e c o n f e r e n c e with t h e m a n d gave t h e m s u c h toys a n d sent to P o w h a t a n , his w o m e n , a n d children s u c h p r e s e n t s a s gave t h e m in g e n e r a l full c o n t e n t . N o w in J a m e s t o w n they were all in c o m b u s t i o n , the s t r o n g e s t p r e p a r i n g o n c e m o r e to run away with the p i n n a c e ; w h i c h , with the hazard of his life, with saker f a l c o n 1 a n d m u s k e t s h o t , S m i t h forced now the third time to stay or sink. S o m e , n o better than they s h o u l d b e , h a d plotted with the P r e s i d e n t the next day to have him p u t to d e a t h by the Levitical l a w , 2 for the lives of R o b i n s o n a n d E m r y ; p r e t e n d i n g the fault w a s his that had led t h e m to their e n d s ; but h e quickly took s u c h order with s u c h lawyers that he laid t h e m by the heels till he sent s o m e of t h e m p r i s o n e r s for E n g l a n d . N o w every o n c e in four or five d a y s , P o c a h o n t a s with her a t t e n d a n t s b r o u g h t him so m u c h provision that saved m a n y of their lives, that else for all this h a d starved with h u n g e r . T h u s from n u m b d e a t h our g o o d G o d sent relief, T h e sweet a s s u a g e r of all other grief.* 7. Derived from a translation of Euripides by Fotherby. 8. I.e., Powhatan would esteem him as highly as his own son N a n t a q u o u d . Capahowasic was along the York River near where Smith was held prisoner. 9. Large cannons. I. Small falcon.

2. "And he that killeth any man shall surely be put to death" (Leviticus 2 4 . 1 7 ) . 3. Apparently the first line is Smith's own, based on Fotherby, but the second is borrowed directly from Fotherby's translation from a quotation of Euripides found in Plutarch.

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His relation o f the plenty h e h a d s e e n , especially at W e r o w o c o m o c o , a n d of the s t a t e a n d b o u n t y o f P o w h a t a n (which till that time w a s u n k n o w n ) , s o revived their d e a d spirits (especially the love of P o c a h o n t a s ) 4 as all m e n ' s fear w a s a b a n d o n e d . T h u s you m a y s e e what difficulties still c r o s s e d any g o o d e n d e a v o r ; a n d the g o o d s u c c e s s of the b u s i n e s s b e i n g t h u s oft b r o u g h t to t h e very period of d e s t r u c t i o n ; yet you s e e by what s t r a n g e m e a n s G o d h a t h still delivered it. #

#

*

F r o m The Fourth [SMITH'S

FAREWELL

TO

Book VIRGINIA]

T h u s far I have traveled in this W i l d e r n e s s o f Virginia, not b e i n g ignorant for all m y p a i n s this d i s c o u r s e will b e w r e s t e d , t o s s e d a n d t u r n e d a s m a n y ways as there is l e a v e s ; 5 that I have written t o o m u c h o f s o m e , t o o little of o t h e r s , a n d m a n y s u c h like o b j e c t i o n s . T o s u c h I m u s t a n s w e r , in the C o m pany's n a m e I w a s r e q u e s e d to d o i t , 6 if a n y have c o n c e a l e d their a p p r o v e d experiences from my k n o w l e d g e , they m u s t e x c u s e m e : a s for every fatherless or stolen relation, 7 or whole v o l u m e s of s o p h i s t i c a t e d r e h e a r s a l s , I leave t h e m to the c h a r g e o f t h e m that desire t h e m . I t h a n k G o d I never u n d e r t o o k anything yet [for which] a n y c o u l d tax m e o f c a r e l e s s n e s s or d i s h o n e s t y , a n d w h a t 8 is h e to w h o m I a m indebted or t r o u b l e s o m e ? A h ! were t h e s e m y a c c u s e r s b u t to c h a n g e c a s e s a n d p l a c e s with m e [for] b u t two years, or till they h a d d o n e b u t s o m u c h a s I, it m a y b e they would j u d g e m o r e charitably of m y i m p e r f e c t i o n s . B u t h e r e I m u s t leave all to the trial o f t i m e , both myself, Virginia's p r e p a r a t i o n s , p r o c e e d i n g s a n d g o o d e v e n t s , praying to that great G o d the p r o t e c t o r of all g o o d n e s s to s e n d t h e m a s g o o d s u c c e s s as the goodn e s s of the a c t i o n 9 a n d country d e s e r v e t h , a n d m y heart d e s i r e t h . 1624

From

A Description of N e w England

W h o c a n desire m o r e c o n t e n t , that hath small m e a n s ; or b u t only his merit to a d v a n c e his fortune, t h a n to tread, a n d plant that g r o u n d h e h a t h purc h a s e d by the hazard of his life? If he have b u t the taste o f virtue, a n d m a g n a n i m i t y , 1 what to s u c h a m i n d c a n b e m o r e p l e a s a n t , t h a n p l a n t i n g a n d building a f o u n d a t i o n for his posterity, got from the r u d e e a r t h , by G o d ' s b l e s s i n g a n d his own industry, without p r e j u d i c e 2 to any? If h e have a n y grain of faith or zeal in religion, what c a n h e d o less hurtful to a n y ; or m o r e a g r e e able to G o d , t h a n to s e e k to convert t h o s e p o o r s a v a g e s to know C h r i s t , a n d 4. I.e., the evident affection of Pocahontas for Smith and the English was instrumental in reviving the colonists' spirits. 5. Pages. 6. Smith was not requested to write the whole General History by the Virginia Company, so it is not clear what his reference is here. Possibly the discourse to which he refers is the brief summary of recommendations for the "reformation" of Vir-

ginia that ends T h e Fourth Book and that he drew up at the request of the royal commissioners charged with effecting that reformation. or "fugitive" narratives. 7. I.e., anonymous "Approved": proven. 8. Who; i.e., he has been a burden to nobody. 9. Venture. "Events": results. 1. Greatness of spirit. 2. Harm.

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h u m a n i t y , w h o s e labors with discretion will triple r e q u i t e thy c h a r g e a n d p a i n s ? W h a t so truly suits with honor a n d honesty, a s the d i s c o v e r i n g things u n k n o w n ? erecting t o w n e s , p e o p l i n g c o u n t r i e s , i n f o r m i n g the ignorant, reforming things u n j u s t , t e a c h i n g virtue; a n d gainfing] to our native m o t h e r country a k i n g d o m to a t t e n d her; find[ing] e m p l o y m e n t for t h o s e that a r e idle, b e c a u s e they k n o w not what to d o : so far from w r o n g i n g any, a s to c a u s e posterity to r e m e m b e r t h e e ; a n d r e m e m b e r i n g thee, ever h o n o r that r e m e m b r a n c e with p r a i s e ? *

*

*

T h e n , w h o w o u l d live at h o m e idly (or think in himself any worth to live) only to eat, drink, a n d s l e e p , a n d so die? O r by c o n s u m i n g that carelessly, [which] his friends got worthily? O r by u s i n g that miserably, [which] m a i n t a i n e d virtue honestly? Or, for b e i n g d e s c e n d e d nobly, p i n e with the vain vaunt of great kindred, in p e n u r y ? ' O r (to m a i n t a i n a silly s h o w of bravery) toil o u t thy heart, s o u l , a n d t i m e , basely, by shifts, 4 tricks, c a r d s , a n d dice? O r by relating n e w s of o t h e r s ' a c t i o n s , s h a r k 5 here or there for a dinner, or s u p p e r ; deceive thy friends, by fair p r o m i s e s , a n d d i s s i m u l a t i o n , in b o r r o w i n g w h e r e thou never i n t e n d e s t to pay; offend the laws, surfeit with e x c e s s , burden thy country, a b u s e thyself, d e s p a i r in want, a n d then c o z e n 6 thy kindred, yea even thine own brother, a n d wish thy p a r e n t s ' d e a t h (I will not say d a m nation) to have their e s t a t e s ? t h o u g h thou s e e s t w h a t h o n o r s , a n d rewards, the world yet hath for t h e m will s e e k t h e m a n d worthily deserve t h e m .

Let this m o v e you to e m b r a c e e m p l o y m e n t , for t h o s e w h o s e e d u c a t i o n s , spirits, a n d j u d g m e n t s , w a n t but your p u r s e s ; not only to prevent s u c h a c c u s t o m e d d a n g e r s , but a l s o to gain m o r e thereby than you have. A n d you fathers that are either so foolishly f o n d , or so miserably c o v e t o u s , or so wilfully ignorant, or so negligently c a r e l e s s , a s that you will rather m a i n t a i n your children in idle w a n t o n n e s s , till they grow your m a s t e r s ; or b e c o m e so basely unkind, a s they wish n o t h i n g but your d e a t h s ; so that both sorts grow diss o l u t e : a n d a l t h o u g h you would wish t h e m a n y w h e r e to e s c a p e the gallows, a n d e a s e your c a r e s ; t h o u g h they s p e n d you h e r e o n e , two, or three h u n d r e d p o u n d a year; you would g r u d g e to give half s o m u c h in a d v e n t u r e with t h e m , to obtain a n e s t a t e , which in a small time but with a little a s s i s t a n c e of your p r o v i d e n c e , 7 might be better than your own. B u t if a n a n g e l s h o u l d tell you, that any p l a c e yet u n k n o w n c a n afford s u c h f o r t u n e s ; you w o u l d not believe h i m , no m o r e than C o l u m b u s w a s believed there w a s any s u c h land a s is now the well-known a b o u n d i n g A m e r i c a ; m u c h less s u c h large regions a s are yet u n k n o w n , a s well in A m e r i c a , as in Africa, a n d Asia, a n d T e r r a I n c o g n i t a ; w h e r e were c o u r s e s for g e n t l e m e n (and t h e m that would be s o r e p u t e d ) m o r e suiting their q u a l i t i e s , t h a n b e g g i n g from their Prince's g e n e r o u s d i s p o s i t i o n , the labors of his s u b j e c t s , a n d the very m a r r o w of his m a i n t e n a n c e . I have not b e e n s o ill bred, but I have t a s t e d of plenty a n d p l e a s u r e , a s well a s want a n d misery: nor doth necessity yet, or o c c a s i o n of d i s c o n t e n t , force m e to t h e s e e n d e a v o r s : nor a m I ignorant what small t h a n k I shall have for my p a i n s ; or that m a n y would have the world i m a g i n e t h e m to b e of great 3. I.e., live in poverty while claiming great ancestors. 4. Expedients. "Bravery": fine appearances.

5. Sponge. 6. Deceive. "Excess": overindulgence. 7. Provision.

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j u d g m e n t , that c a n but b l e m i s h t h e s e my d e s i g n s , by their witty o b j e c t i o n s a n d d e t r a c t i o n s : yet (I h o p e ) my r e a s o n s with my d e e d s , will s o prevail with s o m e , that I shall not w a n t 8 e m p l o y m e n t in t h e s e affairs, to m a k e the m o s t blind s e e his own s e n s e l e s n e s s , a n d incredulity; h o p i n g that gain will m a k e t h e m affect that, which religion, charity, a n d the c o m m o n g o o d c a n n o t . It were but a p o o r device in m e , to deceive myself; m u c h m o r e the king, a n d s t a t e , my friends, a n d country, with t h e s e i n d u c e m e n t s : w h i c h , s e e i n g his M a j e s t y hath given p e r m i s s i o n , I wish all sorts of worthy, h o n e s t , i n d u s t r i o u s spirits, would u n d e r s t a n d : a n d if they desire any further s a t i s f a c t i o n , I will d o my b e s t to give it: N o t to p e r s u a d e t h e m to g o only; 9 but go with t h e m : N o t leave t h e m there; b u t live with t h e m there. I will not say, but by ill providing a n d u n d u e m a n a g i n g , s u c h c o u r s e s m a y be t a k e n , m a y m a k e u s m i s e r a b l e e n o u g h : 1 B u t if I m a y have the execution of w h a t I have p r o j e c t e d ; if they w a n t to eat, let t h e m eat or never digest m e . 2 If I p e r f o r m w h a t I say, I desire but that reward o u t of the g a i n s m a y suit my p a i n s , quality, a n d condition. A n d if I a b u s e you with my t o n g u e , take my h e a d for s a t i s f a c t i o n . If any dislike at the year's e n d , defraying their c h a r g e , * by my c o n s e n t they s h o u l d freely return. I fear not w a n t of c o m p a n y sufficient, were it but known what I know of t h o s e c o u n t r i e s ; a n d by the p r o o f of that wealth I h o p e yearly to return, if G o d p l e a s e to b l e s s m e from s u c h a c c i d e n t s , a s are beyond my p o w e r in r e a s o n to prevent: For, I a m not s o s i m p l e , to think, that ever any other motive than wealth, will ever erect there a C o m m o n w e a l t h ; or draw c o m p a n y from their e a s e a n d h u m o r s at h o m e , to stay in N e w E n g l a n d to effect my p u r p o s e s . And lest any s h o u l d think the toil might be i n s u p p o r t a ble, t h o u g h t h e s e things m a y be h a d by labor, a n d d i l i g e n c e : I a s s u r e myself there are [those] who delight extremely in vain p l e a s u r e , that take m u c h m o r e p a i n s in E n g l a n d , to enjoy it, than I s h o u l d do here to gain wealth sufficient: a n d yet I think they s h o u l d not have half s u c h sweet c o n t e n t : for, o u r pleasure here is still g a i n s ; in E n g l a n d , c h a r g e s a n d loss. H e r e n a t u r e a n d liberty afford u s that freely, which in E n g l a n d we want, or it c o s t s u s dearly. W h a t p l e a s u r e c a n be m o r e , than (being tired with any o c c a s i o n a - s h o r e ) 4 in planting vines, fruits, or h e r b s , in contriving their own g r o u n d s , to the p l e a s u r e of their own m i n d s , their fields, g a r d e n s , o r c h a r d s , b u i l d i n g s , s h i p s , a n d other works, e t c . , to r e c r e a t e t h e m s e l v e s before their own d o o r s , in their own b o a t s u p o n the s e a , where m a n , w o m a n a n d child, with a s m a l l h o o k a n d line, by angling, may take diverse sorts of excellent fish, at their p l e a s u r e s ? A n d is it not pretty sport, to pull up two p e n c e , six p e n c e , a n d twelve p e n c e , a s fast a s you c a n haul a n d veer 5 a line? H e is a very b a d fisher [who] c a n n o t kill in o n e day with his h o o k a n d line, o n e , two, or three h u n d r e d c o d s : which d r e s s e d a n d dried, if they be sold there for ten shillings the h u n d r e d ( t h o u g h in E n g l a n d they will give m o r e then twenty); m a y not both the servant, the m a s t e r , a n d m e r c h a n t , be well c o n t e n t with this g a i n ? If a m a n work but three days in seven, h e m a y get m o r e than he c a n s p e n d , u n l e s s he will be excessive. N o w that c a r p e n t e r , m a s o n , g a r d e n e r , tailor, s m i t h , sailor, forge r s , 6 or w h a t other, m a y they not m a k e this a pretty recreation t h o u g h they fish but an h o u r in a day, to take m o r e than they eat in a week: or if they

8. Lack. 9. Alone. 1. I.e., he won't promise that even with bad management they'll succeed. 2. I.e., or never read Smith's works.

3. I.e., once they have paid the cost of their support for the year. 4. S o m e casual occurrence. 5. I.e., fish. 6. I.e., ironworkers.

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will not eat it, b e c a u s e there is so m u c h better c h o i c e ; yet sell it, or c h a n g e it, with the fishermen, or m e r c h a n t s , for anything they want. A n d what sport d o t h yield a m o r e p l e a s i n g c o n t e n t , a n d l e s s hurt or c h a r g e t h a n angling with a hook, a n d c r o s s i n g the sweet air from isle to isle, over the silent s t r e a m s of a c a l m s e a , wherein the m o s t c u r i o u s m a y find p l e a s u r e , profit, a n d content. T h u s , t h o u g h all m e n be not fishers: yet all m e n , w h a t s o e v e r , m a y in other m a t t e r s do a s well. F o r n e c e s s i t y doth in t h e s e c a s e s s o rule a C o m m o n w e a l t h , a n d e a c h in their several f u n c t i o n s , a s their l a b o r s in their qualities may be a s profitable, b e c a u s e there is a n e c e s s a r y m u t u a l u s e of all. F o r G e n t l e m e n , what exercise s h o u l d m o r e delight t h e m , t h a n r a n g i n g daily t h o s e u n k n o w n p a r t s , u s i n g fowling a n d fishing, for h u n t i n g a n d hawking? a n d yet you shall s e e the wild hawks give you s o m e p l e a s u r e , in s e e i n g t h e m s t o o p 7 (six or seven after o n e a n o t h e r ) a n h o u r or two together, at the s c h o o l s of fish in the fair h a r b o r s , a s t h o s e a s h o r e at a fowl; a n d never trouble nor t o r m e n t yourselves, with w a t c h i n g , m e w i n g , feeding, a n d a t t e n d i n g t h e m : nor kill h o r s e a n d m a n with r u n n i n g a n d crying, S e e you not a h a w k ? 8 F o r h u n t i n g a l s o : the w o o d s , l a k e s , a n d rivers, afford not only c h a s e sufficient, for a n y that delights in that kind of toil, or p l e a s u r e ; b u t s u c h b e a s t s to h u n t , that b e s i d e s the delicacy of their b o d i e s for food, their skins a r e s o rich, a s m a y well r e c o m p e n c e thy daily labor, with a c a p t a i n ' s pay. F o r laborers, if t h o s e that sow h e m p , r a p e , 9 t u r n i p s , p a r s n i p s , c a r r o t s , c a b b a g e , a n d s u c h like; give twenty, thirty, forty, fifty shillings yearly for a n a c r e of g r o u n d , a n d m e a t , drink, a n d w a g e s to u s e it, a n d yet grow rich: w h e n better, or at least a s g o o d g r o u n d , m a y b e h a d a n d c o s t n o t h i n g b u t labor; it s e e m s s t r a n g e to m e , any s u c h s h o u l d there grow poor. M y p u r p o s e is not to p e r s u a d e children [to go] from their p a r e n t s ; m e n from their wives; nor servants from their m a s t e r s : only, s u c h a s with free c o n s e n t m a y b e s p a r e d : B u t that e a c h p a r i s h , or village, in city, or country, that will but a p p a r e l their fatherless children, of thirteen or fourteen years of a g e , or y o u n g m a r r i e d p e o p l e , that have s m a l l wealth to live o n ; here by their labor m a y live exceedingly well: provided always that first there be a sufficient power to c o m m a n d t h e m , h o u s e s to receive t h e m , m e a n s to d e f e n d t h e m , a n d m e e t provisions for t h e m ; for, any p l a c e m a y b e overlain: 1 a n d it is m o s t n e c e s s a r y to have a fortress (ere this grow to p r a c t i c e ) a n d sufficient m a s t e r s (as, c a r p e n t e r s , m a s o n s , fishers, fowlers, g a r d e n e r s , h u s b a n d m e n , sawyers, s m i t h s , s p i n s t e r s , tailors, w e a v e r s , a n d s u c h like) to t a k e ten, twelve, or twenty, or a s there is o c c a s i o n , for a p p r e n t i c e s . T h e m a s t e r s by this may quickly grow rich; t h e s e m a y learn their t r a d e s t h e m s e l v e s , to d o the like; to a general a n d a n incredible benefit, for king, a n d country, m a s t e r , a n d servant. 1616

7. Swoop down. 8. Smith contrasts the delight of watching wild hawks hunt their prey in America with the tedious care that keepers of trained hawks in England must

give their birds—as when such birds fly away and must be hunted for all over the countryside. 9. I.e., the rape plant. 1. Overcome.

NEW

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ENGLAND'S TRIALS

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New England's Trials1

H e r e I m u s t e n t r e a t e a little your favors to d i g r e s s . T h e y did not kill the E n g l i s h b e c a u s e they were C h r i s t i a n s , 2 but for their w e a p o n s a n d c o m m o d ities, that were rare novelties; but n o w they fear we m a y b e a t t h e m o u t of their d e n s , which lions a n d tigers would not a d m i t but by f o r c e . B u t m u s t this be a n a r g u m e n t for a n E n g l i s h m a n , 3 or d i s c o u r a g e any either in Virginia or N e w E n g l a n d ? N o : for I have tried t h e m both. F o r Virginia, I kept that country with thirty-eight, a n d h a d n o t 4 to eat but w h a t we h a d from the s a v a g e s . W h e n I h a d ten m e n a b l e to g o a b r o a d , our c o m m o n w e a l t h w a s very strong: with s u c h a n u m b e r I r a n g e d that u n k n o w n country f o u r t e e n w e e k s ; I h a d but e i g h t e e n to s u b d u e t h e m all, with which great a r m y I stayed six w e e k s before their greatest king's h a b i t a t i o n s , till they h a d g a t h e r e d together all the power they c o u l d ; a n d yet the D u t c h m e n sent at a n e e d l e s s excessive c h a r g e did help P o w h a t a n how to betray m e . 5

* ' *' * F o r w r o n g i n g a soldier but the value of a penny, I have c a u s e d P o w h a t a n [to] s e n d his own m e n to J a m e s t o w n to receive their p u n i s h m e n t at my discretion. It is true in our g r e a t e s t extremity they shot m e , slew three of my m e n , a n d by the folly of t h e m that fled took m e p r i s o n e r ; yet G o d m a d e P o c a h o n t a s the king's d a u g h t e r the m e a n s to deliver m e : a n d thereby t a u g h t m e to know their treacheries to preserve the rest. It w a s a l s o my c h a n c e in single c o m b a t to take the king of P a s p a h e g h 6 prisoner, a n d by k e e p i n g h i m , [I] f o r c e d his s u b j e c t s to work in c h a i n s , till I m a d e all the country pay contribution, having little e l s e w h e r e o n to live. T w i c e in this time I w a s their p r e s i d e n t , 7 a n d n o n e c a n say in all that time I h a d a m a n slain: but for k e e p i n g t h e m in that fear I w a s m u c h b l a m e d both there a n d here: yet I left 5 0 0 b e h i n d m e that t h r o u g h their c o n f i d e n c e in six m o n t h s c a m e m o s t to c o n f u s i o n , a s you m a y read at large in the d e s c r i p t i o n of Virginia. 8 W h e n I went first to t h o s e d e s p e r a t e d e s i g n s , it c o s t m e m a n y a forgotten p o u n d to hire m e n to g o ; a n d p r o c r a s t i n a t i o n c a u s e d m o r e [to] run away than went. B u t after the ice w a s broken, c a m e m a n y brave voluntaries: n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g s i n c e I c a m e from t h e n c e , the h o n o r a b l e C o m p a n y have b e e n h u m b l e suitors to his M a j e s t y to get v a g a b o n d s a n d c o n d e m n e d m e n to go thither; nay s o m u c h s c o r n e d w a s the n a m e of Virginia, s o m e did 1. I.e., tests or experiments, not sufferings. 2. Smith here is speaking of the massacre of settlers in Virginia in March 1622, news of which reached New England sometime in May of that year. In mustering support for settlement in New England, he obviously had to take into account the dampening effect of events in Virginia. 3. I.e., such events are not strong enough to dissuade an Englishman. "Admit": allow. 4. Nothing. "With thirty-eight": i.e., he protected or secured Virginia by means of a very modest force. 5. Several " D u t c h " (probably G e r m a n ) skilled workers had been shipped to Virginia in 1608. Sent to build a house for Powhatan, they hinted to him that they would take his side against the English, and soon were plotting against Smith and the col-

ony. Arrested by the English and brought back to Jamestown for execution, they were saved when a new ship arrived from England, bringing fresh supplies and important new instructions for President Smith and Virginia's governing council. 6. Paspahegh was the Algonquian name for the region around J a m e s t o w n . Smith took its chief, Wowinchopunck, prisoner in 1609. An engraving in the 1st edition of the General History shows this episode. 7. Smith was president of the Virginia council for only a single term; editors generally a s s u m e that he here means "twice during the time I was their president these things happened," although the passage may have been garbled. 8. I.e., Smith's first book, which contains a section so titled. "Confidence": i.e., overconfidence.

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c h o o s e to be h a n g e d ere they would go thither, a n d were: yet for all the worst of spite, detraction a n d d i s c o u r a g e m e n t , a n d this l a m e n t a b l e m a s s a c r e , there is m o r e h o n e s t m e n now suitors to g o , t h a n ever hath b e e n c o n s t r a i n e d k n a v e s ; a n d it is not u n k n o w n to m o s t m e n of u n d e r s t a n d i n g , how h a p p y m a n y of t h o s e c a l u m n i a t o r s do think t h e m s e l v e s , that they m i g h t be admitted, a n d yet pay for their p a s s a g e to go now to Virginia: a n d h a d I b u t m e a n s to transport a s m a n y a s would g o , I might have c h o i c e of 1 0 , 0 0 0 that would gladly be in any of t h o s e new p l a c e s , which were so basely c o n d e m n e d by ungrateful b a s e m i n d s . T o range this country of N e w E n g l a n d in like m a n n e r I h a d but eight, a s is said, a n d a m o n g s t their b r u t e 9 c o n d i t i o n s I met m a n y of their silly e n c o u n ters, a n d without any hurt, G o d be t h a n k e d ; w h e n your W e s t country m e n were m a n y of t h e m w o u n d e d a n d m u c h t o r m e n t e d with the s a v a g e s that a s s a u l t e d their s h i p , a s they did say t h e m s e l v e s , in the first year I w a s there 1 6 1 4 , a n d t h o u g h M a s t e r H u n t then m a s t e r with m e did m o s t basely in stealing s o m e s a v a g e s from that c o a s t to sell, w h e n he w a s directed to have g o n e for S p a i n . 1 * * * I s p e a k not this o u t of vainglory, a s it m a y be s o m e g l e a n e r s , 2 or s o m e w a s never there m a y c e n s u r e m e , but to let all m e n be a s s u r e d by t h o s e e x a m p l e s , w h a t t h o s e s a v a g e s a r e that t h u s strangely do m u r d e r a n d betray our c o u n t r y m e n . B u t to the p u r p o s e . W h a t is already written of the h e a l t h f u l n e s s of the air, the r i c h n e s s of the soil, the g o o d n e s s of the w o o d s , the a b u n d a n c e of fruits, fish, a n d fowl in their s e a s o n , they still affirm that have b e e n there now near two years, a n d at o n e d r a u g h t * they have taken 1 0 0 0 b a s s e s , a n d in o n e night twelve hogsh e a d s of herring. T h e y a r e building a strong fort, they h o p e shortly to finish, in the interim they are well provided: their n u m b e r is a b o u t a h u n d r e d pers o n s , all in h e a l t h , a n d well n e a r sixty a c r e s of g r o u n d well p l a n t e d with corn, b e s i d e s their g a r d e n s well r e p l e n i s h e d with useful fruits; a n d if their adventurers would but furnish t h e m with n e c e s s a r i e s for fishing, their w a n t s w o u l d quickly be s u p p l i e d . 4 T o supply t h e m this sixteen of O c t o b e r is g o i n g the Paragon with sixty-seven p e r s o n s , a n d all this is d o n e by private m e n ' s p u r s e s . A n d to c o n c l u d e in their own w o r d s , s h o u l d they write of all p l e n t i e s they have f o u n d , they think they s h o u l d not be believed.

T h u s you may s e e plainly the yearly s u c c e s s from N e w E n g l a n d (by Virg i n i a ) s which hath b e e n so costly to this k i n g d o m a n d s o d e a r to m e , which either to s e e perish or b u t bleed, p a r d o n m e t h o u g h it p a s s i o n a t e m e beyond the b o u n d s of m o d e s t y , to have b e e n sufficiently a b l e to f o r e s e e it, a n d h a d neither power nor m e a n s how to prevent it. By that a c q u a i n t a n c e I have with t h e m , I m a y call t h e m my children, for they have b e e n my wife, my hawks, 9. Tough. 1. Smith here refers to the tough going among earlier English voyagers to New England, especially Sir Ferdinando Gorges (1568—1647), a backer of Smith, and T h o m a s Hunt, who had been with Smith on the latter's 1614 voyage to the region. Hunt had stirred up much trouble with the local American Indians by kidnapping more than twenty of them, including the Native American Tisquantum (called " S q u a n t o " by the Pilgrims) to sell into slavery in Spain.

2. T h o s e who pick through events in search of bits of scandal. 3. A single haul of the fish net. 4. Here Smith speaks of the Plymouth settlers. "Adventurers": the investors who backed the Pilgrim venture. 5. I.e., by Virginia's example; Plymouth had barely been settled, hut the longer experience of the English in Virginia (with all its faults) could be used to suggest the probable course of events in New England.

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my h o u n d s , my c a r d s , my d i c e , a n d in total my b e s t c o n t e n t , a s indifferent to my heart a s m y left h a n d to my right; 6 a n d n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g all t h o s e m i r a c l e s of d i s a s t e r s have c r o s s e d both t h e m a n d m e , yet were there not o n e E n g l i s h m a n r e m a i n i n g (as G o d be t h a n k e d there is s o m e t h o u s a n d s ) I would yet begin again with a s small m e a n s a s I did at the first; not for that I have any secret e n c o u r a g e m e n t from any I protest, m o r e than l a m e n t a b l e exper i e n c e s : for all their discoveries I c a n yet hear of, are but pigs of my own s o w ; 7 nor m o r e s t r a n g e to m e than to hear o n e tell m e he h a t h g o n e from Billingsgate a n d discovered G r e e n w i c h , G r a v e s e n d , Tilbury, Q u e e n b o r o u g h , Leigh a n d M a r g a t e , which to t h o s e did never h e a r of t h e m , t h o u g h they dwell in E n g l a n d , might be m a d e s e e m s o m e rare s e c r e t s a n d great c o u n t r i e s u n k n o w n , except the relations of M a s t e r D i r m e r . 8 *

*

*

W h a t here I have written by relation, if it b e not right, I h u m b l y entreat your p a r d o n s , b u t I have not s p a r e d any diligence to learn the truth of t h e m that have b e e n actors or s h a r e r s in t h o s e voyages: in s o m e p a r t i c u l a r s they might deceive m e , but in the s u b s t a n c e s they c o u l d not, for few c o u l d tell m e anything, except w h e r e they fished: but s e e i n g all t h o s e [that] have lived there, d o confirm m o r e than I have written, I d o u b t not but all t h o s e testim o n i e s with t h e s e n e w - b e g u n e x a m p l e s of p l a n t a t i o n , will move both city a n d country freely to a d v e n t u r e with m e a n d my p a r t n e r s m o r e than p r o m i s e s , s e e i n g I have from his M a j e s t y letters p a t t e n t , s u c h h o n e s t , free a n d large c o n d i t i o n s a s s u r e d m e from his c o m m i s s i o n e r s , a s I h o p e will satisfy any h o n e s t u n d e r s t a n d i n g . 1622 6. I.e., as equally dear to me as one hand or the other. 7. T h e offspring of Smith's deeds; i.e., the accomplishments of others would not have been possible had he not gone before. 8. These are all well-known places in England. Smith's point is that once he had led the way into America, the English who followed him had

N a t i v e

A m e r i c a n

accomplished nothing truly bold. The exception was Master T h o m a s Dermer (d. 1621), who had accompanied Smith to New England in 1614, had spent two years in Newfoundland ( 1 6 1 6 - 1 8 ) , and had returned to New England in 1619—in the process acquiring more knowledge about the region than Smith.

T r i c k s t e r

T a l e s

Trickster is the term first used by Dame 1 G—Rrinfrm in the nineteenth century to describe a mythic character who appears in the oral tales of the peoples of Native America. A wandering, excessive, bawdy, gluttonous, and obscene figure—usually male but able to alter his sex whenever necessarv----ready to copulate with his own daughter or daughter-in-law or to send his penis swimming across rivers in search of sexua"! adventure, trickster is selfish, amoral, toolish, and destructive, a threat to order ~everywhe~fe7Yet trickster is also a culture hero and transformer whose actions, in the earhesMlmes—the time of myth when the earth was yet "soft" and incompletely formed—helped give to the world just that order which humans would historically come to know. Wakjankaga, the Winnebago trickster, for example, not only is "the Foolish One" but also, as in one of the stories reprinted here, is Kunuga, First Son of rVla'una, the

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Earthmaker, sent to instruct or destro) monsters w ho would be harmful to the people (a mission he foolishly forgets). Iktomi, the Sioux trickster, is also among the first beings created, and surprisingly does aid the people. It is trickster, too, who, in a Clatsop Chinook tale, establishes the taboos that humans will need to observe if fishing is to be engaged in successfully. In still other stories, trickster is the one who steals fire for the benefit of humankind and who introduces death into the world so that human beings may truly know the value of life. Even in the case of those stories that are broadly comic or bawdy, trickster tales have the power associated with the sacred. Traditional native peoples, in the past and in the present, believe that the stories have real effects in the world; thus they often restrict their narration to the winter, the time between the first killing frost and the first thunderstorm, a period when the earth is still. Brinton's term, trickster, it should be said, has no equivalent in any native language. Rather, the trickster figure is called Coyote in California, Oregon, the inland plateau, the Great Basin, the Southwest, and the southern plains; Rabbit or Hare in the Southeast; Spider in the northern plains; Raven in the Arctic and sub-Arctic; and Jay or Wolverine in parts of Canada. All of these are names for animals: is the trickster, then, an animal? The answer is a definite yes and no. As Barre Toelken (transcriber and translator of a Navajo Coyote tale) puts it, for the Navajo: There is no possible distinction between Ma'i, the animal we recognize as a coyote in the fields, and Ma'i the personification of Coyote power in all coyotes, and Ma'i the character (trickster, creator, and buffoon) in legends and tales, and Ma'i, the symbolic character of disorder in the myths. Ma'i is not a composite but a complex; a Navajo would see no reason to distinguish separate aspects. Indeed, in the age of myth the distinction between animals and humans was not nearly so great as we find it today. Paiute Coyote stories, for example, begin, Sumu onosu numeka nan quane ynas, "Once long ago when we were all the same." Thus when visualizing Coyote or Rabbit, Bear or Raven, it is entirely appropriate to see them as appearing more or less in the animal shapes with which we are familiar. This is not the case with Iktomi, who, although his name is translated as Spider, does not have the shape of a spider. (And how to visualize Wakjankaga; Manabush of the Great Lakes area; or Gluskabe, a trickster figure from Maine, is much less clear.) Trickster tales are among the most ancient elements of Native American cultures, and they have survived because they have over the years provided both great pleasure and important instruction. In some degree, any listener (or, as here, any reader) may enjoy and learn from them. As the Winnebago storyteller Felix White Sr. has phrased it, "The story character, he does so many unthought of things in there that it causes the listener to start thinking, 'Why does he do that?' It's a process of making somebody exercise his mind to think." But the kind of "thinking" a listener must do to learn and even to enjoy is culturally prepared thinking; the listener must be aware, that is, of whether "the story character" is behaving in a manner that his culture views with approval or disapproval. Thus, although some trickster stories do have an etiological element—so that's why coyotes have yellow eyes!—many Native American audiences do not take them to show the way in which specific actions have served as causes for specific effects. Rather, a more usual response is to understand that it is because Coyote or Rabbit or Raven violated cultural norms that sickness or calamity ensued—or that trickster wound up in some comical mess. Awareness of the cultural norms that provide the unspoken context for each of these tales thus is important for understanding the moral lessons that they teach, as it also increases one's enjoyment of them. (Not all cultures find the same things funny.) The stories printed here come from the WinqebagQjf the Great Lakes and the Muskogean Koasati of the Southeast- Trickster tales vary in their appearance on the page. From the end of the nineteenth century to just past the middle of the twentieth century, those who wrote down Native American narratives, influenced by German-

F E L I X W H I T E S R . ' S INTRODUCTION TO WAKJANKAGA

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American anthropologist Franz Boas's commitment to linguistic accuracy, presented their transcriptions and translations in highly literal prose. Since that time, however, following the pioneering work of the anthropologists and linguists Dell Hymes and Dennis Tedlock, many "mythographers"—transcribers and translators of oral storytelling—have opted for verse forms that attempt to convey the dramatic structure and even the performative dynamics of oral narration, which may include the pace, volume, and pitch of the narrator's voice as well as the audience's response. In one instance, we present the same tale as told by one narrator around 1910 and by another around 1977. Thus the reader can see how the "same" tale may actually differ, traditional and original elements both shaping an actual oral performance (as, indeed, the gender and historical circumstances of the two narrators may also inflect their performances). The editors of this anthology have specifically requested and been granted permission to reprint these stories from surviving family members of Bel Abbey and Felix White Sr. A word of warning before proceeding: trickster figures are found throughout the world; and although there are undoubtedly similarities among them, it is wise to be cautious before venturing cross-cultural generalizations. In addition, the term trickster has become fashionable in some contemporary fiction and criticism, in which it has been used to signify virtually anything disruptive or unconventional. Whatever interest this development may have, it is best to think of it separately from the culturespecific traditional tricksters and their tales.

WINNEBAGO A Siouan-speaking people who came to their homelands at the western end of what is now Green Bay, Wisconsin, from some more southeasterly location perhaps a thousand years ago, the Winnebago lived by hunting large and small game; by fishing; by planting corn, squash, and beans; and by gathering_wijd p f * an^ h p r r i p ^ . W i n n p h a g n culture is rich in trickster tales, with stories not only of Wakjankaga, the "Foolish One," but of Hare the trickster as well. The stories reprinted here come from The Trickster: A Study in American Indian Mythology (1956), a collection of forty-nine Winnebago trickster stories edited by anthropologist Paul Radin. Radin, a student of Franz Boas, had begun collecting stories about Wakjankaga as early as ljLL2r-and the manner in which they came into English on the page is of some interest. Radin himself did not hear any of the tales narrated, nor did he know the identity of the narrator. Rather, a Winnebago consultant of Radin's named Sam Blowsnake persuaded "an older individual," as Radin notes, to tell the stories to him in the Winnebago language. Blowsnake wrote them down; and then Radin, Blowsnake, and another Winnebago man, Oliver LaMere, collaborated on the translation into English, which Radin, consistent with Boasian practice, published in quite literal prose. It was Radin's stated belief that "the identity of the narrator . . . is not really of great importance"; and, it is safe to assume, the dynamics of the stories' actual performance (about which he knew nothing) would also have seemed to him "not really of great importance." But critical opinion has changed considerably. Today it is widely recognized that the storyteller's individuality very much affects the tale and the way in which it is told—and that the way in which it is told affects the way in which it is understood. Thus we supplement the seven tales from Radin's Trickster with material from a contemporary Winnebago storyteller, Felix White Sr. His Introduction to Wakjankaga serves as a preface to several trickster tales he narrated in the Winnebago

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language in 1983. The transcription and translation were prepared by Kathleen Danker and White himself. The format in which Danker presents the story on the page is much indebted to the work of Dell Hymes and Dennis Tedlock.

Felix W h i t e S r . ' s I n t r o d u c t i o n to W a k j a n k a g a Stories

about

Wakjankaga

Ah Wakjankaga, the stories they u s e d to tell a b o u t h i m , those, to begin w i t h —

5

Ah— I will do t h e m . A b o u t four, 1 perhaps. T h i s evening, I will tell t h e m .

i° His

Name

Yes, yes! and— Wakjankaga, Wakjankaga, they u s e d to call h i m .

5

W h e n It W a s All N e w . 2 As I said in w h i t e m a n ' s talk, this is how it w a s — Ma'una (The Earthmaker)— T h e s o n s he m a d e , that's w h o he w a s : h e w a s k u n u n a (the first s o n ) . People, t h o s e w h o walk o n two l e g s , 3 w h e n , on e a r t h , they were g o i n g t h r o u g h difficulties—

io

is

T h a t ' s what h a p p e n e d , somehow, then, that's what h a p p e n e d — 1. Perhaps a reference to the pattern number frequently found in Native American stories. Trickster, as we shall see, is the first son of Ma'una, the Earthmaker—who, however, has four more sons,

five in all. 2. In the earliest, mythic, or sacred time. 3. I.e., humans, not animal people; in particular, Winnebago people.

FELIX WHITE SR.'S

I N T R O D U C T I O N TO W A K J A N K A G A

B a d things, big t h i n g s —

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20

B e c a u s e they 4 were playing r o u g h with the p e o p l e , so it w a s — Ma'una, it w a s b e c a u s e he s a w t h e m —

25

H e m a d e for himself a p e r s o n , a n d , w h e n he sent him to the earth, that's what h a p p e n e d — H e w a s called W a k j a n k a g a .

30

Until that time h e w a s called, t h e n , K u n u g a (First S o n ) , h e w a s called, t h o u g h . O n arriving, well, s o m e t h i n g wakjanka (foolish), b e c a u s e he did i t 5 —

35

S o it w a s W a k j a n k a g a (the F o o l i s h O n e ) h e w a s called.

40

H e b r o u g h t the n a m e on himself. His

Duties

Yes, When It Was All New— W h e n he arrived h e r e , it w a s in order to w a t c h over this e a r t h , that's what, t h e n , he s h o u l d have d o n e —

5

T h o s e that were playing r o u g h with p e o p l e , this is how it w a s — H e w a s s u p p o s e d to kill t h e m . Then again— Good— if they would do anything at all g o o d , he w a s to t e a c h t h e m things, t o o . 4. Unspecified evil beings. 5. The foolish thing he did—forgetting to kill the

io

evil beings if they could not be taught not to hurt the people—will be described a bit later on.

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Not teachable— if they weren't, well, h e w a s s u p p o s e d to kill t h e m ; that's h o w it w a s —

'5

H e c a m e to do it, m a y b e . 6 His Folly and His

Travels

Yes, W h e n It W a s All N e w , w h e n h e arrived h e r e , it h a p p e n e d like t h i s — The people, because he saw them, t h e n — T h e s e w h o walk on two legs, b e c a u s e h e w a s f a s c i n a t e d by t h e m , t h e n , he started to t e a s e t h e m , m a y b e . Again, b e c a u s e h e a c t e d like that, wellW h a t e v e r he w a s d o i n g , t o o H e forgot a b o u t it, a n d then all over the earth h e went traveling. 7 His

H

Longing

Yes, finally, he would arrive s o m e p l a c e , a n d then— Yes a n d then—

5

The Winnebagoes, again it w a s to t h e m h e would start to go b a c k , t h e n — People, people, b e c a u s e h e l o n g e d for t h e m . 6. Like the phrase often translated "it is said" in other tales, "maybe" indicates that the narrator has no personal or direct knowledge of these things. It is not meant to introduce the possibility of any

io

doubt. 7. This tendency to travel or wander over the earth is c o m m o n to all tricksters,

THE WINNEBAGO TRICKSTER CYCLE

From

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T h e Winnebago Trickster Cycle 19

A s [Trickster] c o n t i n u e d his a i m l e s s w a n d e r i n g u n e x p e c t e d l y , m u c h to his s u r p r i s e , h e m e t a little fox. "Well, my y o u n g e r brother, here you a r e ! You are travelling, aren't y o u ? " "Yes, yes, here I a m ! " a n s w e r e d the littleToxl " T h e world is g o i n g to b e a difficult p l a c e to live in a n d I a m trying to find s o m e c l e a n p l a c e in which to dwell. T h a t is w h a t I a m looking for." " O h , oh, my y o u n g e r brother, what you have said is very true. I, too, w a s thinking of the very s a m e thing. I have always w a n t e d to have a c o m p a n i o n , s o let u s live t o g e t h e r . " Trickster c o n s e n t e d , a n d so they went o n to look for a p l a c e in which to dwell. A s they ran a l o n g they e n c o u n t e r e d a jay. "Well, well, my y o u n g e r brother, what are you d o i n g ? " a s k e d Trickster. " O l d e r brother, I a m looking for a p l a c e to live in b e c a u s e the world is s o o n g o i n g to b e a difficult p l a c e in which to dwell." " W e a r e looking for the very s a m e thing. W h e n I h e a r d my y o u n g e r brother s p e a k i n g of this I envied him very m u c h . S o let u s live together, for we a l s o are h u n t i n g for s u c h a p l a c e . " T h u s s p o k e Trickster. T h e n they went on together a n d s o o n they c a m e a c r o s s a ftgtgggfljgfl (nit), "Well, well, my y o u n g e r brother, what a r e you d o i n g ? " they a s k e d . " O l d e r brothers, I a m looking for a p l e a s a n t p l a c e to live i n , " the bird a n s w e r e d . "Younger brother, we a r e travelling a b o u t looking for the s a m e thing. W h e n I h e a r d t h e s e others saying that they w a n t e d to live together a s c o m p a n i o n s I liked it. L e t u s , therefore, live t o g e t h e r , " said Trickster. T h e y were all a g r e e d a n d s o o n they c a m e to a p l a c e w h e r e the river forked a n d w h e r e there w a s a lovely p i e c e of l a n d with red o a k s growing u p o n it. It w a s i n d e e d a beautiful p l a c e . T h i s , they a g r e e d , w a s a delightful p l a c e to live in, a n d so they s t o p p e d there a n d built t h e m s e l v e s a l o d g e . In the fall, w h e n everything w a s ripe, they h a d , of c o u r s e , all they w a n t e d to eat. However, winter s o o n a p p r o a c h e d a n d not long after it b e g a n , a d e e p s n o w fell. T h e situation of the four now b e c a m e i n d e e d very difficult. T h e y h a d n o t h i n g to e a t a n d they were getting q u i t e hungry. T h e n T r i c k s t e r s p o k e , " Y o u n g e r b r o t h e r s , it is g o i n g to be very difficult. H o w e v e r , if we d o the thing I a m a b o u t to s u g g e s t , it will be g o o d . S o , at least, I think." "All right, if it is indeed s o m e t h i n g g o o d that our older brother m e a n s we certainly will d o it, for otherwise s o m e of u s will starve to d e a t h . W h a t is it that we s h o u l d d o that is g o o d a n d by which we c a n get s o m e t h i n g to e a t ? " " L i s t e n . T h e r e is a village yonder, w h e r e they a r e enjoying great b l e s s i n g s . T h e c h i e f h a s a son w h o is killing m a n y a n i m a l s . H e is not married yet but is thinking of it. Let u s g o over there. I will d i s g u i s e myself a s a w o m a n a n d marry h i m . T h u s we c a n live in p e a c e until spring c o m e s . " " G o o d ! " they e j a c u l a t e d . All were willing a n d delighted to p a r t i c i p a t e . 20 Trickster n o w took a n elk's liver a n d m a d e a vulva from it. T h e n h e took s o m e elk's kidneys a n d m a d e b r e a s t s from t h e m . Finally h e p u t o n a w o m a n ' s d r e s s . In this d r e s s his friends e n c l o s e d him very firmly. T h e d r e s s e s he w a s

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u s i n g were t h o s e that the w o m e n w h o h a d taken him for a r a c c o o n h a d given h i m . 1 H e now s t o o d there t r a n s f o r m e d into a very pretty w o m a n i n d e e d . T h e n h e let the fox have i n t e r c o u r s e with him a n d m a k e h i m p r e g n a n t , 2 then the jaybird a n d , finally, the nit. After that h e p r o c e e d e d toward the village. N o w , at the e n d of the village, lived a n old w o m a n * a n d s h e i m m e d i a t e l y a d d r e s s e d him, saying, " M y g r a n d d a u g h t e r , what is your p u r p o s e in travelling a r o u n d like this? Certainly it is with s o m e object in view that you are travelling!" T h e n the old w o m a n went o u t s i d e a n d s h o u t e d , " H o ! H o ! T h e r e is s o m e o n e here w h o h a s c o m e to court the chief's s o n . " 4 T h i s , at least, is what the old w o m a n s e e m e d to be saying. T h e n the chief s a i d to his d a u g h t e r s , " H o ! T h i s clearly is what this w o m a n w a n t s a n d is the r e a s o n for her c o m i n g ; so, my d a u g h t e r s , g o a n d bring your sister-in-law h e r e . " T h e n they went after her. S h e certainly w a s a very h a n d s o m e w o m a n . T h e chief's son liked her very m u c h . I m m e d i a t e l y they p r e p a r e d dried c o r n for her a n d they boiled slit b e a r - r i b s . 5 T h a t w a s why T r i c k s t e r w a s getting m a r r i e d , of c o u r s e . W h e n this food was ready they put it in a dish, c o o l e d it, a n d p l a c e d it in front of Trickster. H e d e v o u r e d it at o n c e . 6 T h e r e s h e (Trickster) r e m a i n e d . N o t long after Trickster b e c a m e p r e g n a n t . 7 T h e chief's son w a s very happy a b o u t the fact that h e w a s to b e c o m e a father. N o t long after that Trickster gave birth to a boy. T h e n again h e b e c a m e p r e g n a n t a n d gave birth to a n o t h e r boy. Finally for the third time he b e c a m e p r e g n a n t a n d gave birth to a third boy. 21 T h e last child cried as s o o n as it w a s born a n d n o t h i n g c o u l d s t o p it. 8 T h e crying b e c a m e very s e r i o u s a n d s o it w a s d e c i d e d to s e n d for a n old w o m a n w h o h a d the r e p u t a t i o n for b e i n g able to pacify children. S h e c a m e , but s h e , likewise, c o u l d not pacify h i m . Finally the little child cried o u t a n d s a n g : "If I only c o u l d play with a little p i e c e of white cloudT' T h e y went in s e a r c h of a s h a m a n , for it w a s the chief's son w h o w a s a s k i n g for this a n d , c o n s e q u e n t l y , no m a t t e r what the c o s t , it h a d to b e o b t a i n e d . H e h a d a s k e d for a p i e c e of white c l o u d , a n d a p i e c e of white c l o u d , a c c o r d ingly, they tried to obtain. B u t how c o u l d they obtain a p i e c e of white c l o u d ? All tried very hard a n d , finally, they m a d e it snow. T h e n , w h e n the s n o w w a s quite d e e p , they gave him a p i e c e of s n o w to play with a n d he s t o p p e d crying. After a while he again cried out a n d s a n g : "If I c o u l d only play with erpiece of blue_sky!" T h e n they tried to obtain a p i e c e of b l u e sky for h i m . Very hard they tried, but were not able to obtain any. In the spring of the year, however, they gave him a p i e c e of b l u e g r a s s a n d he s t o p p e d crying. After a while he b e g a n to cry a g a i n . T h i s time he a s k e d for s o m e b l u e 1. In an earlier story of the cycle. 2. It is no problem at all for the male trickster to become pregnant and later to give birth. 3. This is a parody of the conventional type of Winnebago folktale which always has an old woman living at the end of the village [adapted from Radin's note]. 4. This paragraph describes things being done in an inappropriate manner, e.g., the son should be doing the courting not the other way around, nor

would a chief permit his son to marrv a stranger. 5. This is the proper food tor a "bridal" meal [Radin's note]. 6. It is completely against Winnebago etiquette to eat in this fashion [Radin's note]. 7. Remember that trickster was already pregnant by fox, jay, and nit. 8. It is not usual for Winnebago children to cry. Continuous crying implied something serious and had to be interpreted [Radin's note].

THE WINNEBAGO TRICKSTER

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(green) leaves. T h e n the fourth time he asked_for s o m e r o a s t i n g e a r s . T h e y gave him g r e e n leaves a n d roasting e a r s of corn a n d h e s t o p p e d crying. O n e day later, a s They were s t e a m i n g c o r n , the c h i e f s wife t e a s e d her sister-in-law. 9 S h e c h a s e d her a r o u n d the pit w h e r e they were s t e a m i n g c o r n . Finally, the chief's son's wife (Trickster) j u m p e d over the pit a n d s h e d r o p p e d s^omething very rotten. T h e p e o p l e s h o u t e d at her, "It is TnclSterT'' T h e m e n were all a s h a m e d , especially the chief's s o n . T h e a n i m a l s w h o h a d b e e n with Trickster, the fox, the jaybird a n d the nit, all of t h e m now ran away. 1 22 Trickster a l s o ran away. S u d d e n l y he said to himself, "Well, why a m I doing all this? It is a b o u t time that I went b a c k to the w o m a n to w h o m I a m really m a r r i e d . K u n u m u s t b e a pretty big boy by this t i m e . " T h u s s p o k e Trickster. T h e n he went a c r o s s the lake to the w o m a n to w h o m h e w a s really m a r r i e d . W h e n h e got there he f o u n d , m u c h to his s u r p r i s e , that the boy that had b e e n born to him was i n d e e d q u i t e grown u p . T h e chief w a s very happy w h e n Trickster c a m e h o m e . " M y son-in-law h a s c o m e h o m e , " he e j a c u l a t e d . H e w a s very happy i n d e e d . Trickster h u n t e d g a m e for his child a n d killed very m a n y a n i m a l s . T h e r e he stayed a long time until his child had b e c o m e a grown-up m a n . T h e n , w h e n he saw that his child was able to take c a r e of himself, he said, "Well, it is a b o u t time for m e to start travelling again for my boy is q u i t e grown u p n o w . 2 I will go a r o u n d the earth a n d visit p e o p l e for I a m tired of staying here. I u s e d to w a n d e r a r o u n d the world in p e a c e . H e r e I a m j u s t giving myself a lot of t r o u b l e . " 23 As he went w a n d e r i n g a r o u n d aimlessly h e s u d d e n l y heard s o m e o n e speaking. H e listened very carefully a n d it s e e m e d to say, " H e w h o c h e w s m e will d e f e c a t e ; h e will d e f e c a t e ! " * T h a t w a s what it w a s saying. "Well, why is this p e r s o n talking in this m a n n e r ? " said Trickster. S o he walked in the direction from which h e h a d heard the s p e a k i n g a n d a g a i n he h e a r d , q u i t e near him, s o m e o n e saying: " H e w h o c h e w s m e , h e will d e f e c a t e ; h e will d e f e c a t e ! " T h i s is what w a s said. "WelF, why d o e s this p e r s o n talk in s u c h f a s h i o n ? " said Trickster. T h e n he walked to the other s i d e . S o h e c o n t i n u e d walking a l o n g . T h e n right at his very s i d e , a voice s e e m e d to say, " H e w h o c h e w s m e , he will d e f e c a t e ; he will d e f e c a t e ! " "Well, I w o n d e r who it is w h o is s p e a k i n g . I know very well that if I c h e w it, I will not d e f e c a t e . " B u t he kept looking a r o u n d for the s p e a k e r a n d finally d i s c o v e r e d , m u c h to his a s t o n i s h m e n t , that it w a s a b u l b on a b u s h . T h e bulb it was that w a s s p e a k i n g . S o he seized 9. By our reckoning she would he her daughterin-law, but "sister-in-law" is used because, as Radin explains, if trickster had married into the c h i e f s family without changing sex, he would have been the chief's wife's son-in-law and joking between son-in-law and mother-in-law "is simply unthinkable," a very powerful taboo. Joking and teasing between sisters-in-law, however, is a common practice. 1. The three Iriends run away b e c a u s e the taboos that trickster's disguise has caused to be broken— in general, making a mockery of the chief's family; in particular, causing the chief's son to have

engaged in homosexual a c t s — a r e very serious. Even trickster himself, in the next segment of the cycle, runs away, soberly questioning his actions rather than merely laughing. 2. Again the reverse of what is appropriate: it is the young man who should venture out into the world [adapted from Radin's note]. 3. T h e tale of the talking "laxative bulb" is widespread throughout Native American cultures. Apart from its entertainment value as gross, scatological humor, it teaches a number of lessons, such as; do not he gullible and do not think yourself superior to natural forces.

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it, p u t it in his m o u t h , c h e w e d it, a n d then swallowed it. H e did j u s t this a n d then went o n . "Well, w h e r e is the b u l b g o n e that talked so m u c h ? W h y , i n d e e d , s h o u l d I d e f e c a t e ? W h e n I feel like d e f e c a t i n g , then I shall d e f e c a t e , n o s o o n e r . H o w c o u l d s u c h a n object m a k e m e d e f e c a t e ! " T h u s s p o k e Trickster. E v e n a s h e s p o k e , however, h e b e g a n to b r e a k w i n d . "Well this, I s u p p o s e , is w h a t it m e a n t . Yet the b u l b said I would d e f e c a t e , a n d I a m merely expelling g a s . In any c a s e I a m a great m a n even if I d o expel a little g a s ! " T h u s h e s p o k e . As h e w a s talking h e a g a i n broke w i n d . T h i s t i m e it w a s really q u i t e strong. "Well, what a foolish o n e I a m . T h i s is why I a m called F o o l i s h O n e , Trickster." N o w h e b e g a n to b r e a k wind again a n d a g a i n . " S o this is why the b u l b s p o k e a s it did, I s u p p o s e . " O n c e m o r e he b r o k e wind. T h i s t i m e it w a s very loud a n d his r e c t u m b e g a n to s m a r t . "Well, it surely is a great t h i n g ! " T h e n h e broke wind a g a i n , this time with s o m u c h f o r c e , that h e w a s propelled forward. "Well, well, it m a y even m a k e m e give a n o t h e r p u s h , b u t it won't m a k e m e d e f e c a t e , " s o h e e x c l a i m e d defiantly. T h e next time he b r o k e wind, the hind part of his body w a s raised u p by the force of the explosion a n d he l a n d e d o n his k n e e s a n d h a n d s . "Well, g o a h e a d a n d do it a g a i n ! G o a h e a d a n d do it a g a i n ! " T h e n , a g a i n , h e b r o k e wind. T h i s time the force of the expulsion sent him far up in the air a n d h e l a n d e d on the g r o u n d , on his s t o m a c h . T h e next time he broke wind, h e h a d to h a n g o n to a log, s o high w a s h e thrown. H o w e v e r , he r a i s e d h i m s e l f u p a n d , after a while, l a n d e d on the g r o u n d , the log o n top of h i m . H e w a s a l m o s t killed by the fall. T h e next time he broke wind, h e h a d to hold o n to a tree that s t o o d n e a r by. It w a s a p o p l a r a n d he held o n with all his might yet, n e v e r t h e l e s s , even then, his feet flopped u p in the air. A g a i n , a n d for the s e c o n d t i m e , h e held on to it w h e n h e broke wind a n d yet h e pulled the tree u p by the r o o t s . T o protect himself, the next t i m e , he went on until h e c a m e to a large tree, a large o a k tree. A r o u n d this h e put b o t h his a r m s . Yet, w h e n h e b r o k e wind, h e w a s s w u n g u p a n d his t o e s s t r u c k a g a i n s t the tree. H o w e v e r , h e held o n . After that h e ran to a p l a c e w h e r e p e o p l e were living. W h e n h e got there, he s h o u t e d , " S a y , hurry u p a n d take your lodge d o w n , for a big warparty is u p o n you a n d you will surely be killed! C o m e let u s get a w a y ! " H e s c a r e d t h e m all s o m u c h that they quickly took d o w n their l o d g e , piled it on Trickster, a n d then got on him t h e m s e l v e s . 4 T h e y likewise p l a c e d all the little d o g s they h a d o n top of Trickster. J u s t then he b e g a n to b r e a k wind again a n d the force of the e x p u l s i o n s c a t t e r e d the things o n top of him in all directions. T h e y fell far a p a r t from o n e a n o t h e r . S e p a r a t e d , the p e o p l e w e r e s t a n d i n g a b o u t a n d s h o u t i n g to o n e a n o t h e r ; a n d the d o g s , s c a t t e r e d h e r e a n d t h e r e , howled at o n e a n o t h e r . T h e r e s t o o d T r i c k s t e r l a u g h i n g at t h e m till h e a c h e d . N o w h e p r o c e e d e d o n w a r d . H e s e e m e d to have g o t t e n over his t r o u b l e s . "Well, this b u l b did a lot of talking," he said to himself, "yet it c o u l d not m a k e m e d e f e c a t e . " B u t even a s he s p o k e he b e g a n to have the d e s i r e to d e f e c a t e , j u s t a very little. "Well, I s u p p o s e this is w h a t it m e a n t . It certainly b r a g g e d a g o o d d e a l , however." As he s p o k e he d e f e c a t e d a g a i n . "Well, w h a t a braggart it w a s ! I s u p p o s e this is why it s a i d t h i s . " A s h e s p o k e t h e s e last w o r d s , h e b e g a n to d e f e c a t e a g o o d d e a l . After a while, a s h e w a s sitting d o w n , his body would t o u c h the e x c r e m e n t . T h e r e u p o n he got o n top of a 4. These things are contrary to what is appropriate: one does not destroy a lodge that would serve as protection, nor is one expected to run from the enemy.

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log a n d sat down there but, even then, he t o u c h e d the e x c r e m e n t . Finally, he c l i m b e d u p a log that w a s l e a n i n g a g a i n s t a tree. H o w e v e r , his body still t o u c h e d the e x c r e m e n t , s o he went up higher. Even t h e n , however, h e t o u c h e d it s o he c l i m b e d still higher u p . H i g h e r a n d higher he h a d to g o . N o r was he a b l e to s t o p d e f e c a t i n g . N o w he w a s on top of the tree. It w a s small a n d q u i t e u n c o m f o r t a b l e . M o r e o v e r , the e x c r e m e n t b e g a n to c o m e u p to him. 24 Even on the limb on which he w a s sitting he b e g a n to d e f e c a t e . S o he tried a different position. S i n c e the limb, however, w a s very slippery he fell right down into the e x c r e m e n t . D o w n he fell, down into the d u n g . In fact he d i s a p p e a r e d in it, a n d it w a s only with very great difficulty that he w a s able to get out of it. His raccoon-skin blanket w a s covered with filth, a n d h e c a m e out d r a g g i n g it after him. T h e p a c k he w a s carrying on his b a c k w a s covered with d u n g , a s w a s also the box c o n t a i n i n g his p e n i s . 5 T h e box he e m p t i e d a n d then p l a c e d it on his b a c k a g a i n . 25 T h e n , still blinded by the filth, he started to run. H e c o u l d not s e e anything. As he ran he k n o c k e d a g a i n s t a tree. T h e old m a n 6 cried out in p a i n . H e r e a c h e d out a n d felt the tree a n d s a n g : " T r e e , what kind of a tree are you? Tell m e s o m e t h i n g a b o u t yourself!" A n d the tree a n s w e r e d , " W h a t kind of a tree do you think I a m ? I a m an o a k tree. I a m the forked o a k tree that u s e d to s t a n d in the m i d d l e of the valley. I a m that o n e , " it said. " O h , my, is it p o s s i b l e that there might be s o m e water a r o u n d h e r e ? " Trickster a s k e d . T h e tree a n s w e r e d , " G o straight o n . " T h i s is what it told h i m . As he went a l o n g he b u m p e d u p a g a i n s t a n o t h e r tree. H e w a s k n o c k e d b a c k w a r d s by the collision. Again he s a n g : " T r e e , what kind of a tree are you? Tell m e s o m e t h i n g a b o u t yourself!" " W h a t kind of a tree d o you think I a m ? T h e red o a k tree that u s e d to s t a n d at the e d g e of the valley, I a m that o n e . " " O h , my, is it p o s s i b l e that there is water a r o u n d h e r e ? " a s k e d Trickster. T h e n the tree a n s w e r e d a n d said, " K e e p straight o n , " a n d so h e went a g a i n . S o o n he k n o c k e d a g a i n s t another tree. H e s p o k e to the tree a n d s a n g : " T r e e , what kind of a tree are you? Tell m e s o m e t h i n g a b o u t yourself!" " W h a t kind of a tree d o you think I a m ? T h e slippery elm tree that u s e d to s t a n d in the m i d s t of the o t h e r s , I a m that o n e . " T h e n T r i c k s t e r a s k e d , " O h , my, is it p o s s i b l e that there would be s o m e water n e a r h e r e ? " A n d the tree a n s w e r e d a n d said, " K e e p right o n . " O n he went a n d s o o n he b u m p e d into a n o t h e r tree a n d h e t o u c h e d it a n d s a n g : " T r e e , what kind of a tree are you? Tell m e s o m e t h i n g a b o u t yourself!" " W h a t kind of a tree do you think I a m ? I a m the b a s s w o o d tree that u s e d to s t a n d on the e d g e of the water. T h a t is the o n e I a m . " " O h , my, it is g o o d , " said Trickster. S o there in the water he j u m p e d a n d lay. H e w a s h e d himself thoroughly. 5. That trickster carries his penis in a box was established in earlier stories. It is this box that he washes at the end of the next section of the story.

6. T h e term "old m a n , " instead of First-born, is occasionally applied to Trickster [Radin's note).

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It is said that the old m a n a l m o s t died that t i m e , for it w a s only with the g r e a t e s t difficulty that h e f o u n d the water. If the trees h a d not s p o k e n to him h e certainly w o u l d have died. Finally, after a long time a n d only after great exertions, did he c l e a n himself, for the d u n g h a d b e e n on h i m a long time a n d h a d dried. After he h a d c l e a n s e d h i m s e l f h e w a s h e d his r a c c o o n skin blanket a n d his box.

KOASATI Koasati is the name for a branch of the Muskogean language group and also for the five hundred to a thousari3j5£QrjIe of southwestern Louisiana arid eastern Texas who peak il today. Rabbit, Cokfi, is the Koasati trickster, and stories about him, generally told by older men and women considered to have a special talent for narration, may be related in any season, not only in winter. S o long as the events in a traditional tale occur in prescribed order, narrators have considerable leeway in what they wish to embellish, condense, or even omit. As elsewhere throughout indigenous America, these trickster stories are understood by the audience to illustrate and reaffirm, through positive or negative examples, culturally appropriate behavior. For the Koasati, as also for the Okanogan, trickster tales are taken as explaining the origins of some feature of the natural world. Anthropologist John R. Swanton recorded nearly fifty narratives from two Koasati people in 1910, one ofWhojrjJjjaj Selin Williamf ( 1 8 4 1 - 1 9 1 7 ) . Her narration of the story type referred to as The Bungling Host" appears hpre jn a retranslat'on oLSwanton's material by anthropologist and linguist Geoffrey Kimball. Kimball has been collecting stories from Koasati speakers in Louisiana since 1977. The version of "The Bungling Host" story told by Bel Abbey ( 1 9 1 6 - 1 9 9 2 ) is from a tape recording Kimball made in 1977. The translation is Kimball's, with the assistance of the narrator. It is Kimball's supposition that the versions differ so greatly in their length because this is a tale Abbey especially liked (he seems particularly interested in Bear), whereas it was not one of Williams's favorites. Other of her recorded stories are much richer in detail, and she probably agreed to tell this one chiefly because Swanton urged her to tell him all the stories she knew.

The Bungling Host by Bel Abbey SCENE

I: B E A R

by Selin INVITES

la N o w , B e a r u s e d to dwell s o m e where, b a n d h e a n d Rabbit u s e d to visit e a c h other, s o it is said. 2 Thereupon, 3 "Visit m e later!" h e said, 4 "Visit m e later!" h e said to Rabbit.1

RABBIT TO

Williams

DINNER

B e a r a n d Rabbit w e r e friends i with e a c h other, s o it is s a i d . Then, 2a Bear spoke, b " G o a n d visit m e later," he s a i d 3 and went.

1. Abbey's interest in Bear is indicated by his elaboration of Bear's thought.

THE

BUNGLING

HOST

Thereupon, "I w a s a b o u t to visit y o u , " said Rabbit to B e a r . S C E N E II: B E A R F E E D S R A B B I T W I T H H I M S E L F

7a T h e r e u p o n , b h e went over there to visit him, c a n d after the two of t h e m were sitting, a he h a d nothing to give to him to eat; e " W h a t am I g o i n g to feed him?" he thought, f a n d then he knew. 8a Well, b e c a u s e B e a r w a s fat, b h e pulled out his s t o m a c h , c a n d p i c k i n g u p a knife, d a n d c u t t i n g off a p i e c e , e c o o k e d it, f a n d fed R a b b i t with it, s o it is s a i d . 2 9a T h e r e u p o n , b Rabbit really sat a n d w a t c h e d , s o it is said.

Rabbit went a n d arrived over there, A n d B e a r , having sliced himself u p the m i d d l e , took o u t s o m e fat, a n d fried it, a n d it is s a i d that R a b b i t a t e it.

1

S C E N E III: R A B B I T INVITES B E A R TO D I N N E R

ioa T h e r e u p o n , b having merely j u s t visited him, h e returned h o m e , i I "You too g o over to my p l a c e later!" h e s a i d . 12 "You too g o over to my p l a c e later!" he said, 13 A n d B e a r went to visit Rabbit, s o it is said. i4a Well, he went over to visit Rabbit, b a n d after he sat down. . . . i5a N o w , Bear's h o u s e was the inside of a hollow tree, b the two of t h e m sat dwelling in the hollow tree, c a n d after the two of t h e m dwelt there, a h e went over to Rabbit's dwelling p l a c e . i6a R a b b i t dwelt within a little g r a s s dwelling; b within that w a s his dwelling,

Thereupon, Rabbit spoke, "You too g o over to my p l a c e later!" h e s a i d .

6a b 7

2. Bear can cut away a piece of himself without being hurt not only because he is fat but b e c a u s e — a s the audience would know—he has magic power that allows him to do this.

+

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s o it is said. Over there the two of t h e m sat. S C E N E IV: R A B B I T I N J U R E S H I M S E L F I M I T A T I N G B E A R

is Rabbit s p o k e , 19a " P l e a s e sit d o w n ! I shall c o o k ! " he said, b a n d after the two of t h e m stayed t h e r e , 20a H e h i m s e l f did w h a t h e had seen, b he picked up a knife a n d cut out a p i e c e , c h e c u t his s t o m a c h , so it is said. 2ia N o w he himself b e i n g scrawny a n d lean, b he injured h i m s e l f c u t t i n g himself, c "Help me! Help me! I need h e l p ! " he said. 22 B e a r ran over. 23 " W h a t is i t ? " 24 "I a m injured. It is the c a s e that I have c u t myself," he said. 25 Thereupon, 26a "I intend to look for a doctor, t h e n , " B e a r said, b a n d it is said that he ran out. 27a T h e other lay on the g r o u n d , b he had c u t his s t o m a c h .

B e a r having arrived over there to visit him Rabbit sliced himself u p the middle a n d there w a s n o t h i n g there. B e a r having sliced h i m s e l f u p the middle again fried it a n d they a t e . ' Afterwards, Rabbit w a s a b o u t to d i e . 4

Thereupon, after he had run a ways, h e c a u g h t sight of him sitting on a b r a n c h , d he c a u g h t sight of Vulture sitting on a b r a n c h , e he a s k e d q u e s t i o n s of h i m , s o it is said. 29 Thereupon, 3. Kimball notes that this is a "major stylistic Haw" because Bear's preparation of another meal is inconsistent with the main concern of this scene, Rabbit's serious injury. This may be an indication of Williams's general lack of interest in this particular story. 4. Rabbit, a typical trickster, misunderstands who he is and what he can do: not only that Bear is fat while Rabbit is lean but that Bear's immunity to harm results from special power that Rabbit does not possess.

la b

§1$

•

S C E N E V: V U L T U R E I S

28a b c

1

ENCOUNTERED

H e w a s laying on the g r o u n d , And they 6 went a r o u n d looking for a doctor, A n d they sent for Vulture.

12 13 14

5. Although Vulture was once considered a legitimate doctor, with genuine power to heal, by the time these tales were told this was no longer the case. For both Williams and Abbey, Vulture is a fraud. It is Hymes's belief that scenes V through VII in both versions actually c o m e from "The S h a m Doctor," another type of story widespread in Native American cultures. 6. Williams's error; Rabbit is lying on the ground and only Bear is looking for the doctor.

THE

30 31 32 33

37 38 39 40 41a b 42;. b 43a b 44;, b

45a b 46a b

48 49

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After he said, "I n e e d h e l p . " " W h a t is it that you w a n t ? " "I a m looking for a d o c t o r . " "Why do you want to look for help?" "It is the c a s e that my friend Rabbit is i n j u r e d , " he s a i d . "It is the c a s e that R a b b i t is injured, it is the c a s e that h e h a s suffered a knife w o u n d , " he said. "If you tell m e a b o u t it, I will p e r h a p s help him, a n d it is the c a s e that I will d o c t o r h i m , " he said. S C E N E : VI: V U L T U R E

36

BUNGLING HOST

After they arrived over there, Thereupon, " W h e r e is he lying?" he said. " H e lies over h e r e , " he s a i d . Thereupon, " W h a t are you d o i n g ? W h a t do you w a n t ? " h e said. " F e n c e in his h o u s e p e r h a p s ! W o u l d that it b e e n c i r c l e d ! " h e said " L o o k for p a l m e t t o leaves, F e n c e it all in a n d m a k e a h o u s e encircling it!" " E n o u g h now! G o out! H e will follow you u p o n my d o c t o r i n g h i m , " he s a i d . T h e r e u p o n , well, Vulture m a d e Rabbit cry out, s o it is s a i d . W h e n Rabbit cried out, B e a r said, "Why is he m a k i n g a sound?" "It is nothing. H e d o e s not want the m e d i c i n e from m e , " h e said. Thereupon, "Why is it that he doesn't want i t ? " he said. "It is the c a s e that he doesn't

7. Williams's interest in Vulture encourages her to elaborate here. Although Vulture has his own reasons for not wanting anyone to watch him work his

DOCTORS

RABBIT

Vulture spoke, "You all are to c l o s e m e u p in his h o u s e with h i m , a n d there a r e to b e no c r a c k s , n o o n e c a n look at m e , 7 only s o c a n I d o c t o r h i m , " he said. T h e y c l o s e d him u p with h i m . A n d t h e n , for a t i m e , Rabbit cried o u t , a n d then it ceased. "Why is i t ? " they s a i d . "It is nothing! H e is really afraid of the m e d i c i n e , " he said. Then, " O p e n ye the d o o r for m e ! " h e said. T h e y o p e n e d it for him, a n d h e flew over there a n d p e r c h e d on a b r a n c h .

15 16a

23a b

medicine, the details given in both versions may also reflect the practice of legitimate medicine persons who insisted on secrecy.

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b 51 52 53 54a b c d e

KOASATI

w a n t m e to give him my medicine, and he made noise," he said. Thereupon, " W h a t else do you n e e d ? " h e said. Then, "Nothing, I a m a b o u t to finish d o c t o r i n g him. B u t now h e is g o o d . N o w it is the c a s e that he is good," he said. A n d flying u p went a n d p e r c h e d on a tree branch.

•

•

S C E N E VII: V U L T U R E I S

55a b c d e f g

h 56a b c d e

Thereupon, after B e a r went in a n d s a w it, that he h a d e a t e n R a b b i t all up, that he h a d e a t e n u p his flesh, that he h a d thrown d o w n n o t h i n g but b o n e s , B e a r b e c a m e extremely angry, he took o u t the knife that h e carried, a n d h e threw it overh a n d at V u l t u r e . After he threw it at h i m , it went t h r o u g h his b e a k , it p i e r c e d his beak, it went through his b e a k , a n d he took it, h e t o o k the knife a n d threw it away, so it is said.

ASSAULTED

T h e y went a n d s a w R a b b i t , 24 A n d it is s a i d that he h a d laid 25 down nothing but bones. Thereupon, 26a they l o a t h e d vulture a n d shot b at h i m , T h e y shot a n d hit a n d m a d e it 27 p a s s t h r o u g h only his b e a k . Vulture spoke, 28 " O h ! I will like a n o s e - r i n g , " h e 29 said. • •

S C E N E VIII: T H E R E S U L T O F B E A R ' S A C T I O N 8

57a H e would have killed him, b he missed, c a n d it is said that he p i e r c e d his beak. 58a T h e r e u p o n , b he was pierce-beaked,

8. Williams ends with Vulture pleased with his meal, his safe escape, and his pierced beak. S h e does not, in this telling, add the etiological or

explanatory feature generally expected by the Koasati—that birds ever since have had pierced b e a k s — a s does Abbey.

WILLIAM BRADFORD

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c

it is the c a s e that B e a r pierced it on h i m ; d it s e e m s he carried it a s his p o s s e s s i o n unceasingly, it is said that they carried it all the time. 59 J u s t like that, any kind of bird is pierce-beaked. 60 J u s t so it is said that they are pierced. 61 J u s t so m u c h [is what I know of this]. 62 Finis!

WILLIAM

BRADFORD

1 590-1657 William Bradford epitomizes the spirit of determination and self-sacrifice that seems to us characteristic of our first "Pilgrims," a word Bradford himself used to describe the community of believers who sailed from Southampton, England, on the Mayflower and settled in Plymouth, Massachusetts, in 1 6 2 0 . For Bradford, as well as for the other members of this community, the decision to settle at Plymouth was the last step in a long march of exile from England, and the hardships they suffered in the new land were tempered with the knowledge that they were in a place they had chosen for themselves, where they were safe from persecution. Shortly after their arrival Bradford was elected governor. His duties involved more than that title might imply today: he was chief judge and jury, superintended agriculture and trade, and made allotments of land. It would be hard to imagine a historian better prepared to write the history of this colony. Bradford's own life provides a model of the life of the community as a whole. He was born in Yorkshire, in the town of Austerfield, of parents who were modestly well off. Bradford's father died when he was an infant. His mother remarried in 1 5 9 3 , and he was brought up by his paternal grandparents and uncles. He did not receive a university education; instead, he was taught the arts of farming. When he was only twelve or thirteen, he heard the sermons of the Nonconformist minister Richard Clyfton, who preached in a neighboring parish; these sermons changed Bradford's life. For Clyfton was the religious guide of a small community of believers who met at the house of William Brewster in Scrooby, Nottinghamshire, and it was with this group, in 1 6 0 6 , that Bradford wished to be identified. Much against the opposition of uncles and grandparents, he left home and joined them. They were known as "Separatists," because unlike the majority of Puritans, they saw no hope of reforming the Church of England from within. They wished to follow Calvin's model and to set up "particular" churches, each one founded on a formal covenant, entered into by those who professed their faith and swore to the covenant. Their model was the Old Testament covenant God made with Adam and that Christ renewed. In their covenanted churches God offered himself as a contractual partner to each believer; it was a contract freely initiated but perpetually binding. They were not sympathetic to the idea of a national church. Sepa-

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BRADFORD

rating was, however, by English law an act of treason, and many believers paid a high price for their dreams of purity. Sick of the hidden life that the Church of England forced on them, the Scrooby community took up residence in The Netherlands. Bradford joined them in 1609 and there learned to be a weaver. When he came into his inheritance he went into business for himself. Living in a foreign land was not easy, and eventually the Scrooby community petitioned for a grant of land in the New World. Their original grant was for land in the Virginia territory, but high seas prevented them from reaching those shores and they settled at Plymouth, Massachusetts, instead. In the second book of Bradford's history he describes the signing of the Mayflower Compact, a civil covenant designed to allow the temporal state to serve the godly citizen. It was the first of a number of plantation covenants designed to protect the rights of citizens beyond the reach of established governments. Bradford was a self-educated man, deeply committed to the Puritan cause. In his ecclesiastical history of New England, Cotton Mather describes him as "a person for study as well as action; and hence notwithstanding the difficulties which he passed in his youth, he attained unto a notable skill in languages. . . . But the Hebrew he most of all studied, because, he said, he would see with his own eyes the ancient oracles of God in their native beauty. . . . The crown of all his life was his holy, prayerful, watchful and fruitful walk with God, wherein he was exemplary." Bradford served as governor for all but five of the remaining years of his life. The manuscript of Bradford's History, although known to early historians, disappeared from Boston after the Revolution. The first book (through chapter IX) had been copied into the Plymouth church records and was thus preserved, but the second book was assumed lost. The manuscript was found in the residence of the bishop of London and published for the first time in 1856. In 1897 it was returned to this country by ecclesiastical decree and was deposited in the State House in Boston.

From

Of Plymouth Plantation1 F r o m Book I

C H A P T E R IX.

OF T H E I R VOYAGE A N D H O W THEY P A S S E D T H E SEA; A N D OF T H E I R S A F E ARRIVAL AT C A P E C O D

September 6. T h e s e t r o u b l e s 2 b e i n g blown over, a n d now all b e i n g c o m p a c t together in o n e s h i p , they put to s e a a g a i n with a p r o s p e r o u s wind, which c o n t i n u e d divers days together, which w a s s o m e e n c o u r a g e m e n t u n t o t h e m ; yet, a c c o r d i n g to the u s u a l m a n n e r , m a n y were afflicted with s e a s i c k n e s s . A n d I may not omit here a special work of G o d ' s p r o v i d e n c e . T h e r e w a s a p r o u d a n d very p r o f a n e y o u n g m a n , o n e of the s e a m e n , of a lusty, 3 able body, which m a d e him the m o r e haughty; he would always b e c o n d e m n i n g the poor p e o p l e in their s i c k n e s s a n d c u r s i n g t h e m daily with grievous execrations; a n d did not let 4 to tell t h e m that he h o p e d to help to c a s t half of t h e m overboard before they c a m e to their j o u r n e y ' s e n d , a n d to m a k e merry with what they h a d ; a n d if he were by any gently reproved, h e would c u r s e a n d swear m o s t bitterly. B u t it p l e a s e d G o d before they c a m e half s e a s over, to 1. The text is from Of Plymouth Plantation, edited by Samuel Eliot Morison ( 1 9 5 3 ) . 2. S o m e of the Scrooby community originally sailed from Delftshaven about August I, 1620. on board the Speedwell, but it proved unseaworthy

and it was necessary to transfer everything to the Mayflower. 3. Strong, energetic. 4. Hesitate.

OF

PLYMOUTH PLANTATION

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s m i t e this y o u n g m a n with a grievous d i s e a s e , of which h e died in a d e s p e r a t e m a n n e r , a n d so w a s himself the first that w a s thrown o v e r b o a r d . T h u s his c u r s e s light on his own h e a d , a n d it w a s an a s t o n i s h m e n t to all his fellows for they n o t e d it to b e the j u s t h a n d of G o d u p o n h i m . After they h a d enjoyed fair winds a n d w e a t h e r for a s e a s o n , they were e n c o u n t e r e d m a n y times with c r o s s winds a n d m e t with m a n y fierce s t o r m s with which the ship was s h r o u d l y ' s h a k e n , a n d her u p p e r works m a d e very leaky; a n d o n e of the m a i n b e a m s in the m i d s h i p s w a s b o w e d a n d c r a c k e d , which p u t t h e m in s o m e fear that the ship c o u l d not be a b l e to p e r f o r m the voyage. S o s o m e of the chief of the c o m p a n y , perceiving the m a r i n e r s to fear the sufficiency of the ship as a p p e a r e d by their m u t t e r i n g s , they e n t e r e d into serious c o n s u l t a t i o n with the m a s t e r a n d other officers of the s h i p , to c o n sider in time of the d a n g e r , a n d rather to return than to c a s t t h e m s e l v e s into a d e s p e r a t e a n d inevitable peril. A n d truly there w a s great distraction a n d difference of opinion a m o n g s t the m a r i n e r s t h e m s e l v e s ; fain would they do what c o u l d b e d o n e for their w a g e s ' s a k e (being now n e a r half the s e a s over) a n d on the other h a n d they were loath to hazard their lives too desperately. B u t in e x a m i n i n g of all o p i n i o n s , the m a s t e r a n d o t h e r s affirmed they knew the ship to be s t r o n g a n d firm u n d e r water; a n d for the b u c k l i n g of the m a i n b e a m , there w a s a great iron screw the p a s s e n g e r s b r o u g h t o u t of H o l l a n d , which would raise the b e a m into his p l a c e ; the which b e i n g d o n e , the carpenter a n d m a s t e r affirmed that with a post p u t u n d e r it, set firm in the lower d e c k a n d otherways b o u n d , h e would m a k e it sufficient. A n d a s for the d e c k s a n d u p p e r works, they would c a u l k t h e m a s well a s they c o u l d , a n d t h o u g h with the working of the s h i p they would not long k e e p s t a u n c h , 6 yet there would otherwise be no great d a n g e r , if they did not o v e r p r e s s her with sails. S o they c o m m i t t e d t h e m s e l v e s to the will of G o d a n d resolved to p r o c e e d . In sundry of t h e s e s t o r m s the winds were so fierce a n d the s e a s so high, as they c o u l d not b e a r a knot of sail, but were forced to h u l l 7 for divers days together. A n d in o n e of t h e m , a s they t h u s lay at hull in a mighty s t o r m , a lusty y o u n g m a n called J o h n H o w l a n d , c o m i n g u p o n s o m e o c c a s i o n a b o v e the gratings w a s , with a s e e l e 8 of the s h i p , thrown into s e a ; but it p l e a s e d G o d that he c a u g h t hold of the topsail halyards which h u n g overboard a n d ran out at length. Yet he held his hold (though he w a s s u n d r y f a t h o m s u n d e r water) till he w a s h a u l e d u p by the s a m e rope to the brim of the water, a n d then with a boat h o o k a n d other m e a n s got into the ship again a n d his life saved. A n d t h o u g h he w a s s o m e t h i n g ill with it, yet h e lived m a n y years after a n d b e c a m e a profitable m e m b e r both in c h u r c h a n d c o m m o n w e a l t h . In all this voyage there died but o n e of the p a s s e n g e r s , which w a s William B u t t e n , a youth, servant to S a m u e l Fuller, when they drew n e a r the c o a s t . B u t to omit other things (that I may be brief) after long b e a t i n g at s e a they fell with that land which is called C a p e C o d ; the which b e i n g m a d e a n d certainly known to b e it, they were not a little joyful. After s o m e deliberation h a d a m o n g s t t h e m s e l v e s a n d with the m a s t e r of the ship, they t a c k e d a b o u t a n d resolved to s t a n d for the s o u t h w a r d (the wind a n d w e a t h e r b e i n g fair) to find s o m e p l a c e a b o u t H u d s o n ' s River for their habitation. B u t after they h a d sailed that c o u r s e a b o u t half the day, they fell a m o n g s t d a n g e r o u s s h o a l s 5. Shrewdly, in its original sense of wickedly. 6. Watertight.

7. Drift with the wind under short sail. 8. Roll.

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a n d roaring b r e a k e r s , a n d they were so far e n t a n g l e d therewith a s they conceived t h e m s e l v e s in great d a n g e r ; a n d the wind shrinking u p o n t h e m withal, they resolved to b e a r u p again for the C a p e a n d t h o u g h t t h e m s e l v e s happy to get out of t h o s e d a n g e r s before night overtook t h e m , a s by G o d ' s g o o d p r o v i d e n c e they did. A n d the next day they got into the C a p e H a r b o r 9 where they rid in safety. A word or two by the way of this c a p e . It w a s t h u s first n a m e d by C a p t a i n G o s n o l d a n d his c o m p a n y , A n n o 1 1 6 0 2 , a n d after by C a p t a i n S m i t h w a s called C a p e J a m e s ; b u t it retains the former n a m e a m o n g s t s e a m e n . A l s o , that point which first s h o w e d t h o s e d a n g e r o u s s h o a l s u n t o t h e m they called Point C a r e , a n d T u c k e r ' s Terror; but the F r e n c h a n d D u t c h to this day call it M a l a b a r 2 by r e a s o n of t h o s e perilous s h o a l s a n d the l o s s e s they have suffered there. B e i n g t h u s arrived in a g o o d harbor, a n d b r o u g h t s a f e to land, they fell u p o n their k n e e s a n d b l e s s e d the G o d of H e a v e n w h o h a d b r o u g h t t h e m over the vast a n d furious o c e a n , a n d delivered t h e m from all the perils a n d miseries thereof, again to set their feet on the firm a n d s t a b l e e a r t h , their proper e l e m e n t . A n d no marvel if they were t h u s joyful, s e e i n g wise S e n e c a w a s so affected with sailing a few miles on the c o a s t of his own Italy, a s h e affirmed, that h e h a d rather r e m a i n twenty years on his way by land t h a n p a s s by s e a to any p l a c e in a short t i m e , so t e d i o u s a n d dreadful w a s the s a m e u n t o h i m . 5 B u t here I c a n n o t but stay a n d m a k e a p a u s e , a n d s t a n d half a m a z e d at this p o o r people's p r e s e n t c o n d i t i o n ; a n d so I think will the reader, too, w h e n h e well c o n s i d e r s the s a m e . B e i n g t h u s p a s s e d the vast o c e a n , a n d a s e a of troubles before in their p r e p a r a t i o n (as may be r e m e m b e r e d by that which went b e f o r e ) , they h a d now no friends to w e l c o m e t h e m nor i n n s to entertain or refresh their w e a t h e r b e a t e n b o d i e s ; n o h o u s e s or m u c h less towns to repair to, to s e e k for s u c c o r . It is r e c o r d e d in S c r i p t u r e a s a mercy to the A p o s t l e a n d his s h i p w r e c k e d c o m p a n y , that the b a r b a r i a n s s h o w e d t h e m no small k i n d n e s s in refreshing t h e m , 4 b u t t h e s e s a v a g e b a r b a r i a n s , w h e n they m e t with t h e m (as after will a p p e a r ) were readier to fill their sides full of arrows than o t h e r w i s e . A n d for the s e a s o n it w a s winter, a n d they that know the winters of that country know t h e m to b e s h a r p a n d violent, a n d s u b j e c t to cruel a n d fierce s t o r m s , d a n g e r o u s to travel to known p l a c e s , m u c h m o r e to s e a r c h a n u n k n o w n c o a s t . B e s i d e s , w h a t c o u l d they s e e b u t a h i d e o u s a n d d e s o l a t e w i l d e r n e s s , full of wild b e a s t s a n d wild m e n — a n d w h a t m u l t i t u d e s there might b e of t h e m they knew not. N e i t h e r c o u l d they, a s it w e r e , go u p to the top of P i s g a h 5 to view from this w i l d e r n e s s a m o r e goodly country to feed their h o p e s ; for which way soever they t u r n e d their eyes (save u p w a r d to the h e a v e n s ) they c o u l d have little s o l a c e or c o n t e n t in r e s p e c t of any outward o b j e c t s . F o r s u m m e r b e i n g d o n e , all things s t a n d u p o n t h e m with a w e a t h e r b e a t e n f a c e , a n d the whole country, full of w o o d s a n d thickets, rep9. C a p e Harbor is now Provincetown Harbor; they arrived on November 11, 1620, the journey from England having taken sixty-five days. 1. In the year (Latin). 2. T h e prefix mal means "bad"; the reference here is to the dangerous sandbars. 3. Bradford notes that this remark may be found in the Moral Epistles to Lucilius, line 5, of the Roman Stoic philosopher (4r B.C.E.—65 C.E.).

4. "And when they were escaped, then they knew that the island was called Melita. And the barbarous people showed us no little kindness: for they kindled a fire, and received us every one, b e c a u s e of the present rain, and b e c a u s e of the cold" (Acts 28.1-2). 5. Mountain from which M o s e s saw the Promised Land (Deuteronomy 34.1—4).

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r e s e n t e d a wild a n d s a v a g e h u e . If they looked b e h i n d t h e m , there w a s the mighty o c e a n which they h a d p a s s e d a n d w a s now a s a m a i n bar a n d gulf to s e p a r a t e t h e m from all the civil p a r t s of the world. If it b e said they h a d a ship to s u c c o r t h e m , it is t r u e ; b u t what h e a r d they daily from the m a s t e r a n d c o m p a n y ? B u t that with s p e e d they s h o u l d look out a p l a c e (with their s h a l l o p ) 6 w h e r e they would b e , at s o m e n e a r d i s t a n c e ; for the s e a s o n w a s s u c h a s h e would not stir from t h e n c e till a s a f e harbor w a s d i s c o v e r e d by t h e m , w h e r e they would b e , a n d he might go without d a n g e r ; a n d that victu a l s c o n s u m e d a p a c e but h e m u s t a n d would k e e p sufficient for t h e m s e l v e s a n d their return. Yea, it w a s m u t t e r e d by s o m e that if they got not a p l a c e in t i m e , they would turn t h e m a n d their g o o d s a s h o r e a n d leave t h e m . L e t it also b e c o n s i d e r e d what w e a k h o p e s of supply a n d s u c c o r they left b e h i n d t h e m , that might b e a r u p their m i n d s in this s a d c o n d i t i o n a n d trials they were u n d e r ; a n d they c o u l d not but b e very s m a l l . It is true, i n d e e d , the affections a n d love of their brethren at L e y d e n 7 w a s cordial a n d entire toward t h e m , b u t they h a d little power to help t h e m or t h e m s e l v e s ; a n d how the c a s e stood b e t w e e n t h e m a n d the m e r c h a n t s at their c o m i n g away hath already b e e n d e c l a r e d . W h a t c o u l d n o w s u s t a i n t h e m but the Spirit of G o d a n d His g r a c e ? M a y not a n d o u g h t not the children of t h e s e fathers rightly say " O u r fathers were E n g l i s h m e n which c a m e over this great o c e a n , a n d were ready to p e r i s h in this w i l d e r n e s s ; b u t they cried unto the L o r d , a n d H e h e a r d their voice a n d looked on their adversity," 8 e t c . " L e t t h e m therefore p r a i s e the L o r d , b e c a u s e H e is g o o d : a n d His m e r c i e s e n d u r e forever." "Yea, let t h e m which have b e e n r e d e e m e d of the L o r d , s h o w how H e hath delivered t h e m from the h a n d of the o p p r e s s o r . W h e n they w a n d e r e d in the d e s e r t w i l d e r n e s s o u t of the way, a n d f o u n d n o city to dwell in, both hungry a n d thirsty, their s o u l w a s overw h e l m e d in t h e m . L e t t h e m c o n f e s s before the L o r d His loving k i n d n e s s a n d His wonderful works before the s o n s of m e n . " 9 FROM

C H A P T E R X.

SHOWING HOW THEY SOUGHT OUT A PLACE OF

HABITATION; AND WHAT B E F E L L T H E M T H E R E A B O U T

B e i n g t h u s arrived at C a p e C o d the 11th of N o v e m b e r , a n d n e c e s s i t y calling t h e m to look out a p l a c e for habitation (as well a s the m a s t e r ' s a n d m a r i n e r s ' importunity); they having b r o u g h t a large s h a l l o p with t h e m o u t of E n g l a n d , stowed in q u a r t e r s in the ship, they now got her out a n d set their c a r p e n t e r s to work to trim her u p ; but b e i n g m u c h b r u i s e d a n d s h a t t e r e d in the ship with foul weather, they saw s h e would be long in m e n d i n g . W h e r e u p o n a few of t h e m t e n d e r e d t h e m s e l v e s to go by l a n d a n d discover t h o s e n e a r e s t p l a c e s , whilst the shallop w a s in m e n d i n g ; a n d the rather b e c a u s e a s they went into that harbor there s e e m e d to b e a n o p e n i n g s o m e two or three l e a g u e s off, which the m a s t e r j u d g e d to b e a river. 1 It w a s 6. Small boat fitted with one or more masts. 7. In T h e Netherlands, where a substantial number of Separatists remained. 8. "And the Egyptians evil entreated us, and afflicted us, and laid upon us hard bondage: And when we cried unto the Lord God of our fathers, the Lord heard our voice, and looked on our affliction, and our labor and our oppression: And the Lord brought us forth out of Egypt with a mighty

hand" (Deuteronomy 26.6—8). 9. " O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever. Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy; And gathered them out of the lands, from the east, and from the west, from the north, and from the s o u t h " (Psalm 107.1—5). I. Morison observes that "Looking south from Provincetown Harbor where the Pilgrims were, the

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c o n c e i v e d there might b e s o m e d a n g e r in the a t t e m p t , yet s e e i n g t h e m reso l u t e , they were p e r m i t t e d to g o , b e i n g sixteen of t h e m well a r m e d u n d e r the c o n d u c t of C a p t a i n S t a n d i s h , 2 having s u c h i n s t r u c t i o n s given t h e m a s w a s thought meet. T h e y set forth the 15 th of N o v e m b e r ; a n d w h e n they h a d m a r c h e d a b o u t the s p a c e of a mile by the s e a s i d e , they e s p i e d five or six p e r s o n s with a d o g c o m i n g towards t h e m , w h o were s a v a g e s ; but they fled from t h e m a n d ran u p into the w o o d s , a n d the E n g l i s h followed t h e m , partly to s e e if they c o u l d s p e a k with t h e m , a n d partly to discover if there might not b e m o r e of t h e m lying in a m b u s h . B u t the Indians s e e i n g t h e m s e l v e s t h u s followed, they a g a i n forsook the w o o d s a n d ran away o n the s a n d s a s h a r d * a s they c o u l d , s o a s they c o u l d not c o m e n e a r t h e m but followed t h e m by the t r a c k of their feet s u n d r y miles a n d s a w that they h a d c o m e the s a m e way. S o , night c o m i n g o n , they m a d e their r e n d e z v o u s a n d set out their s e n t i n e l s , a n d rested in quiet that night; a n d the next m o r n i n g followed their track till they h a d h e a d e d a great c r e e k a n d s o left the s a n d s , a n d t u r n e d a n o t h e r way into the w o o d s . B u t they still followed t h e m by g u e s s , h o p i n g to find their dwellings; but they s o o n lost b o t h t h e m a n d t h e m s e l v e s , falling into s u c h thickets a s were ready to tear their c l o t h e s a n d a r m o r in p i e c e s ; but were m o s t d i s t r e s s e d for w a n t of drink. B u t at length they f o u n d water a n d refreshed t h e m s e l v e s , being the first N e w E n g l a n d water they d r u n k of, a n d w a s now in their great thirst a s p l e a s a n t u n t o t h e m a s wine or b e e r h a d b e e n in f o r e t i m e s . Afterwards they directed their c o u r s e to c o m e to the other s h o r e , for they knew it w a s a n e c k of land they were to c r o s s Over, a n d s o at length got to the s e a s i d e a n d m a r c h e d to this s u p p o s e d river, a n d by the way f o u n d a p o n d 4 of clear fresh water, a n d shortly after a g o o d quantity of clear g r o u n d w h e r e the I n d i a n s h a d formerly set c o r n , a n d s o m e of their graves. A n d p r o c e e d i n g further they saw n e w s t u b b l e w h e r e corn h a d b e e n set the s a m e year; a l s o they f o u n d w h e r e lately a h o u s e h a d b e e n , w h e r e s o m e p l a n k s a n d a great kettle w a s r e m a i n i n g , a n d h e a p s of s a n d newly p a d d l e d with their h a n d s . W h i c h , they digging u p , f o u n d in t h e m divers fair Indian b a s k e t s filled with c o r n , a n d s o m e in e a r s , fair a n d g o o d , of divers c o l o r s , w h i c h s e e m e d to t h e m a very goodly sight (having never s e e n any s u c h b e f o r e ) . T h i s w a s near the p l a c e of that s u p p o s e d river they c a m e to seek, u n t o which they went a n d f o u n d it to o p e n itself into two a r m s with a high cliff of s a n d in the e n t r a n c e 5 but m o r e like to be creeks of salt water than any fresh, for a u g h t they saw; a n d that there w a s g o o d h a r b o r a g e for their s h a l l o p , leaving it further to b e discovered by their s h a l l o p , w h e n s h e w a s ready. S o , their time limited t h e m b e i n g expired, they r e t u r n e d to the ship lest they s h o u l d b e in fear of their safety; a n d took with t h e m part of the corn a n d buried u p the rest. And s o , like the m e n from E s h c o l , carried with t h e m of the fruits of the l a n d a n d s h o w e d their b r e t h r e n ; 6 of w h i c h , a n d their r e t u r n , they were m a r v e l o u s l y glad a n d their hearts e n c o u r a g e d . After this, the s h a l l o p b e i n g got ready, they set o u t a g a i n for the better high land near Plymouth looks like an island on clear days, suggesting that there is a river or arm of the sea between it and C a p e C o d . " 2. Myles Standish ( 1 5 8 4 ? - 1 6 5 6 ) was a professional soldier who had fought in T h e Netherlands; he was not a Pilgrim. 3. Fast.

4. T h e pond from which Pond Village, Truro, Massachusetts, gets its name. 5. A salt creek known as Pamet River. 6. In N u m b e r s 13.23—26, Moses' scouts, after searching the wilderness for forty days, brought back clusters of grapes, which they found near the brook that they called " E s h c o l . "

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discovery of this p l a c e , a n d the m a s t e r of the ship desired to g o himself. S o there went s o m e thirty m e n but f o u n d it to be no harbor for s h i p s but only for b o a t s . T h e r e w a s a l s o found two of their h o u s e s c o v e r e d with m a t s , a n d sundry of their i m p l e m e n t s in t h e m , but the p e o p l e were run away a n d c o u l d not be s e e n . 7 Also there w a s found m o r e of their corn a n d of their b e a n s of various colors; the c o r n a n d b e a n s they b r o u g h t away, p u r p o s i n g to give t h e m full satisfaction w h e n they s h o u l d m e e t with any of t h e m a s , a b o u t s o m e six m o n t h s afterward they did, to their g o o d c o n t e n t . A n d here is to be n o t e d a special p r o v i d e n c e of G o d , a n d a great m e r c y to this p o o r p e o p l e , that here they got s e e d to plant t h e m corn the next year, or else they might have starved, for they h a d n o n e nor any likelihood to get any till the s e a s o n h a d b e e n p a s t , a s the s e q u e l did m a n i f e s t . N e i t h e r is it likely they h a d h a d this, if the first voyage h a d not b e e n m a d e , for the g r o u n d w a s now all covered with s n o w a n d hard frozen; but the Lord is never w a n t i n g u n t o H i s in their g r e a t e s t n e e d s ; let H i s holy n a m e have all the p r a i s e . T h e m o n t h of N o v e m b e r b e i n g spent in t h e s e affairs, a n d m u c h foul w e a t h e r falling in, the 6 t h of D e c e m b e r they sent o u t their s h a l l o p again with ten of their principal m e n a n d s o m e s e a m e n , u p o n further discovery, intending to c i r c u l a t e that d e e p bay of C a p e C o d . T h e w e a t h e r w a s very cold a n d it froze s o hard as the spray of the s e a lighting on their c o a t s , they were a s if they h a d b e e n glazed. Yet that night b e t i m e s they got d o w n into the b o t t o m of the bay, a n d a s they drew n e a r the s h o r e 8 they s a w s o m e ten or twelve Indians very busy a b o u t s o m e t h i n g . T h e y l a n d e d a b o u t a l e a g u e or two from t h e m , a n d h a d m u c h a d o to put a s h o r e a n y w h e r e — i t lay so full of flats. B e i n g l a n d e d , it grew late a n d they m a d e t h e m s e l v e s a b a r r i c a d o with logs a n d b o u g h s a s well a s they c o u l d in the t i m e , a n d set out their sentinel a n d b e t o o k t h e m to rest, a n d saw the s m o k e of the fire the s a v a g e s m a d e that night. W h e n m o r n i n g w a s c o m e they divided their c o m p a n y , s o m e to c o a s t a l o n g the s h o r e in the boat, a n d the rest m a r c h e d through the w o o d s to s e e the land, if any fit p l a c e might be for their dwelling. T h e y c a m e also to the p l a c e w h e r e they saw the I n d i a n s the night before, a n d f o u n d they h a d b e e n c u t t i n g u p a great fish like a g r a m p u s , 9 being s o m e two i n c h e s thick of fat like a hog, s o m e p i e c e s w h e r e o f they h a d left by the way. A n d the shallop f o u n d two m o r e of t h e s e fishes d e a d on the s a n d s , a thing u s u a l after s t o r m s in that p l a c e , by r e a s o n of the great flats of s a n d that lie off. S o they r a n g e d u p a n d d o w n all that day, but f o u n d no p e o p l e , nor a n y p l a c e they liked. W h e n the s u n grew low, they h a s t e d o u t of the w o o d s to m e e t with their s h a l l o p , to w h o m they m a d e signs to c o m e to t h e m into a c r e e k 1 hard by, the which they did at high water; of which they were very glad, for they h a d not s e e n e a c h other all that day s i n c e the m o r n i n g . S o they m a d e t h e m a b a r r i c a d o a s usually they did every night, with logs, stakes a n d thick pine b o u g h s , the height of a m a n , leaving it o p e n to leeward, partly to shelter t h e m frqm the cold a n d wind ( m a k i n g their fire in the m i d d l e a n d lying r o u n d a b o u t it) a n d partly to defend t h e m from any s u d d e n a s s a u l t s of the s a v a g e s , if they s h o u l d s u r r o u n d t h e m ; s o b e i n g very weary, they b e t o o k t h e m to rest. B u t a b o u t midnight they h e a r d a h i d e o u s a n d great cry, a n d 7. Descendants of these Nauset Indians may still be found today at Mashpee on C a p e C o d . 8. Somewhere near Eastham, Massachusetts.

9. Probably a blackfish {Globicephala meliena). 1. T h e mouth of Herring River in Eastham.

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their sentinel called " A r m ! a r m ! " S o they bestirred t h e m a n d s t o o d to their a r m s a n d shot off a c o u p l e of m u s k e t s , a n d then the noise c e a s e d . T h e y c o n c l u d e d it w a s a c o m p a n y of wolves or s u c h like wild b e a s t s , for o n e of the s e a m e n told t h e m he h a d often h e a r d s u c h a n o i s e in N e w f o u n d l a n d . S o they rested till a b o u t five of the c l o c k in the m o r n i n g ; for the tide, a n d their p u r p o s e to go from t h e n c e , m a d e t h e m be stirring b e t i m e s . S o after prayer they p r e p a r e d for b r e a k f a s t , a n d it b e i n g day d a w n i n g it w a s t h o u g h t b e s t to be carrying things d o w n to the b o a t . B u t s o m e s a i d it w a s not b e s t to carry the a r m s d o w n , others said they w o u l d be the readier, for they h a d l a p p e d t h e m u p in their c o a t s from the dew; b u t s o m e three or four would not carry theirs till they went t h e m s e l v e s . Yet a s it fell out, the water b e i n g n o t high e n o u g h , they laid t h e m d o w n on the b a n k side a n d c a m e u p to breakfast. B u t presently, all on the s u d d e n , they h e a r d a great a n d s t r a n g e cry, which they knew to be the s a m e voices they h e a r d in the night, t h o u g h they varied their n o t e s ; a n d o n e of their c o m p a n y b e i n g a b r o a d c a m e r u n n i n g in a n d cried, " M e n , I n d i a n s ! I n d i a n s ! " A n d withal, their arrows c a m e flying a m o n g s t t h e m . T h e i r m e n ran with all s p e e d to recover their a r m s , a s by the g o o d p r o v i d e n c e of G o d they did. In the m e a n t i m e , of t h o s e that were there ready, two m u s k e t s were d i s c h a r g e d at t h e m , a n d two m o r e s t o o d ready in the e n t r a n c e of their r e n d e z v o u s b u t were c o m m a n d e d not to s h o o t till they c o u l d take full aim at t h e m . A n d the other two c h a r g e d a g a i n with all s p e e d , for there were only four h a d a r m s there, a n d d e f e n d e d the b a r r i c a d o , which w a s first a s s a u l t e d . T h e cry of the I n d i a n s w a s dreadful, especially w h e n they s a w the m e n run o u t of the r e n d e z v o u s toward the s h a l l o p to recover their a r m s , the Indians w h e e l i n g a b o u t u p o n t h e m . B u t s o m e r u n n i n g o u t with c o a t s of mail o n , a n d c u t l a s s e s in their h a n d s , they s o o n got their a r m s a n d let fly a m o n g s t t h e m a n d quickly s t o p p e d their v i o l e n c e . Yet there w a s a lusty m a n , a n d no less valiant, s t o o d b e h i n d a tree within half a m u s k e t shot, a n d let his arrows fly at t h e m ; h e w a s s e e n [to] s h o o t three a r r o w s , w h i c h were all avoided. H e stood three s h o t s of a m u s k e t , till o n e taking full a i m at him a n d m a d e the b a r k or splinters of the tree fly a b o u t his e a r s , after which he gave a n extraordinary shriek a n d away they w e n t , all of t h e m . T h e y 2 left s o m e to k e e p the s h a l l o p a n d followed t h e m a b o u t a q u a r t e r of a mile a n d s h o u t e d o n c e or twice, a n d shot off two or three p i e c e s , a n d s o r e t u r n e d . T h i s they did that they might c o n c e i v e that they were not afraid of t h e m or any way discouraged. T h u s it p l e a s e d G o d to v a n q u i s h their e n e m i e s a n d give t h e m d e l i v e r a n c e ; a n d by H i s special p r o v i d e n c e s o to d i s p o s e that not any o n e of t h e m were either hurt or hit, t h o u g h their arrows c a m e c l o s e by t h e m a n d o n every side [of] t h e m ; a n d sundry of their c o a t s , which h u n g u p in the b a r r i c a d o , were shot t h r o u g h a n d t h r o u g h . Afterwards they g a v e G o d s o l e m n t h a n k s a n d p r a i s e for their d e l i v e r a n c e , a n d g a t h e r e d u p a b u n d l e of their arrows a n d sent t h e m into E n g l a n d afterward by the m a s t e r of the s h i p , a n d called that p l a c e the First E n c o u n t e r . F r o m h e n c e they d e p a r t e d a n d c o a s t e d all a l o n g b u t d i s c e r n e d n o p l a c e likely for harbor; a n d therefore h a s t e d to a p l a c e that their pilot (one M r . 2. I.e., the English.

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C o p p i n w h o h a d b e e n in the country before) did a s s u r e t h e m w a s a g o o d harbor, which he h a d b e e n in, a n d they might fetch it before night; of which they were glad for it b e g a n to be foul weather. After s o m e h o u r s ' sailing it b e g a n to s n o w a n d rain, a n d a b o u t the m i d d l e of the afternoon the wind i n c r e a s e d a n d the s e a b e c a m e very r o u g h , a n d they broke their rudder, a n d it w a s a s m u c h a s two m e n c o u l d do to steer her with a c o u p l e of o a r s . B u t their pilot b a d e t h e m b e of g o o d c h e e r for h e s a w the harbor; but the s t o r m i n c r e a s i n g , a n d night drawing o n , they b o r e w h a t sail they c o u l d to get in, while they c o u l d s e e . B u t herewith they broke their m a s t in three p i e c e s a n d their sail fell overboard in a very grown s e a , s o a s they h a d like to have b e e n c a s t away. Yet by G o d ' s m e r c y they recovered t h e m s e l v e s , a n d having the f l o o d ' with t h e m , s t r u c k into the harbor. B u t w h e n it c a m e to, the pilot w a s deceived in the p l a c e , a n d said the L o r d be merciful u n t o t h e m for his eyes never s a w that p l a c e b e f o r e ; a n d he a n d the m a s t e r ' s m a t e would have run her a s h o r e in a cove full of b r e a k e r s before the wind. B u t a lusty s e a m a n which s t e e r e d b a d e t h o s e which rowed, if they were m e n , a b o u t with her or else they were all c a s t away; the which they did with s p e e d . S o he bid t h e m be of g o o d c h e e r a n d row lustily, for there w a s a fair s o u n d before t h e m , a n d he d o u b t e d not but they s h o u l d find o n e p l a c e or other w h e r e they might ride in safety. A n d t h o u g h it w a s very dark a n d rained s o r e , yet in the e n d they got u n d e r the lee of a small island a n d r e m a i n e d there all that night in safety. B u t they knew not this to be a n island till m o r n i n g , b u t were divided in their m i n d s ; s o m e would keep the b o a t for fear they might be a m o n g s t the I n d i a n s , others were so wet a n d cold they c o u l d not e n d u r e but got a s h o r e , a n d with m u c h a d o got fire (all things b e i n g so w e t ) ; a n d the rest were glad to c o m e to t h e m , for after m i d n i g h t , the wind shifted to the northwest a n d it froze hard. B u t t h o u g h this h a d b e e n a day a n d night of m u c h trouble a n d d a n g e r unto t h e m , yet G o d gave t h e m a m o r n i n g of c o m f o r t a n d refreshing (as usually H e doth to H i s children) for the next day w a s a fair, s u n s h i n i n g day, a n d they f o u n d t h e m s e l v e s to b e on a n island s e c u r e from the I n d i a n s , w h e r e they might dry their stuff, fix their p i e c e s 4 a n d rest t h e m s e l v e s ; a n d gave G o d thanks for His m e r c i e s in their manifold d e l i v e r a n c e s . A n d this b e i n g the last day of the week, they p r e p a r e d there to keep the S a b b a t h . O n M o n d a y they s o u n d e d the harbor a n d f o u n d it fit for s h i p p i n g , a n d m a r c h e d into the land a n d found divers cornfields a n d little r u n n i n g b r o o k s , a p l a c e (as they s u p p o s e d ) fit for s i t u a t i o n . 5 At least it w a s the b e s t they c o u l d find, a n d the s e a s o n a n d their p r e s e n t necessity m a d e t h e m glad to a c c e p t of it. S o they returned to their ship again with this n e w s to the rest of their p e o p l e , which did m u c h c o m f o r t their h e a r t s . O n the 15 th of D e c e m b e r they weighed a n c h o r to go to the p l a c e they h a d discovered, a n d c a m e within two l e a g u e s of it, but were fain to b e a r up a g a i n ; but the 16th day, the wind c a m e fair, a n d they arrived safe in this harbor. A n d afterwards took better view of the p l a c e , a n d resolved where to pitch their dwelling; a n d the 2 5 t h day b e g a n to erect the first h o u s e for c o m m o n u s e to receive t h e m a n d their g o o d s . 3. I.e., the flood tide. 4. Armaments. 5. Morison notes that this is "the only contem-

porary authority for the 'Landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth Rock' on December 2 1 , 1 6 2 0 " (New Style). " S o u n d e d " : measured the depth of.

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Book II FROM

CHAPTER XI.6 THE REMAINDER [THE MAYFLOWER

OF ANNO

1620

COMPACT]

I shall a little return b a c k , a n d begin with a c o m b i n a t i o n 7 m a d e by t h e m before they c a m e a s h o r e ; b e i n g the first f o u n d a t i o n of their g o v e r n m e n t in this p l a c e . O c c a s i o n e d partly by the d i s c o n t e n t e d a n d m u t i n o u s s p e e c h e s that s o m e of the s t r a n g e r s 8 a m o n g s t t h e m h a d let fall from t h e m in the ship: T h a t w h e n they c a m e a s h o r e they would u s e their own liberty, for n o n e h a d power to c o m m a n d t h e m , the p a t e n t they h a d b e i n g for Virginia a n d not for N e w E n g l a n d , which b e l o n g e d to a n o t h e r g o v e r n m e n t , with which the Virginia C o m p a n y h a d n o t h i n g to d o . A n d partly that s u c h a n act by t h e m d o n e , this their condition c o n s i d e r e d , might be a s firm a s any p a t e n t , 9 a n d in s o m e r e s p e c t s m o r e s u r e . T h e form w a s a s followeth: IN T H E N A M E OF G O D ,

AMEN.

W e w h o s e n a m e s are underwritten, the loyal s u b j e c t s of our d r e a d Sovereign L o r d King J a m e s , by the G r a c e of G o d of G r e a t Britain, F r a n c e , a n d Ireland King, D e f e n d e r of the F a i t h , e t c . H a v i n g u n d e r t a k e n , for the Glory of G o d a n d a d v a n c e m e n t of the C h r i s tian Faith a n d H o n o r of our K i n g a n d C o u n t r y , a Voyage to plant the First C o l o n y in the N o r t h e r n Parts of Virginia, d o by t h e s e p r e s e n t s solemnly a n d mutually in the p r e s e n c e of G o d a n d o n e of a n o t h e r , C o v e n a n t a n d C o m b i n e ourselves together into a Civil Body Politic, for our better ordering a n d preservation a n d f u r t h e r a n c e of the e n d s a f o r e s a i d ; a n d by virtue hereof to e n a c t , constitute and frame such just and equal Laws, Ordinances, Acts, Constitutions a n d Offices, from t i m e to t i m e , a s shall b e thought m o s t m e e t a n d c o n v e n i e n t for the general g o o d of the C o l o n y , u n t o which we p r o m i s e all d u e s u b m i s s i o n a n d o b e d i e n c e . In witness w h e r e o f we have h e r e u n d e r s u b scribed our n a m e s at C a p e C o d , the 11th of N o v e m b e r , in the year of the reign of our Sovereign L o r d K i n g J a m e s , of E n g l a n d , F r a n c e a n d Ireland the e i g h t e e n t h , a n d of S c o t l a n d the fifty-fourth. A n n o D o m i n i 1 1 6 2 0 . After this they c h o s e , or rather c o n f i r m e d , M r . J o h n C a r v e r 2 (a m a n godly a n d well a p p r o v e d a m o n g s t t h e m ) their G o v e r n o r for that year. And after they h a d provided a p l a c e for their g o o d s , or c o m m o n store (which were long in u n l a d i n g 3 for want of b o a t s , f o u l n e s s of the winter w e a t h e r a n d s i c k n e s s of divers) a n d b e g u n s o m e small c o t t a g e s for their h a b i t a t i o n ; a s time would a d m i t , they met a n d c o n s u l t e d of laws a n d o r d e r s , both for their civil a n d military g o v e r n m e n t a s the necessity of their c o n d i t i o n did r e q u i r e , still a d d ing there u n t o a s u r g e n t o c c a s i o n in several t i m e s , a n d a s c a s e s did require. In t h e s e hard a n d difficult b e g i n n i n g s they f o u n d s o m e d i s c o n t e n t s a n d 6. Bradford numbered only the first ten chapters of his manuscript. 7. A form of uniun, a joining together. S. Puritans called themselves "saints" and those outside their church "strangers." Many of those who c a m e to Plymouth with them were not church members but adventurers looking forward to business success and making new lives in the New World.

9. A document signed by a sovereign granting privileges to those named in it. 1. In the year of the Lord (Latin). 2. Carver, like Bradford, was an original member of the group who went to Holland and, like Bradford, a tradesman. Bradford was elected governor after Carver's death. 3. Unloading.

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m u r m u r i n g s arise a m o n g s t s o m e , a n d m u t i n o u s s p e e c h e s a n d c a r r i a g e s in other; but they were s o o n quelled a n d o v e r c o m e by the w i s d o m , p a t i e n c e , a n d j u s t a n d e q u a l c a r r i a g e of things, by the G o v e r n o r a n d better p a r t , w h i c h c l a v e 4 faithfully together in the m a i n . [THE STARVING T I M E ]

B u t that which w a s m o s t s a d a n d l a m e n t a b l e w a s , that in two or three m o n t h s ' time half of their c o m p a n y died, especially in J a n u a r y a n d F e b r u a r y , b e i n g the depth of winter, a n d w a n t i n g h o u s e s a n d other c o m f o r t s ; b e i n g infected with the scurvy a n d other d i s e a s e s which this long voyage a n d their i n a c c o m m o d a t e c o n d i t i o n h a d b r o u g h t u p o n t h e m . S o a s there died s o m e times two or three of a day in the foresaid t i m e , that of 1 0 0 a n d o d d p e r s o n s , s c a r c e fifty r e m a i n e d . A n d of t h e s e , in the time of m o s t d i s t r e s s , there was but six or seven p e r s o n s w h o to their great c o m m e n d a t i o n s , b e it s p o k e n , s p a r e d no p a i n s night nor day, b u t with a b u n d a n c e of toil a n d hazard of their own health, f e t c h e d t h e m w o o d , m a d e t h e m fires, d r e s s e d t h e m m e a t , m a d e their b e d s , w a s h e d their l o a t h s o m e c l o t h e s , c l o t h e d a n d u n c l o t h e d t h e m . In a word, did all the h o m e l y 5 a n d n e c e s s a r y offices for t h e m w h i c h dainty a n d q u e a s y s t o m a c h s c a n n o t e n d u r e to hear n a m e d ; a n d all this willingly a n d cheerfully, without any g r u d g i n g in the least, s h o w i n g herein their true love u n t o their friends a n d b r e t h r e n ; a rare e x a m p l e a n d worthy to b e r e m e m b e r e d . T w o of t h e s e seven were M r . William Brewster, their reverend Elder, a n d Myles S t a n d i s h , their C a p t a i n a n d military c o m m a n d e r , u n t o w h o m myself a n d m a n y others were m u c h b e h o l d e n in o u r low a n d sick c o n d i t i o n . A n d yet the L o r d so u p h e l d t h e s e p e r s o n s a s in this general c a l a m i t y they were not at all infected either with s i c k n e s s or l a m e n e s s . A n d what I have said of t h e s e I m a y say of m a n y others w h o d i e d in this g e n e r a l visitation, a n d others yet living; that whilst they h a d h e a l t h , yea, or any strength c o n tinuing, they were not w a n t i n g 6 to any that h a d n e e d of t h e m . A n d I d o u b t not but their r e c o m p e n s e is with the L o r d . B u t I m a y not here p a s s by a n o t h e r r e m a r k a b l e p a s s a g e not to b e forgotten. As this calamity fell a m o n g the p a s s e n g e r s that were to b e left h e r e to plant, a n d were h a s t e d a s h o r e a n d m a d e to drink water that the s e a m e n might have the m o r e beer, a n d o n e 7 in his s i c k n e s s d e s i r i n g but a small c a n of beer, it was a n s w e r e d that if h e were their own father he s h o u l d have n o n e . T h e d i s e a s e b e g a n to fall a m o n g s t t h e m a l s o , s o as a l m o s t half of their c o m p a n y died before they went away, a n d m a n y of their officers a n d lustiest m e n , a s the b o a t s w a i n , g u n n e r , three q u a r t e r m a s t e r s , the c o o k a n d o t h e r s . At which the M a s t e r w a s s o m e t h i n g s t r u c k e n a n d sent to the sick a s h o r e a n d told the G o v e r n o r h e s h o u l d s e n d for b e e r for t h e m that h a d n e e d of it, t h o u g h he d r u n k water h o m e w a r d b o u n d . B u t now a m o n g s t his c o m p a n y there w a s far a n o t h e r kind of carriage in this misery than a m o n g s t the p a s s e n g e r s . F o r they that b e f o r e h a d b e e n b o o n c o m p a n i o n s in drinking a n d jollity in the time of their health a n d welfare, b e g a n n o w to desert o n e a n o t h e r in this calamity, saying they would not hazard their lives for t h e m , they s h o u l d b e infected by c o m i n g to h e l p t h e m 4. Past tense of cleave. 5. Intimate. 6. Lacking in attention.

7. Which was this author himself [Bradford's note].

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in their c a b i n s ; a n d s o , after they c a m e to lie by it, would do little or n o t h i n g for t h e m b u t , "if they d i e d , let them d i e . " B u t s u c h of the p a s s e n g e r s a s were yet a b o a r d s h o w e d t h e m what mercy they c o u l d , which m a d e s o m e of their h e a r t s relent, as the b o a t s w a i n (and s o m e others) w h o w a s a p r o u d y o u n g m a n a n d would often c u r s e a n d scoff at the p a s s e n g e r s . B u t w h e n h e grew w e a k , they had c o m p a s s i o n on him a n d h e l p e d h i m ; then he c o n f e s s e d h e did not deserve it at their h a n d s , h e h a d a b u s e d t h e m in word a n d d e e d . " O h ! " (saith he) "you, I now s e e , s h o w your love like C h r i s t i a n s i n d e e d o n e to a n o t h e r , but we let o n e a n o t h e r lie a n d die like d o g s . " A n o t h e r lay c u r s i n g his wife, saying if it h a d not b e e n for her he h a d never c o m e this unlucky voyage, a n d a n o n c u r s i n g his fellows, saying h e h a d d o n e this a n d that for s o m e of t h e m ; h e h a d spent so m u c h a n d s o m u c h a m o n g s t t h e m , a n d they were now weary of him a n d did not help h i m , having n e e d . A n o t h e r gave his c o m p a n i o n all he h a d , if he died, to help him in his w e a k n e s s ; h e went a n d got a little s p i c e a n d m a d e him a m e s s of m e a t o n c e or twice. A n d b e c a u s e h e died not s o s o o n as h e e x p e c t e d , he went a m o n g s t his fellows a n d swore the r o g u e would c o z e n 8 h i m , he would s e e him c h o k e d before h e m a d e him any m o r e m e a t ; a n d yet the p o o r fellow died b e f o r e m o r n i n g . [INDIAN RELATIONS]

All this while the Indians c a m e skulking a b o u t t h e m , a n d would s o m e t i m e s s h o w t h e m s e l v e s aloof off, b u t w h e n any a p p r o a c h e d n e a r t h e m , they would run away; a n d o n c e they stole away their tools w h e r e they h a d b e e n at work a n d were g o n e to dinner. B u t a b o u t the 16th of M a r c h , a certain Indian c a m e boldly a m o n g s t t h e m a n d s p o k e to t h e m in b r o k e n E n g l i s h , which they could well u n d e r s t a n d but marveled at it.'* At length they u n d e r s t o o d by disc o u r s e with him, that h e w a s not of t h e s e p a r t s , but b e l o n g e d to the e a s t e r n parts w h e r e s o m e E n g l i s h s h i p s c a m e to fish, with w h o m he w a s a c q u a i n t e d a n d c o u l d n a m e sundry of t h e m by their n a m e s , a m o n g s t w h o m he h a d got his l a n g u a g e . H e b e c a m e profitable to t h e m in a c q u a i n t i n g t h e m with m a n y things c o n c e r n i n g the s t a t e of the c o u n t r y in the east p a r t s where h e lived, which w a s afterwards profitable u n t o t h e m ; a s also of the p e o p l e h e r e , of their n a m e s , n u m b e r a n d s t r e n g t h , of their situation a n d d i s t a n c e from this p l a c e , a n d w h o w a s c h i e f a m o n g s t t h e m . His n a m e w a s S a m o s e t . H e told t h e m also of a n o t h e r Indian w h o s e n a m e w a s S q u a n t o , a native of this p l a c e , who h a d b e e n in E n g l a n d a n d c o u l d s p e a k better E n g l i s h t h a n himself. B e i n g , after s o m e time of e n t e r t a i n m e n t a n d gifts d i s m i s s e d , a while after he c a m e a g a i n , a n d five m o r e with him, a n d they b r o u g h t a g a i n all the tools that were stolen away b e f o r e , a n d m a d e way for the c o m i n g of their great S a c h e m , called M a s s a s o i t . W h o , a b o u t four or five days after, c a m e with the c h i e f of his friends a n d other a t t e n d a n c e , with the a f o r e s a i d S q u a n t o . W i t h w h o m , after friendly e n t e r t a i n m e n t a n d s o m e gifts given h i m , they m a d e a p e a c e with him (which hath now c o n t i n u e d this 2 4 y e a r s ) 1 in t h e s e t e r m s : 1. T h a t neither he nor any of his s h o u l d injure or d o hurt to any of their people. 8. Cheat. 9. S a m o s e t was an Algonquin sagamore of Pemaquid Point, Maine, a region much frequented hy English fishermen. He probably shipped with Captain Dernier from Monhegan to C a p e C o d shortly

before the Pilgrims landed and worked his way overland to Plymouth [Morison's note], 1. Morison notes that this passage "dates Bradford's writing of this chapter not earlier than 1644."

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2. T h a t if any of his did hurt to any of theirs, he s h o u l d s e n d the offender, that they might p u n i s h him. . , , ri 3. T h a t if anything were taken away from any of theirs, h e s h o u l d c a u s e it to be r e s t o r e d ; a n d they s h o u l d do the like to his. 4. If any did unjustly war a g a i n s t him, they would aid him; if any did war a g a i n s t t h e m , he s h o u l d aid t h e m . 5. H e s h o u l d s e n d to his n e i g h b o r s c o n f e d e r a t e s to certify t h e m of this, that they might not w r o n g t h e m , but might be likewise c o m p r i s e d in the c o n d i t i o n s of p e a c e . 6. T h a t w h e n their m e n c a m e to t h e m , they s h o u l d leave their b o w s and arrows b e h i n d t h e m . After t h e s e things he returned to his p l a c e called S o w a m s , s o m e 4 0 miles from this p l a c e , but S q u a n t o c o n t i n u e d with t h e m a n d w a s their interpreter a n d w a s a special i n s t r u m e n t sent of G o d for their g o o d beyond their expectation. H e directed t h e m how to set their c o r n , w h e r e to take fish, a n d to p r o c u r e other c o m m o d i t i e s , a n d w a s a l s o their pilot to bring t h e m to u n k n o w n p l a c e s for their profit, a n d never left t h e m till h e died. H e w a s a native of this p l a c e , a n d s c a r c e any left alive b e s i d e s himself. H e w a s carried away with divers others by o n e H u n t , a m a s t e r of a s h i p , w h o t h o u g h t to sell t h e m for slaves in S p a i n . B u t he got away for E n g l a n d a n d w a s e n t e r t a i n e d by a m e r c h a n t in L o n d o n , a n d e m p l o y e d to N e w f o u n d l a n d a n d other p a r t s , a n d lastly b r o u g h t hither into t h e s e parts by o n e Mr. D e r m e r , a g e n t l e m a n e m p l o y e d by Sir F e r d i n a n d o G o r g e s a n d others for discovery a n d other d e s i g n s in these parts. O f w h o m I shall say s o m e t h i n g , b e c a u s e it is m e n tioned in a book set forth A n n o 1 6 2 2 by the P r e s i d e n t a n d C o u n c i l for N e w E n g l a n d , 2 that he m a d e the p e a c e b e t w e e n the s a v a g e s of t h e s e p a r t s a n d the English, of which this plantation, a s it is i n t i m a t e d , h a d the benefit; but what a p e a c e it w a s m a y a p p e a r by what befell him a n d his m e n . T h i s Mr. D e r m e r w a s here the s a m e year that t h e s e p e o p l e c a m e , a s a p p e a r s by a relation written by him a n d given m e by a friend, b e a r i n g d a t e J u n e 3 0 , A n n o 1 6 2 0 . A n d they c a m e in N o v e m b e r following, so there w a s but four m o n t h s difference. In which relation to his h o n o r e d friend, he hath these p a s s a g e s of this very p l a c e : I will first begin (saith he) with that p l a c e from w h e n c e S q u a n t o or T i s q u a n t u m , w a s taken away; which in C a p t a i n S m i t h ' s m a p 3 is called P l y m o u t h ; a n d I would that P l y m o u t h h a d the like c o m m o d i t i e s . I would that the first plantation might here be s e a t e d , if there c o m e to the n u m ber of 5 0 p e r s o n s , or u p w a r d . O t h e r w i s e , C h a r l t o n , 4 b e c a u s e there the savages are less to be feared. T h e P o c a n o c k e t s , 5 which live to the west of P l y m o u t h , b e a r a n inveterate m a l i c e to the E n g l i s h , a n d are of m o r e strength than all the s a v a g e s from t h e n c e to P e n o b s c o t . T h e i r desire of revenge was o c c a s i o n e d by an E n g l i s h m a n , w h o having m a n y of t h e m on b o a r d , m a d e a greater s l a u g h t e r with their m u r d e r e r s 6 a n d small shot w h e n as (they say) they offered no injury on their p a r t s . W h e t h e r they 2. Bradford is referring to Sir Ferdinando Gorges (c. 1 5 6 6 - 1 6 4 7 ) , whose A Brie/e Relation of the Discovery and Plantation of New England was published in 1622. 3. Captain John Smith ( 1 5 8 0 - 1 6 3 1 ) published his Description of New England in 1616, following

his 1614 voyage. Tisquantum is Squanto's Indian name. 4. Near the mouth of the Charles River. 5. Identical to the W a m p a n o a g s , the tribe of Massasoit. S a m o s e t was an Algonquin. 6. Small cannons.

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were E n g l i s h or no it m a y b e d o u b t e d ; yet they believe they w e r e , for the F r e n c h have so p o s s e s s e d t h e m . F o r w h i c h c a u s e S q u a n t o c a n n o t deny b u t they w o u l d have killed m e w h e n I w a s at N a m a s k e t , h a d h e not e n t r e a t e d h a r d for m e . T h e soil of the b o r d e r s of this great bay m a y b e c o m p a r e d to m o s t of the p l a n t a t i o n s which I have s e e n in Virginia. T h e l a n d is of divers sorts, for Patuxet is a hardy b u t s t r o n g soil; N a u s e t a n d S a t u c k e t are for the m o s t part a b l a c k i s h a n d d e e p m o u l d m u c h like that w h e r e groweth the b e s t t o b a c c o in Virginia. 7 In the b o t t o m of that great bay is store of c o d a n d b a s s or m u l l e t , etc. B u t a b o v e all he c o m m e n d s P o c a n o c k e t for the richest soil, a n d m u c h o p e n g r o u n d fit for E n g l i s h grain, e t c . M a s s a c h u s e t t s is a b o u t nine l e a g u e s from P l y m o u t h , a n d s i t u a t e d in the m i d s t b e t w e e n b o t h , is full of i s l a n d s a n d p e n i n s u l a s , very fertile for the m o s t part. W i t h s u n d r y s u c h relations w h i c h I forbear to t r a n s c r i b e , b e i n g now better known than they were to h i m . H e w a s taken p r i s o n e r by the I n d i a n s at M a n a m o y i c k , 8 a p l a c e not far from h e n c e , now well k n o w n . H e g a v e t h e m what they d e m a n d e d for his liberty, but w h e n they h a d got what they d e s i r e d , they kept h i m still, a n d e n d e a v o r e d to kill his m e n . B u t h e w a s freed by seizing o n s o m e of t h e m a n d kept t h e m b o u n d till they g a v e h i m a c a n o e ' s load of c o r n . O f w h i c h , s e e Purchas, lib. 9 , fol. 1 7 7 8 . 9 B u t this w a s A n n o 1 6 1 9 . After the writing of the former relation, he c a m e to the Isle of C a p a w a c k 1 (which lies s o u t h of this p l a c e in the way to Virginia) a n d the a f o r e s a i d S q u a n t o with h i m , w h e r e he g o i n g a s h o r e a m o n g s t the I n d i a n s to t r a d e , a s he u s e d to d o , w a s b e t r a y e d a n d a s s a u l t e d by t h e m , a n d all his m e n slain, but o n e that kept the b o a t . B u t h i m s e l f got a b o a r d very sore w o u n d e d , a n d they h a d c u t off his h e a d u p o n the c u d d y of the b o a t , h a d not the m a n r e s c u e d him with a sword. A n d s o they got away a n d m a d e shift to get into Virginia w h e r e he d i e d , w h e t h e r of his w o u n d s or the d i s e a s e s of the country, or both together, is u n c e r t a i n . By all w h i c h it m a y a p p e a r how far t h e s e p e o p l e were from p e a c e , a n d with w h a t d a n g e r this p l a n t a t i o n w a s b e g u n , save a s the powerful h a n d of the L o r d did protect t h e m . T h e s e things were partly the r e a s o n why they 2 kept a l o o f a n d w e r e s o l o n g b e f o r e they c a m e to the E n g l i s h . A n o t h e r r e a s o n a s after t h e m s e l v e s m a d e known w a s h o w a b o u t three years b e f o r e , a F r e n c h ship w a s c a s t a w a y at C a p e C o d , b u t the m e n got a s h o r e a n d s a v e d their lives, a n d m u c h of their victuals a n d other g o o d s . B u t after the I n d i a n s h e a r d of it, they g a t h e r e d together from t h e s e p a r t s a n d never left w a t c h i n g a n d d o g g i n g t h e m till they got a d v a n t a g e a n d killed t h e m all b u t three or four which they kept, a n d sent from o n e s a c h e m to a n o t h e r to m a k e sport with, a n d u s e d t h e m w o r s e t h a n 7. Morison notes that Dermer's description of the soil of C a p e C o d would not accurately describe the soil today. Patuxet ("at the little falls") was the Indian name for the site of Plymouth. Nauset, named for the Indian tribe, was near present-day Eastham. Satucket ("near the mouth of the stream") was a Nauset village close to the town of Brewster. 8. Or Monomoit, once a harbor near Pleasant Bay in contemporary Orleans and Harwich.

9. S a m u e l Purchas (1577—1626) was an English clergyman and compiler of travel literature, famous for his publication of the papers of Richard Hakluyt (c. 1552—1616) in four volumes in 1625. Bradford's reference is to volume 4, book 9, p. 1778 of Purchase His Pilgrimes. "Lib.": abbreviation for liher, or "book" (Latin). "Fol.": abbreviation for folio, or "sheet" (Latin). 1. Martha's Vineyard. 2. T h e Indians.

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slaves. O f which the aforesaid M r . D e r m e r r e d e e m e d two of t h e m ; a n d they c o n c e i v e d this s h i p ' w a s now c o m e to revenge it. Also, a s after w a s m a d e known, before they c a m e to the E n g l i s h to m a k e friendship, they got all the P o w a c h s 4 of the country, for three days together in a horrid a n d devilish m a n n e r , to c u r s e a n d execrate t h e m with their c o n j u r a t i o n s , which a s s e m b l y a n d service they held in a dark a n d d i s m a l s w a m p . B u t to return. T h e spring now a p p r o a c h i n g , it p l e a s e d G o d the mortality b e g a n to c e a s e a m o n g s t t h e m , a n d the sick a n d l a m e r e c o v e r e d a p a c e , which p u t a s [it] were new life into t h e m , t h o u g h they h a d b o r n e their s a d affliction with m u c h p a t i e n c e a n d c o n t e n t e d n e s s a s I think any p e o p l e c o u l d d o . B u t it w a s the L o r d which u p h e l d t h e m , a n d h a d b e f o r e h a n d p r e p a r e d t h e m ; m a n y having long b o r n e the yoke, yea from their youth. M a n y other s m a l l e r m a t t e r s I o m i t , sundry of t h e m having b e e n already p u b l i s h e d in a j o u r n a l m a d e by o n e of the c o m p a n y , 5 a n d s o m e other p a s s a g e s of j o u r n e y s a n d relations already p u b l i s h e d , to which I refer t h o s e that are willing to know t h e m m o r e particularly. A n d b e i n g now c o m e to the 2 5 t h of M a r c h , I shall begin the year 1 6 2 1 . FROM

C H A P T E R XII.

* [FIRST

*

ANNO

1621

*

THANKSGIVING]

T h e y b e g a n now to g a t h e r in the small harvest they h a d , a n d to fit u p their h o u s e s a n d dwellings a g a i n s t winter, b e i n g all well recovered in health a n d strength a n d h a d all things in g o o d plenty. F o r a s s o m e were t h u s e m p l o y e d in affairs a b r o a d , others were exercised in fishing, a b o u t c o d a n d b a s s a n d other fish, of which they took g o o d s t o r e , of which every family h a d their portion. All the s u m m e r there w a s no w a n t ; 6 a n d now b e g a n to c o m e in store of fowl, as winter a p p r o a c h e d , of which this p l a c e did a b o u n d w h e n they c a m e first (but afterward d e c r e a s e d by d e g r e e s ) . A n d b e s i d e s waterfowl there was great store of wild turkeys, of which they took m a n y , b e s i d e s v e n i s o n , etc. B e s i d e s they h a d a b o u t a p e c k a m e a l a week to a p e r s o n , or now s i n c e harvest, Indian corn to that proportion. W h i c h m a d e m a n y afterwards write so largely of their plenty here to their friends in E n g l a n d , which were not feigned but true reports. FROM

C H A P T E R XIX.

[THOMAS

MORTON

ANNO DOM:

OF

1628

MERRYMOUNT]7

A b o u t s o m e three or four years before this t i m e , there c a m e over o n e C a p t a i n W o l l a s t o n (a m a n of pretty parts") a n d with him three or four m o r e 3. I.e., the Mayflower. 4. Medicine men. 5. Mourt's Relation ( 1 6 2 2 ) . 6. Lack. 7. Almost nothing is known of either T h o m a s Morton or Captain Wollaston other than what Bradford tells us. By all accounts Morton left England with a bad reputation and a history of

unrest behind him. Unlike the Puritans, however, Morton relished the sensuality of the wild and took great pleasure in the American landscape. Bradford tells us that Morton did not think that "in all the world it could be paralleled" for its plenitude and beauty. 8. I.e., of a clever nature.

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of s o m e e m i n e n c y , w h o brought with t h e m a great m a n y servants, with provisions a n d other i m p l e m e n t s for to begin a p l a n t a t i o n . A n d p i t c h e d t h e m selves in a p l a c e within the M a s s a c h u s e t t s which they called after their Captain's name, Mount Wollaston. Amongst whom was one Mr. Morton, w h o it s h o u l d s e e m h a d s o m e small a d v e n t u r e of his own or other m e n ' s a m o n g s t t h e m , but h a d little r e s p e c t a m o n g s t t h e m , a n d w a s slighted by the m e a n e s t servants. H a v i n g c o n t i n u e d t h e r e s o m e t i m e , a n d not finding things to a n s w e r their e x p e c t a t i o n s nor profit to arise a s they looked for, C a p t a i n W o l l a s t o n takes a great part of the s e r v a n t s 9 a n d t r a n s p o r t s t h e m to Virginia, where h e p u t s t h e m off at g o o d rates, selling their time to other m e n ; a n d writes b a c k to o n e Mr. R a s d a l l (one of his c h i e f p a r t n e r s a n d a c c o u n t e d their m e r c h a n t ) to bring a n o t h e r part of t h e m to Virginia likewise, i n t e n d i n g to put t h e m off there a s h e h a d d o n e the rest. A n d h e , with the c o n s e n t of the said R a s d a l l , a p p o i n t e d o n e Fitcher to be his L i e u t e n a n t a n d govern the r e m a i n s of the Plantation till he or Rasdall r e t u r n e d to take further order t h e r e a b o u t . B u t this M o r t o n a b o v e s a i d , having m o r e craft than honesty (who h a d b e e n a kind of pettifogger of Furnival's Inn) in the o t h e r s ' a b s e n c e w a t c h e s a n opportunity ( c o m m o n s b e i n g but hard a m o n g s t t h e m ) 1 a n d got s o m e strong drink a n d other j u n k e t s 2 a n d m a d e t h e m a feast; a n d after they were merry, he b e g a n to tell t h e m h e would give t h e m g o o d c o u n s e l . "You s e e , " saith h e , "that m a n y of your fellows a r e carried to Virginia, a n d if you stay till this R a s d a l l return, you will also b e carried away a n d sold for slaves with the rest. T h e r e f o r e I w o u l d advise you to thrust o u t this L i e u t e n a n t Fitcher, a n d I, having a part in the P l a n t a t i o n , will receive you a s my p a r t n e r s a n d c o n s o c i a t e s ; s o m a y you be free from service, a n d w e will c o n v e r s e , p l a n t , trade, a n d live together a s e q u a l s a n d s u p p o r t a n d protect o n e a n o t h e r , " or to like effect. T h i s c o u n s e l w a s easily received, so they took o p p o r t u n i t y a n d thrust L i e u t e n a n t Fitcher out o' d o o r s , a n d w o u l d suffer him to c o m e n o m o r e a m o n g s t t h e m , but forced him to s e e k b r e a d to e a t a n d other relief from his n e i g h b o r s till he c o u l d get p a s s a g e for E n g l a n d . After this they fell to great l i c e n t i o u s n e s s a n d led a d i s s o l u t e life, p o u r i n g out t h e m s e l v e s into all p r o f a n e n e s s . A n d M o r t o n b e c a m e L o r d of M i s r u l e , * a n d m a i n t a i n e d (as it were) a S c h o o l of A t h e i s m . A n d after they had got s o m e g o o d s into their h a n d s , a n d got m u c h by t r a d i n g with the I n d i a n s , they spent it as vainly in quaffing a n d drinking, both wine a n d s t r o n g w a t e r s in great e x c e s s ( a n d , a s s o m e reported) £ 1 0 worth in a m o r n i n g . T h e y a l s o set u p a m a y p o l e , drinking a n d d a n c i n g a b o u t it m a n y days together, inviting the Indian w o m e n for their c o n s o r t s , d a n c i n g a n d frisking together like s o m a n y fairies, or furies, rather; a n d w o r s e p r a c t i c e s . As if they h a d a n e w revived a n d c e l e b r a t e d the feasts of the R o m a n g o d d e s s F l o r a , or the beastly p r a c t i c e s of the m a d B a c c h a n a l i a n s . 4 M o r t o n likewise, to s h o w his poetry c o m p o s e d sundry rhymes a n d v e r s e s , s o m e t e n d i n g to l a s c i v i o u s n e s s , a n d 9. A servant was anyone who worked for another in agriculture or domestic economy. An indentured servant was one who agreed to work for another for seven years to pay for transportation to the New World. 1. I.e., there were few responsible citizens a m o n g them. "Pettifogger": a shifty lawyer. Furnival's Inn was a lawyers' building in the city of London. 2. Delicacies; food for banqueting. 3. One who presides over games and revels, usu-

ally at Christmastime in a great person's house; here one who presides over revelry and licentiousness. 4. At the Bacchanalia, or revels in honor of Bacchus (god of wine), frenzied worshipers drank, danced, and even tore apart wild animals and devoured them. Flora was the Roman goddess of flowers and vegetation whose cult was celebrated with highly indecent farces.

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others to the detraction a n d s c a n d a l of s o m e p e r s o n s , which h e affixed to this idle or idol m a y p o l e . T h e y c h a n g e d a l s o the n a m e of their p l a c e , a n d i n s t e a d of calling it M o u n t W o l l a s t o n they call it M e r r y - m o u n t , a s if this jollity would have lasted ever. B u t this c o n t i n u e d not long, for after M o r t o n w a s sent for E n g l a n d fas follows to b e d e c l a r e d ) shortly after c a m e over that worthy g e n t l e m a n M r . J o h n E n d i c o t t , who b r o u g h t over a p a t e n t u n d e r the b r o a d seal for the g o v e r n m e n t of the M a s s a c h u s e t t s . W h o , visiting t h o s e p a r t s , c a u s e d that m a y p o l e to be c u t d o w n a n d r e b u k e d t h e m for the prof a n e n e s s a n d a d m o n i s h e d t h e m to look there s h o u l d b e better walking. S o they or others now c h a n g e d the n a m e of their p l a c e a g a i n a n d called it M o u n t Dagon.5 N o w to m a i n t a i n this riotous prodigality a n d p r o f u s e e x c e s s , M o r t o n , thinking h i m s e l f lawless, a n d hearing what gain the F r e n c h a n d fishermen m a d e by trading of p i e c e s , 6 p o w d e r a n d shot to the I n d i a n s , h e a s the h e a d of this c o n s o r t s h i p b e g a n the p r a c t i c e of the s a m e in t h e s e p a r t s . A n d first he taught t h e m how to u s e t h e m , to c h a r g e a n d d i s c h a r g e , a n d what proportion of p o w d e r to give the p i e c e , a c c o r d i n g to the size or b i g n e s s of the s a m e ; a n d what shot to u s e for fowl a n d what for deer. A n d having t h u s instructed t h e m , he e m p l o y e d s o m e of t h e m to hunt a n d fowl for him, s o a s they b e c a m e far m o r e active in that e m p l o y m e n t than any of the E n g l i s h , by r e a s o n of their swiftness of foot a n d n i m b l e n e s s of body, b e i n g also quicksighted a n d by c o n t i n u a l exercise well knowing the h a u n t s of all sorts of g a m e . S o a s w h e n they s a w the e x e c u t i o n that a p i e c e w o u l d d o , a n d the benefit that might c o m e by the s a m e , they b e c a m e m a d (as it were) after them a n d would not stick to give any price they c o u l d attain to for t h e m ; a c c o u n t i n g their b o w s a n d arrows but b a u b l e s in c o m p a r i s o n of t h e m . *

*

8

This M o r t o n having t h u s t a u g h t t h e m the u s e of p i e c e s , h e sold t h e m all he c o u l d s p a r e , a n d he a n d his c o n s o r t s d e t e r m i n e d to s e n d for m a n y o u t of E n g l a n d a n d h a d by s o m e of the s h i p s sent for a b o v e a s c o r e . T h e which being k n o w n , a n d his n e i g h b o r s m e e t i n g the I n d i a n s in the w o o d s a r m e d with g u n s in this sort, it w a s a terror u n t o t h e m w h o lived stragglingly 7 a n d were of no strength in any p l a c e . A n d other p l a c e s ( t h o u g h m o r e r e m o t e ) saw this m i s c h i e f would quickly s p r e a d over all, if not p r e v e n t e d . B e s i d e s , they saw they s h o u l d keep no servants, for M o r t o n would entertain any, how vile soever, a n d all the s c u m of the country or any d i s c o n t e n t s would flock to him from all p l a c e s , if this nest w a s not b r o k e n . A n d they s h o u l d s t a n d in m o r e fear of their lives a n d g o o d s in short time from this wicked a n d d e b a s e d crew than from the s a v a g e s t h e m s e l v e s . S o sundry of the chief of the straggling p l a n t a t i o n s , m e e t i n g together, a g r e e d by m u t u a l c o n s e n t to solicit t h o s e of P l y m o u t h (who were then of m o r e strength than t h e m all) to j o i n with t h e m to prevent the further growth of this mischief, a n d s u p p r e s s M o r t o n a n d his c o n s o r t s before they grew to further head a n d strength. T h o s e that j o i n e d in this a c t i o n , a n d after c o n tributed to the c h a r g e of s e n d i n g him for E n g l a n d , were from P i s c a t a q u a , 5. Named after the god of the Philistines: "Then the lords of the Philistines gathered them together for to offer a great sacrifice unto Dagon their god, and to rejoice: for they said, Our god hath delivered

S a m s o n our enemy into our hand" (Judges 16.23). 6. G u n s . 7. Spread out in a scattered fashion; far apart.

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N a u m k e a g , W i n n i s i m m e t , W e s s a g u s s e t , N a n t a s k e t a n d other p l a c e s w h e r e any E n g l i s h were s e a t e d . T h o s e of P l y m o u t h b e i n g t h u s s o u g h t to by their m e s s e n g e r s a n d letters, a n d w e i g h i n g b o t h their r e a s o n s a n d the c o m m o n d a n g e r , were willing to afford t h e m their help t h o u g h t h e m s e l v e s h a d least c a u s e of fear or hurt. S o , to b e short, they first resolved jointly to write to h i m , a n d in a friendly a n d neighborly way to a d m o n i s h him to f o r b e a r t h o s e c o u r s e s , a n d sent a m e s s e n g e r with their letters to bring his a n s w e r . B u t he w a s s o high a s he s c o r n e d all advice, a n d a s k e d w h o h a d to do with h i m , he h a d a n d would trade p i e c e s with the I n d i a n s , in d e s p i t e of all, with m a n y other s c u r r i l o u s t e r m s full of d i s d a i n . T h e y sent to him a s e c o n d time a n d b a d e him b e better advised a n d m o r e t e m p e r a t e in his t e r m s , for the country c o u l d not b e a r the injury h e did. It w a s a g a i n s t their c o m m o n safety a n d a g a i n s t the King's p r o c l a m a t i o n . H e a n s w e r e d in high t e r m s a s b e f o r e ; a n d that the King's p r o c l a m a t i o n w a s n o law, d e m a n d i n g w h a t penalty w a s u p o n it. It w a s a n s w e r e d , m o r e t h a n h e c o u l d b e a r — H i s M a j e s t y ' s displeas u r e . B u t insolently h e p e r s i s t e d a n d s a i d the King w a s d e a d a n d his disp l e a s u r e with him, a n d m a n y the like t h i n g s . A n d t h r e a t e n e d withal that if any c a m e to m o l e s t him, let t h e m look to t h e m s e l v e s for h e w o u l d p r e p a r e for t h e m . U p o n which they s a w there w a s n o way b u t to take him by force; a n d having s o far p r o c e e d e d , n o w to give over w o u l d m a k e him far m o r e haughty a n d insolent. S o they m u t u a l l y resolved to p r o c e e d , a n d o b t a i n e d of the G o v e r n o r of P l y m o u t h to s e n d C a p t a i n S t a n d i s h a n d s o m e other aid with h i m , to take M o r t o n by f o r c e . T h e w h i c h a c c o r d i n g l y w a s d o n e . B u t they found him to s t a n d stiffly in his d e f e n s e , having m a d e fast his d o o r s , a r m e d his c o n s o r t s , set divers d i s h e s of p o w d e r a n d bullets ready o n the t a b l e ; a n d if they h a d not b e e n over-armed with drink, m o r e hurt m i g h t have b e e n d o n e . T h e y s u m m o n e d him to yield, b u t he kept his h o u s e a n d they c o u l d get n o t h i n g but scoffs a n d s c o r n s from h i m . B u t at l e n g t h , fearing they w o u l d do s o m e violence to the h o u s e , he a n d s o m e of his c r e w c a m e out, b u t not to yield b u t to s h o o t ; but they were s o s t e e l e d 8 with drink a s their p i e c e s were too heavy for t h e m . H i m s e l f with a c a r b i n e , o v e r c h a r g e d a n d a l m o s t half filled with p o w d e r a n d shot, as w a s after f o u n d , h a d t h o u g h t to have shot C a p t a i n S t a n d i s h ; b u t h e s t e p p e d to him a n d p u t by his p i e c e a n d t o o k t h e m . N e i t h e r w a s there any hurt d o n e to any of either s i d e , save that o n e w a s so d r u n k that he r a n his own n o s e u p o n the point of a sword that o n e held b e f o r e h i m , a s he e n t e r e d the h o u s e ; but he lost b u t a little of his hot blood.9 M o r t o n they b r o u g h t away to P l y m o u t h , w h e r e he w a s kept till a ship went from the Isle of S h o a l s for E n g l a n d , with which h e w a s sent to the C o u n c i l of N e w E n g l a n d , a n d letters written to give t h e m i n f o r m a t i o n of his c o u r s e a n d c a r r i a g e . A n d a l s o o n e w a s s e n t at their c o m m o n c h a r g e to inform their H o n o r s m o r e particularly a n d to p r o s e c u t e a g a i n s t h i m . B u t h e fooled of the m e s s e n g e r , after h e w a s g o n e from h e n c e , a n d t h o u g h h e w e n t for E n g l a n d yet n o t h i n g w a s d o n e to him, not so m u c h a s r e b u k e d , for a u g h t w a s h e a r d , 8. Insensible. 9. Morton refers to Captain Standish in his New English Canaan ( 1 6 3 7 ) as "Captain S h r i m p , " and tells us that it would have been easy for him to destroy these nine "worthies" like a "flock of wild

g e e s e " but that he loathed violence and asked for his freedom to leave. H e suggests that he was treated brutally b e c a u s e the Puritans wished to s h a m e him before the Nausets.

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but returned the next year. S o m e of the worst of the c o m p a n y were d i s p e r s e d a n d s o m e of the m o r e m o d e s t kept the h o u s e till he s h o u l d be heard from. B u t 1 have b e e n too long a b o u t so unworthy a p e r s o n , a n d b a d a c a u s e .

FROM

C H A P T E R XXIII. a

[PROSPERITY

BRINGS

*

ANNO DOM:

1632

*

DISPERSAL

OF

POPULATION]

A l s o the p e o p l e of the P l a n t a t i o n b e g a n to grow in their o u t w a r d e s t a t e s , by r e a s o n of the flowing of m a n y p e o p l e into the country, especially into the Bay of the M a s s a c h u s e t t s . By which m e a n s c o r n a n d cattle rose to a great p r i c e , by which m a n y were m u c h e n r i c h e d a n d c o m m o d i t i e s grew plentiful. A n d yet in other regards this benefit turned to their hurt, a n d this a c c e s s i o n of strength to their w e a k n e s s . F o r now a s their stocks i n c r e a s e d a n d the i n c r e a s e v e n d i b l e , 1 there w a s no longer any holding t h e m together, b u t now they m u s t of n e c e s s i t y go to their great lots. T h e y c o u l d not otherwise keep their cattle, a n d having oxen grown they m u s t have land for plowing a n d tillage. A n d n o m a n now thought he c o u l d live except he h a d cattle a n d a great deal of g r o u n d to k e e p t h e m , all striving to i n c r e a s e their s t o c k s . By which m e a n s they were s c a t t e r e d all over the Bay quickly a n d the town in which they lived c o m p a c t l y till now w a s left very thin a n d in a short time almost desolate. A n d if this h a d b e e n all, it h a d b e e n l e s s , t h o u g h too m u c h ; b u t the c h u r c h m u s t a l s o be divided, a n d t h o s e that h a d lived so long together in C h r i s t i a n a n d c o m f o r t a b l e fellowship m u s t now part a n d suffer m a n y divisions. First, those that lived on their lots on the other side of the Bay, called Duxbury, they c o u l d not long bring their wives a n d children to the p u b l i c w o r s h i p a n d c h u r c h m e e t i n g s h e r e , b u t with s u c h b u r t h e n a s , growing to s o m e c o m p e t e n t n u m b e r , they s u e d to b e d i s m i s s e d a n d b e c o m e a body of t h e m s e l v e s . A n d so they were d i s m i s s e d a b o u t this t i m e , t h o u g h very unwillingly. B u t to t o u c h this s a d matter, a n d h a n d l e things together that fell o u t afterward; to prevent any further s c a t t e r i n g from this p l a c e a n d w e a k e n i n g of the s a m e , it w a s thought b e s t to give o u t s o m e g o o d f a r m s to special p e r s o n s that would p r o m i s e to live at P l y m o u t h , a n d likely to be helpful to the c h u r c h or c o m m o n w e a l t h , a n d so tie the lands to P l y m o u t h a s f a r m s for the s a m e ; a n d there they might keep their cattle a n d tillage by s o m e servants a n d retain their dwellings h e r e . A n d s o s o m e special l a n d s were g r a n t e d at a p l a c e general called G r e e n ' s H a r b o r , where no a l l o t m e n t s h a d b e e n in the former division, a p l a c e very well m e a d o w e d a n d fit to k e e p a n d rear cattle g o o d store. B u t a l a s , this remedy proved worse than the d i s e a s e ; for within a few years t h o s e that had t h u s got footing there rent t h e m s e l v e s away, partly by force a n d partly w e a r i n g the rest with importunity a n d p l e a s of n e c e s s i t y , s o a s they m u s t either suffer t h e m to go or live in c o n t i n u a l o p p o s i t i o n a n d c o n t e n t i o n . And other still, as they c o n c e i v e d t h e m s e l v e s s t r a i t e n e d 2 or to want a c c o m m o d a t i o n , broke away u n d e r o n e p r e t e n c e or other, thinking their own c o n c e i v e d necessity a n d the e x a m p l e of others a warrant sufficient

I. Saleable.

2. Financially hampered.

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for t h e m . A n d this I fear will be the ruin of N e w E n g l a n d , at least of the c h u r c h e s of G o d there, a n d will provoke the Lord's d i s p l e a s u r e a g a i n s t t h e m .

1635

1637

JOHN

WINTHROP

1588-1649 John Winthrop, the son of Adam Winthrop, a lawyer, and Anne Browne, the daughter of a tradesman, was born in Groton, England, on an estate that his father purchased from Henry VIII. It was a prosperous farm, and Winthrop had all the advantages that his father's social and economic position would allow. He went to Cambridge University for two years and married at the age of seventeen. It was probably at Cambridge University that Winthrop was exposed to Puritan ideas. Unlike Bradford and the Pilgrims, however, Winthrop was not a Separatist; that is, he wished to reform the national church from within, purging it of everything that harked back to Rome, especially the hierarchy of the clergy and all the traditional Catholic rituals. For a time Winthrop thought of becoming a clergyman himself, but instead he turned to the practice of law. In the 1620s severe economic depression in England made Winthrop realize that he could not depend on the support of his father's estate. The ascension of Charles 1 to the throne—who was known to be sympathetic to Roman Catholicism and impatient with Puritan reformers—was also taken as an ominous sign for Puritans, and Winthrop was not alone in predicting that "God will bring some heavy affliction upon the land, and that speedily." Winthrop came to realize that he could not antagonize the king by expressing openly the Puritan cause without losing all that he possessed. The only recourse seemed to be to obtain the king's permission to emigrate. In March of 1629 a group of enterprising merchants, all sympathetic believers, were able to get a charter from the Council for New England for land in the New World. They called themselves "The Company of Massachusetts Bay in New England." From four candidates, Winthrop was chosen governor in October 1629; for the next twenty years most of the responsibility for the colony rested in his hands. On April 8, 1630, an initial group of some seven hundred emigrants sailed from England. The ship carrying Winthrop was called the Arbella. Either just before departing from England or on the high seas, Winthrop delivered his sermon A Model of Christian Charity. It set out clearly and eloquently the ideals of a harmonious Christian community and reminded all those on board that they would stand as an example to the world either of the triumph or else the failure of this Christian enterprise. When Cotton Mather wrote his history of New England some fifty years after Winthrop's death, he chose Winthrop as his model of the perfect earthly ruler. Although the actual history of the colony showed that Winthrop's ideal of a perfectly selfless community was impossible to realize in fact, Winthrop emerges from the story as a man of unquestioned integrity and deep humanity.

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A Model of Christian Charity1 1 A

MODEL

HEREOF

G o d Almighty in His m o s t holy a n d wise p r o v i d e n c e , h a t h s o d i s p o s e d of the condition of m a n k i n d , a s in all times s o m e m u s t be rich, s o m e poor, s o m e high a n d e m i n e n t in power a n d dignity; others m e a n a n d in s u b j e c t i o n . THE

REASON

HEREOF

First, to hold conformity with the rest of His works, being delighted to show forth the glory of His w i s d o m in the variety a n d difference of the creat u r e s ; a n d the glory of His power, in ordering all t h e s e differences for the preservation a n d good of the w h o l e ; a n d the glory of His g r e a t n e s s , that as it is the glory of p r i n c e s to have m a n y officers, s o this great K i n g will have m a n y s t e w a r d s , c o u n t i n g H i m s e l f m o r e h o n o r e d in d i s p e n s i n g His gifts to m a n by m a n , than if H e did it by His own i m m e d i a t e h a n d s . S e c o n d l y , that H e might have the m o r e o c c a s i o n to m a n i f e s t the work of His Spirit: first u p o n the wicked in m o d e r a t i n g a n d restraining t h e m , s o that the rich a n d mighty s h o u l d not eat u p the poor, nor the p o o r a n d d e s p i s e d rise up a g a i n s t their superiors a n d s h a k e off their yoke; secondly in the regenerate, in exercising H i s g r a c e s , in t h e m , a s in the great o n e s , their love, mercy, g e n t l e n e s s , t e m p e r a n c e , e t c . , in the p o o r a n d inferior sort, their faith, patience, obedience, etc. Thirdly, that every m a n might have n e e d of other, a n d from h e n c e they might be all knit m o r e nearly together in the b o n d s of brotherly affection. F r o m h e n c e it a p p e a r s plainly that n o m a n is m a d e m o r e h o n o r a b l e t h a n a n o t h e r or m o r e wealthy, e t c . , o u t of any particular a n d s i n g u l a r r e s p e c t to himself, but for the glory of his C r e a t o r a n d the c o m m o n g o o d of the c r e a ture, m a n . T h e r e f o r e G o d still reserves the property of t h e s e gifts to H i m s e l f as [in] Ezekiel: 1 6 . 1 7 . H e there calls wealth His gold a n d His silver. 2 [In] Proverbs: 3.9, he c l a i m s their service a s H i s d u e : h o n o r the L o r d with thy r i c h e s , e t c . ' All m e n being t h u s (by divine providence) ranked into two sorts, rich a n d poor; under the first a r e c o m p r e h e n d e d all s u c h as are a b l e to live comfortably by their own m e a n s duly improved; a n d all others are p o o r a c c o r d i n g to the former distribution. T h e r e are two rules whereby we are to walk o n e towards a n o t h e r : j u s t i c e and mercy. T h e s e are always d i s t i n g u i s h e d in their act a n d in their o b j e c t , yet m a y they both c o n c u r in the s a m e s u b j e c t in e a c h r e s p e c t ; a s s o m e t i m e s there m a y be a n o c c a s i o n of s h o w i n g mercy to a rich m a n in s o m e s u d d e n d a n g e r of distress, a n d a l s o doing of m e r e j u s t i c e to a p o o r m a n in regard of s o m e particular c o n t r a c t , etc. 1. T h e text is from Old South Leaflets, Old South Association, Old South Meetinghouse, Boston, Massachusetts, No. 207, edited by Samuel Fliot Morison. The original manuscript for Winthrop's sermon is lost, but a copy made during Winthrop's lifetime was published by the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1838. 2. "Thou hast also taken thy fair jewels of my gold

and of my silver, which I had given thee, and madest to thyself images of men, and didst commit whoredom with them." 3. "Honour the Lord with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of all thine increase: S o shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine" (Proverbs 3.9—10).

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T h e r e is likewise a d o u b l e law by w h i c h we are r e g u l a t e d in our conversation o n e towards a n o t h e r in both the former r e s p e c t s : the law of n a t u r e a n d the law of g r a c e , or the moral law or the law of t h e G o s p e l , to o m i t the rule of j u s t i c e as not properly b e l o n g i n g to this p u r p o s e otherwise than it m a y fall into c o n s i d e r a t i o n in s o m e p a r t i c u l a r c a s e s . B y the first of t h e s e laws m a n a s he w a s e n a b l e d so withal [is] c o m m a n d e d to love his n e i g h b o r a s himself. 4 U p o n this g r o u n d s t a n d s all the p r e c e p t s of the m o r a l law, which c o n c e r n s o u r d e a l i n g s with m e n . T o apply this to the works of m e r c y , this law r e q u i r e s two things: first, that every m a n afford his help to a n o t h e r in every want or d i s t r e s s ; secondly, that he p e r f o r m e d this o u t of the s a m e affection w h i c h m a k e s him careful of his own g o o d s , a c c o r d i n g to that of o u r Savior. M a t t h e w : " W h a t s o e v e r ye w o u l d that m e n s h o u l d do to y o u . " 5 T h i s w a s p r a c t i c e d by A b r a h a m a n d L ot in e n t e r t a i n i n g the A n g e l s a n d the old m a n of G i b e a h . 6 T h e law of g r a c e or the G o s p e l hath s o m e difference from the former, a s in t h e s e r e s p e c t s : First, the law of n a t u r e w a s given to m a n in the e s t a t e of i n n o ce n cy; this of the G o s p e l in the e s t a t e of r e g e n e r a c y . 7 S e c o n d l y , the former p r o p o u n d s o n e m a n to another, a s t h e s a m e flesh a n d i m a g e of G o d ; this a s a brother in C h r i s t a l s o , a n d in the c o m m u n i o n of the s a m e spirit a n d s o t e a c h e t h u s to p u t a difference b e t w e e n C h r i s t i a n s a n d o t h e r s . Do good to all, especially to the household of faith: U p o n this g r o u n d the Israelites were to p u t a difference b e t w e e n the b r e t h r e n of s u c h a s were s t r a n g e r s t h o u g h not of C a n a a n i t e s . " Thirdly, the law of n a t u r e c o u l d give no rules for d e a l i n g with e n e m i e s , for all are to b e c o n s i d e r e d a s friends in the state of i n n o c e n c y , but the G o s p e l c o m m a n d s love to a n e n e m y . Proof. If thine E n e m y h u n g e r , feed h i m ; L o v e your E n e m i e s , d o g o o d to t h e m that hate you. M a t t h e w : 5 . 4 4 . T h i s law of the G o s p e l p r o p o u n d s likewise a difference of s e a s o n s a n d o c c a s i o n s . T h e r e is a time w h e n a C h r i s t i a n m u s t sell all a n d give to the poor, a s they did in the A p o s t l e s ' t i m e s . 9 T h e r e is a time a l s o w h e n a C h r i s t i a n ( t h o u g h they give not all yet) m u s t give b e y o n d their ability, a s they of M a c e d o n i a , C o r i n t h i a n s : 2 . 8 . 1 L i k e w i s e c o m m u n i t y of perils calls for extraordinary liberality, a n d so doth c o m m u n i t y in s o m e special service for the C h u r c h . Lastly, w h e n there is no other m e a n s w h ereb y o u r C h r i s t i a n brother 4. Matthew 5.43; 19.19. 5. "Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law of the prophets" (Matthew 7.12). 6. Abraham entertains the angels in Genesis 18: "And the Lord appeared unto him in the plains of Mamre: and he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day; And he lift up his eyes and looked, and, Io, three men stood by him: and when he saw them, he ran to meet t h e m " (Genesis 1 8 . 1 - 2 ) . Lot was Abraham's nephew, and he escaped the destruction of the city of S o d o m b e c a u s e he defended two angels who were his guests from a mob (Genesis 1 9 . 1 - 1 4 ) . In J u d g e s 1 9 . 1 6 - 2 1 , an old citizen of Gibeah offered shelter to a traveling priest or Levite and defended him from enemies from a neighboring city. 7. Humanity lost its natural innocence when Adam and Eve fell; that state is called unregenerate. When Christ c a m e to ransom humankind for

Adam and Eve's sin, he offered salvation for those who believed in him and who thus became regenerate, or saved. 8. People who lived in C a n a a n , the Land of Promise for the Israelites. 9. In Luke, J e s u s tells a ruler who asks him what he must do to gain eternal life: "sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and c o m e , follow m e " (Luke 18.22). I. "Moreover, brethren, we do you to wit of the grace of G od bestowed on the churches of Macedonia; How that in a great trial of affliction, the a b u n d a n c e of their joy and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality. For to their power, I bear record, yea, and beyond their power they were willing of themselves; Praying us with much intreaty that we would receive the gift, and take upon us the fellowship of the ministering to the saints" (2 Corinthians 8.1—4).

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may be relieved in his d i s t r e s s , we m u s t help him b e y o n d o u r ability, rather than t e m p t G o d in p u t t i n g him u p o n help by m i r a c u l o u s or extraordinary means. T h i s duty of mercy is exercised in the kinds, giving, lending a n d forgiving.— Quest. W h a t rule shall a m a n observe in giving in r e s p e c t of the m e a s u r e ? Ans. If the time a n d o c c a s i o n be ordinary, he is to give o u t of his a b u n d a n c e . L e t him lay a s i d e a s G o d hath b l e s s e d h i m . If t h e t i m e a n d o c c a s i o n b e extraordinary, h e m u s t b e ruled by t h e m ; taking this withal, that then a m a n c a n n o t likely d o too m u c h , especially if he may leave h i m s e l f a n d his family u n d e r p r o b a b l e m e a n s of c o m f o r t a b l e s u b s i s t e n c e . Objection. A m a n m u s t lay up for posterity, the fathers lay u p for posterity a n d children a n d he "is w o r s e than an infidel" that "provideth not for his own." Ans. F o r the first, it is plain that it b e i n g s p o k e n by way of c o m p a r i s o n , it m u s t be m e a n t of the ordinary a n d u s u a l c o u r s e of fathers a n d c a n n o t extend to t i m e s a n d o c c a s i o n s extraordinary. F o r the other p l a c e , the A p o s t l e s p e a k s a g a i n s t s u c h a s walked inordinately, a n d it is without q u e s t i o n , that h e is w o r s e than a n infidel w h o t h r o u g h his own sloth a n d v o l u p t u o u s n e s s shall neglect to provide for his family. Objection. " T h e wise m a n ' s eyes are in his h e a d " saith S o l o m o n , " a n d foreseeth the p l a g u e , " 2 therefore we m u s t f o r e c a s t a n d lay u p a g a i n s t evil times w h e n he or his may s t a n d in n e e d of all h e c a n gather. Aws. T h i s very a r g u m e n t S o l o m o n u s e t h to p e r s u a d e to liberality, E c c l e s i a s t e s : " C a s t thy b r e a d u p o n the w a t e r s , " a n d "for thou k n o w e s t not w h a t evil m a y c o m e u p o n the l a n d . " 3 L u k e : 1 6 . 9 . " M a k e you friends of the riches of iniquity." 4 You will a s k how this shall b e ? very well. F o r first he that gives to the poor, lends to the L o r d a n d H e will repay him even in this life a n h u n d r e d fold to him or h i s — T h e r i g h t e o u s is ever merciful a n d l e n d e t h a n d his s e e d enjoyeth the b l e s s i n g ; a n d b e s i d e s we k n o w what a d v a n t a g e it will b e to u s in the day of a c c o u n t w h e n m a n y s u c h w i t n e s s e s shall s t a n d forth for us to w i t n e s s the i m p r o v e m e n t of our t a l e n t . 5 A n d I w o u l d know of t h o s e w h o p l e a d s o m u c h for laying u p for time to c o m e , w h e t h e r they hold that to be G o s p e l , M a t t h e w : 6 . 1 9 : " L a y not up for yourselves t r e a s u r e s u p o n e a r t h , " 6 etc. If they a c k n o w l e d g e it, what extent will they allow it? if only to t h o s e primitive t i m e s , let t h e m c o n s i d e r the r e a s o n w h e r e u p o n o u r Savior g r o u n d s it. T h e first is that they are s u b j e c t to t h e m o t h , t h e rust, the thief. S e c o n d l y , they will steal away the h ea rt ; w h e r e the t r e a s u r e is there will the heart b e a l s o . T h e r e a s o n s are of like force at all t i m e s . T h e r e f o r e the exhortation m u s t be general a n d p e r p e t u a l , with always in r e s p e c t of the love a n d 2. Ecclesiastes 2.14. Solomon was the son of David and successor to David as king of all Israel. 3. "Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days. Give a portion to seven, and also to eight; for thou knowest not what evil shall be upon the earth" (Ecclesiastes 11.1—2). Winthrop either makes his own translations from the Bible or uses the King J a m e s or Geneva versions; his quotations, therefore, differ occasionally from the King J a m e s version used in these notes. 4. T h e passage in Luke refers to the servant who, removed from his stewardship, resolves to be

received in the houses of his master's debtors and cuts their bills in half. "And I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends of the m a m m o n of unrighte o u s n e s s ; that, when ye fail, they may receive you into everlasting habitations" (Luke 16.9). 5. Originally a measure of money. 6. "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal" (Matthew 6.19—20).

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affection to riches a n d in regard of the things t h e m s e l v e s w h e n any special service for the c h u r c h or p a r t i c u l a r d i s t r e s s of o u r b r o t h e r do call for the u s e of t h e m ; otherwise it is not only lawful but n e c e s s a r y to lay u p as J o s e p h 7 did to have ready u p o n s u c h o c c a s i o n s , a s t h e L o r d ( w h o s e s t e w a r d s we are of t h e m ) shall call for t h e m from u s . C h r i s t gives u s an i n s t a n c e of the first, w h e n H e sent his d i s c i p l e s for the a s s , a n d bids them a n s w e r t h e owner t h u s , the L o r d hath n e e d of h i m . 8 S o w h e n the t a b e r n a c l e w a s to b e built H e s e n d s to His p e o p l e to call for their silver a n d gold, e t c . ; a n d yields t h e m n o other r e as o n but that it w a s for H i s work. W h e n E l i s h a c o m e s to the widow of S a r e p t a h a n d finds her p r e p a r i n g to m a k e ready her p i t t a n c e for herself a n d family, H e bids her first provide for H i m ; he c h a l l e n g e t h first G o d ' s part which s h e m u s t first give before s h e m u s t serve her own family. 1 ' All t h e s e t e a c h us that t h e L o r d looks that w h e n H e is p l e a s e d to call for His right in anything we h a v e , o u r own interest we have m u s t s t a n d a s i d e till His turn b e served. For the other, we n e e d look no further than to that of J o h n : 1: " H e who hath this world's g o o d s a n d seeth his brother to n e e d a n d s h u t s up his c o m p a s s i o n from h i m , how dwelleth the love of G o d in h i m , " w h i c h c o m e s p u n c t u a l l y to this c o n c l u s i o n : if thy brother be in want a n d thou c a n s t help h i m , thou n e e d s t not m a k e d o u b t , what thou s h o u l d s t d o , if thou lovest G o d thou m u s t help h i m . Quest. W h a t rule m u s t we o b s e r v e in lending? Aws. T h o u m u s t o b s e r v e w h e t h e r thy brother hath p r e s e n t or p r o b a b l e , or p o s s i b l e m e a n s of repaying t h e e , if there b e n o n e of t h e s e , thou m u s t give him a c c o r d i n g to his necessity, rather than lend him a s h e r e q u i r e s . If he hath p r e s e n t m e a n s of repaying t h e e , thou art to look at him not a s an act of mercy, but by way of c o m m e r c e , wherein thou art to walk by the rule of j u s t i c e ; but if his m e a n s of repaying t h e e b e only p r o b a b l e or p o s s i b l e , then is he a n object of thy mercy, thou m u s t lend him, t h o u g h there b e d a n g e r of losing it, D e u t e r o n o m y : 1 5 . 7 : "If any of thy b r e t h r e n b e p o o r , " e t c . , " t h o u shalt lend him sufficient." 1 T h a t m e n might not shift off this duty by the a p p a r e n t h a z a r d , H e tells t h e m that t h o u g h t h e year of J u b i l e e 2 were at h a n d (when he m u s t remit it, if h e were not a b l e to repay it before) yet h e m u s t lend him a n d that cheerfully: "It may not grieve t h e e to give h i m " saith H e ; a n d b e c a u s e s o m e might o b j e c t ; "why s o I s h o u l d s o o n impoverish myself a n d my family," H e a d d s "with all thy w o r k , " ' e t c . ; for o u r Savior, M a t t h e w : 5 . 4 2 : " F r o m him that would borrow of t h e e turn not a w a y . " Quest. W h a t rule m u s t we o b s e r v e in forgiving? Ans. W h e t h e r thou didst lend by way of c o m m e r c e or in m e r c y , if h e have n o t h i n g to pay t h e e , [you] m u s t forgive, (except in c a u s e w h e r e thou hast a surety or a lawful p l e d g e ) D e u t e r o n o m y : 1 5 . 2 . Every s e v e n t h year the cred7. J o s e p h , the son of J a c o b and Rachel, stored up the harvest in the seven good years before the famine (Genesis 4 1 ) . 8. Matthew 2 1 . 5 - 7 . 9. 1 Kings 1 7 . 8 - 2 4 . I. "If there he among you a poor man ol one of thy brethren within anv of thv gates in thy land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thine heart, nor shut thine hand from thy poor brother: But thou shalt open thine hand wide unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need, in that which he wanteth" (Deuteronomv 15.7-8).

2. According to Mosaic law, every seventh year the lands would lie fallow, all work would c e a s e , and all debts would be canceled. T h e Jubilee year concluded a cycle of seven sabbatical years. 3. "The seventh year, the year of release, is at hand; and thine eye be evil against thy poor brother, and thou givest him nought; and he cry unto the Lord against thee, and it be sin unto thee. Thou shalt surely give him, and thine heart shall not be grieved when thou givest unto him: because that for this thing the Lord thy G od shall bless thee in all thy works, and in ail that thou puttest thine hand unto" (Deuteronomy 15.9—10).

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itor w a s to quit that which he lent to his brother if he were p o o r a s a p p e a r s — verse 8: " S a v e when there shall b e n o p o o r with t h e e . " In all t h e s e a n d like c a s e s , C h r i s t was a general rule, M a t t h e w : 7 . 2 2 : " W h a t s o e v e r ye would that men s h o u l d do to you, do ye the s a m e to them a l s o . " Quest. W h a t rule m u s t we observe a n d walk by in c a u s e of c o m m u n i t y of peril? Aws. T h e s a m e a s b e f o r e , but with m o r e e n l a r g e m e n t towards others a n d less r e s p e c t towards ourselves and our own right. H e n c e it w a s that in the primitive c h u r c h they sold all, had all things in c o m m o n , neither did any m a n say that which he p o s s e s s e d w a s his o w n . Likewise in their return out of the captivity, b e c a u s e the work w a s great for the restoring of the c h u r c h a n d the d a n g e r of e n e m i e s w a s c o m m o n to all, N e h e m i a h exhorts the J e w s to liberality a n d r e a d i n e s s in remitting their d e b t s to their b r e t h r e n , a n d d i s p o s i n g liberally of his own to s u c h a s w a n t e d , a n d s t a n d not u p o n his own d u e , which he might have d e m a n d e d of t h e m . 4 T h u s did s o m e of our forefathers in times of p e r s e c u t i o n in E n g l a n d , a n d so did m a n y of the faithful of other c h u r c h e s , whereof we keep an h o n o r a b l e r e m e m b r a n c e of t h e m ; a n d it is to be o b s e r v e d that both in S c r i p t u r e s a n d later stories of the c h u r c h e s that s u c h a s have b e e n m o s t bountiful to the p o o r s a i n t s , especially in t h e s e extraordinary times a n d o c c a s i o n s , G o d hath left t h e m highly c o m m e n d e d to posterity, as Z a c h e u s , C o r n e l i u s , D o r c a s , B i s h o p H o o p e r , the C u t t l e r of B r u s s e l l s 5 a n d divers o t h e r s . O b s e r v e again that the S c r i p t u r e gives no c a u t i o n to restrain any from being over liberal this way; but all m e n to the liberal a n d cheerful practice hereof by the s w e e t e s t p r o m i s e s ; a s to i n s t a n c e o n e for m a n y , Isaiah: 5 8 . 6 : "Is not this the fast I have c h o s e n to loose the b o n d s of w i c k e d n e s s , to take off the heavy b u r d e n s , to let the o p p r e s s e d go free a n d to break every yoke, to deal thy b r e a d to the hungry a n d to bring the p o o r that w a n d e r into thy h o u s e , w h e n thou seest the naked to cover t h e m . A n d then shall thy light b r e a k forth as the m o r n i n g , and thy health shall grow speedily, thy r i g h t e o u s n e s s shall go before G o d , a n d the glory of the Lord shall e m b r a c e t h e e ; then thou shalt call a n d the L o r d shall a n s w e r t h e e " e t c . [Verse] 10: "If thou p o u r out thy soul to the hungry, then shall thy light spring o u t in d a r k n e s s , a n d the Lord shall g u i d e t h e e continually, a n d satisfy thy soul in d r o u g h t , and m a k e fat thy b o n e s ; thou shalt be like a watered g a r d e n , a n d they shalt be of thee that shall build the old w a s t e p l a c e s " e t c . O n the contrary, m o s t heavy c u r s e s a r e laid u p o n s u c h a s are s t r a i g h t e n e d towards the L o r d a n d His p e o p l e , J u d g e s : 5 . [ 2 3 ] : " C u r s e ye M e r o s h e b e c a u s e ye c a m e not to help the L o r d , " e t c . Proverbs: [ 2 1 . 1 3 ] : " H e w h o s h u t t e t h his ears from hearing the cry of the poor, he shall cry a n d shall not be h e a r d . " M a t t h e w : 2 5 : " G o ye c u r s e d into everlasting fire" e t c . "I w a s hungry a n d ye fed m e n o t . " 2 C o r i n t h i a n s : 9 . 6 : " H e that s o w e t h sparingly shall reap sparingly." H a v i n g already set forth the p r a c t i c e of mercy a c c o r d i n g to the rule of G o d ' s law, it will be useful to lay o p e n the g r o u n d s of it a l s o , b e i n g the other part of the c o m m a n d m e n t , a n d that is the affection from which this exercise of mercy m u s t arise. T h e apostle 1 ' tells us that this love is the fulfilling of the 4. Nehemiah was sent by King Artaxerxes to repair the wails of the city of Jerusalem: he saved the city as governor when he persuaded those lending money to charge no interest, and to think first of

the c o m m o n good (see Nehemiah 3). 5. Christian martyrs. 6. St. Paul in his Epistle to the Romans 9 . 3 1 .

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law, not that it is e n o u g h to love our brother a n d so no further; but in regard of the excellency of his p a r t s giving any m o t i o n to the other a s the soul to the body a n d the p o w e r it hath to set all the faculties o n work in the o u t w a r d exercise of this duty. A s w h e n we bid o n e m a k e the c l o c k strike, h e doth not lay h a n d on the h a m m e r , which is the i m m e d i a t e i n s t r u m e n t of the s o u n d , b u t s e t s on work the first mover or m a i n wheel, k n o w i n g that will certainly p r o d u c e the s o u n d which he i n t e n d s . S o the way to draw m e n to works of mercy, is not by force of a r g u m e n t from the g o o d n e s s or necessity of the work; for t h o u g h this c o u r s e may e n f o r c e a rational m i n d to s o m e p r e s e n t act of mercy, a s is f r e q u e n t in e x p e r i e n c e , yet it c a n n o t work s u c h a habit in a soul, a s shall m a k e it p r o m p t u p o n all o c c a s i o n s to p r o d u c e the s a m e effect, b u t by f r a m i n g t h e s e affections of love in the heart which will a s natively bring forth the other, a s any c a u s e doth p r o d u c e effect. T h e definition which the S c r i p t u r e gives u s of love is this: " L o v e is the b o n d of p e r f e c t i o n . " First, it is a b o n d or l i g a m e n t . S e c o n d l y it m a k e s the work perfect. T h e r e is no body but c o n s i s t s of p a r t s a n d that which knits t h e s e parts together gives the body its p e r f e c t i o n , b e c a u s e it m a k e s e a c h part s o c o n t i g u o u s to others as thereby they d o mutually p a r t i c i p a t e with e a c h other, both in strength a n d infirmity, in p l e a s u r e a n d p a i n . T o i n s t a n c e in the m o s t perfect of all b o d i e s : C h r i s t a n d H i s c h u r c h m a k e o n e body. T h e several p a r t s of this body, c o n s i d e r e d apart before they were u n i t e d , were a s d i s p r o p o r t i o n a t e a n d a s m u c h d i s o r d e r i n g a s s o m a n y contrary qualities or e l e m e n t s , b u t w h e n C h r i s t c o m e s a n d by H i s spirit a n d love knits all t h e s e parts to H i m s e l f a n d e a c h to other, it is b e c o m e the m o s t p e r f e c t a n d b e s t p r o p o r t i o n e d body in the world. E p h e s i a n s : 4 . 1 6 : " C h r i s t , by w h o m all the body b e i n g knit together by every j o i n t for the furniture thereof, a c c o r d i n g to the effectual power which is the m e a s u r e of every p e r f e c t i o n of p a r t s , " " a glorious body without spot or w r i n k l e , " the l i g a m e n t s hereof b e i n g C h r i s t , or His love, for C h r i s t is love (1 J o h n : 4 . 8 ) . S o this definition is right: " L o v e is the b o n d of p e r f e c t i o n . " 46 F r o m h e n c e we m a y f r a m e t h e s e c o n c l u s i o n s . 1. First of all, true C h r i s t i a n s are of o n e body in C h r i s t , 1 C o r i n t h i a n s : 1 2 . 1 2 , 2 7 : "Ye are the b o d y of C h r i s t a n d m e m b e r s of their p a r t . " S e c o n d l y : T h e l i g a m e n t s of this body which knit together are love. Thirdly: N o body c a n be perfect which w a n t s its p r o p e r ligament. Fourthly. All the p a r t s of this body b e i n g t h u s u n i t e d are m a d e so c o n t i g u o u s in a special relation a s they m u s t n e e d s p a r t a k e of e a c h other's strength a n d infirmity; j o y a n d sorrow, weal a n d w o e . 1 C o r i n t h i a n s : 1 2 . 2 6 : "If o n e m e m b e r suffers, all suffer with it, if o n e b e in h o n o r , all rejoice with it." Fifthly. T h i s s e n s i b l e n e s s a n d s y m p a t h y of e a c h other's c o n d i t i o n s will n e c e s s a r i l y infuse into e a c h part a native desire a n d e n d e a v o r to s t r e n g t h e n , d e f e n d , preserve a n d c o m f o r t the other. T o insist a little on this c o n c l u s i o n b e i n g the p r o d u c t of all the former, the truth h e r e o f will a p p e a r both by p r e c e p t a n d p a t t e r n . 1 J o h n : 3 . 1 0 : "Ye o u g h t to lay d o w n your lives for the b r e t h r e n . " G a l a t i a n s : 6 . 2 : " b e a r ye o n e another's b u r t h e n s a n d so fulfill the law of C h r i s t . " F o r p a t t e r n s w e have that first of our Savior w h o out of His g o o d will in o b e d i e n c e to His father, b e c o m i n g a part of this body, a n d b e i n g knit with it in the b o n d of love, f o u n d s u c h a native s e n s i b l e n e s s of our infirmities a n d sorrows a s H e willingly yielded H i m s e l f to d e a t h to e a s e the infirmities of the rest of H i s body, a n d s o h e a l e d their sorrows. F r o m the like s y m p a t h y of p a r t s did the a p o s t l e s a n d

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m a n y t h o u s a n d s of the saints lay down their lives for C h r i s t . A g a i n , the like we may s e e in the m e m b e r s of this body a m o n g t h e m s e l v e s . R o m a n s : 9. Paul could have b e e n c o n t e n t e d to have b e e n s e p a r a t e d from C h r i s t , that the J e w s might not be c u t off from the body. It is very o b s e r v a b l e what h e p r o f e s s e t h of his affectionate partaking with every m e m b e r : " w h o is w e a k " saith he " a n d I a m not weak? who is offended a n d I burn n o t ; " 7 a n d a g a i n , 2 C o r i n t h i a n s : 7 . 1 3 . "therefore we are c o m f o r t e d b e c a u s e ye were c o m f o r t e d . " O f E p a p h r o d i t u s 8 he s p e a k e t h , Philippians: 2 . 3 0 . that he regarded not his own fife to do him service. S o P h o e b e 9 a n d others are called the servants of the c h u r c h . N o w it is a p p a r e n t that they served not for w a g e s , or by c o n s t r a i n t , but out of love. T h e like we shall find in the histories of the c h u r c h in all a g e s , the sweet s y m p a t h y of affections which was in the m e m b e r s of this body o n e towards another, their c h e e r f u l n e s s in serving a n d suffering together, how liberal they were without repining, h a r b o r e r s without g r u d g i n g a n d helpful without r e p r o a c h i n g ; a n d all from h e n c e , b e c a u s e they h a d fervent love a m o n g s t t h e m , which only m a k e the p r a c t i c e of m e r c y c o n s t a n t a n d easy. T h e next c o n s i d e r a t i o n is how this love c o m e s to be w r o u g h t . A d a m in his first e s t a t e 1 w a s a perfect m o d e l of m a n k i n d in all their g e n e r a t i o n s , a n d in him this love was perfected in regard of the habit. B u t A d a m rent h i m s e l f from his creator, rent all his posterity also o n e from a n o t h e r ; w h e n c e it c o m e s that every m a n is born with this principle in him, to love a n d s e e k h i m s e l f only, a n d t h u s a m a n c o n t i n u e t h till C h r i s t c o m e s a n d takes p o s s e s s i o n of the soul a n d infuseth a n o t h e r principle, love to G o d a n d o u r brother. A n d this latter having c o n t i n u a l supply from C h r i s t , a s the h e a d a n d root by which he is united, gets the p r e d o m i n i n g in the soul, so by little a n d little expels the former. 1 J o h n : 4 . 7 . "love c o m e t h of G o d a n d every o n e that loveth is b o r n e of G o d , " so that this love is the fruit of the n e w birth, a n d n o n e c a n have it but the new c r e a t u r e . N o w w h e n this quality is t h u s f o r m e d in the souls of m e n , it works like the spirit u p o n the dry b o n e s . Ezekiel: 3 7 : " b o n e c a m e to b o n e . " It gathers together the s c a t t e r e d b o n e s , of perfect old m a n A d a m , a n d knits t h e m into o n e body again in C h r i s t , whereby a m a n is b e c o m e again a living s o u l . T h e third c o n s i d e r a t i o n is c o n c e r n i n g the exercise of this love which is twofold, inward or outward. T h e outward hath b e e n h a n d l e d in the former p r e f a c e of this d i s c o u r s e . F o r unfolding the other we m u s t take in our way that maxim of p h i l o s o p h y simile simili gaudet, or like will to like; for a s it is things which are turned with disaffection to e a c h other, the g r o u n d of it is from a dissimilitude arising from the contrary or different n a t u r e of the things t h e m s e l v e s ; for the g r o u n d of love is an a p p r e h e n s i o n of s o m e r e s e m b l a n c e in things loved to that which affects it. T h i s js'the c a u s e why the L o r d loves the c r e a t u r e , so far a s it hath any of His i m a g e in it; H e loves His elect b e c a u s e they are like Himself, H e b e h o l d s t h e m in His beloved s o n . S o a mother loves her child, b e c a u s e s h e thoroughly c o n c e i v e s a r e s e m b l a n c e of herself in it. T h u s it is between the m e m b e r s of C h r i s t . E a c h d i s c e r n s , by 7. 2 Corinthians 11.29. 8. St. Paul tells the Philippians that he will send to them as a spiritual guide "Lpaphroditus, my brother, and companion in labour, and fellow soldier, but vour messenger, and he that ministered

to my wants" (Philippians 2.25). 9. A Christian woman praised Romans 16.1. 1. I.e., in his innocence.

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the work of the spirit, his own i m a g e a n d r e s e m b l a n c e in a n o t h e r , a n d therefore c a n n o t but love him a s h e loves himself. N o w w h e n the soul, which is of a s o c i a b l e n a t u r e , finds anything like to itself, it is like A d a m w h e n E v e was b r o u g h t to h i m . S h e m u s t have it o n e with herself. T h i s is flesh of my flesh (saith the soul) a n d b o n e of my b o n e . S h e c o n c e i v e s a great delight in it, therefore s h e d e s i r e s n e a r n e s s a n d familiarity with it. S h e h a t h a great propensity to d o it g o o d a n d receives s u c h c o n t e n t in it, a s fearing the miscarriage of her beloved s h e b e s t o w s it in the i n m o s t closet of her h e a r t . S h e will not e n d u r e that it shall want any g o o d w h i c h s h e c a n give it. If by o c c a s i o n s h e b e withdrawn from the c o m p a n y of it, s h e is still looking towards the p l a c e w h e r e s h e left her beloved. If s h e h e a r d it g r o a n , s h e is with it presently. If she find it s a d a n d d i s c o n s o l a t e , s h e sighs a n d m o a n s with it. S h e hath no s u c h j o y a s to s e e her beloved merry a n d thriving. If s h e s e e it w r o n g e d , s h e c a n n o t h e a r it without p a s s i o n . S h e s e t s n o b o u n d s to her affections, nor hath any t h o u g h t of reward. S h e finds r e c o m p e n s e e n o u g h in the exercise of her love towards it. W e may s e e this a c t e d to life in J o n a t h a n a n d D a v i d . 2 J o n a t h a n a valiant m a n e n d o w e d with the spirit of C h r i s t , so s o o n a s he discovers the s a m e spirit in David h a d presently his heart knit to him by this l i n e a m e n t of love s o that it is s a i d h e loved him as his own s o u l . H e takes s o great p l e a s u r e in h i m , that h e strips h i m s e l f to adorn his beloved. His father's k i n g d o m w a s not so p r e c i o u s to h i m a s his beloved David. David shall have it with all his heart, h i m s e l f d e s i r e s n o m o r e b u t that h e m a y b e n e a r to h i m to rejoice in his g o o d . H e c h o o s e t h to c o n v e r s e with h i m in the wilderness even to the h a z a r d of his own life, rather than with the great courtiers in his father's p a l a c e . W h e n h e s e e s d a n g e r towards him, he s p a r e s neither rare p a i n s nor peril to direct it. W h e n injury w a s offered his beloved D a v i d , h e w o u l d not b e a r it, t h o u g h f r o m his own father; a n d w h e n they m u s t part for a s e a s o n only, they t h o u g h t their hearts would have broke for sorrow, h a d not their affections f o u n d vent by a b u n d a n c e of tears. O t h e r i n s t a n c e s might be b r o u g h t to s h o w the n a t u r e of this affection, as of R u t h a n d N a o m i , 3 a n d m a n y o t h e r s ; b u t this truth is c l e a r e d e n o u g h . If any shall object that it is not p o s s i b l e that love s h o u l d be b r e d or u p h e l d without h o p e of requital, it is g r a n t e d ; b u t that is not our c a u s e ; for this love is always u n d e r reward. It never gives, b u t it always receives with a d v a n t a g e ; first, in regard that a m o n g the m e m b e r s of the s a m e body, love a n d affection are reciprocal in a m o s t e q u a l a n d sweet kind of c o m m e r c e . S e c o n d l y , in regard of the p l e a s u r e a n d c o n t e n t that the exercise of love c a r r i e s with it, a s we m a y s e e in the natural body. T h e m o u t h is at all the p a i n s to receive a n d m i n c e the food which serves for the n o u r i s h m e n t of all the other p a r t s of the body, yet it h a t h no c a u s e to c o m p l a i n ; for first the other p a r t s s e n d b a c k by several p a s s a g e s a d u e p r o p o r t i o n of the s a m e n o u r i s h m e n t , in a better form for the s t r e n g t h e n i n g a n d c o m f o r t i n g the m o u t h . S e c o n d l y , the labor of the m o u t h is a c c o m p a n i e d with s u c h p l e a s u r e a n d c o n t e n t a s far e x c e e d s the p a i n s it t a k e s . S o is it in all the labor of love a m o n g C h r i s t i a n s . T h e party loving, r e a p s love a g a i n , a s w a s s h o w e d b e f o r e , w h i c h the soul covets m o r e than all the wealth in the world. Thirdly: N o t h i n g yields m o r e p l e a s u r e a n d c o n t e n t to the soul than w h e n it finds that w h i c h it m a y love 2. T h e story of David and J o n a t h a n is told in 1 Samuel 19ff. 3. Naomi was the mother-in-law of Ruth, whom

Ruth refused to leave when her husband died, telling her, "For whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge" (Ruth 1.16).

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fervently, for to love a n d live beloved is the soul's p a r a d i s e , b o t h here a n d in heaven. In the state of wedlock there be m a n y c o m f o r t s to b e a r o u t the troubles of that c o n d i t i o n ; but let s u c h a s have tried the m o s t , say if there be any s w e e t n e s s in that condition c o m p a r a b l e to the exercise of m u t u a l love. F r o m former c o n s i d e r a t i o n s arise t h e s e c o n c l u s i o n s . First: T h i s love a m o n g C h r i s t i a n s is a real thing, not imaginary. S e c o n d l y : T h i s love is a s absolutely n e c e s s a r y to the b e i n g of the body of C h r i s t , a s the sinews a n d other l i g a m e n t s of a natural body a r e to the b e i n g of that body. Thirdly: T h i s love is a divine, spiritual n a t u r e free, active, strong, c o u r a g e o u s , p e r m a n e n t ; u n d e r v a l u i n g all things b e n e a t h its p r o p e r o b j e c t ; a n d of all the g r a c e s , this m a k e s u s nearer to r e s e m b l e the virtues of our Heavenly Father. Fourthly: It rests in the love a n d welfare of its beloved. F o r the full a n d certain knowledge of t h e s e truths c o n c e r n i n g the n a t u r e , u s e , a n d excellency of this g r a c e , that which the Holy G h o s t hath left r e c o r d e d , 1 C o r i n t h i a n s : 1 3 , may give full satisfaction, which is needful for every true m e m b e r of this lovely body of the L o r d J e s u s , to work u p o n their hearts by prayer, m e d i t a t i o n , continual exercise at least of the special [influence] of H i s g r a c e , till C h r i s t b e f o r m e d in t h e m a n d they in H i m , all in e a c h other, knit together by this b o n d of love.

It rests now to m a k e s o m e application of this d i s c o u r s e by the p r e s e n t design, which gave the o c c a s i o n of writing of it. H e r e i n are four things to b e p r o p o u n d e d : first the p e r s o n s , s e c o n d l y the work, thirdly the e n d , fourthly the m e a n s . y First, For the p e r s o n s . W e a r e a c o m p a n y p r o f e s s i n g ourselves fellow m e m bers of C h r i s t , in which r e s p e c t only t h o u g h we were a b s e n t from e a c h other many miles, a n d h a d our e m p l o y m e n t s a s far distant, yet we o u g h t to a c c o u n t ourselves knit together by this b o n d of love, a n d live in the exercise of it, if we would have c o m f o r t of our being in C h r i s t . T h i s w a s n o t o r i o u s in the practice of the C h r i s t i a n s in former t i m e s ; a s is testified of the W a l d e n s e s , 4 from the m o u t h of o n e of the adversaries /Eneas Sylvius5 " m u t u o [ a m e n t ] p e n e a n t e q u a m n o r u n t , " they u s e d to love any of their own religion even before they were a c q u a i n t e d with t h e m . S e c o n d l y , for the work we have in h a n d . It is by a m u t u a l c o n s e n t , t h r o u g h a special overvaluing p r o v i d e n c e a n d a m o r e than an ordinary a p p r o b a t i o n of the C h u r c h e s of C h r i s t , to s e e k out a p l a c e of c o h a b i t a t i o n a n d c o n s o r t s h i p u n d e r a d u e form of g o v e r n m e n t both civil a n d e c c l e s i a s t i c a l . In s u c h c a s e s a s this, the c a r e of the public m u s t oversway all private r e s p e c t s , by w h i c h , not only c o n s c i e n c e , but m e r e civil policy, doth bind u s . F o r it is a true rule that particular e s t a t e s c a n n o t s u b s i s t in the ruin of the p u b l i c . 4. The Waldenses took their name from Pater Valdes, an early French reformer of the church. They still survive as a religious community. 5. Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini (1405—1464), Pope

Pius II. was a historian and scholar. Solent amare is a closer approximation of the Latin than Morison's suggestion of anient.

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Thirdly. T h e e n d is to improve our lives to do m o r e service to the L o r d ; the c o m f o r t a n d i n c r e a s e of the body of C h r i s t w h e r e o f we are m e m b e r s ; that ourselves a n d posterity may be the better preserved from the c o m m o n c o r r u p t i o n s of this evil world, to serve the L o r d a n d work o u t our salvation u n d e r the power a n d purity of His holy o r d i n a n c e s . Fourthly, for the m e a n s whereby this m u s t be effected. T h e y a r e twofold, a conformity with the work a n d e n d we a i m at. T h e s e we s e e a r e extraordinary, therefore we m u s t not c o n t e n t ourselves with u s u a l ordinary m e a n s . W h a t s o e v e r we did or o u g h t to have d o n e w h e n we lived in E n g l a n d , the s a m e m u s t we d o , a n d m o r e a l s o , w h e r e we go. T h a t which the m o s t in their c h u r c h e s m a i n t a i n a s a truth in profession only, we m u s t bring into familiar a n d c o n s t a n t p r a c t i c e , a s in this duty of love. W e m u s t love brotherly without d i s s i m u l a t i o n ; we m u s t love o n e a n o t h e r with a p u r e heart fervently. W e m u s t bear o n e another's b u r t h e n s . W e m u s t not look only on our own things, but also on the things of our brethren, neither m u s t we think that the L o r d will b e a r with s u c h failings at our h a n d s a s he doth from t h o s e a m o n g w h o m we have lived; a n d that for three r e a s o n s . First, In regard of the m o r e near b o n d of m a r r i a g e b e t w e e n H i m a n d u s , where-in H e hath taken u s to be His after a m o s t strict a n d p e c u l i a r m a n n e r , which will m a k e H i m the m o r e j e a l o u s of o u r love a n d o b e d i e n c e . S o H e tells the p e o p l e of Israel, you only have I known of all the families of the earth, therefore will I p u n i s h you for your t r a n s g r e s s i o n s . S e c o n d l y , b e c a u s e the L o r d will be sanctified in t h e m that c o m e near H i m . W e know that there were m a n y that c o r r u p t e d the service of the L o r d , s o m e setting up altars before His o w n , others offering both s t r a n g e fire a n d s t r a n g e sacrifices a l s o ; yet there c a m e no fire from h e a v e n or other s u d d e n j u d g m e n t u p o n t h e m , a s did u p o n N a d a b a n d A b i h u , 6 w h o yet we m a y think did not sin p r e s u m p tuously. Thirdly. W h e n G o d gives a special c o m m i s s i o n H e looks to have it strictly observed in every article. W h e n H e gave S a u l a c o m m i s s i o n to destroy A m a l e c k , H e i n d e n t e d with him u p o n certain a r t i c l e s , 7 a n d b e c a u s e he failed in o n e of the least, a n d that u p o n a fair p r e t e n s e , it lost him the k i n g d o m which s h o u l d have b e e n his reward if he h a d o b s e r v e d his c o m m i s s i o n . T h u s s t a n d s the c a u s e b e t w e e n G o d a n d u s . W e are e n t e r e d into c o v e n a n t 8 with H i m for this work. W e have taken out a c o m m i s s i o n , the L o r d h a t h given u s leave to draw our own articles. W e have p r o f e s s e d to e n t e r p r i s e t h e s e a c t i o n s , u p o n t h e s e a n d t h o s e e n d s , w e have h e r e u p o n b e s o u g h t H i m of favor a n d blessing. N o w if the L o r d shall p l e a s e to h e a r u s , a n d b r i n g u s in p e a c e to the p l a c e we d e s i r e , then hath H e ratified this c o v e n a n t and sealed our c o m m i s s i o n , [and] will expect a strict p e r f o r m a n c e of the articles c o n t a i n e d in it; but if we shall neglect the o b s e r v a t i o n of t h e s e articles which are the e n d s we have p r o p o u n d e d , a n d , d i s s e m b l i n g with our G o d , shall fall to e m b r a c e this p r e s e n t world a n d p r o s e c u t e our c a r n a l i n t e n t i o n s , s e e k i n g 6. "And N a d a b and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, took either of theni his censer, and put lire therein, and put incense thereon, and offered strange fire before the Lord, which he c o m m a n d e d them not. And there went out fire from the Lord, and devoured them, and they died before the Lord" (Leviticus 1 0 . 1 - 2 ) . Winthrop's point is that the chosen people are often punished more severely than unbelievers. 7. I.e., made an agreement with him on parts of a

contract or agreement. Saul was instructed to destroy the Amalekites and all that they possessed, but he spared their sheep and oxen, and in doing so disobeyed the Lord's c o m m a n d m e n t and was rejected as king (1 S a m u e l 15.1—34). 8. A legal contract; the Israelites entered into a covenant with God in which he promised to protect them if they kept his word and were faithful to him.

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great things for ourselves a n d our posterity, the Lord will surely b r e a k o u t in wrath a g a i n s t u s ; be revenged of s u c h a p e r j u r e d p e o p l e a n d m a k e u s know the price of the b r e a c h of s u c h a c o v e n a n t . Jfc N o w the only way to avoid this shipwreck, a n d to provide for our posterity, is to follow the c o u n s e l of M i c a h , 9 to d o justly, to love mercy, to walk h u m b l y with our G o d . F o r this e n d , we m u s t be knit together in this work as o n e m a n . W e m u s t entertain e a c h other in brotherly affection, we m u s t be willing to abridge ourselves of our superfluities, for the supply of other's n e c e s s i t i e s . W e m u s t u p h o l d a familiar c o m m e r c e together in all m e e k n e s s , g e n t l e n e s s , p a t i e n c e a n d liberality^We m u s t delight in e a c h other, m a k e other's conditions o u r o w n , rejoice together, m o u r n together, labor a n d suffer together, always having before our eyes our c o m m i s s i o n a n d c o m m u n i t y in the work, our c o m m u n i t y as m e m b e r s of the s a m e body. S o shall we keep the unity of the spirit in the b o n d of p e a c e . T h e Lord will be our G o d , a n d delight to dwell a m o n g us as His own p e o p l e , a n d will c o m m a n d a b l e s s i n g u p o n u s in all our ways, s o that we shall s e e m u c h m o r e of H i s w i s d o m , power, g o o d n e s s a n d truth, than formerly we have b e e n a c q u a i n t e d with. W e shall find that the G o d of Israel is a m o n g u s , when ten of u s shall b e able to resist a thous a n d of our e n e m i e s ; when H e shall m a k e u s a p r a i s e a n d glory that m e n shall say of s u c c e e d i n g p l a n t a t i o n s , "the L o r d m a k e it like that of of N E W E N G L A N D . " F o r we m u s t c o n s i d e r that we shall be a s a city upon a hill. 1 T h e eyes of all p e o p l e are upon u s , s o that if we shall deal falsely with our G o d in this work we have u n d e r t a k e n , a n d so c a u s e H i m to withdraw His p r e s e n t help from u s , we shall be m a d e a story a n d a by-word t h r o u g h the world. W e shall o p e n the m o u t h s of e n e m i e s to s p e a k evil of the ways of G o d , a n d all p r o f e s s o r s for G o d ' s s a k e . W e shall s h a m e the f a c e s of m a n y of G o d ' s worthy servants, a n d c a u s e their prayers to be turned into c u r s e s u p o n u s till we b e c o n s u m e d out of the g o o d land whither we are a g o i n g . And to shut up this d i s c o u r s e with that exhortation of M o s e s , that faithful servant of the L o r d , in his last farewell to Israel, D e u t e r o n o m y 3 0 . 2 B e l o v e d , there is now set before u s life a n d g o o d , d e a t h a n d evil, in that we are c o m m a n d e d this day to love the L o r d our G o d , a n d to love o n e a n o t h e r , to walk in His ways a n d to k e e p H i s c o m m a n d m e n t s a n d His o r d i n a n c e a n d H i s laws, a n d the articles of our c o v e n a n t with H i m , that we may live a n d b e multiplied, a n d that our L o r d o u r G o d may b l e s s u s in the land whither we go to p o s s e s s it. B u t if our hearts shall turn away, so that we will not obey, but shall be s e d u c e d , a n d w o r s h i p other g o d s , our p l e a s u r e s a n d profits, a n d serve t h e m ; it is p r o p o u n d e d u n t o u s this day, we shall surely perish out of the g o o d land whither we p a s s over this vast s e a to p o s s e s s it. 9. The Book of Mieah preserves the words of this 8th-century-B.c.E. prophet. Mieah speaks continually of the judgment of God on his people and the necessity to hope for salvation: "I will hear the indignation of the Lord, b e c a u s e I have sinned against him, until he plead my c a u s e , and execute judgment for me: he will bring me forth to the light, and I shall behold his righteousness" (Micah 7.9). I. "Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house" (Matthew 5 . 1 4 - 1 5 ) .

2. "And it shall come to pass, when all these things are come upon thee, the blessing and the curse, which I have set before thee, and thou shalt call them to mind among all the nations, whither the Lord thy God hath driven thee, and shalt return unto the Lord thy God, and shalt obey his voice according to all that I c o m m a n d thee this day, thou and thy children, with all thine heart, and with all thy soul; That then the Lord thy God will turn thy captivity, and have compassion upon thee, and will return and gather thee from all the nations, whither the Lord thy God hath scattered thee" (Deuteronomy 30.1—3).

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T h e r e f o r e let u s c h o o s e life, that we a n d our s e e d m a y live by obeying H i s voice a n d cleaving to H i m , for H e is our life a n d our prosperity. 1630

1838

From

T h e Journal of J o h n Winthrop1

[SIGHTING MOUNT DESERT ISLAND,

MAINE]

[ J u n e 8, 1 6 3 0 ] A b o u t 3 in the afternoon we h a d sight of l a n d to the N W a b o u t 15 l e a g u e s , which we s u p p o s e d w a s the Isles of M o n h e g e n , but it proved M o u n t M a n s e l l . 2 T h e n we t a c k e d a n d s t o o d W S W . W e h a d now fair s u n s h i n e w e a t h e r a n d so p l e a s a n t a sweet e t h e r 3 a s did m u c h refresh u s , a n d there c a m e a smell off the s h o r e like the smell of a g a r d e n . T h e r e c a m e a wild pigeon into our ship a n d a n o t h e r small land bird. [OVERCOMING

SATAN]

[July 5, 1 6 3 2 ] At W a t e r t o w n there w a s (in the view of d i v e r s 4 w i t n e s s e s ) a great c o m b a t between a m o u s e a n d a s n a k e , a n d after a long fight the m o u s e prevailed a n d killed the s n a k e . T h e p a s t o r of B o s t o n , M r . W i l s o n , 5 a very s i n c e r e , holy m a n , h e a r i n g of it gave this interpretation: that the s n a k e w a s the devil, the m o u s e w a s a p o o r c o n t e m p t i b l e p e o p l e which G o d h a d brought hither, which s h o u l d o v e r c o m e S a t a n h e r e a n d d i s p o s s e s s him of his k i n g d o m . U p o n the s a m e o c c a s i o n h e told the g o v e r n o r 6 that before h e w a s resolved to c o m e into this country he d r e a m e d he w a s h e r e , a n d that h e saw a c h u r c h arise out of the earth, which grew u p a n d b e c a m e a m a r v e l o u s goodly c h u r c h . [CHARGES MADE AGAINST ROGER

WILLIAMS]

[ D e c e m b e r 2 7 , 1 6 3 3 ] T h e governor a n d a s s i s t a n t s met at B o s t o n a n d took into c o n s i d e r a t i o n a treatise which Mr. W i l l i a m s 7 (then of S a l e m ) h a d sent to t h e m , a n d which he h a d formerly written to the governor 8 a n d C o u n c i l of P l y m o u t h , wherein a m o n g other things he d i s p u t e s their right to the l a n d s they p o s s e s s e d h e r e , a n d c o n c l u d e d that c l a i m i n g by the King's grant they c o u l d have no title, nor otherwise except they c o m p o u n d e d 9 with the natives. F o r this, taking advice with s o m e of the m o s t j u d i c i o u s ministers (who m u c h c o n d e m n e d M r . Williams's error a n d p r e s u m p t i o n ) , they gave order that h e s h o u l d be c o n v e n t e d 1 at the next C o u r t to be c e n s u r e d , etc. T h e r e were 3 1. T h e text used here is from The Journal of John Winthrop, 1630-1649, abridged ed.. edited byRichard S. Dunn and Laetitia Yeandle ( 1 9 9 6 ) . 2. What Winthrop saw was Mount Desert Island, Maine. T h e English named it after a British admiral, Sir Robert Mansell ( 1 5 7 3 - 1 6 5 6 ) . 3. Air. 4. Several. 5. T h e Reverend John Wilson ( 1 5 8 8 - 1 6 6 7 ) was beginning a pastorate that would last thirty-seven

years. 6. Winthrop himself. 7. Roger Williams (c. 1 6 0 3 - 1 6 8 3 ) , who had emigrated to New England in 1 6 3 0 and refused a call to the First Church of Boston because he would not preach to "an unseparated people." 8. In 1633 Edward Winslow ( 1 5 9 5 - 1 6 5 5 ) was governor in Plymouth. 9. Arranged to make a financial settlement. I. S u m m o n e d to appear.

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/ p a s s a g e s chiefly whereat they were m u c h offended: 1. F o r that he c h a r g e t h King J a m e s to have told a s o l e m n public lie, b e c a u s e in his p a t e n t he b l e s s e d G o d that he w a s the first C h r i s t i a n prince that had d i s c o v e r e d this land; 2 . F o r that h e c h a r g e t h him a n d others with b l a s p h e m y for calling E u r o p e C h r i s t e n d o m or the C h r i s t i a n world; 3. F o r that he did personally apply to our p r e s e n t King C h a r l e s t h e s e 3 p l a c e s in the Revelation, viz. 2 M r . E n d e c o t t 3 b e i n g a b s e n t , the governor wrote to him to let him know what w a s d o n e , a n d withal a d d e d divers a r g u m e n t s to c o n f u t e the said errors, wishing him to deal with Mr. Williams to retract the s a m e , e t c . W h e r e u n t o he returned a very m o d e s t a n d discreet answer. M r . W i l l i a m s a l s o wrote very submissively, p r o f e s s i n g his intent to have b e e n only to have written for the private satisfaction of the governor, e t c . , of P l y m o u t h without any p u r p o s e to have stirred any further in it if the governor here h a d not required a copy of him; withal offering his book or any part of it to be burnt, e t c . S o it w a s left a n d nothing d o n e in it. [A S M A L L P O X

EPIDEMIC]

[January 2 0 , 1 6 3 4 ] Hall a n d the 2 o t h e r s 4 w h o went to C o n n e c t i c u t N o v e m b e r 3 c a m e now h o m e , having lost t h e m s e l v e s a n d e n d u r e d m u c h misery. T h e y informed u s that the smallpox w a s g o n e as far a s any Indian plantation w a s known to the W., a n d m u c h p e o p l e d e a d of it, by r e a s o n w h e r e o f they c o u l d have n o t r a d e . At N a r r a g a n s e t t by the I n d i a n s ' report there died 7 0 0 , but beyond P a s c a t a q u a c k n o n e to the E . [A W A R R A N T F O R R O G E R

WILLIAMS]

[January 1 1 , 1 6 3 6 ] T h e g o v e r n o r 5 a n d a s s i s t a n t s m e t at B o s t o n to c o n s u l t a b o u t Mr. W i l l i a m s , for that they were credibly i n f o r m e d that n o t w i t h s t a n d ing the injunction laid upon him ( u p o n the liberty g r a n t e d him to stay till the spring) not to g o a b o u t to draw others to his o p i n i o n s , he did u s e to entertain c o m p a n y in his h o u s e a n d to p r e a c h to t h e m , even of s u c h p o i n t s a s he h a d b e e n c e n s u r e d for; a n d it w a s a g r e e d to s e n d him into E n g l a n d by a ship then ready to depart. T h e r e a s o n was b e c a u s e he h a d drawn a b o v e 2 0 p e r s o n s to his opinion a n d they were i n t e n d e d to erect a p l a n t a t i o n a b o u t the N a r r a g a n s e t t Bay, from w h e n c e the i n f e c t i o n 6 would easily s p r e a d into these c h u r c h e s (the p e o p l e being m a n y of t h e m m u c h taken with the a p p r e hension of his g o d l i n e s s ) . W h e r e u p o n a warrant w a s sent to him to c o m e presently to B o s t o n to be s h i p p e d , 7 etc. H e r e t u r n e d a n s w e r (and divers of S a l e m c a m e with it) that he c o u l d not c o m e without hazard of his life, e t c . , whereupon a p i n n a c e 8 w a s s e n t with c o m m i s s i o n to C a p t a i n Underhill, e t c . , to a p p r e h e n d him a n d carry him a b o a r d the ship (which then r o d e at N a n tasket), but w h e n they c a m e at his h o u s e they f o u n d he h a d b e e n g o n e 3 days before, but whither they c o u l d not learn. 2. Abbreviation for videlicet: namely (Latin). 3. John Endecott (c. 1588—1665) served as governor to the Massachusetts Bay Colony's advance settlement in Salem from 1628 until Winthrop arrived. 4. Not further identified. 5. John Hays (1 5 9 4 - 1 6 5 4 ) . Winthrop was elected governor again in 1637.

6. Misguided teachings. Providence Plantation in Rhode Island received its patent in 1644. 7. I.e., returned to Boston by ship. 8. John Underhill (c. 1 5 9 7 - 1 6 7 2 ) c a m e to Massachusetts to organize the M a s s a c h u s e t t s Bay Colony militia. "Pinnace": a small, light vessel, usually with two masts.

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[THE CASE OF ANNE

HUTCHINSON]

[ O c t o b e r 2 1 , 1 6 3 6 ] * * * O n e M r s . H u t c h i n s o n , 9 a m e m b e r of the c h u r c h of B o s t o n , a w o m a n of a ready wit a n d bold spirit, brought over with her two d a n g e r o u s errors: 1 . T h a t the p e r s o n of the Holy G h o s t dwells in a justified' p e r s o n . 2 . T h a t no sanctification c a n help to e v i d e n c e to u s o u r justificat i o n . 2 — F r o m t h e s e two grew m a n y b r a n c h e s ; a s , 1 , O u r union with the Holy G h o s t , so a s a C h r i s t i a n r e m a i n s d e a d to every spiritual a c t i o n , a n d hath no gifts nor g r a c e s , other than s u c h a s are in hypocrites, nor any other sanctification but the Holy G h o s t Himself. T h e r e j o i n e d with her in t h e s e o p i n i o n s a brother of hers, o n e M r . W h e e l wright, 1 a silenced minister s o m e t i m e s in E n g l a n d . [REV. J O H N

COTTON

EXPLAINS

HIS

POSITION]

[ O c t o b e r 2 5 , 1 6 3 6 ] T h e other m i n i s t e r s in the bay, hearing of t h e s e things, c a m e to B o s t o n at the time of a general c o u r t , a n d e n t e r e d c o n f e r e n c e in private with t h e m , to the e n d they might know the certainty of these things; that if n e e d were, they might write to the c h u r c h of B o s t o n a b o u t t h e m , to prevent (if it were p o s s i b l e ) the d a n g e r s which s e e m e d hereby to h a n g over that a n d the rest of the c h u r c h e s . At this c o n f e r e n c e , M r . C o t t o n w a s present, a n d g a v e s a t i s f a c t i o n 4 to t h e m , s o a s h e a g r e e d with t h e m all in the point of sanctification, a n d s o did Mr. W h e e l w r i g h t ; s o a s they all did hold that sanctification did help to e v i d e n c e j u s t i f i c a t i o n . T h e s a m e h e h a d delivered plainly in p u b l i c , divers t i m e s ; b u t , for the indwelling of the p e r s o n of the Holy G h o s t , he held that still, but not u n i o n with the p e r s o n of the Holy G h o s t , s o a s to a m o u n t to a p e r s o n a l u n i o n . [CHARGES

BROUGHT AGAINST MRS. HUTCHINSON

AND

OTHERS]

[ N o v e m b e r 1 , 1 6 3 7 ] * * * T h e r e w a s great h o p e that the late g e n e r a l a s s e m b l y w o u l d have h a d s o m e g o o d effect in pacifying the troubles a n d d i s s e n s i o n s a b o u t m a t t e r s of religion; but it fell o u t otherwise. F o r t h o u g h Mr. Wheelwright a n d t h o s e of his party h a d b e e n clearly c o n f u t e d a n d conf o u n d e d in the a s s e m b l y , yet they p e r s i s t e d in their o p i n i o n s , a n d were a s busy in n o u r i s h i n g c o n t e n t i o n s (the principal of t h e m ) as b e f o r e . * * * T h e court a l s o sent for M r s . H u t c h i n s o n , a n d c h a r g e d her with divers m a t t e r s , a s her k e e p i n g two public l e c t u r e s every w e e k in her h o u s e , whereto sixty or eighty p e r s o n s did usually resort, a n d for r e p r o a c h i n g m o s t of the ministers (viz., all except Mr. C o t t o n ) for not p r e a c h i n g a c o v e n a n t of free g r a c e , a n d that they h a d not the seal of the spirit, nor were able m i n i s t e r s of the N e w T e s t a m e n t ; which were clearly proved against her, t h o u g h s h e s o u g h t to shift it off. 5 A n d after m a n y s p e e c h e s to a n d fro, at last s h e w a s s o 9. Anne Hutchinson (I 59 I — 1643), originally a follower of John Cotton (1584—1652), soon pursued an extreme position, believing that the elect were joined in personal union with God and superior to those lacking Inner Light. S h e also denied that good works were in any way a sign of God's favor, arguing that justification was by faith alone and had nothing to do with either piety or worldly success. 1. I.e., one elected or chosen for salvation by G o d . 2. I.e., that proper moral conduct is no sign of jus-

tification. 3. John Wheelwright (c. 1 5 9 2 - 1 6 7 9 ) had been a vicar near Alford, England, where the Hutehinsons lived. He was removed from his ministry, probably b e c a u s e he refused to sign an oath of loyalty to the C h u r c h of England, and c a m e to Boston in 1636. 4. Satisfied their doubts about him. Cotton's sermons were admired by the Hutehinsons and this worried his fellow ministers. 5. T o qualify her statements.

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full a s s h e c o u l d not c o n t a i n , but vented her revelations; a m o n g s t which this w a s o n e , that s h e h a d it revealed to her that s h e s h o u l d c o m e into N e w E n g l a n d , a n d s h e s h o u l d here be p e r s e c u t e d , a n d that G o d would ruin u s a n d our posterity a n d the whole state for the s a m e . S o the c o u r t p r o c e e d e d a n d b a n i s h e d her; but b e c a u s e it w a s winter, they c o m m i t t e d her to a private h o u s e where s h e w a s well provided, a n d her own friends a n d the elders p e r m i t t e d to go to her, but n o n e else. T h e court called a l s o C a p t . Underhill a n d s o m e five or six m o r e of the principal, w h o s e h a n d s were to the said petition; a n d b e c a u s e they s t o o d to justify it they were d i s f r a n c h i s e d , a n d s u c h a s h a d public p l a c e s were put from t h e m . T h e court also o r d e r e d , that the rest, w h o h a d s u b s c r i b e d the petition, (and would not a c k n o w l e d g e their fault, a n d which n e a r twenty of t h e m did,) a n d s o m e o t h e r s , w h o had b e e n c h i e f stirrers in t h e s e c o n t e n t i o n s , e t c . , s h o u l d be d i s a r m e d . 6 T h i s troubled s o m e of t h e m very m u c h , especially b e c a u s e they were to bring t h e m in t h e m s e l v e s ; b u t at last, w h e n they saw no remedy, they obeyed. All the p r o c e e d i n g s of this court a g a i n s t t h e s e p e r s o n s were set d o w n at large, with the r e a s o n s a n d other o b s e r v a t i o n s , a n d were sent into E n g l a n d to be p u b l i s h e d there, to the end that our godly friends might not b e disc o u r a g e d from c o m i n g to u s , e t c . * * * [MRS.

HUTCHINSON

ADMONISHED

FURTHER]

[ M a r c h 1 6 3 8 ] While M r s . H u t c h i n s o n c o n t i n u e d at Roxbury, 7 divers of the elders a n d others resorted to her, a n d finding her to persist in m a i n t a i n i n g t h o s e g r o s s errors b e f o r e m e n t i o n e d a n d m a n y others to the n u m b e r of thirty or t h e r e a b o u t , s o m e of t h e m wrote to the c h u r c h at B o s t o n , offering to m a k e proof of the s a m e before the c h u r c h , e t c . , [ M a r c h ] 1 5 ; w h e r e u p o n s h e w a s called, (the m a g i s t r a t e s b e i n g desired to give her l i c e n s e to c o m e , ) a n d the lecture w a s a p p o i n t e d to begin at ten. ( T h e general court b e i n g then at N e w town, the governor" a n d the treasurer, b e i n g m e m b e r s of B o s t o n , were permitted to c o m e d o w n , but the rest of the court c o n t i n u e d at N e w t o w n . ) W h e n she a p p e a r e d , the errors were read to her. T h e first w a s that the s o u l s of m e n are mortal by g e n e r a t i o n , 9 but after m a d e immortal by C h r i s t ' s purc h a s e . T h i s s h e m a i n t a i n e d a long t i m e ; but at length s h e was s o clearly c o n v i n c e d by r e a s o n a n d s c r i p t u r e , a n d the whole c h u r c h a g r e e i n g that sufficient h a d b e e n delivered for her conviction, that she yielded she h a d b e e n in an error. T h e n they p r o c e e d e d to three other errors: T h a t there w a s n o resurrection of t h e s e b o d i e s , a n d that t h e s e b o d i e s were not united to C h r i s t , but every p e r s o n united hath a new body, etc. T h e s e were a l s o clearly c o n futed, but yet s h e held her own; so a s the c h u r c h (all but two of her s o n s ) 1 a g r e e d s h e s h o u l d be a d m o n i s h e d , a n d b e c a u s e her s o n s would not a g r e e to it, they were a d m o n i s h e d a l s o . M r . C o t t o n p r o n o u n c e d the s e n t e n c e of a d m o n i t i o n with great solemnity, a n d with m u c h zeal a n d detestation of her errors a n d pride of spirit. T h e 6. Seventy-five people were disarmed, a severe punishment for this time and place. 7. Near Boston. 8. Winthrop himself. Newtown was shortly to be renamed Cambridge.

9. I.e., from the beginning. Orthodox believers hold the soul immortal always. 1. Her son Edward Hutchinson and her son-inlaw T h o m a s Savage, both of whom moved to Rhode Island.

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a s s e m b l y c o n t i n u e d till eight at night, a n d all did a c k n o w l e d g e the special p r e s e n c e of G o d ' s spirit therein; a n d s h e w a s a p p o i n t e d to a p p e a r again the next lecture d a y . * * * [MRS.

HUTCHINSON

BANISHED]

[March 22, 1638] Mrs. Hutchinson appeared again; (she had been l i c e n s e d by the c o u r t , in regard she h a d given h o p e of her r e p e n t a n c e , to be at Mr. C o t t o n ' s h o u s e that both h e a n d M r . D a v e n p o r t 2 m i g h t have the m o r e opportunity to deal with her;) a n d the articles b e i n g again read to her, a n d her a n s w e r r e q u i r e d , s h e delivered it in writing, wherein s h e m a d e a retractation of n e a r all, b u t with s u c h e x p l a n a t i o n s a n d c i r c u m s t a n c e s a s gave n o satisfaction to the c h u r c h ; s o a s she w a s r e q u i r e d to s p e a k further to t h e m . T h e n she d e c l a r e d that it w a s j u s t with G o d to leave her to herself, as H e h a d d o n e , for her slighting His o r d i n a n c e s , both m a g i s t r a c y a n d ministry;' a n d c o n f e s s e d that what she h a d s p o k e n a g a i n s t the m a g i s t r a t e s at the court (by way of revelation) w a s rash a n d u n g r o u n d e d ; a n d d e s i r e d the c h u r c h to pray for her. T h i s gave the c h u r c h g o o d h o p e of her r e p e n t a n c e ; but w h e n s h e w a s e x a m i n e d a b o u t s o m e p a r t i c u l a r s , a s that s h e h a d d e n i e d inherent r i g h t e o u s n e s s , e t c . , s h e affirmed that it w a s never her j u d g m e n t ; a n d t h o u g h it w a s proved by m a n y t e s t i m o n i e s that s h e h a d b e e n of that j u d g m e n t , a n d so h a d p e r s i s t e d a n d m a i n t a i n e d it by a r g u m e n t a g a i n s t divers, yet s h e i m p u dently p e r s i s t e d in her affirmation, to the a s t o n i s h m e n t of all the a s s e m b l y . S o that after m u c h time a n d m a n y a r g u m e n t s h a d b e e n s p e n t to bring her to s e e her sin, b u t all in vain, the c h u r c h with o n e c o n s e n t c a s t her out. S o m e m o v e d to have her a d m o n i s h e d o n c e m o r e ; b u t , it b e i n g for manifest evil in m a t t e r of c o n v e r s a t i o n , it w a s a g r e e d o t h e r w i s e ; a n d for that reason also the s e n t e n c e w a s d e n o u n c e d by the pastor,' 1 m a t t e r of m a n n e r s belonging properly to his p l a c e . After she w a s e x c o m m u n i c a t e d , 5 her spirits which s e e m e d before to be s o m e w h a t d e j e c t e d revived a g a i n , a n d s h e gloried in her sufferings, saying that it w a s the greatest h a p p i n e s s next to C h r i s t that ever befell her. I n d e e d it w a s a h a p p y day to the c h u r c h e s of C h r i s t h e r e , a n d to m a n y p o o r s o u l s w h o h a d b e e n s e d u c e d by her, w h o by w h a t they heard a n d s a w that day were (through the g r a c e of G o d ) b r o u g h t off q u i t e from her errors, a n d settled again in the truth. At this time the good p r o v i d e n c e of G o d s o d i s p o s e d , divers of the c o n gregation (being the chief m e n of the party, her h u s b a n d 6 b e i n g o n e ) were g o n e to N a r r a g a n s e t t to s e e k out a new p l a c e for p l a n t a t i o n , a n d taking liking of o n e in P l y m o u t h p a t e n t , they went thither to have it g r a n t e d t h e m ; but the m a g i s t r a t e s there, knowing their spirit, gave t h e m a denial, but c o n s e n t e d they might buy of the Indians an island in the N a r r a g a n s e t t Bay. After two or three days the governor sent a warrant to M r s . H u t c h i n s o n to d e p a r t this j u r i s d i c t i o n before the last of this m o n t h , a c c o r d i n g to the order of c o u r t , a n d for that e n d set her at liberty from her former constraint, s o a s s h e w a s not to g o forth of her own h o u s e till her d e p a r t u r e ; a n d u p o n 2. John Davenport (1 597—1670), a minister. 3. B e c a u s e Mrs. Hutchinson's beliefs threatened both civil and ecclesiastical law. 4. John Wilson. "Admonished": warned. " D e nounced": read in public.

5. Banished. 6. William Hutchinson, who along with several others laid out plans for the town of Portsmouth, Rhode Island.

T H E JOURNAL OF JOHN W I N T H R O P

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the 2 8 t h s h e went by water to her farm at the M o u n t , w h e r e s h e w a s to take water with M r . Wheelwright's wife a n d family to go to P a s c a t a q u a c k ; b u t s h e c h a n g e d her m i n d , a n d went by land to P r o v i d e n c e , a n d s o to the i s l a n d in the N a r r a g a n s e t t Bay which her h u s b a n d a n d the rest of that sect h a d purc h a s e d of the I n d i a n s , a n d p r e p a r e d with all s p e e d to r e m o v e u n t o . F o r the court h a d o r d e r e d , that except they were g o n e with their families by s u c h a time they s h o u l d be s u m m o n e d to the general c o u r t , e t c . [MRS.

HUTCHINSON

DELIVERS

A

CHILD]

[ S e p t e m b e r 1 6 3 8 ] * * * M r s . H u t c h i n s o n , b e i n g r e m o v e d to the Isle of A q u i d a y 7 in the N a r r a g a n s e t t Bay, after her time w a s fulfilled that s h e e x p e c t e d deliverance of a child, w a s delivered of a m o n s t r o u s birth. H e r e u p o n the governor wrote to Mr. C l a r k e , 8 a physician a n d a p r e a c h e r to t h o s e of the i s l a n d , to know the certainty thereof, w h o returned him this answer: M r s . H u t c h i n s o n , six w e e k s before her delivery, perceived her body to be greatly d i s t e m p e r e d a n d her spirits failing a n d in that regard doubtful of life, s h e sent to m e e t c . , a n d not long after (in immoderate) fluore uterino)9 it w a s b r o u g h t to light, a n d I w a s called to s e e it, w h e r e I b e h e l d i n n u m e r a b l e distinct b o d i e s in the form of a g l o b e , not m u c h unlike the s w i m s ' of s o m e fish, s o c o n f u s e d l y knit together by so m a n y several strings (which I conceive were the b e g i n n i n g of veins a n d nerves) so that it w a s i m p o s s i b l e either to n u m b e r the small r o u n d p i e c e s in every l u m p , m u c h less to discern from w h e n c e every string did fetch its original, they were s o s n a r l e d o n e within a n o t h e r . T h e small g l o b e s I likewise o p e n e d , a n d perceived the m a t t e r of t h e m (setting a s i d e the m e m b r a n e in which it w a s involved) to be partly wind a n d partly water. T h e governor, not satisfied with this relation, s p a k e after with the said M r . C l a r k e , w h o t h u s c l e a r e d all the d o u b t s : T h e l u m p s were twenty-six or twenty-seven, distinct a n d not j o i n e d together; there c a m e no s e c u n d i n e 2 after t h e m ; six of t h e m were a s great a s his fist, a n d the s m a l l e s t a b o u t the b i g n e s s of the top of his t h u m b . T h e globes were r o u n d things, i n c l u d e d in the l u m p s , a b o u t the b i g n e s s of a small Indian b e a n , a n d like the pearl in a m a n ' s eye. T h e two l u m p s which differed from the rest were like liver or c o n g e a l e d blood, a n d h a d no small g l o b e s in t h e m , a s the rest h a d . [AN E A R T H Q U A K E

AT

AQUIDAY]

[ M a r c h 16, 1 6 3 9 ] * * * At A q u i d a y a l s o M r s . H u t c h i n s o n e x e r c i s e d ' p u b licly, a n d s h e a n d her party ( s o m e three or four families) w o u l d have n o magistracy. S h e sent a l s o a n a d m o n i t i o n to the c h u r c h of B o s t o n ; but the elders would not read it publicly b e c a u s e s h e w a s e x c o m m u n i c a t e d . By t h e s e e x a m p l e s we m a y s e e how d a n g e r o u s it is to slight the c e n s u r e s of the c h u r c h ; for it was a p p a r e n t that G o d h a d given t h e m u p to s t r a n g e d e l u s i o n s . . . . M r s . H u t c h i n s o n a n d s o m e of her a d h e r e n t s h a p p e n e d to be at prayer w h e n the e a r t h q u a k e w a s at Aquiday, e t c . , a n d the h o u s e b e i n g s h a k e n thereby, they were p e r s u a d e d (and b o a s t e d of it) that the Holy G h o s t did s h a k e it in c o m i n g d o w n u p o n t h e m , a s H e did u p o n the a p o s t l e s . 7. Aquidneck Island. Rhode Island. 8. Dr. John Clarke c a m e to Boston in 1637 and was disarmed, having been declared an antinomian.

9. In a heavy discharge from the womb (Latin). 1. Swimming bladders. 2. Afterbirth. 3. Lectured.

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[THE

DEATH OF MRS.

HUTCHINSON

AND

OTHERS]

[ S e p t e m b e r 1 6 4 3 ] T h e I n d i a n s near the D u t c h , having killed 15 m e n , b e g a n to set u p o n the E n g l i s h w h o dwelt u n d e r the D u t c h . T h e y c a m e to M r s . H u t c h i n s o n ' s 4 in way of friendly n e i g h b o r h o o d , a s they h a d b e e n a c c u s t o m e d , a n d taking their opportunity, killed her a n d M r . C o l l i n s , her son-inlaw (who h a d b e e n kept p r i s o n e r in B o s t o n , a s is before r e l a t e d ) , a n d all her family, a n d s u c h [other] families as were at h o m e ; in all sixteen, a n d put their cattle into their h o u s e s a n d there burnt t h e m . T h e s e p e o p l e h a d c a s t off o r d i n a n c e s a n d c h u r c h e s , a n d now at last their o w n p e o p l e , a n d for larger a c c o m m o d a t i o n h a d s u b j e c t e d t h e m s e l v e s to the D u t c h a n d dwelt scatteringly near a mile a s u n d e r . * * * [WINTHROPS

SPEECH

TO THE

GENERAL

COURT]

[July 3, 1 6 4 5 ] * * * T h e n w a s the d e p u t y g o v e r n o r d e s i r e d by the C o u r t to go up a n d take his p l a c e a g a i n u p o n the b e n c h , which he did accordingly. And the C o u r t b e i n g a b o u t to rise, h e d e s i r e d leave for a little s p e e c h w h i c h w a s to this effect. 5

I s u p p o s e s o m e t h i n g may be e x p e c t e d from m e u p o n this c h a r g e that is befallen m e , w h i c h m o v e s m e to s p e a k now to y o u . Yet I i n t e n d not to interm e d d l e in the p r o c e e d i n g s of the C o u r t , or with any of the p e r s o n s c o n c e r n e d therein. Only I bless G o d that I s e e an i s s u e 6 of this t r o u b l e s o m e b u s i n e s s . I also a c k n o w l e d g e the j u s t i c e of the C o u r t , a n d for m i n e own part I a m well satisfied. I w a s publicly c h a r g e d , a n d I a m publicly a n d legally a c q u i t t e d , which is all I did expect or d e s i r e . A n d t h o u g h this b e sufficient for my justification before m e n , yet not s o before the L o r d , w h o hath s e e n so m u c h a m i s s in any d i s p e n s a t i o n s ( a n d even in this affair) a s calls m e to b e h u m b l e d . For to be publicly a n d criminally c h a r g e d in this C o u r t is m a t t e r of humiliation (and I desire to m a k e a right u s e of it), n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g I be t h u s a c q u i t t e d . If her father h a d spit in her f a c e (saith the L o r d c o n c e r n i n g Miri a m ) , s h o u l d s h e not have b e e n a s h a m e d 7 d a y s ? 7 S h a m e h a d Iain u p o n her whatever the o c c a s i o n h a d b e e n . I a m unwilling to stay you from your urgent affairs, yet give m e leave ( u p o n this s p e c i a l o c c a s i o n ) to s p e a k a little m o r e to this a s s e m b l y . It may be of s o m e g o o d u s e to inform a n d rectify the j u d g m e n t s of s o m e of the p e o p l e , a n d m a y prevent s u c h d i s t e m p e r s a s have arisen a m o n g s t u s . T h e great q u e s t i o n s that have t r o u b l e d t h e country are a b o u t the authority of the m a g i s t r a t e s a n d the liberty of the p e o p l e . It is yourselves w h o have called us to this office, a n d b e i n g called by you we have our authority from G o d in way of an o r d i n a n c e , s u c h a s h a t h t h e i m a g e of G o d e m i nently s t a m p e d u p o n it, the c o n t e m p t a n d violation w h e r e o f h a t h b e e n 4. After the death of her husband, William, in 1642 Anne Hutchinson moved to Dutch territory: Pelham Bay, Long Island, now a part of the Bronx in New York. 5. Winthrop. The governor in 1645 was T h o m a s Dudley (1 5 7 6 - 1 6 5 3 ) . The "little s p e e c h " that follows is one of Winthrop's most important meditations on Christian liberty. Several residents of the town of Hingham argued that "words spoken against the General C o u r t " had been unfairly used against them by Winthrop and others, and they

hoped that Winthrop would be impeached for misusing his power as deputy. Winthrop was fully acquitted. 6. Termination. 7. Miriam was the sister of Moses and Aaron. "And the Lord said unto M o s e s . If her father had but spit in her face, should she not be ashamed seven days? let her be shut out from the c a m p seven days, and after that let her be received in again" ( N u m b e r s 12.14).

THE

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vindicated with e x a m p l e s of divine v e n g e a n c e . I entreat you to c o n s i d e r that when you c h o o s e m a g i s t r a t e s you take t h e m from a m o n g yourselves, m e n subject to like p a s s i o n s a s you a r e . T h e r e f o r e , w h e n you s e e infirmities in u s , you s h o u l d reflect u p o n your own, a n d that w o u l d m a k e you b e a r the m o r e with u s , a n d not b e severe c e n s u r e r s of the failings of your m a g i s t r a t e s w h e n you have c o n t i n u a l experience of the like infirmities in yourselves a n d o t h e r s . W e a c c o u n t him a g o o d servant w h o b r e a k s not his c o v e n a n t . T h e c o v e n a n t b e t w e e n you a n d u s is the oath you have taken of u s , which is to this p u r p o s e , that we shall govern you a n d j u d g e your c a u s e s by the rules of G o d ' s laws a n d our own, a c c o r d i n g to o u r best skill. W h e n you a g r e e with a w o r k m a n to build you a ship or h o u s e , e t c . , h e u n d e r t a k e s a s well for his skill a s for his faithfulness, for it is his p r o f e s s i o n , a n d you pay him for b o t h . B u t w h e n you call o n e to be a m a g i s t r a t e , he doth not p r o f e s s nor u n d e r t a k e to have sufficient skill for that office, nor c a n you furnish him with gifts, e t c . T h e r e f o r e you m u s t run the hazard of his skill a n d ability. B u t if he fail in faithfulness, which by his oath he is b o u n d u n t o , that he m u s t a n s w e r for. If it fall out that the c a s e be clear to c o m m o n a p p r e h e n s i o n a n d the rule clear a l s o , if he t r a n s g r e s s here the error is not in the skill but in the evil of the will; it m u s t be required of him. B u t if the c a s e be doubtful, or the rule doubtful, to m e n of s u c h u n d e r s t a n d i n g a n d parts a s your m a g i s t r a t e s a r e , if your m a g i s t r a t e s s h o u l d err here yourselves m u s t b e a r it. F o r the other point c o n c e r n i n g liberty, I o b s e r v e a great m i s t a k e in the country a b o u t that. T h e r e is a twofold liberty: natural (I m e a n a s our n a t u r e is now c o r r u p t ) , " a n d civil or federal. T h e first is c o m m o n to m a n with b e a s t s a n d other c r e a t u r e s . By this, m a n as he s t a n d s in relation to m a n simply, hath liberty to do what he list. It is a liberty to evil a s well a s to g o o d . T h i s liberty is i n c o m p a t i b l e a n d i n c o n s i s t e n t with authority, a n d c a n n o t e n d u r e the least restraint of the m o s t j u s t authority. T h e exercise a n d m a i n t a i n i n g of this liberty m a k e s m e n grow m o r e evil, a n d in time to be worse than brute b e a s t s , omnes S H I W H S licentia deteriores.'1 T h i s is that great e n e m y of truth and p e a c e , that wild b e a s t which all the o r d i n a n c e s of G o d are bent a g a i n s t , to restrain a n d s u b d u e it. T h e other kind of liberty I call civil or federal. It m a y a l s o be t e r m e d moral, in reference to the c o v e n a n t between G o d a n d m a n in the moral law, a n d the politic c o v e n a n t s a n d c o n s t i t u t i o n s a m o n g s t m e n t h e m s e l v e s . T h i s liberty is the proper end a n d object of authority a n d c a n n o t s u b s i s t without it, a n d it is a liberty to that only which is g o o d , j u s t , a n d h o n e s t . T h i s liberty you are to stand for, with the hazard not only of your g o o d s but of your lives, if n e e d b e . W h a t s o e v e r c r o s s e t h this is not authority, but a d i s t e m p e r thereof. T h i s liberty is m a i n t a i n e d a n d exercised in a way of s u b j e c t i o n to authority. It is of the s a m e kind of liberty wherewith C h r i s t hath m a d e u s f r e e . 1 T h e w o m a n ' s own c h o i c e m a k e s s u c h a m a n her h u s b a n d , yet b e i n g so c h o s e n he is her lord a n d she is to be s u b j e c t to him, yet in a way of liberty, not of b o n d a g e , a n d a true wife a c c o u n t s her s u b j e c t i o n her h o n o r a n d f r e e d o m , a n d would not think her condition safe a n d free but in her s u b j e c t i o n to her h u s b a n d ' s authority. S u c h is the liberty of the c h u r c h u n d e r the authority of 8. B e c a u s e we are fallen and subject to death. 9. We are all the worse for license (Latin). From Terence (c. 190—159 B.C.E.), Ueuuton Timorumenos (The Self-Tormentor) 3.1.74.

1. "Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage" (Galatians 5.1).

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C h r i s t her King a n d h u s b a n d . H i s yoke is so easy a n d sweet to her as a bride's o r n a m e n t s , 2 a n d if t h r o u g h f r o w a r d n e s s or w a n t o n n e s s , e t c . , s h e s h a k e it off at any t i m e , s h e is at n o rest in her spirit until s h e take it u p a g a i n . And w h e t h e r her L o r d s m i l e s u p o n her a n d e m b r a c e t h her in His a r m s , or w h e t h e r H e frowns, or r e b u k e s , or s m i t e s her, s h e a p p r e h e n d s the s w e e t n e s s of His love in all a n d is refreshed, s u p p o r t e d , a n d i n s t r u c t e d by every s u c h d i s p e n s a t i o n of His authority over her. O n the other s i d e , you know w h o they are that c o m p l a i n of this yoke a n d say: let u s b r e a k their b a n d s , e t c . ; we will not have this m a n to rule over u s . E v e n s o , b r e t h r e n , it will be b e t w e e n you a n d your m a g i s t r a t e s . If you s t a n d for your natural corrupt liberties, a n d will d o w h a t is g o o d in your own eyes, you will not e n d u r e the least weight of authority, but wi\\ m u r m u r a n d o p p o s e a n d be always striving to s h a k e off that yoke. B u t if you will be satisfied to enjoy s u c h civil a n d lawful liberties, s u c h a s C h r i s t allows you, then will you quietly a n d cheerfully s u b m i t u n t o that authority which is set over you in all the a d m i n i s t r a t i o n s of it for your g o o d ; wherein if we fail at a n y t i m e , w e h o p e we shall b e willing (by G o d ' s a s s i s t a n c e ) to h e a r k e n to g o o d advice from any of you, or in any other way of G o d . S o shall your liberties be preserved in u p h o l d i n g the h o n o r a n d power of authority a m o n g s t you. T h e d e p u t y governor having e n d e d his s p e e c h , the C o u r t a r o s e , a n d the m a g i s t r a t e s a n d d e p u t i e s retired to a t t e n d their other a f f a i r s . * * * [A D A U G H T E R

RETURNED]

[July 1 6 4 6 ] * * * A d a u g h t e r of M r s . H u t c h i n s o n w a s carried away by the Indians n e a r the D u t c h , w h e n her m o t h e r a n d others were killed by t h e m ; a n d u p o n the p e a c e c o n c l u d e d b e t w e e n the D u t c h a n d the s a m e I n d i a n s , she w a s returned to the D u t c h governor, w h o restored her to her friends here. S h e w a s a b o u t 8 years old w h e n s h e w a s taken, a n d c o n t i n u e d with t h e m a b o u t 4 years, a n d s h e h a d forgot her own l a n g u a g e , a n d all her friends, a n d w a s loath to have c o m e from the I n d i a n s . 1630-49

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2. "For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matthew 1 1 . 3 0 ) . "And 1 J o h n saw the holy city, new J e r u s a l e m , coming down out of heaven from G o d , prepared as a bride adorned for her h u s b a n d " (Revelation 21.2).

ANNE c.

BRADSTREET \612-1672

Anne Bradstreet's father, Thomas Dudley, was the manager of the country estate of the Puritan earl of Lincoln, and his daughter was very much the apple of his eye. He took great care to see that she received an education superior to that of most young women of the time. When she was only sixteen she married the young Simon Bradstreet, a recent graduate of Cambridge University, who was associated with her father

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in conducting the affairs of the earl of Lincoln's estate. He also shared her father's Puritan beliefs. A year after the marriage her husband was appointed to assist in the preparations of the Massachusetts Bay Company, and the following year the Bradstreets and the Dudleys sailed with Winthrop's fleet. Bradstreet tells us that when she first "came into this country" she "found a new world and new manners," at which her "heart rose" in resistance. "But after I was convinced it was the way of God, 1 submitted to it and joined the church at Boston." We know very little of Bradstreet's daily life, except that it was a hard existence. The wilderness, Samuel Eliot Morison once observed, "made men stern and silent, children unruly, servants insolent." William Bradford's wife, Dorothy, staring at the barren dunes of Cape Cod is said to have preferred the surety of drowning to the unknown life ashore. Added to the hardship of daily living was the fact that Bradstreet was never very strong. She had rheumatic fever as a child and as a result suffered recurrent periods of severe fatigue; nevertheless, she risked death by childbirth eight times. Her husband was secretary to the company and later governor of the Bay Colony; he was always involved in the colony's diplomatic missions; and in 1661 he went to England to renegotiate the Bay Company charter with Charles II. All of Simon's tasks must have added to her responsibilities at home. And like any good Puritan she added to the care of daily life the examination of her conscience. She tells us in one of the "Meditations" written for her children that she was troubled many times about the truth of the Scriptures, that she never saw any convincing miracles, and that she always wondered if those of which she read "were feigned." What proved to her finally that God exists was not her reading but the evidence of her own eyes. She is the first in a long line of American poets who took their consolation not from theology but from the "wondrous works," as she wrote, "that I see, the vast frame of the heaven and the earth, the order of all things, night and day, summer and winter, spring and autumn, the daily providing for this great household upon the earth, the preserving and directing of all to its proper end." When Bradstreet was a young girl she had written poems to please her father, and he made much of their reading them together. After her marriage she continued writing. Quite unknown to her, her brother-in-law, John Woodbridge, pastor of the Andover church, brought with him to London a manuscript collection of her poetry and had it printed there in 1650. The Tenth Muse was the first published volume of poems written by a resident in the New World and was widely read. Reverend Edward Taylor, also a poet and living in the frontier community of Westfield, Massachusetts, had a copy of the second edition of Bradstreet's poems (1678) in his library. Although she herself probably took greatest pride in her long meditative poems on the ages of humankind and on the seasons, the poems that have attracted present-day readers are the more intimate ones, which reflect her concern for her family and home and the pleasures she took in everyday life rather than in the life to come. Nevertheless, Bradstreet was an ambitious poet whose imagination was firmly grounded in English religious, political, and cultural history; and she was a firm believer in the Puritan experiment in America. The text is from the Works of Anne Bradstreet, edited by Jeannine Hensley (1967).

The Prologue i

T o sing of wars, of c a p t a i n s , a n d of kings, O f cities f o u n d e d , c o m m o n w e a l t h s b e g u n , F o r my m e a n 1 p e n are too s u p e r i o r things: 1. Humble.

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O r how they all, or e a c h their d a t e s have run L e t p o e t s a n d historians set t h e s e forth, M y o b s c u r e lines shall not so dim their worth.

But w h e n my wond'ring eyes a n d envious heart G r e a t B a r t a s ' 2 s u g a r e d lines d o but read o'er, Fool I do g r u d g e the M u s e s * did not part 'Twixt him a n d m e that overfluent s t o r e ; A B a r t a s c a n d o what a B a r t a s will B u t s i m p l e I a c c o r d i n g to my skill.

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F r o m schoolboy's t o n g u e n o rhet'ric we expect, N o r yet a sweet c o n s o r t 4 from broken strings, N o r perfect b e a u t y where's a m a i n d e f e c t : My foolish, broken, b l e m i s h e d M u s e s o s i n g s , A n d this to m e n d , a l a s , n o art is a b l e , ' C a u s e n a t u r e m a d e it s o irreparable.

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N o r c a n I, like that fluent sweet t o n g u e d G r e e k , W h o lisped at first, in future t i m e s s p e a k plain." By art he gladly f o u n d what he did seek, A full requital of his striving p a i n . Art c a n d o m u c h , but this maxim's m o s t s u r e : A w e a k or w o u n d e d brain a d m i t s no c u r e . 5 I a m o b n o x i o u s to e a c h c a r p i n g t o n g u e W h o says my h a n d a n e e d l e better fits, A poet's pen all scorn I s h o u l d t h u s wrong, F o r s u c h d e s p i t e they c a s t o n f e m a l e wits: If what I d o prove well, it won't a d v a n c e , They'll say it's stol'n, or else it w a s by c h a n c e .

B u t sure the a n t i q u e G r e e k s were far m o r e mild E l s e of our sex, why feigned they t h o s e nine A n d poesy m a d e Calliope's' 1 own child; S o 'mongst the rest they p l a c e d the arts divine: B u t this w e a k knot they w\\\ full soon u n t i e . T h e G r e e k s did n o u g h t , but play the fools a n d lie.

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7 Let G r e e k s be G r e e k s , a n d w o m e n what they a r e ; M e n have p r e c e d e n c y a n d still excel, 2. Guillaume du Bartas ( 1 5 4 4 - 1 5 9 0 ) , a French writer much admired by the Puritans. He was most famous as the author of The Divine Weeks, ah epic poem translated by J o s h u a Sylvester and intended to recount the great moments in Christian history. 3. In Greek mythology, the nine goddesses of the

arts and sciences. "Fool": i.e., like a fool. 4. Accord, harmony of sound. 5. The Greek orator Demosthenes (c. 383—322 B.C.IE.) conquered a speech defect. 6. The m u s e of epic poetr\'.

CONTEMPLATIONS

It is but vain unjustly to w a g e war; M e n c a n do best, a n d w o m e n know it well P r e e m i n e n c e in all a n d e a c h is yours; Yet grant s o m e small a c k n o w l e d g m e n t of o u r s . 8 A n d oh ye high flown q u i l l s 7 that soar the s k i e s , A n d ever with your prey still c a t c h your p r a i s e , If e'er you deign t h e s e lowly lines your eyes Give thyme or parsley w r e a t h , I a s k no b a y s ; 8 T h i s m e a n a n d unrefined ore of m i n e Will m a k e your glist'ring gold but m o r e to s h i n e .

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T o H e r F a t h e r with S o m e V e r s e s M o s t truly h o n o r e d , a n d a s truly d e a r , If worth in m e or o u g h t 1 I d o a p p e a r , W h o c a n of right better d e m a n d the s a m e T h a n m a y your worthy self from w h o m it c a m e ? T h e p r i n c i p a l 2 might yield a greater s u m , Yet h a n d l e d ill, a m o u n t s but to this c r u m b ; M y stock's s o small I know not how to pay, M y b o n d 3 r e m a i n s in force u n t o this day; Yet for part p a y m e n t take this s i m p l e m i t e , 4 W h e r e nothing's to b e h a d , kings l o o s e their right. S u c h is my debt I may not say forgive, B u t a s I c a n , I'll pay it while I live; S u c h is my b o n d , n o n e c a n d i s c h a r g e but I, Yet paying is not paid until I d i e .

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Contemplations

S o m e time now p a s t in the a u t u m n a l tide, W h e n P h o e b u s ' w a n t e d but o n e hour to b e d , T h e trees all richly c l a d , yet void of pride, W e r e gilded o'er by his rich golden h e a d . T h e i r leaves a n d fruits s e e m e d p a i n t e d , b u t was true, O f g r e e n , of red, of yellow, mixed h u e ; Rapt were my s e n s e s at this d e l e c t a b l e view. 7. Pens. 8. Garlands of laurel, used to crown the head of a poet. 1. Anything at all.

2. 3. 4. 1.

T h e capital that yields interest. I.e., contract. T h e smallest possible denomination. Apollo, the sun god.

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2

I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I, If so m u c h e x c e l l e n c e a b i d e below. H o w excellent is H e that dwells on high, W h o s e power a n d beauty by His works we know? S u r e H e is g o o d n e s s , w i s d o m , glory, light, T h a t hath this u n d e r world so richly d i g h t r M o r e heaven than earth was h e r e , no winter a n d no night. 3 T h e n on a stately o a k I c a s t m i n e eye, W h o s e ruffling top the c l o u d s s e e m e d to a s p i r e ; H o w long s i n c e thou wast in thine infancy? Thy strength, a n d s t a t u r e , m o r e thy years a d m i r e , H a t h h u n d r e d winters p a s t s i n c e thou wast b o r n ? O r t h o u s a n d s i n c e thou brakest thy shell of h o r n ? If s o , all t h e s e a s n o u g h t , eternity doth s c o r n . 4 T h e n higher on the glistering S u n I gazed. W h o s e b e a m s was s h a d e d by the leafy t r e e ; T h e m o r e I looked, the m o r e I grew a m a z e d , A n d softly said, " W h a t glory's like to t h e e ? " S o u l of this world, this universe's eye, N o w o n d e r s o m e m a d e t h e e a deity; H a d I not better k n o w n , a l a s , the s a m e h a d I.

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T h o u a s a b r i d e g r o o m from thy c h a m b e r r u s h e s . A n d a s a strong m a n , joys to run a r a c e ; ' T h e m o r n doth u s h e r thee with s m i l e s a n d b l u s h e s ; T h e Earth reflects her g l a n c e s in thy f a c e . B i r d s , i n s e c t s , a n i m a l s with vegative, T h y heat from d e a t h a n d d u l l n e s s doth revive, A n d in the d a r k s o m e w o m b of fruitful n a t u r e dive. 6 T h y swift a n n u a l a n d diurnal c o u r s e , T h y daily straight a n d yearly o b l i q u e p a t h . T h y p l e a s i n g fervor a n d thy s c o r c h i n g force, All mortals here the leeling knowledge hath. T h y p r e s e n c e m a k e s it day, thy a b s e n c e night, Quaternal s e a s o n s c a u s e d by thy might: Hail c r e a t u r e , full of s w e e t n e s s , b e a u t y , a n d delight.

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Art t h o u so full of glory that n o eye H a t h strength thy s h i n i n g rays o n c e to b e h o l d ? 2. Furnished, adorned. 3. The sun "is as a bridegroom coming out of his

chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race" (Psalm 19.5).

CONTEMPLATIONS

A n d is thy splendid throne erect so high, As to a p p r o a c h it, c a n no earthly m o l d ? H o w full of glory then m u s t thy C r e a t o r b e , W h o gave this bright light luster u n t o thee? A d m i r e d , a d o r e d for ever, be that M a j e s t y .

Silent a l o n e , w h e r e n o n e or saw, or h e a r d , In p a t h l e s s p a t h s I lead my wand'ring feet, M y h u m b l e eyes to lofty skies I reared T o sing s o m e s o n g , my m a z e d 4 M u s e t h o u g h t m e e t . M y great C r e a t o r I would magnify, T h a t n a t u r e had t h u s d e c k e d liberally; B u t Ah, a n d A h , a g a i n , my imbecility! 9 I heard the merry g r a s s h o p p e r then sing. T h e black-clad cricket b e a r a s e c o n d part; T h e y kept o n e t u n e a n d played on the s a m e string, S e e m i n g to glory in their little art. Shall c r e a t u r e s a b j e c t t h u s their voices raise And in their kind r e s o u n d their M a k e r ' s p r a i s e Whilst I, as m u t e , c a n warble forth no higher lays?

W h e n present times look b a c k to a g e s p a s t , And men in b e i n g fancy t h o s e are d e a d , It m a k e s things g o n e perpetually to last, And calls b a c k m o n t h s a n d years that long s i n c e fled. It m a k e s a m a n m o r e a g e d in c o n c e i t T h a n w a s M e t h u s e l a h , 5 or's grandsire great, While of their p e r s o n s a n d their a c t s his mind doth treat.

S o m e t i m e s in E d e n fair h e s e e m s to b e , S e e s glorious A d a m there m a d e lord of all, F a n c i e s the a p p l e , d a n g l e on the tree, T h a t turned his sovereign to a n a k e d thrall. 6 W h o like a m i s c r e a n t ' s driven from that p l a c e , T o get his b r e a d with pain a n d sweat of f a c e , A penalty i m p o s e d on his b a c k s l i d i n g r a c e .

H e r e sits our g r a n d a m e in retired p l a c e , A n d in her lap her bloody C a i n new-born; T h e w e e p i n g imp oft looks her in the f a c e , Bewails his u n k n o w n h a p 7 a n d fate forlorn; His m o t h e r sighs to think of P a r a d i s e , 4. Amazed. 5. Thought to have lived 9 6 9 years (Genesis 5.27). "Conceit": apprehension, the processes of

thought. 6. Slave. 7. Fortune, circumstances.

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A n d how s h e lost her bliss to be m o r e w i s e , Believing him that w a s , a n d is, father of l i e s . 8 •3 H e r e C a i n a n d Abel c o m e to sacrifice, Fruits of the e a r t h a n d f a d i n g s 9 e a c h do bring. O n Abel's gift the fire d e s c e n d s from skies, B u t no s u c h sign on false C a i n ' s offering; With sullen hateful looks h e g o e s his ways, H a t h t h o u s a n d t h o u g h t s to e n d his brother's d a y s , Upon w h o s e blood his future g o o d h e h o p e s to r a i s e . 14

T h e r e Abel k e e p s his s h e e p , no ill h e thinks; H i s brother c o m e s , then a c t s his fratricide: T h e virgin E a r t h of blood her first d r a u g h t drinks, B u t s i n c e that t i m e s h e often h a t h b e e n cloyed. T h e wretch with ghastly f a c e a n d dreadful m i n d T h i n k s e a c h h e s e e s will serve him in his kind, T h o u g h n o n e o n earth b u t kindred n e a r then c o u l d h e find.

W h o f a n c i e s not his looks now at the bar, H i s f a c e like d e a t h , his heart with horror fraught, N o r malefactor ever felt like war, W h e n d e e p d e s p a i r with wish of life hath fought, B r a n d e d with guilt a n d c r u s h e d with treble w o e s , A v a g a b o n d to L a n d of N o d 1 h e g o e s . A city b u i l d s , that walls might him s e c u r e from f o e s . 16

W h o thinks not oft upon the father's a g e s , T h e i r long d e s c e n t , how n e p h e w ' s s o n s they saw, T h e starry o b s e r v a t i o n s of t h o s e s a g e s , A n d how their p r e c e p t s to their s o n s were law, H o w A d a m s i g h e d to s e e his p r o g e n y , C l o t h e d all in his b l a c k sinful livery, W h o neither guilt nor yet the p u n i s h m e n t c o u l d fly. •7 O u r life c o m p a r e we with their length of days W h o to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive? A n d t h o u g h t h u s short, we s h o r t e n m a n y w a y s , Living so little while we a r e alive; In e a t i n g , drinking, s l e e p i n g , vain delight S o u n a w a r e s c o m e s on p e r p e t u a l night, A n d p u t s all p l e a s u r e s vain u n t o e t e r n a l flight. 8. By believing in the "father of lies," Eve lost Paradise in her desire to gain wisdom (Genesis 3); her elder son, Cain, slew his brother, Abel (Genesis 4.8).

9. Animals for slaughter. 1. An unidentified region east of Eden where C dwelled after slaying Abel (Genesis 4 . 1 6 ) .

CONTEMPLATIONS

18

W h e n I b e h o l d the h e a v e n s a s in their p r i m e , A n d then the earth ( t h o u g h old) still c l a d in g r e e n , T h e s t o n e s a n d trees, insensible of t i m e , N o r a g e nor wrinkle o n their front a r e s e e n ; If winter c o m e a n d g r e e n n e s s then d o f a d e , A spring returns, a n d they m o r e youthful m a d e ; B u t m a n grows old, lies d o w n , r e m a i n s where o n c e he's laid. •9 By birth m o r e noble than t h o s e c r e a t u r e s all, Yet s e e m s by n a t u r e a n d by c u s t o m c u r s e d , N o s o o n e r b o r n , but grief a n d c a r e m a k e s fall T h a t state obliterate h e h a d at first; N o r y o u t h , nor strength, nor w i s d o m s p r i n g a g a i n , N o r h a b i t a t i o n s long their n a m e s retain, B u t in oblivion to the final day r e m a i n . 20

Shall I then p r a i s e the h e a v e n s , the trees, the earth B e c a u s e their b e a u t y a n d their strength last longer? Shall I wish there, or never to h a d birth, B e c a u s e they're bigger, a n d their b o d i e s s t r o n g e r ? Nay, they shall d a r k e n , p e r i s h , f a d e a n d die, A n d w h e n u n m a d e , so ever shall they lie, B u t m a n w a s m a d e for e n d l e s s immortality. 21

U n d e r the c o o l i n g s h a d o w of a stately elm C l o s e sat I by a goodly river's s i d e , W h e r e gliding s t r e a m s the rocks did overwhelm, A lonely p l a c e , with p l e a s u r e s dignified. I o n c e that loved the shady w o o d s s o well, N o w t h o u g h t the rivers did the trees excel, And if the s u n w o u l d ever s h i n e , there would I dwell. 22

While on the stealing s t r e a m I fixt m i n e eye, W h i c h to the longed-for o c e a n held its c o u r s e , I m a r k e d , nor c r o o k s , nor r u b s , 2 that there did lie C o u l d hinder a u g h t , ' but still a u g m e n t its f o r c e . " O happy flood," q u o t h I, "that holds thy r a c e Till thou arrive at thy beloved p l a c e , N o r is it rocks or s h o a l s that c a n o b s t r u c t thy p a c e ,

N o r is't e n o u g h , that t h o u a l o n e m a y s t slide B u t h u n d r e d brooks in thy clear waves d o m e e t , S o h a n d in h a n d a l o n g with thee they glide Difficulties.

3. Anything.

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T o T h e t i s ' h o u s e , 4 w h e r e all e m b r a c e a n d greet. Thou e m b l e m true of what I c o u n t the b e s t , O could I lead my rivulets to rest, S o may we p r e s s to that vast m a n s i o n , ever b l e s t . "

160

24

Ye fish, which in this liquid region 'bide, T h a t for e a c h s e a s o n have your h a b i t a t i o n , N o w salt, now fresh w h e r e you think b e s t to glide T o u n k n o w n c o a s t s to give a visitation, In lakes a n d p o n d s you leave your n u m e r o u s fry; S o n a t u r e taught, a n d yet you know not why, You wat'ry folk that know not your felicity.

i6s

25

Look how the w a n t o n s frisk to t a s t e the air, T h e n to the colder b o t t o m straight they dive; E f t s o o n to N e p t u n e ' s 5 glassy hall repair T o s e e what trade they great o n e s there do drive, W h o forage o'er the s p a c i o u s s e a - g r e e n field, A n d take the t r e m b l i n g prey before it yield, W h o s e armor is their s c a l e s , their s p r e a d i n g fins their shield.

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26

W h i l e m u s i n g t h u s with c o n t e m p l a t i o n fed, A n d t h o u s a n d f a n c i e s buzzing in my brain, T h e s w e e t - t o n g u e d P h i l o m e l 6 p e r c h e d o'er my h e a d A n d c h a n t e d forth a m o s t m e l o d i o u s strain W h i c h rapt m e s o with w o n d e r a n d delight, I j u d g e d my h e a r i n g better than my sight, A n d wished m e wings with her a while to take my flight.

iso

27

" O merry B i r d , " said I, " t h a t fears no s n a r e s , T h a t neither toils nor h o a r d s u p in thy barn, F e e l s no s a d t h o u g h t s nor c r u c i a t i n g 7 c a r e s T o gain m o r e g o o d or s h u n what might thee h a r m . Thy c l o t h e s ne'er wear, thy m e a t is everywhere, T h y bed a b o u g h , thy drink the water clear, R e m i n d s not what is p a s t , nor what's to c o m e dost fear."

iss

28

" T h e d a w n i n g m o r n with s o n g s thou dost p r e v e n t , 8 S e t s h u n d r e d notes u n t o thy f e a t h e r e d crew, S o e a c h o n e t u n e s his pretty i n s t r u m e n t , A n d warbling out the old, begin a n e w , A n d thus they p a s s their youth in s u m m e r s e a s o n , 4. I.e., the sea. Thetis, a sea nymph, was Achilles' mother. 5. Roman god of the ocean. "Kftsoon": soon afterward. 6. I.e., the nightingale. Philomela, the daughter of

190

nightingale King Attica, was transformed into a after her hrother-in-law raped her and tore out her tongue. 7. I.e., excruciating, painful. 8. Anticipate.

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123

T h e n follow thee into a better region, W h e r e winter's never felt by that sweet airy l e g i o n . " 29

M a n at the b e s t a c r e a t u r e frail a n d vain, In k n o w l e d g e ignorant, in strength but weak, S u b j e c t to s o r r o w s , l o s s e s , s i c k n e s s , pain, E a c h storm his s t a t e , his m i n d , his body break, F r o m s o m e of these he never finds c e s s a t i o n , B u t day or night, within, without, vexation, T r o u b l e s from foes, from friends, from d e a r e s t , near'st relation. 30

A n d yet this sinful c r e a t u r e , frail a n d vain, T h i s l u m p of w r e t c h e d n e s s , of sin a n d sorrow, T h i s w e a t h e r b e a t e n vessel w r a c k e d with p a i n , J o y s not in h o p e of an eternal morrow; N o r all his l o s s e s , c r o s s e s , a n d vexation, In weight, in f r e q u e n c y a n d long duration C a n m a k e him deeply g r o a n for that divine t r a n s l a t i o n . 9

31

T h e mariner that on s m o o t h waves doth glide S i n g s merrily a n d steers his bark with e a s e , As if he h a d c o m m a n d of wind a n d tide, And now b e c o m e great m a s t e r of the s e a s : B u t s u d d e n l y a s t o r m spoils all the sport, And m a k e s him long for a m o r e quiet port, W h i c h gainst all a d v e r s e winds may serve for fort. 3

2

S o he that saileth in this world of p l e a s u r e , F e e d i n g on s w e e t s , that never bit of th' sour, T h a t ' s full of friends, of honor, a n d of t r e a s u r e , F o n d fool, he takes this earth ev'n for heav'n's bower. B u t s a d affliction c o m e s a n d m a k e s him s e e Here's neither honor, wealth, nor safety; Only a b o v e is f o u n d all with security. 33

O T i m e the fatal wrack 1 of mortal things, T h a t draws oblivion's c u r t a i n s over kings; T h e i r s u m p t u o u s m o n u m e n t s , m e n know t h e m not, T h e i r n a m e s without a record are forgot, Their p a r t s , their ports, their p o m p ' s - all laid in th' d u s t N o r wit nor gold, nor buildings s c a p e times rust;

9. Transformation. ]. Destroyer.

2. Vanity. "Parts": features. "Ports": places of refuge.

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B u t h e w h o s e n a m e is graved in the white s t o n e 3 Shall last a n d shine w h e n all of t h e s e are g o n e . 1678

T h e A u t h o r to H e r B o o k 1 Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain, W h o after birth didst by my side r e m a i n , Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than t r u e , W h o t h e e a b r o a d , e x p o s e d to p u b l i c view, M a d e t h e e in r a g s , halting to th' p r e s s to t r u d g e , W h e r e errors were not l e s s e n e d (all m a y j u d g e ) . At thy return my b l u s h i n g w a s not s m a l l , M y r a m b l i n g brat (in print) s h o u l d m o t h e r call, I c a s t thee by a s o n e unfit for light, T h y visage w a s s o i r k s o m e in my sight; Yet b e i n g m i n e own, at length affection would Thy b l e m i s h e s a m e n d , if s o I c o u l d : I w a s h e d thy f a c e , but m o r e d e f e c t s I saw, A n d r u b b i n g off a spot still m a d e a flaw. I s t r e t c h e d thy j o i n t s to m a k e t h e e even f e e t , 2 Yet still thou run'st m o r e h o b b l i n g than is m e e t ; In better d r e s s to trim t h e e w a s my m i n d , B u t n o u g h t save h o m e s p u n cloth i' th' h o u s e I find. In this array 'mongst v u l g a r s 3 may'st thou r o a m . In critic's h a n d s b e w a r e thou dost not c o m e , A n d take thy way w h e r e yet t h o u art not k n o w n ; If for thy father a s k e d , say t h o u h a d s t n o n e ; A n d for thy m o t h e r , s h e alas is poor, W h i c h c a u s e d her t h u s to s e n d t h e e out of door.

5

10

B

20

1678

B e f o r e t h e B i r t h o f O n e of H e r C h i l d r e n All things within this fading world hath end, Adversity doth still our joys attend; N o ties s o strong, n o friends s o d e a r a n d sweet, B u t with d e a t h ' s p a r t i n g blow is s u r e to m e e t . T h e s e n t e n c e p a s t is most irrevocable, A c o m m o n thing, yet o h , inevitable. H o w s o o n , my D e a r , d e a t h m a y my s t e p s a t t e n d , H o w soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend, 3. "To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new n a m e written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it" (Revelation 2.17). 1. The Tenth Muse was published in 1650 without

5

Bradstreet's knowledge. S h e is thought to have written this poem in 1666 when a 2nd edition was contemplated. 2. I.e., metrical feet; thus, to smooth out the lines. 3. T h e c o m m o n people.

A

L E T T E R TO H E R

HUSBAND, ABSENT UPON

PUBLIC

EMPLOYMENT

W e both are ignorant, yet love bids m e T h e s e farewell lines to r e c o m m e n d to t h e e , T h a t w h e n that knot's untied that m a d e u s o n e , I may s e e m thine, who in effect a m n o n e . A n d if I see not half my days that's d u e , W h a t n a t u r e w o u l d , G o d grant to yours a n d you; T h e m a n y faults that well you know I have Let b e interred in my oblivious grave; If any worth or virtue were in m e , Let that live freshly in thy m e m o r y A n d w h e n thou feel'st no grief, as I no h a r m s , Yet love thy d e a d , w h o long lay in thine a r m s , A n d w h e n thy loss shall be repaid with g a i n s L o o k to my little b a b e s , my d e a r r e m a i n s . A n d if thou love thyself, or loved'st m e , T h e s e O protect from s t e p d a m e ' s 1 injury. A n d if c h a n c e to thine eyes shall bring this verse, With s o m e s a d sighs honor my a b s e n t h e a r s e ; A n d kiss this p a p e r for thy love's d e a r s a k e , W h o with salt tears this last farewell did t a k e .

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2S

1678

T o My Dear and Loving H u s b a n d If ever two were o n e , then surely w e . If ever m a n were loved by wife, then t h e e ; If ever wife w a s happy in a m a n , C o m p a r e with m e , ye w o m e n , if you c a n . I prize thy love m o r e than w h o l e m i n e s of gold O r all the riches that the E a s t doth hold. N o r o u g h t b u t love from t h e e , give r e c o m p e n s e . M y love is s u c h that rivers c a n n o t q u e n c h , Thy love is s u c h I c a n no way repay, T h e h e a v e n s reward t h e e manifold, I pray. T h e n while we live, in love let's s o p e r s e v e r e T h a t w h e n we live no m o r e , we m a y live ever.

5

10

1678

A L e t t e r to H e r H u s b a n d , Absent upon Public Employment M y h e a d , my heart, m i n e e y e s , my life, nay, m o r e , M y joy, my m a g a z i n e ' of earthly s t o r e , If two b e o n e , a s surely thou a n d I, H o w stayest t h o u there, whilst I at I p s w i c h 2 lie? S o m a n y s t e p s , h e a d from the heart to sever, 1. I.e., stepmother's. 1. Warehouse, storehouse.

2. Ipswich, M a s s a c h u s e t t s , is north of Boston.

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If but a neck, s o o n s h o u l d we b e together. I, like the Earth this s e a s o n , m o u r n in b l a c k , M y S u n is g o n e s o far in's z o d i a c , W h o m whilst I j o y e d , nor s t o r m s , nor frost I felt, His w a r m t h s u c h frigid c o l d s did c a u s e to m e l t . M y chilled limbs now n u m b e d lie forlorn; R e t u r n , return, sweet S o l , from C a p r i c o r n ; ' In this d e a d time, a l a s , what c a n I more T h a n view those fruits which through thy heat I b o r e ? W h i c h sweet c o n t e n t m e n t yield m e for a s p a c e , T r u e living p i c t u r e s of their father's face. 0 s t r a n g e effect! now t h o u art s o u t h w a r d g o n e , 1 weary grow the tedious day s o long; B u t w h e n thou northward to m e shalt return, I wish my S u n m a y never set, but burn Within the C a n c e r 4 of my glowing breast, T h e w e l c o m e h o u s e of him my d e a r e s t g u e s t . W h e r e ever, ever stay, a n d go not t h e n c e , Till nature's s a d d e c r e e shall call thee h e n c e ; F l e s h of thy flesh, b o n e of thy b o n e , I h e r e , thou there, yet both but o n e .

10

is

20

25 1678

In M e m o r y o f M y D e a r G r a n d c h i l d E l i z a b e t h B r a d s t r e e t , W h o D e c e a s e d August, 1 6 6 5 , Being a Year a n d a Half Old

Farewell dear b a b e , my heart's too m u c h c o n t e n t , Farewell sweet b a b e , the p l e a s u r e of m i n e eye, Farewell fair flower that for a s p a c e was lent, T h e n ta'en away u n t o eternity. Blest b a b e , why s h o u l d I o n c e bewail thy fate, O r sigh thy days so s o o n were t e r m i n a t e , S i t h 1 thou art settled in an everlasting s t a t e .

5

2

By n a t u r e trees d o rot when they are grown, A n d p l u m s a n d a p p l e s thoroughly ripe do fall, And corn a n d g r a s s a r e in their s e a s o n m o w n , A n d time brings d o w n what is both strong a n d tall. B u t p l a n t s new set to be e r a d i c a t e , And b u d s new blown to have so short a d a t e , Is by His h a n d a l o n e that g u i d e s n a t u r e a n d fate.

ID

1678 3. Capricorn, the tenth sign of the zodiac, represents winter. "Sol": sun. 4. Cancer, the fourth sign of the zodiac, repre-

sents summer. 1. Since.

UPON

THE BURNING OF O U R

HOUSE

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H e r e F o l l o w s S o m e V e r s e s u p o n t h e B u r n i n g of O u r H o u s e July 10th, 1666 Copied

Out of a Loose

Paper

In silent night when rest I took F o r sorrow near I did not look I w a k e n e d was with thund'ring noise A n d p i t e o u s shrieks of dreadful voice. T h a t fearful s o u n d of " F i r e ! " and " F i r e ! " L e t no m a n know is my d e s i r e . I, starting u p , the light did spy, A n d to my G o d my heart did cry T o strengthen m e in my distress And not to leave m e s u c c o r l e s s . T h e n , c o m i n g out, beheld a s p a c e T h e flame c o n s u m e my dwelling p l a c e . A n d w h e n I c o u l d no longer look, I blest His n a m e that gave a n d took, 1 T h a t laid my g o o d s now in the d u s t . Yea, so it w a s , a n d so 'twas j u s t . It w a s His o w n , it was not m i n e , F a r be it that I s h o u l d r e p i n e ; H e might of all justly bereft B u t yet sufficient for us left. W h e n by the ruins oft I past My sorrowing eyes a s i d e did c a s t , A n d here a n d there the p l a c e s spy W h e r e oft I sat a n d long did lie: H e r e stood that trunk, a n d there that c h e s t , T h e r e lay that store I c o u n t e d best. M y p l e a s a n t things in a s h e s lie. A n d t h e m behold no m o r e shall I. U n d e r thy roof no g u e s t shall sit, N o r at thy table eat a bit. N o p l e a s a n t tale shall e'er b e told, N o r things r e c o u n t e d d o n e of old. N o c a n d l e e'er shall shine in t h e e , N o r b r i d e g r o o m ' s voice e'er heard shall b e . In silence ever shall thou lie, Adieu, A d i e u , all's vanity. 2 T h e n straight I 'gin my heart to c h i d e , A n d did thy wealth on earth a b i d e ? Didst fix thy h o p e on mold'ring d u s t ? T h e arm of flesh didst m a k e thy trust? R a i s e up thy t h o u g h t s a b o v e the sky T h a t dunghill mists away may fly. T h o u hast an h o u s e on high erect, F r a m e d by that mighty Architect, 1. "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 1.21).

2. Empty, worthless,

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With glory richly furnished, S t a n d s p e r m a n e n t t h o u g h this b e fled. It's p u r c h a s e d a n d paid for too By H i m w h o hath e n o u g h to do. A price s o vast a s is u n k n o w n Yet by His gift is m a d e thine own; T h e r e ' s wealth e n o u g h , I n e e d no m o r e , Farewell, my pelf, 3 farewell my store. T h e world no longer let m e love, M y h o p e a n d t r e a s u r e lies a b o v e .

4S

so

1867

To My Dear Children This book by any yet unread, 1 leave for you when I am dead, That being gone, here you may find What was your living mother's mind. Make use of what I leave in love, And God shall bless you from above. A. B.

My dear children, I, k n o w i n g by e x p e r i e n c e that the exhortations of p a r e n t s take m o s t effect w h e n the s p e a k e r s leave to s p e a k , 1 a n d t h o s e especially sink d e e p e s t w h i c h are s p o k e latest, a n d b e i n g ignorant w h e t h e r on my d e a t h b e d I shall h a v e opportunity to s p e a k to a n y of you, m u c h less to all, t h o u g h t it the b e s t , whilst I w a s a b l e , to c o m p o s e s o m e short m a t t e r s (for what e l s e to call t h e m I know not) a n d b e q u e a t h to you, that w h e n I a m n o m o r e with you, yet I m a y b e daily in your r e m e m b r a n c e ( a l t h o u g h that is the least in my a i m in w h a t I now d o ) , but that you m a y gain s o m e spiritual a d v a n t a g e by my exper i e n c e . I have not studied in this you r e a d to s h o w my skill, b u t to d e c l a r e the truth, not to set forth myself, b u t the glory of G o d . If I h a d m i n d e d the former, it h a d b e e n p e r h a p s better p l e a s i n g to you, b u t s e e i n g the last is the b e s t , let it be b e s t p l e a s i n g to you. T h e m e t h o d I will o b s e r v e shall be this: I will begin with G o d ' s d e a l i n g with m e from my c h i l d h o o d to this day. In my y o u n g years, a b o u t 6 or 7 a s I take it, I b e g a n to m a k e c o n s c i e n c e of my ways, a n d what I k n e w w a s sinful, a s lying, d i s o b e d i e n c e to p a r e n t s , e t c . , I avoided it. If at any time I w a s overtaken with the like evils, it w a s a s a great trouble, a n d I c o u l d not b e at rest till by prayer I h a d c o n f e s s e d it u n t o G o d . I w a s a l s o troubled at the n e g l e c t of private d u t i e s t h o u g h t o o often tardy that way. I a l s o f o u n d m u c h c o m f o r t in r e a d i n g the S c r i p t u r e s , especially t h o s e p l a c e s I t h o u g h t m o s t c o n c e r n e d my c o n d i t i o n , a n d a s I grew to have m o r e u n d e r s t a n d i n g , so the m o r e s o l a c e I took in t h e m . In a long fit of s i c k n e s s which I h a d on my b e d I often c o m m u n e d with 3. Possessions, usually in the sense of being falsely gained.

1. I.e., stop speaking.

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my heart a n d m a d e my s u p p l i c a t i o n to the m o s t High w h o set m e free from that affliction. B u t as I grew up to be a b o u t 14 or 1 5 , 1 f o u n d my heart m o r e c a r n a l , 2 a n d sitting loose from G o d , vanity a n d the follies of youth take hold of m e . A b o u t 1 6 , the L o r d laid H i s h a n d sore u p o n m e a n d s m o t e m e with the smallpox. W h e n I w a s in my affliction, I b e s o u g h t the L o r d a n d c o n f e s s e d my pride a n d vanity, a n d H e w a s entreated of m e a n d again restored m e . B u t I rendered not to H i m a c c o r d i n g to the benefit received. After a short time I c h a n g e d my condition a n d w a s m a r r i e d , a n d c a m e into this country, w h e r e I f o u n d a new world a n d n e w m a n n e r s , at which my heart r o s e . B u t after I w a s c o n v i n c e d it w a s the way of G o d , I s u b m i t t e d to it a n d j o i n e d to the c h u r c h at B o s t o n . After s o m e time I fell into a lingering s i c k n e s s like a c o n s u m p t i o n together with a l a m e n e s s , which correction I saw the L o r d sent to h u m b l e a n d try m e a n d d o m e g o o d , a n d it w a s not altogether ineffectual. It p l e a s e d G o d to keep m e a long time without a child, which w a s a great grief to m e a n d c o s t m e m a n y prayers a n d tears before I o b t a i n e d o n e , a n d after him gave m e m a n y m o r e of w h o m I now take the c a r e , that a s I have b r o u g h t you into the world, a n d with great p a i n s , w e a k n e s s , c a r e s , a n d fears b r o u g h t you to this, I now travail* in birth again of you till C h r i s t b e f o r m e d in y o u . A m o n g all my experiences of G o d ' s g r a c i o u s d e a l i n g s with m e , I have c o n stantly observed this, that H e h a t h never suffered m e long to sit loose from H i m , b u t by o n e affliction or other hath m a d e m e look h o m e , a n d s e a r c h what w a s a m i s s ; so usually t h u s it hath b e e n with m e that I have no s o o n e r felt my heart out of order, but I have expected correction for it, which m o s t c o m m o n l y hath b e e n u p o n my own p e r s o n in s i c k n e s s , w e a k n e s s , p a i n s , s o m e t i m e s on my soul, in d o u b t s a n d fears of G o d ' s d i s p l e a s u r e a n d my sincerity towards H i m ; s o m e t i m e s H e hath s m o t e a child with a s i c k n e s s , s o m e t i m e s c h a s t e n e d by l o s s e s in e s t a t e , 4 a n d t h e s e times (through His great mercy) have b e e n the times of my greatest getting a n d a d v a n t a g e ; yea, I have found them the times w h e n the L o r d hath m a n i f e s t e d the m o s t love to m e . T h e n have I g o n e to s e a r c h i n g a n d have said with David, " L o r d , s e a r c h m e a n d try m e , s e e w h a t ways of w i c k e d n e s s are in m e , a n d lead m e in the way everlasting," 5 a n d s e l d o m or never but I have f o u n d either s o m e sin I lay u n d e r which G o d would have r e f o r m e d , or s o m e duty n e g l e c t e d which H e w o u l d have p e r f o r m e d , a n d by H i s help I have laid vows a n d b o n d s u p o n my soul to perform H i s righteous c o m m a n d s . If at any time you are c h a s t e n e d of G o d , take it a s thankfully a n d joyfully a s in g r e a t e s t m e r c i e s , for if ye b e H i s , ye shall r e a p the g r e a t e s t benefit by it. It hath b e e n n o small s u p p o r t to m e in t i m e s of d a r k n e s s w h e n the Almighty h a t h hid H i s f a c e from m e that yet I have h a d a b u n d a n c e of sweetn e s s a n d r e f r e s h m e n t after affliction a n d m o r e c i r c u m s p e c t i o n 6 in my walking after I have b e e n afflicted. I have b e e n with G o d like a n u n t o w a r d child, that no longer than the rod has b e e n on my b a c k (or at least in sight) but I have b e e n apt to forget H i m a n d myself, too. B e f o r e I w a s afflicted, I went astray, but now I keep Thy s t a t u t e s . 7 2. I.e., worldly. 3. Toil, labor. 4. Financial losses.

5. Psalm 1 3 9 . 2 3 - 2 4 . 6. Prudence. 7. Psalm 119.8.

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I have h a d great e x p e r i e n c e of G o d ' s h e a r i n g my prayers a n d r e t u r n i n g c o m f o r t a b l e a n s w e r s to m e , either in granting the thing I prayed for, or else in satisfying my mind without it, a n d I have b e e n confident it hath b e e n from H i m , b e c a u s e I have f o u n d my heart t h r o u g h H i s g o o d n e s s e n l a r g e d in t h a n k f u l n e s s to H i m . I have often b e e n perplexed that I have not f o u n d that c o n s t a n t j o y in my p i l g r i m a g e a n d refreshing which I s u p p o s e d m o s t of the servants of G o d have, a l t h o u g h H e hath not left m e altogether without the witness of H i s holy spirit, w h o hath oft given m e H i s word a n d set to H i s seal that it shall b e well with m e . I have s o m e t i m e s tasted of that hidden m a n n a that the world k n o w s not, a n d have set u p my E b e n e z e r , " a n d have resolved with myself that a g a i n s t s u c h a p r o m i s e , s u c h tastes of s w e e t n e s s , the g a t e s of hell shall never prevail; yet have I m a n y times sinkings a n d d r o o p i n g s , a n d not enjoyed that felicity that s o m e t i m e s I have d o n e . B u t w h e n I have b e e n in d a r k n e s s a n d s e e n no light, yet have I desired to stay myself u p o n the L o r d , a n d w h e n I have b e e n in s i c k n e s s a n d pain, I have t h o u g h t if the L o r d w o u l d but lift u p the light of H i s c o u n t e n a n c e u p o n m e , a l t h o u g h H e g r o u n d m e to powder, it would b e b u t light to m e ; yea, oft have I thought were I in hell itself a n d c o u l d there find the love of G o d toward m e , it would b e a h e a v e n . A n d c o u l d I have b e e n in heaven without the love of G o d , it would have b e e n a hell to m e , for in truth it is the a b s e n c e a n d p r e s e n c e of G o d that m a k e s h e a v e n or hell. M a n y t i m e s hath S a t a n troubled m e c o n c e r n i n g t h e verity of the S c r i p t u r e s , m a n y times by a t h e i s m h o w I c o u l d know w h e t h e r there w a s a G o d ; I never s a w any m i r a c l e s to confirm m e , a n d t h o s e which I read of, how did I know b u t they were f e i g n e d ? T h a t there is a G o d my r e a s o n w o u l d s o o n tell m e by t h e w o n d r o u s works that I s e e , the vast f r a m e of t h e h e a v e n a n d the earth, the order of all things, night a n d day, s u m m e r a n d winter, s p r i n g a n d a u t u m n , the daily providing for this great h o u s e h o l d u p o n the e a r t h , the preserving a n d directing of all to its p r o p e r e n d . T h e c o n s i d e r a t i o n of t h e s e things would with a m a z e m e n t certainly resolve m e that there is a n E t e r n a l B e i n g . B u t how s h o u l d I know H e is s u c h a G o d a s I w o r s h i p in Trinity, a n d s u c h a Savior a s I rely u p o n ? T h o u g h this hath t h o u s a n d s of times b e e n s u g g e s t e d to m e , yet G o d hath h e l p e d m e over. I have a r g u e d t h u s with myself. T h a t there is a G o d , I s e e . If ever this G o d hath revealed himself, it m u s t b e in H i s word, a n d this m u s t be it or n o n e . H a v e I not f o u n d that o p e r a t i o n by it that no h u m a n invention c a n work u p o n t h e soul, hath not j u d g m e n t s befallen divers who have s c o r n e d a n d c o n t e m n e d it, hath it not b e e n preserved through all a g e s m a u g r e ' ) all the h e a t h e n tyrants a n d all of the e n e m i e s w h o have o p p o s e d it? Is there any story b u t that which s h o w s the b e g i n n i n g s of t i m e s , a n d how the world c a m e to b e a s w e s e e ? D o we not know the p r o p h e c i e s in it fulfilled which c o u l d not have b e e n so long foretold by any b u t G o d H i m s e l f ? W h e n I have got over this block, then have I a n o t h e r p u t in my way, that a d m i t this b e the true G o d w h o m w e w o r s h i p , a n d that b e his word, yet why m a y not the P o p i s h religion b e the right? T h e y have the s a m e G o d , the s a m e C h r i s t , the s a m e word. T h e y only interpret it o n e way, w e a n o t h e r . 8. In 1 S a m u e l 7 . 1 2 . a stone monument to commemorate a victory over the Philistines. " M a n n a " : the "bread Irom heaven" (Exodus 16.4) that fed the

Israelites in the wilderness, 9. In spite of. " C o n t e m n e d " : despised,

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T h i s hath s o m e t i m e s s t u c k with m e , a n d m o r e it w o u l d , hut the vain fooleries that are in their religion together with their iying m i r a c l e s a n d cruel p e r s e c u t i o n s of the s a i n t s , which a d m i t were they a s they term t h e m , yet not so to be dealt withal. T h e c o n s i d e r a t i o n of these things a n d m a n y the like would s o o n turn m e to my own religion again. B u t s o m e new troubles I have h a d s i n c e the world has b e e n filled with b l a s p h e m y a n d s e c t a r i e s , 1 a n d s o m e w h o have b e e n a c c o u n t e d s i n c e r e C h r i s tians have b e e n carried away with t h e m , that s o m e t i m e s I have said, "Is there faith u p o n the e a r t h ? " a n d I have not known what to think; but then I have r e m e m b e r e d the works of C h r i s t that so it m u s t b e , a n d if it were p o s s i b l e , the very elect s h o u l d be deceived. " B e h o l d , " saith o u r Savior, "I have told you b e f o r e . " T h a t hath stayed my heart, a n d I c a n n o w say, " R e t u r n , O my S o u l , to thy rest, u p o n this rock C h r i s t J e s u s will I build my faith, a n d if I p e r i s h , I p e r i s h " ; but I know all the Powers of Hell shall never prevail a g a i n s t it. I know w h o m I have trusted, and w h o m I have believed, a n d that H e is able to keep that I have c o m m i t t e d to His c h a r g e . N o w to the King, i m m o r t a l , eternal a n d invisible, the only wise G o d , be honor, a n d glory for ever a n d ever, A m e n . T h i s was written in m u c h s i c k n e s s a n d w e a k n e s s , a n d is very weakly a n d imperfectly d o n e , but if you c a n pick any benefit out of it, it is the m a r k which I a i m e d at. 1867

In H o n o r o f T h a t H i g h a n d M i g h t y P r i n c e s s Q u e e n of H a p p y M e m o r y The

Proem1

A l t h o u g h , great Q u e e n , thou now in silence lie, Yet thy loud herald F a m e doth to the sky Thy w o n d r o u s worth proclaim in every c l i m e , And so hath vowed while there is world or t i m e . S o great's thy glory a n d thine e x c e l l e n c e , T h e s o u n d thereof r a p t s 3 every h u m a n s e n s e , T h a t m e n a c c o u n t it no impiety, T o say thou wert a fleshly deity. T h o u s a n d s bring offerings ( t h o u g h out of d a t e ) Thy world of h o n o r s to a c c u m u l a t e ; ' M o n g s t h u n d r e d h e c a t o m b s of roaring 4 v e r s e , M i n e bleating s t a n d s before thy royal h e a r s e . 5 T h o u never didst nor c a n s t thou now d i s d a i n T a c c e p t the tribute of a loyal brain. Thy c l e m e n c y did erst e s t e e m a s m u c h 1. Unbelievers, heretics. 1. Elizabeth 1 ( 1 5 3 3 - 1 6 0 3 ) , queen of ascended to the throne in I 558. 2. Prelude. 3. Enraptures.

England,

Elizabeth1

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4. Loud. " H e c a t o m b s " : sacrificial offerings of one hundred beasts, made in ancient Greece. 5. An elaborate framework erected over a royal tomb to which verses or epitaphs were attached.

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T h e a c c l a m a t i o n s of the p o o r a s rich, W h i c h m a k e s m e d e e m my r u d e n e s s is n o wrong, T h o u g h I r e s o u n d thy p r a i s e s 'mongst t h e throng. The

Poem

N o Phoenix p e n , nor S p e n s e r ' s poetry, N o S p e e d ' s nor C a m d e n ' s 6 l e a r n e d history, Eliza's works, w a r s , p r a i s e , c a n e'er c o m p a c t ; 7 T h e world's the theatre w h e r e s h e did a c t . N o m e m o r i e s nor v o l u m e s c a n c o n t a i n T h e 'leven O l y m p i a d s 8 of her h a p p y reign. W h o w a s so g o o d , so j u s t , s o learn'd, s o w i s e , F r o m all the kings on earth s h e w o n the prize. N o r say I m o r e t h a n duly is her d u e , M i l l i o n s will testify that this is t r u e . S h e h a t h wiped off th' a s p e r s i o n of her sex, T h a t w o m e n w i s d o m lack to play the rex. 9 S p a i n ' s m o n a r c h , says not s o , nor yet his h o s t ; S h e t a u g h t t h e m better m a n n e r s , to their c o s t . 1 T h e S a l i c l a w , 2 in force now h a d not b e e n , If F r a n c e h a d ever h o p e d for s u c h a q u e e n . B u t c a n you, d o c t o r s , 3 now this point d i s p u t e , S h e ' s a r g u m e n t e n o u g h to m a k e you m u t e . S i n c e first the S u n did run his ne'er run r a c e , 4 A n d earth h a d , o n c e a year, a n e w old f a c e , 5 S i n c e time w a s t i m e , a n d m a n u n m a n l y m a n , C o m e s h o w m e s u c h a Phoenix if you c a n . W a s ever p e o p l e better ruled than h e r s ? W a s ever l a n d m o r e h a p p y freed from s t i r s ? 6 D i d ever wealth in E n g l a n d m o r e a b o u n d ? H e r victories in foreign c o a s t s r e s o u n d ; S h i p s m o r e invincible t h a n S p a i n ' s , her f o e , S h e w r a c k e d , s h e s a c k e d , s h e s u n k his A r m a d o ; H e r stately troops a d v a n c e d to L i s b o n ' s wall, D o n A n t h o n y 7 in's right there to install. S h e frankly h e l p e d Frank's brave d i s t r e s s e d k i n g ; 8 T h e s t a t e s u n i t e d 9 now her f a m e d o sing. 6. William C a m d e n ( 1 5 5 1 - 1 6 2 3 ) , the author of Annates, translated in 1630 as The History' of the Elizabeth. Most Renowned and Victorious Princess " N o Phoenix pen": perhaps a reference to the English poet Sir Philip Sidney ( 1 5 5 4 - 1 5 8 6 ) , the subject of one of Bradstreet's p o e m s , but she may also be referring to any immortal poet's work. T h e phoenix is a mythological bird that dies in flames and rises from its ashes. E d m u n d S p e n s e r (c. 1 5 5 2 - 1 5 9 9 ) , author of The Faerie Queen ( 1 5 9 0 , 1 5 9 6 ) , whose title honors Elizabeth. John Speed (1 5 5 2 ? - 1 6 2 9 ) , who published his Historie of Great Britain in 1 6 1 1 . 7. Reduce to manageable space. 8. Four-year intervals between Olympic games; in ancient G r e e c e dates were calculated by them. Elizabeth I reigned for forty-four years. 9. King (Latin).

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1. Philip II ( 1 5 2 7 - 1 5 9 8 ) was Spain's monarch when Queen Elizabeth's navy defeated his "host" (the many ships of the Spanish Armada) in 1 5 8 8 . 2. A law of the Salian Franks that excluded women from succession to the French crown. 3. Learned men. 4. I.e., never-finished course. 5. I.e., earth has a new face each spring. 6. Disturbances. 7. Don Antonio of C r a t o ( 1 5 3 1 - 1 5 9 5 ) , who laid claim to the Portuguese throne. 8. Henri IV ( 1 5 5 3 - 1 6 1 0 ) , Protestant king of France. 9. A reference to T h e Netherlands, whose national assembly was called the States General. Elizabeth I c a m e to their aid in the wars against Spain.

IN

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S h e their protectrix w a s ; they well d o know U n t o our d r e a d virago,' what they o w e . H e r n o b l e s sacrificed their noble blood, N o r m e n nor coin s h e s p a r e d to d o t h e m g o o d . T h e r u d e u n t a m e d Irish, s h e did quell, B e f o r e her picture the p r o u d T y r o n e 2 fell. H a d ever p r i n c e s u c h c o u n s e l l o r s a s s h e ? H e r s e l f M i n e r v a 3 c a u s e d t h e m s o to b e . S u c h c a p t a i n s a n d s u c h soldiers never s e e n , As were the s u b j e c t s of our P a l l a s q u e e n . H e r s e a m e n through all straits the world did r o u n d ; Terra incognita4 might know the s o u n d . H e r D r a k e c a m e laden h o m e with S p a n i s h gold; H e r E s s e x took C a d i z , their H e r c u l e a n h o l d . 3 B u t time would fail m e , so my t o n g u e would t o o , T o tell of half s h e did, or s h e c o u l d d o . S e m i r a m i s 6 to her is but o b s c u r e , M o r e infamy than f a m e s h e did p r o c u r e . S h e built her glory but on Babel's walls, 7 World's w o n d e r for a while, b u t yet it falls. Fierce Tomris (Cyrus' headsman) Scythians'queen,8 H a d p u t her h a r n e s s off, h a d s h e but s e e n O u r A m a z o n in th' C a m p of T i l b u r y , 9 J u d g i n g all valor a n d all majesty Within that p r i n c e s s to have r e s i d e n c e , And p r o s t r a t e yielded to her e x c e l l e n c e . Dido, first f o u n d r e s s of p r o u d C a r t h a g e walls' (Who living c o n s u m m a t e s her f u n e r a l s ) , A great Eliza, b u t c o m p a r e d with o u r s , H o w v a n i s h e t h her glory, wealth, a n d p o w e r s . Profuse, proud Cleopatra, whose wrong n a m e , 2 I n s t e a d of glory, proved her country's s h a m e , O f her what worth in stories to b e s e e n , B u t that s h e w a s a rich Egyptian q u e e n . Z e n o b y a , 3 p o t e n t e m p r e s s of the E a s t , 1. Female warrior. 2. The Irish chieftain Hugh O'Neill (c. 1 5 4 0 1616). second earl of Tyrone, who was defeated hy English forces in 1 6 0 1 . 3. The Roman goddess of war, wisdom, chastity, the arts, and justice. In G r e e c e she is known as Pallas Athena. 4. Unknown land (Latin). 5. Robert Devereux ( 1 5 6 6 - 1 6 0 1 ) . second earl of Essex, captured the Spanish port Cadiz in I 5 9 6 . The hold was " H e r c u l e a n " b e c a u s e Cadi/ was exceptionally well defended. Sir Francis Drake ( 1 5 4 0 ? - ! 596) brought back to England Spanish gold trom Chile and Peru. 6. Late-9th-century queen of Assyria; she is said to have built Babylon. 7. T h e tower of Babel was built to win tame for its builders (Genesis 11). 8. Tomyris was queen of the M a s s a g e t a e , a Scythian tribe, whose armies in 529 B.C.E. defeated Cyrus the Great of Persia. According to some

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a c c o u n t s , she had him beheaded and his head thrown into a pot of blood because it was a fitting end to a bloodthirsty man. 9. It is reported that Elizabeth I, dressed like the mythological female warriors known as Amazons, wore a silver breastplate when she addressed the English troops at Tilbury on the north bank of the T h a m e s Riverin 1 5 8 8 . anticipatinga Spanish invasion. 1. The Latin poet Virgil ( 7 0 - 1 9 B.C.E.), in his Aeneid (book 4 ) , tells the tale of the fabled queen of C a r t h a g e and her self-immolation after she was abandoned by Aeneas. 2. In Greek C l e o p a t r a — t h e name of the famous, but licentious, Egyptian queen (69—30 B . C . E . ) — means "glory to the father." Bradstreet extends the meaning to "fatherland." 3. Queen of Palmyra in Syria, famous for her wars of expansion and defeated by the R o m a n emperor Aurelian in 2 7 3 . S h e died sometime shortly after that date.

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And of all t h e s e without c o m p a r e the b e s t , W h o m n o n e b u t great A u r e l i u s c o u l d quell; Yet for our Q u e e n is n o fit parallel. S h e w a s a Phoenix q u e e n , so shall s h e b e , H e r a s h e s not revived, m o r e Phoenix s h e . H e r p e r s o n a l p e r f e c t i o n s , w h o w o u l d tell M u s t dip his p e n in th' H e l e c o n i a n well, 4 W h i c h I m a y not, my pride doth b u t a s p i r e T o r e a d what o t h e r s write a n d s o a d m i r e . N o w say, have w o m e n worth? or have they n o n e ? O r h a d they s o m e , b u t with our Q u e e n is't g o n e ? N a y m a s c u l i n e s , you have t h u s taxed u s long, B u t s h e , t h o u g h d e a d , will vindicate our w r o n g . L e t s u c h a s say our sex is void of r e a s o n , K n o w 'tis a s l a n d e r now but o n c e w a s t r e a s o n . B u t happy E n g l a n d which h a d s u c h a q u e e n ; Yea happy, happy, h a d t h o s e days still b e e n . B u t h a p p i n e s s lies in a higher s p h e r e , T h e n w o n d e r not Eliza m o v e s not h e r e . Full fraught with honor, riches a n d with days S h e set, s h e set, like T i t a n 5 in his rays. N o m o r e shall rise or set so glorious s u n Until the heaven's great revolution; 6 If then n e w things their old f o r m s shall retain, Eliza shall rule A l b i o n 7 o n c e a g a i n . Her

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H e r e s l e e p s the q u e e n , this is the royal b e d O f th' d a m a s k r o s e , s p r u n g from the white a n d r e d , 8 W h o s e sweet p e r f u m e fills the all-filling air. T h i s rose is withered, o n c e so lovely fair. O n neither tree did grow s u c h rose b e f o r e , T h e greater w a s our gain, our loss the m o r e . Another H e r e lies the pride of q u e e n s , p a t t e r n of k i n g s , S o blaze it, F a m e , here's f e a t h e r s for thy w i n g s . H e r e lies the envied, yet u n p a r a l l e l e d p r i n c e , W h o s e living virtues s p e a k ( t h o u g h d e a d l o n g s i n c e ) . If m a n y worlds, a s that f a n t a s t i c f r a m e d , In every o n e b e her great glory f a m e d . 1643 4. T h e Hippocrene spring on Mount Helican, home of the M u s e s , was the source of poetic inspiration. 5. T h e Latin poets' name for the sun god. 6. "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more s e a " (Revelation 21.1). 7. England.

1650 8. Queen Elizabeth's father, Henry VIII ( 1 4 9 1 1547), descended from the H o u s e of Lancaster, identified with the symbol of the red rose; her mother, Anne Boleyn (1 507?—1 536), was from the H o u s e of York, identified with a white rose. T h e two houses were at war with each other for many years. Bradstreet suggests that the d a m a s k rose of Elizabeth is formed by the interweaving of these two colors.

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c. 1 6 3 6 - 1 7 1 1 On June 20, 1675, Metacomet, who was called Philip by the colonists, led the first of a series of attacks on colonial settlements that lasted for more than a year. Before they were over, more than twelve hundred houses had been burned, about six hundred English colonials were dead, and three thousand American Indians killed. These attacks have become known as "King Philip's War." It was the direct result of the execution in Plymouth, Massachusetts, of three of Philip's Wampanoag tribesmen, but the indirect causes were many; not the least was the fact that the native Americans were starving and desperate to retain their lands. In a sense, the war may be seen as a last-ditch effort by the Wampanoags and their allies against further expansion by the colonists. By the time the war was over, in August of 1676, with Philip slain and his wife and children sold into slavery in the West Indies, the independent power of the New England American Indians had ended. Probably the most famous victim of these attacks is the author of A Narrative of the Captivity

and Restoration

of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson,

the wife of the minister of

the town of Lancaster. With the exception of the eleven weeks she spent as a captive among the Wampanoags, however, almost everything about Mrs. Rowlandson's life remains conjectural. She was probably born in England and brought to this country at an early age. Her father, John White, was a wealthy landholder in the Massachusetts Bay Colony who settled in Lancaster. About 1656 she married Joseph Rowlandson and for the next twenty years led a busy life as mother and minister's wife. The attack on Lancaster occurred on February 20, 1676, and she was not released until the second of May, having been ransomed for twenty pounds. The following year she went with her husband to Wethersfield, Connecticut; Mr. Rowlandson died there in 1678. The town voted to pay her an annuity "so long as she remains a widow among us." For lack of any further information, most biographical entries conclude here. Recently, David Greene has verified that Mary Rowlandson married Captain Samuel Talcott in Wethersfield on August 6, 1679, and that she died in that Connecticut Valley town on January 5, 1711, thirty-five years after her famous ordeal. Shortly after her return to Lancaster, Mrs. Rowlandson began to make a record of her life in captivity. Her Narrative (published in 1682) is the only evidence we have of her skill as a writer. The account of her captivity became one of the most popular prose works of the seventeenth century, both in this country and in England. It combined high adventure, heroism, and exemplary piety and is the first and, in its narrative skill and delineation of character, the best of what have become popularly known as "Indian captivities." As transformed into fictional form by writers like James Fenimore Cooper (in The Last of the Mohicans) and William Faulkner (in Sanctuary), it is a genre that has proven to be an integral part of our I American literary corisciousness.

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From

ROWLANDSON

A N a r r a t i v e of t h e C a p t i v i t y a n d R e s t o r a t i o n o f Mrs. Mary Rowlandson1

O n the tenth of F e b r u a r y 1 6 7 5 , 2 c a m e the I n d i a n s with great n u m b e r s u p o n L a n c a s t e r : ' their first c o m i n g w a s a b o u t sunrising; h e a r i n g the noise of s o m e g u n s , we looked out; several h o u s e s were b u r n i n g , a n d the s m o k e a s c e n d i n g to h e a v e n . T h e r e were five p e r s o n s taken in o n e h o u s e ; the father, a n d the m o t h e r a n d a s u c k i n g child, they k n o c k e d on the h e a d ; the other two they took a n d carried away alive. T h e r e were two o t h e r s , w h o being out of their g a r r i s o n 4 u p o n s o m e o c c a s i o n were set u p o n ; o n e w a s k n o c k e d on the h e a d , the other e s c a p e d ; a n o t h e r there w a s w h o r u n n i n g a l o n g w a s shot a n d w o u n d e d , a n d fell d o w n ; h e b e g g e d of t h e m his life, p r o m i s i n g t h e m m o n e y (as they told m e ) but they would not h e a r k e n to him but k n o c k e d him in h e a d , a n d stripped him n a k e d , a n d split o p e n his b o w e l s . 5 Another, s e e i n g m a n y of the Indians a b o u t his b a r n , v e n t u r e d a n d went out, but w a s quickly shot down. T h e r e were three o t h e r s b e l o n g i n g to the s a m e garrison w h o were killed; the Indians getting u p u p o n the roof of the b a r n , h a d advantage to shoot down u p o n t h e m over their fortification. T h u s t h e s e m u r d e r o u s wretches went o n , b u r n i n g , a n d destroying before t h e m . At length they c a m e a n d b e s e t our own h o u s e , a n d quickly it w a s the dolefulest day that ever m i n e eyes saw. T h e h o u s e s t o o d u p o n the e d g e of a hill; s o m e of the Indians got b e h i n d the hill, o t h e r s into the b a r n , a n d others behind a n y t h i n g that could shelter t h e m ; from all which p l a c e s they shot a g a i n s t the h o u s e , s o that the bullets s e e m e d to fly like hail; a n d quickly they w o u n d e d o n e m a n a m o n g u s , then a n o t h e r , a n d then a third. A b o u t two hours ( a c c o r d i n g to my observation, in that a m a z i n g time) they h a d b e e n a b o u t the h o u s e before they prevailed to fire it (which they did with flax: a n d h e m p , which they brought out of the b a r n , a n d there b e i n g no d e f e n s e a b o u t the h o u s e , only two flankers'' at two o p p o s i t e c o r n e r s a n d o n e of t h e m not finished); they fired it o n c e a n d o n e v e n t u r e d out a n d q u e n c h e d it, but they quickly fired it a g a i n , a n d that took. N o w is the dreadful hour c o m e , that I have often h e a r d of (in time of war, a s it w a s the c a s e of o t h e r s ) , but now m i n e eyes s e e it. S o m e in our h o u s e were fighting for their lives, others wallowing in their blood, the h o u s e o n fire over our h e a d s , a n d the bloody h e a t h e n ready to knock us on the h e a d , if we stirred out. N o w might we hear m o t h e r s a n d children crying out for t h e m s e l v e s , a n d o n e a n o t h e r , " L o r d , what shall we d o ? " T h e n I took my children (and o n e of my sisters', hers) to

1. T h e text used is Original Narratives of Early American History, Narratives of Indian Wars 1675— J 6 9 9 , vol. 14, edited by C. H. Lincoln ( 1 9 5 2 ) . All copies of the first edition have been lost. Like most modern editors, Lincoln has chosen to reprint the second "addition," printed in Cambridge, Massachusetts, by Samuel Green in 1682. The full title is The sovereignty and goodness of GOD, together with the faithfulness of his promises displayed; being a narrative of the captivity and restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson, commended by her, to all that desires to know the Lord's doings to, and dealings with her. Especially to her dear children and relations. The second Addition Corrected and amended. Written by her own hand for her private use, and

now made public at the earnest desire of some friends, and for the benefit of the afflicted. Dent. 3 2 . 3 9 . See now that I. even I am he, and there is no god with me; I kill and / make alive, I wound and I heal, neither is there any can deliver out of my hand. 2. A Thursday. Using the present Gregorian calendar, adopted in 1752, February 20, 1676. 3. Lancaster, M a s s a c h u s e t t s , was a frontier town ol approximately fifty iamilies, about thirty miles west of Boston. 4. I.e.. houses in the town where people gathered for defense. 5.

Belly.

6. Projecting

fortifications.

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go forth and leave the h o u s e : but a s s o o n a s we c a m e to the door a n d a p p e a r e d , the Indians shot so thick that the bullets rattled a g a i n s t the h o u s e , a s if o n e h a d taken a n handful of s t o n e s a n d threw t h e m , s o that we were fain to give b a c k . W e h a d six stout dogs b e l o n g i n g to our g a r r i s o n , but n o n e of t h e m would stir, t h o u g h a n o t h e r t i m e , if any Indian h a d c o m e to the door, they were ready to fly u p o n him a n d tear him d o w n . T h e L o r d hereby would m a k e u s the m o r e a c k n o w l e d g e His h a n d , a n d to s e e that our help is always in H i m . B u t out we m u s t g o , the fire increasing, a n d c o m i n g a l o n g b e h i n d u s , roaring, a n d the Indians g a p i n g before u s with their g u n s , s p e a r s , a n d h a t c h e t s to d e v o u r u s . N o s o o n e r were we out of the h o u s e , but my brotherin-law (being before w o u n d e d , in d e f e n d i n g the h o u s e , in or near the throat) fell d o w n d e a d , whereat the Indians scornfully s h o u t e d , a n d hallowed, a n d were presently upon him, stripping off his c l o t h e s , the bullets flying thick, o n e went.through my s i d e , a n d the s a m e (as would s e e m ) t h r o u g h the bowels a n d h a n d of my dear child in my a r m s . O n e of my elder sisters' children, n a m e d William, h a d then his leg broken, which the I n d i a n s perceiving, they k n o c k e d him on [his] h e a d . T h u s were we b u t c h e r e d by t h o s e m e r c i l e s s h e a t h e n , s t a n d i n g a m a z e d , with the blood r u n n i n g d o w n to our h e e l s . M y eldest sister b e i n g yet in the h o u s e , a n d s e e i n g t h o s e woeful sights, the infidels h a u l i n g m o t h e r s o n e way, a n d children a n o t h e r , a n d s o m e wallowing in their blood: a n d her elder son telling her that her son William w a s d e a d , a n d myself w a s w o u n d e d , s h e said, "And Lord, let m e die with t h e m , " which w a s no s o o n e r said, but s h e w a s struck with a bullet, a n d fell d o w n d e a d over the threshold. I h o p e s h e is r e a p i n g the fruit of her g o o d labors, b e i n g faithful to the service of G o d in her p l a c e . In her y o u n g e r years s h e lay u n d e r m u c h trouble u p o n spiritual a c c o u n t s , till it p l e a s e d G o d to m a k e that p r e c i o u s scripture take hold of her heart, "And he said unto m e , my G r a c e is sufficient for t h e e " (2 C o r i n t h i a n s 1 2 . 9 ) . M o r e than twenty years after, I have heard her tell how sweet a n d c o m f o r t a b l e that p l a c e w a s to her. B u t to return: the Indians laid hold of us, pulling m e o n e way, a n d the children another, a n d said, " C o m e go a l o n g with u s " ; I told t h e m they would kill m e : they a n s w e r e d , if I were willing to go a l o n g with t h e m , they would not hurt m e . O h the doleful sight that now w a s to behold at this h o u s e ! " C o m e , behold the works of the L o r d , what d e s o l a t i o n s he has m a d e in the e a r t h . " 7 O f thirtyseven p e r s o n s who were in this o n e h o u s e , n o n e e s c a p e d either p r e s e n t d e a t h , or a bitter captivity, save only o n e , who might say a s h e , "And I only a m e s c a p e d a l o n e to tell the N e w s " (Job 1.15). T h e r e were twelve killed, s o m e shot, s o m e s t a b b e d with their s p e a r s , s o m e k n o c k e d down with their h a t c h e t s . W h e n we are in prosperity, O h the little that we think of s u c h dreadful sights, a n d to s e e our dear friends, a n d relations lie b l e e d i n g out their heart-blood u p o n the g r o u n d . T h e r e w a s o n e w h o w a s c h o p p e d into the h e a d with a h a t c h e t , a n d stripped naked, a n d yet w a s crawling up a n d down. It is a s o l e m n sight to s e e so m a n y C h r i s t i a n s lying in their blood, s o m e here, a n d s o m e there, like a c o m p a n y of s h e e p torn by wolves, all of t h e m stripped naked by a c o m p a n y of h e l l - h o u n d s , roaring, singing, ranting, a n d insulting, as if they would have torn our very hearts o u t ; yet the L o r d by His almighty power preserved a n u m b e r of u s from d e a t h , for there were twenty-four of u s taken alive a n d carried captive. 7. Psalm 4 6 . 8 .

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I h a d often before this said that if the I n d i a n s s h o u l d c o m e , I s h o u l d c h o o s e rather to be killed by t h e m than taken alive, but w h e n it c a m e to the trial my mind c h a n g e d ; their glittering w e a p o n s s o d a u n t e d my spirit, that I c h o s e rather to go a l o n g with t h o s e (as I m a y say) r a v e n o u s b e a s t s , t h a n that m o m e n t to e n d my d a y s ; a n d that I m a y the better d e c l a r e w h a t h a p p e n e d to m e d u r i n g that grievous captivity, I shall particularly s p e a k of the several r e m o v e s 8 we h a d up a n d d o w n the w i l d e r n e s s . The hirst

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N o w away we m u s t go with t h o s e b a r b a r o u s c r e a t u r e s , with our b o d i e s w o u n d e d a n d b l e e d i n g , a n d our hearts no less than our b o d i e s . A b o u t a mile we went that night, up u p o n a hill within sight of the town, where they i n t e n d e d to l o d g e . T h e r e w a s hard by a v a c a n t h o u s e ( d e s e r t e d by the E n g l i s h b e f o r e , for fear of the I n d i a n s ) . I a s k e d t h e m w h e t h e r I might not lodge in the h o u s e that night, to which they a n s w e r e d , " W h a t , will you love E n g l i s h m e n still?" T h i s w a s the dolefulest night that ever my eyes saw. O h the roaring, a n d singing a n d d a n c i n g , a n d yelling of t h o s e b l a c k c r e a t u r e s in the night, which m a d e the p l a c e a lively r e s e m b l a n c e of hell. A n d a s m i s e r a b l e was the w a s t e that w a s there m a d e of h o r s e s , c a t t l e , s h e e p , s w i n e , calves, l a m b s , roasting p i g s , a n d fowl (which they h a d p l u n d e r e d in the t o w n ) , s o m e roasting, s o m e lying a n d b u r n i n g , a n d s o m e boiling to feed our merciless e n e m i e s ; w h o were joyful e n o u g h , t h o u g h we were d i s c o n s o l a t e . T o a d d to the d o l e f u l n e s s of the former day, a n d the d i s m a l n e s s of the p r e s e n t night, my t h o u g h t s ran u p o n my l o s s e s a n d s a d b e r e a v e d c o n d i t i o n . All w a s g o n e , my h u s b a n d g o n e (at least s e p a r a t e d from m e , he b e i n g in the B a y ; 9 a n d to a d d to my grief, the I n d i a n s told m e they w o u l d kill him a s h e c a m e h o m e w a r d ) , my children g o n e , my relations a n d friends g o n e , o u r h o u s e a n d h o m e a n d all our c o m f o r t s — w i t h i n door a n d w i t h o u t — a l l w a s g o n e (except my life), a n d I knew not b u t the next m o m e n t that might g o t o o . T h e r e r e m a i n e d nothing to m e but o n e p o o r w o u n d e d b a b e , a n d it s e e m e d at p r e s e n t worse than d e a t h that it w a s in s u c h a pitiful c o n d i t i o n , b e s p e a k i n g c o m p a s s i o n , a n d I h a d no refreshing for it, n o r s u i t a b l e things to revive it. Little do m a n y think w h a t is the s a v a g e n e s s a n d b r u t i s h n e s s of this b a r b a r o u s e n e m y , Ay, even t h o s e that s e e m to p r o f e s s m o r e t h a n others a m o n g t h e m , w h e n the E n g l i s h have fallen into their h a n d s . T h o s e seven that were killed at L a n c a s t e r the s u m m e r b e f o r e u p o n a S a b b a t h day, a n d the o n e that w a s afterward killed u p o n a weekday, were slain a n d m a n g l e d in a b a r b a r o u s m a n n e r , by one-eyed J o h n , a n d M a r l b o r o u g h ' s Praying I n d i a n s , which C a p t . M o s e l y b r o u g h t to B o s t o n , a s the Indians told me.' The Second

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B u t now, the next m o r n i n g , I m u s t turn my b a c k u p o n the town, a n d travel with t h e m into the vast a n d d e s o l a t e w i l d e r n e s s , I k n e w not whither. It is 8. I.e., departures; movings from place to place. 9. I.e., Boston, or M a s s a c h u s e t t s Bay. 1. On August 30, 1675, Captain Samuel Mosely, encouraged by a number of people who were skeptical of converted American Indians, brought to Boston by force fifteen Christianized American

Indians who lived on their own lands in Marlborough, M a s s a c h u s e t t s , and accused them of an attack on the town of Lancaster on August 22. 2. T o Princeton, Massachusetts, near Mount Wachusett.

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not my t o n g u e , or p e n , c a n express the sorrows of my heart, a n d bitterness of my spirit that I h a d at this d e p a r t u r e : but G o d was with m e in a wonderful m a n n e r , carrying m e along, a n d b e a r i n g up my spirit, that it did not q u i t e fail. O n e of the Indians carried my p o o r w o u n d e d b a b e u p o n a h o r s e ; it went m o a n i n g all along, "I shall die, I shall d i e . " I went on foot after it, with sorrow that c a n n o t be e x p r e s s e d . At length I took it off the h o r s e , a n d carried it in my a r m s till my strength failed, a n d I fell down with it. T h e n they set m e u p o n a h o r s e with my w o u n d e d child in my lap, a n d there b e i n g no furniture u p o n the horse's back, a s we were going down a s t e e p hill we both fell over the horse's h e a d , at which they, like i n h u m a n e c r e a t u r e s , l a u g h e d , a n d rejoiced to s e e it, t h o u g h I thought we s h o u l d there have e n d e d our days, a s o v e r c o m e with so m a n y difficultiesT^But the L o r d r e n e w e d my strength still, a n d carried m e along, that I might s e e m o r e of His power; yea, s o m u c h that I c o u l d never have t h o u g h t of, h a d I not e x p e r i e n c e d it. After this it quickly b e g a n to snow, a n d when night c a m e on, they s t o p p e d , a n d n o w down I m u s t sit in the snow, by a little fire, a n d a few b o u g h s b e h i n d m e , with my sick child in my lap; a n d calling m u c h for water, b e i n g now (through the w o u n d ) fallen into a violent fever. M y own w o u n d a l s o growing so stiff that I c o u l d s c a r c e sit down or rise u p ; yet s o it m u s t b e , that I m u s t sit all this cold winter night u p o n the cold snowy g r o u n d , with my sick child in my a r m s , looking that every h o u r would b e the last of its life; a n d having no C h r i s t i a n friend n e a r m e , either to c o m f o r t or help m e . O h , I m a y s e e the wonderful power of G o d , that my Spirit did not utterly sink u n d e r my affliction: still the Lord u p h e l d m e with His g r a c i o u s a n d merciful spirit, a n d we were both alive to s e e the light of the next morning. The Third

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T h e m o r n i n g b e i n g c o m e , they p r e p a r e d to go on their way. O n e of the Indians got u p u p o n a h o r s e , a n d they set m e up b e h i n d him, with my p o o r sick b a b e in my lap. A very w e a r i s o m e a n d tedious day I h a d of it; w h a t with my own w o u n d , a n d my child's being s o e x c e e d i n g sick, a n d in a l a m e n t a b l e condition with her w o u n d . It may be easily j u d g e d what a p o o r feeble c o n dition we were in, there b e i n g not the least c r u m b of refreshing that c a m e within either of our m o u t h s from W e d n e s d a y night to S a t u r d a y night, except only a little cold water. T h i s day in the a f t e r n o o n , a b o u t a n hour by s u n , we c a m e to the p l a c e where they i n t e n d e d , viz. a n Indian town, called W e n i m e s s e t , northward of Q u a b a u g . W h e n we were c o m e , O h the n u m b e r of p a g a n s (now m e r c i l e s s e n e m i e s ) that there c a m e a b o u t m e , that I m a y say a s David, "I had fainted, u n l e s s I h a d believed, e t c " ( P s a l m 2 7 . 1 3 ) . T h e next day w a s the S a b b a t h . I then r e m e m b e r e d how c a r e l e s s I h a d b e e n of G o d ' s holy t i m e ; how m a n y S a b b a t h s I h a d lost a n d m i s s p e n t , a n d how evilly I h a d walked in G o d ' s sight; which lay so c l o s e u n t o my spirit, that it w a s e a s y for m e to s e e how r i g h t e o u s it w a s with G o d to c u t off the thread of my life a n d c a s t m e out of His p r e s e n c e forever. Yet the L o r d still s h o w e d mercy to m e , a n d upheld m e ; a n d a s H e w o u n d e d m e with o n e h a n d , so he h e a l e d m e with the other. T h i s day there c a m e to m e o n e Robert P e p p e r (a m a n belonging to Roxburv) who w a s taken in C a p t a i n B e e r s ' s fight, a n d h a d b e e n now a c o n s i d e r a b l e time with the I n d i a n s ; a n d u p with t h e m a l m o s t a s far a s 3. February 12—27; they stopped at a Native American village on the Ware River near New Braintree.

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Albany, to s e e King Philip, a s he told m e , a n d w a s n o w very lately c o m e into these p a r t s . 4 H e a r i n g , I say, that I w a s in this Indian town, h e o b t a i n e d leave to c o m e a n d s e e m e . H e told m e he himself w a s w o u n d e d in the leg at C a p t a i n Beer's fight; a n d w a s not able s o m e time to g o , but a s they carried him, a n d as h e took o a k e n leaves a n d laid to his w o u n d , a n d t h r o u g h the b l e s s i n g of G o d he w a s able to travel a g a i n . T h e n I took o a k e n leaves a n d laid to my side, a n d with the blessing of G o d it c u r e d m e a l s o ; yet before the c u r e was wrought, I m a y say, as it is in P s a l m 38.5—6 " M y w o u n d s stink a n d are corrupt, I a m t r o u b l e d , I a m b o w e d down greatly, I go m o u r n i n g all the day long." I sat m u c h a l o n e with a p o o r w o u n d e d child in my lap, which m o a n e d night a n d day, having n o t h i n g to revive the body, or c h e e r the spirits of her, but instead of that, s o m e t i m e s o n e I n d i a n would c o m e a n d tell m e o n e h o u r that "your m a s t e r will k n o c k your child in the h e a d , " a n d then a s e c o n d , a n d then a third, "your m a s t e r will quickly k n o c k your child in the head." T h i s was the comfort I h a d from t h e m , m i s e r a b l e c o m f o r t e r s are ye all, a s h e 5 said. T h u s nine days I sat u p o n my k n e e s , with my b a b e in my lap, till my flesh w a s raw a g a i n ; my child b e i n g even ready to depart this sorrowful world, they b a d e m e carry it out to a n o t h e r w i g w a m (I s u p p o s e b e c a u s e they would not be troubled with s u c h s p e c t a c l e s ) whither I went with a very heavy heart, a n d d o w n I sat with the picture of d e a t h in my lap. A b o u t two hours in the night, my sweet b a b e like a l a m b d e p a r t e d this life on F e b . 18, 1 6 7 5 . It being a b o u t six years, a n d five m o n t h s old. It w a s nine days from the first w o u n d i n g , in this m i s e r a b l e condition, without any refreshing of o n e nature or other, except a little cold water. I c a n n o t but take notice how at a n o t h e r time I c o u l d not b e a r to be in the r o o m w h e r e any d e a d p e r s o n w a s , but now the c a s e is c h a n g e d ; I m u s t a n d c o u l d lie d o w n by my d e a d b a b e , side by side all the night after. I have thought s i n c e of the wonderful g o o d n e s s of G o d to m e in preserving m e in the u s e of my r e a s o n a n d s e n s e s in that d i s t r e s s e d t i m e , that I did not u s e wicked a n d violent m e a n s to e n d my own m i s e r a b l e life. In the m o r n i n g , w h e n they u n d e r s t o o d that my child w a s d e a d they sent for m e h o m e to my m a s t e r ' s w i g w a m (by my m a s t e r in this writing, m u s t be u n d e r s t o o d Q u i n n a p i n , w h o w a s a S a g a m o r e , 6 a n d married King Philip's wife's sister; not that he first took m e , but I w a s sold to him by a n o t h e r N a r r a g a n s e t t Indian, w h o took m e w h e n first I c a m e out of the g a r r i s o n ) . I went to take up my d e a d child in my a r m s to carry it with m e , but they bid m e let it a l o n e ; there w a s no resisting, but g o I m u s t a n d leave it. W h e n I h a d b e e n at my m a s t e r ' s w i g w a m , I took the first opportunity I c o u l d get to go look after my d e a d child. W h e n I c a m e I a s k e d t h e m what they h a d d o n e with it; then they told m e it w a s u p o n the hill. T h e n they went a n d s h o w e d m e where it w a s , where I s a w the g r o u n d w a s newly digged, a n d there they told m e they had buried it. T h e r e I left that child in the w i l d e r n e s s , a n d m u s t c o m m i t it, a n d myself a l s o in this wilderness c o n d i t i o n , to H i m w h o is a b o v e all. G o d having taken away this dear child, I went to s e e my d a u g h t e r M a r y , w h o was at this s a m e Indian town, at a w i g w a m not very far off, t h o u g h we h a d little liberty or opportunity to s e e o n e a n o t h e r . S h e w a s 4. Captain Beers had attempted to save the garrison of Northtield, Massachusetts, on September 4. 1675. 5. I.e., as Job said. "I have heard many such

things: miserable 6. A subordinate ans. Quinnapin and Rowlandson

comforters are ye all" (Job 16.2). chief among the Algonquin Indiwas the husband of Weetamoo, became her servant.

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a b o u t ten years old, a n d taken from the door at first by a Praying Ind. a n d afterward sold for a g u n . W h e n I c a m e in sight, she would fall a w e e p i n g ; at which they were provoked, a n d would not let m e c o m e near her, but b a d e m e be g o n e ; which w a s a heart-cutting word to m e . I h a d o n e child d e a d , a n o t h e r in the w i l d e r n e s s , I knew not w h e r e , the third they would not let m e c o m e near to: " M e (as he said) have ye b e r e a v e d of my C h i l d r e n , J o s e p h is not, a n d S i m e o n is not, a n d ye will take B e n j a m i n a l s o , all t h e s e things are against m e . " 7 1 c o u l d not sit still in this condition, but kept walking from o n e p l a c e to another. And a s I was going along, my heart was even overwhelmed with the t h o u g h t s of my condition, a n d that I s h o u l d have children, a n d a nation which I knew not, ruled over t h e m . W h e r e u p o n I earnestly e n t r e a t e d the L o r d , that H e would c o n s i d e r my low e s t a t e , a n d s h o w m e a token for g o o d , a n d if it were His b l e s s e d will, s o m e sign a n d h o p e of s o m e relief. A n d indeed quickly the Lord a n s w e r e d , in s o m e m e a s u r e , my p o o r prayers; for a s I w a s going up a n d down m o u r n i n g a n d l a m e n t i n g my condition, my son c a m e to m e , a n d a s k e d m e how I did. I h a d not seen him before, s i n c e the destruction of the town, a n d I knew not w h e r e he w a s , till I was i n f o r m e d by himself, that he w a s a m o n g s t a s m a l l e r parcel of I n d i a n s , w h o s e p l a c e was a b o u t six miles off. With tears in his eyes, he a s k e d m e w h e t h e r his sister S a r a h w a s d e a d ; a n d told m e he h a d s e e n his sister Mary; a n d prayed m e , that I would not be troubled in reference to himself. T h e o c c a s i o n of his c o m i n g to s e e m e at this t i m e , was this: there w a s , as I said, a b o u t six miles from u s , a small plantation of I n d i a n s , where it s e e m s he h a d b e e n d u r i n g his captivity; a n d at this t i m e , there were s o m e forces of the Ind. g a t h e r e d out of our c o m p a n y , a n d s o m e a l s o from t h e m ( a m o n g w h o m w a s my son's m a s t e r ) to go to a s s a u l t a n d burn M e d f i e l d . 8 In this time of the a b s e n c e of his m a s t e r , his d a m e b r o u g h t him to s e e m e . I took this to be s o m e g r a c i o u s a n s w e r to my e a r n e s t a n d u n f e i g n e d desire. T h e next day, viz. to this, the Indians returned from M e d f i e l d , all the c o m p a n y , for t h o s e that b e l o n g e d to the other small c o m p a n y , c a m e through the town that now we were at. B u t before they c a m e to u s , O h ! the o u t r a g e o u s roaring a n d h o o p i n g that there w a s . T h e y b e g a n their din a b o u t a mile before they c a m e to u s . By their noise a n d h o o p i n g they signified how m a n y they h a d destroyed (which w a s at that time twenty-three). T h o s e that were with u s at h o m e were g a t h e r e d together as s o o n a s they h e a r d the hooping, a n d every time that the other went over their n u m b e r , t h e s e at h o m e gave a s h o u t , that the very earth r u n g a g a i n . And t h u s they c o n t i n u e d till t h o s e that h a d b e e n u p o n the expedition were c o m e up to the S a g a m o r e ' s w i g w a m ; a n d t h e n , O h , the h i d e o u s insulting a n d t r i u m p h i n g that there was over s o m e E n g l i s h m e n ' s s c a l p s that they h a d taken (as their m a n n e r is) a n d brought with t h e m . I c a n n o t but take notice of the wonderful mercy of G o d to m e in t h o s e afflictions, in s e n d i n g m e a Bible. O n e of the Indians that c a m e from Medfield fight, h a d b r o u g h t s o m e plunder, c a m e to m e , a n d a s k e d m e , if I would have a B i b l e , h e h a d got o n e in his basket. I was glad of it, a n d a s k e d him, whether he t h o u g h t the Indians would let m e read? H e a n s w e r e d , yes. S o I took the Bible, a n d in that melancholy time, it c a m e into my mind to read first the 2 8 t h c h a p t e r of D e u t e r o n o m y , 9 which I did, a n d w h e n I h a d read it, my dark heart wrought on 7. Jacob's lamentation in Genesis 4 2 . 3 6 . 8. The attack on Medfield, Massachusetts, occurred on February 2 1 .

9. This chapter of Deuteronomy is concerned with blessings for obedience to God and curses for disobedience.

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this m a n n e r : that there w a s no mercy for m e , that the b l e s s i n g s were g o n e , a n d the c u r s e s c o m e in their r o o m , a n d that I h a d lost my opportunity. B u t the L o r d helped m e still to go on r e a d i n g till 1 c a m e to C h a p . 3 0 , the seven first v e r s e s , w h e r e I f o u n d , there w a s mercy p r o m i s e d a g a i n , if we w o u l d return to H i m by r e p e n t a n c e ; ' a n d t h o u g h we were s c a t t e r e d from o n e e n d of the earth to the other, yet the L o r d would g a t h e r u s together, a n d turn all t h o s e c u r s e s u p o n our e n e m i e s . I do not desire to live to forget this S c r i p t u r e , a n d what c o m f o r t it w a s to m e . N o w the Ind. b e g a n to talk of removing from this p l a c e , s o m e o n e way, a n d s o m e a n o t h e r . T h e r e were now b e s i d e s myself nine E n g l i s h captives in this p l a c e (all of t h e m children, except o n e w o m a n ) . I got an opportunity to go a n d take my leave of t h e m . T h e y b e i n g to go o n e way, a n d I a n o t h e r , I a s k e d t h e m w h e t h e r they were e a r n e s t with G o d for d e l i v e r a n c e . T h e y told m e the\ did as they wore able, and it was S O N I C c o m f o r t to m e , that the Lord stirred up children to look to H i m . T h e w o m a n , viz. g o o d w i f e 2 J o s l i n , told m e she s h o u l d never s e e m e a g a i n , a n d that s h e c o u l d find in her heart to run away. I w i s h e d her not to run away by any m e a n s , for we were near thirty miles from any E n g l i s h town, a n d she very big with child, a n d h a d but o n e week to r e c k o n , a n d a n o t h e r child in her a r m s , two years old, a n d b a d rivers there were to go over, a n d we were f e e b l e , with o u r p o o r a n d c o a r s e entert a i n m e n t . I h a d my Bible with m e , I pulled it o u t , a n d a s k e d her whether s h e would r e a d . W e o p e n e d the Bible a n d lighted on P s a l m 2 7 , in which P s a l m we especially took notice of that, ver. ult., "Wait on the L o r d , B e of g o o d c o u r a g e , a n d he shall s t r e n g t h e n thine H e a r t , wait I say o n the L o r d . " ' *

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It w a s u p o n a S a b b a t h - d a y - m o r n i n g , that they p r e p a r e d for their travel. T h i s m o r n i n g I a s k e d my m a s t e r w h e t h e r he would sell m e to my h u s b a n d . H e a n s w e r e d m e " N u x , " 5 which did m u c h rejoice my spirit. M y m i s t r e s s , before we went, w a s g o n e to the burial of a p a p o o s e , a n d returning, she found m e sitting a n d r e a d i n g in my B i b l e ; s h e s n a t c h e d it hastily o u t of my h a n d , a n d threw it o u t of d o o r s . I ran out a n d c a t c h e d it u p , a n d p u t it into my p o c k e t , a n d never let her s e e it afterward. T h e n they p a c k e d u p their things to be g o n e , a n d gave m e my load. I c o m p l a i n e d it w a s too heavy, w h e r e u p o n she gave m e a slap in the f a c e , a n d b a d e m e g o ; I lifted u p my heart to G o d , h o p i n g the r e d e m p t i o n w a s not far off; a n d the rather b e c a u s e their insolency grew w o r s e a n d w o r s e . B u t the t h o u g h t s of my g o i n g h o m e w a r d (for so we b e n t o u r c o u r s e ) m u c h c h e e r e d my spirit, a n d m a d e my b u r d e n s e e m light, a n d a l m o s t n o t h i n g at all. B u t (to my a m a z e m e n t a n d great perplexity) the s c a l e w a s s o o n t u r n e d ; for w h e n we h a d g o n e a little way, on a s u d d e n my m i s t r e s s gives o u t ; s h e would g o no further, but turn b a c k a g a i n , a n d said I m u s t g o b a c k a g a i n with her, a n d s h e called her sannup, a n d would have h a d him g o n e b a c k a l s o , but h e would not, but said he would go o n , a n d c o m e to u s a g a i n in three days. 1. "That then the Lord thy God will turn thy captivity, and have compassion upon thee, and will return and gather thee from all the nations" (Deuteronomy 30.3). 2. I.e., the mistress of a house.

3. Verse 14. "Ver. ult.": last verse (Latin abbreviation). 4. Sunday, April 9. 5. Yes.

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M y spirit w a s , u p o n this, I c o n f e s s , very impatient, a n d a l m o s t o u t r a g e o u s . I t h o u g h t I c o u l d a s well have died a s went b a c k ; I c a n n o t d e c l a r e the trouble that I w a s in a b o u t it; but yet b a c k again I m u s t g o . As s o o n a s I h a d the opportunity, I took my Bible to r e a d , a n d that q u i e t i n g S c r i p t u r e c a m e to my h a n d , " B e still, a n d know that I a m G o d " ( P s a l m 4 6 . 1 0 ) . W h i c h stilled my spirit for the p r e s e n t . B u t a sore time of trial, I c o n c l u d e d , I h a d to g o t h r o u g h , my m a s t e r b e i n g g o n e , who s e e m e d to m e the b e s t friend that I h a d of a n Indian, both in cold a n d hunger, a n d quickly so it proved. D o w n I sat, with my heart a s full a s it c o u l d hold, a n d yet so hungry that I c o u l d not sit neither; but going out to s e e w h a t I c o u l d find, a n d walking a m o n g the trees, I f o u n d six a c o r n s , a n d two c h e s t n u t s , which were s o m e r e f r e s h m e n t to m e . T o w a r d s night I g a t h e r e d s o m e sticks for my own c o m f o r t , that I might not lie a-cold; but when we c a m e to lie down they b a d e m e to g o o u t , a n d lie s o m e w h e r e e l s e , for they had c o m p a n y (they said) c o m e in m o r e t h a n their own. I told t h e m , I c o u l d not tell where to g o , they b a d e m e go look; I told t h e m , if I went to a n o t h e r wigwam they would be angry, a n d s e n d m e h o m e a g a i n . T h e n o n e of the c o m p a n y drew his sword, a n d told m e h e would run m e t h r o u g h if I did not g o presently. T h e n w a s I fain to s t o o p to this r u d e fellow, a n d to go out in the night, I knew not whither. M i n e eyes have s e e n that fellow afterwards walking u p a n d down B o s t o n , u n d e r the a p p e a r a n c e of a F r i e n d Indian, a n d several others of the like c u t . I went to o n e w i g w a m , a n d they told m e they h a d no r o o m . T h e n I went to a n o t h e r , a n d they s a i d the s a m e ; at last a n old Indian b a d e m e to c o m e to h i m , a n d his s q u a w gave m e s o m e g r o u n d n u t s ; s h e gave m e a l s o s o m e t h i n g to lay u n d e r my h e a d , a n d a g o o d fire we h a d ; a n d through the g o o d p r o v i d e n c e of G o d , I h a d a c o m f o r t a b l e lodging that night. In the m o r n i n g , a n o t h e r Indian b a d e m e c o m e at night, a n d h e would give m e six g r o u n d n u t s , w h i c h I did. W e were at this p l a c e a n d time a b o u t two miles from [the] C o n n e c t i c u t river. W e went in the m o r n i n g to gather g r o u n d n u t s , to the river, a n d went b a c k a g a i n that night. I went with a good load at my b a c k (for they w h e n they w e n t , t h o u g h but a little way, would carry all their trumpery with t h e m ) . I told them the skin w a s off my back, but I h a d n o other c o m f o r t i n g a n s w e r from t h e m than this: that it would b e no m a t t e r if my h e a d were off too. *

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The Twentieth

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It w a s their u s u a l m a n n e r to r e m o v e , w h e n they h a d d o n e any mischief, lest they s h o u l d b e f o u n d o u t ; a n d so they did at this t i m e . W e went a b o u t three or four m i l e s , a n d there they built a great w i g w a m , big e n o u g h to hold a n h u n d r e d I n d i a n s , which they did in p r e p a r a t i o n to a great day of d a n c i n g . T h e y would say n o w a m o n g s t t h e m s e l v e s , that the governor would be s o angry for his loss at S u d b u r y , that he would s e n d no m o r e a b o u t the c a p t i v e s , which m a d e m e grieve a n d t r e m b l e . M y sister b e i n g not far from the p l a c e w h e r e we now w e r e , a n d hearing that I w a s h e r e , desired her m a s t e r to let her c o m e a n d s e e m e , a n d h e w a s willing to it, a n d would go with her; but s h e being ready before him, told him s h e would go b e f o r e , a n d w a s c o m e within a mile or two of the p l a c e . T h e n he overtook her, a n d b e g a n to rant 6. April 28 to May 2, to an e n c a m p m e n t at the southern end of Wachusett Lake, Princeton, M a s s a c h u s e t t s .

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a s if he h a d b e e n m a d , a n d m a d e her go b a c k again in the rain; so that I never s a w her till I saw her in C h a r l e s t o w n . B u t the L o r d requited m a n y of their ill d o i n g s , for this Indian her m a s t e r , was h a n g e d afterward at B o s t o n . T h e I n d i a n s now b e g a n to c o m e from all q u a r t e r s , a g a i n s t their merry d a n c ing day. A m o n g s o m e of t h e m c a m e o n e goodwife Kettle. I told her my heart w a s s o heavy that it w a s ready to break. " S o is m i n e t o o , " said s h e , but yet said, "I h o p e we shall hear s o m e g o o d news shortly." I c o u l d h e a r how earnestly my sister desired to s e e m e , a n d I a s earnestly desired to s e e her; a n d yet neither of u s c o u l d get an opportunity. M y d a u g h t e r w a s a l s o now a b o u t a mile off, a n d I h a d not seen her in nine or ten w e e k s , a s I h a d not s e e n my sister s i n c e our first taking. I earnestly desired t h e m to let m e go a n d s e e t h e m : yea, I e n t r e a t e d , b e g g e d , a n d p e r s u a d e d t h e m , but to let m e s e e my d a u g h t e r ; a n d yet s o hard-hearted were they, that they would not suffer it. T h e y m a d e u s e of their tyrannical power whilst they h a d it; but through the Lord's wonderful mercy, their time w a s now b u t short. O n a S a b b a t h day, the s u n b e i n g a b o u t a n h o u r high in the afternoon, c a m e Mr. J o h n H o a r (the c o u n c i l p e r m i t t i n g him, a n d his own foreward spirit inclining h i m ) , together with the two f o r e m e n t i o n e d I n d i a n s , T o m a n d Peter, with their third letter from the c o u n c i l . W h e n they c a m e near, I w a s a b r o a d . T h o u g h I saw t h e m not, they presently called m e in, a n d b a d e m e sit down a n d not stir. T h e n they c a t c h e d up their g u n s , a n d away they r a n , a s if a n e n e m y had been at h a n d , a n d the g u n s went off a p a c e . I m a n i f e s t e d s o m e great t r o u b l e , a n d they a s k e d m e w h a t w a s the matter? I told t h e m I thought they h a d killed the E n g l i s h m a n (for they h a d in the m e a n t i m e informed m e that an E n g l i s h m a n w a s c o m e ) . T h e y said, n o . T h e y shot over his h o r s e a n d u n d e r a n d before his h o r s e , a n d they p u s h e d him this way a n d that way, at their p l e a s u r e , s h o w i n g what they c o u l d do. T h e n they let t h e m c o m e to their w i g w a m s . I begged of t h e m to let m e s e e the E n g l i s h m a n , but they would not. B u t there w a s I fain to sit their p l e a s u r e . W h e n they h a d talked their fill with him, they suffered m e to go to him. W e a s k e d e a c h other of our welfare, a n d how my h u s b a n d did, a n d all my friends? H e told m e they were all well, a n d would be glad to s e e m e . A m o n g s t other things which my h u s b a n d sent m e , there c a m e a p o u n d of t o b a c c o , which I sold for nine shillings in m o n e y ; for many of the Indians for want of t o b a c c o , s m o k e d h e m l o c k , a n d g r o u n d ivy. It w a s a great m i s t a k e in any, w h o t h o u g h t I sent for t o b a c c o ; for t h r o u g h the favor of G o d , that desire w a s o v e r c o m e . I now a s k e d t h e m w h e t h e r I s h o u l d go h o m e with M r . H o a r ? T h e y a n s w e r e d n o , o n e a n d a n o t h e r of t h e m , a n d it b e i n g night, we lay down with that answer. In the m o r n i n g M r . H o a r invited the S a g a m o r e s to dinner; but w h e n we went to get it ready we found that they had stolen the greatest part of the provision Mr. H o a r h a d brought, out of his b a g s , in the night. A n d we m a y s e e the wonderful power of G o d , in that o n e p a s s a g e , in that when there w a s s u c h a great n u m b e r of the Indians together, a n d so greedy of a little g o o d food, a n d no E n g l i s h there but Mr. H o a r a n d myself, that there they did not k n o c k u s in the h e a d , a n d take what we h a d , there b e i n g not only s o m e provision, but a l s o trading-cloth, 8 a part of the twenty p o u n d s a g r e e d u p o n . B u t i n s t e a d 7. John Hoar was from Concord, Massachusetts. I le had been delegated by Rowlandson's husband to represent him at the council lor the Sagamore

Indians, and to bargain for Rowlandson's redemption. 8. Cloth used lor barter.

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of d o i n g u s any mischief, they s e e m e d to be a s h a m e d of the fact, a n d said, it were s o m e m a t c h i t ' Indian that did it. O h , that we c o u l d believe that there is nothing too hard for G o d ! G o d s h o w e d His power over the h e a t h e n in this, a s H e did over the hungry lions w h e n Daniel was c a s t into the d e n . 1 Mr. H o a r called t h e m b e t i m e to dinner, but they a t e very little, they b e i n g so busy in d r e s s i n g t h e m s e l v e s , a n d getting ready for their d a n c e , which w a s carried on by eight of t h e m , four m e n a n d four s q u a w s . M y m a s t e r a n d m i s t r e s s b e i n g two. H e w a s d r e s s e d in his h o l l a n d 2 shirt, with great l a c e s sewed at the tail of it; he h a d his silver b u t t o n s , his white s t o c k i n g s , his garters were h u n g r o u n d with shillings, a n d he h a d girdles of w a m p u m 1 u p o n his h e a d a n d s h o u l d e r s . S h e had a kersey 4 coat, a n d covered with girdles of w a m p u m from the loins u p w a r d . H e r a r m s from her elbows to her h a n d s were covered with b r a c e l e t s ; there were handfuls of n e c k l a c e s a b o u t her neck, a n d several sorts of j e w e l s in her e a r s . S h e h a d fine red s t o c k i n g s , a n d white s h o e s , her hair p o w d e r e d a n d f a c e painted red, that w a s always before black. A n d all the d a n c e r s were after the s a m e m a n n e r . T h e r e were two others singing a n d k n o c k i n g on a kettle for their m u s i c . T h e y kept h o p p i n g up a n d down o n e after a n o t h e r , with a kettle of water in the midst, s t a n d i n g warm u p o n s o m e e m b e r s , to drink of w h e n they were dry. T h e y held on till it w a s a l m o s t night, throwing out w a m p u m to the s t a n d e r s by. At night I a s k e d t h e m a g a i n , if I s h o u l d go h o m e ? T h e y all a s o n e s a i d no, e x c e p t s my h u s b a n d would c o m e for m e . W h e n we were lain d o w n , my m a s t e r went out of the w i g w a m , a n d by a n d by sent in an Indian called J a m e s the Printer,'' w h o told Mr. H o a r , that my m a s t e r would let m e go h o m e t o m o r r o w , if he would let him have o n e pint of liquors. T h e n Mr. H o a r called his own India n s , T o m a n d Peter, a n d bid t h e m go a n d s e e whether he would p r o m i s e it before t h e m three; a n d if he would, he s h o u l d have it; which he did, a n d he h a d it. T h e n P h i l i p 7 smelling the b u s i n e s s called m e to h i m , a n d a s k e d m e what I would give him, to tell m e s o m e good n e w s , a n d s p e a k a g o o d word for m e . J told him I c o u l d not tell what to give him. I would [give him] anything I h a d , a n d a s k e d him what he would have? H e said two c o a t s a n d twenty shillings in m o n e y , a n d half a b u s h e l of s e e d c o r n , a n d s o m e t o b a c c o . I t h a n k e d him for his love; but I knew the g o o d news a s well a s the crafty fox. M y m a s t e r after he h a d h a d his drink, quickly c a m e ranting into the w i g w a m a g a i n , a n d called for Mr. H o a r , drinking to him, a n d saying, he w a s a good m a n , a n d then again he would say, " h a n g him r o g u e . " B e i n g a l m o s t drunk, he would drink to him, a n d yet presently say he s h o u l d be h a n g e d . T h e n he called for m e . I trembled to h e a r him, yet I w a s fain to go to him, a n d he d r a n k to m e , s h o w i n g no incivility. H e w a s the first Indian I saw d r u n k all the while that I w a s a m o n g s t t h e m . At last his s q u a w ran out, a n d he after her, r o u n d the w i g w a m , with his m o n e y jingling at his k n e e s . B u t she e s c a p e d him. B u t having an old s q u a w he ran to her; a n d s o t h r o u g h t h e Lord's mercy, we were no m o r e troubled that night. Yet I h a d not a c o m 9. Bad. 1. The prophet Daniel was cast into a den ol lions, hut they did not harm him (see Daniel 6 . 1 - 2 9 ) . 2. Linen. 3. Beads of polished shells used by some American Indians as currency. 4. C o a r s e cloth woven from long wool and usually

ribbed. 5. Unless. 6. An American Indian who assisted the Rev. John Eliot in his printing of the Bible. 7. An American Indian who aided Rowlandson earlier on the journey.

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fortable night's rest; for I think I c a n say, I did not s l e e p for three nights together. T h e night before the letter c a m e from the c o u n c i l , I c o u l d not rest, I w a s s o full of fears a n d t r o u b l e s , G o d m a n y times leaving u s m o s t in the dark, w h e n deliverance is n e a r e s t . Yea, at this time I c o u l d not rest night nor day. T h e next night I w a s overjoyed, M r . H o a r b e i n g c o m e , a n d that with s u c h g o o d tidings. T h e third night I w a s even swallowed u p with the t h o u g h t s of things, viz. that ever I s h o u l d g o h o m e a g a i n ; a n d that I m u s t g o , leaving my children b e h i n d m e in the w i l d e r n e s s ; so that s l e e p w a s now a l m o s t d e p a r t e d from m i n e eyes. O n T u e s d a y m o r n i n g they called their general court ( a s they call it) to c o n s u l t a n d d e t e r m i n e , w h e t h e r I s h o u l d g o h o m e or no. A n d they all a s o n e m a n did seemingly c o n s e n t to it, that I s h o u l d go h o m e ; except Philip, w h o would not c o m e a m o n g t h e m . B u t before I g o any further, I would take leave to m e n t i o n a few r e m a r k a b l e p a s s a g e s of p r o v i d e n c e , which I took special n o t i c e of in my afflicted time. 1. O f the fair opportunity lost in the l o n g m a r c h , a little after the fort fight, w h e n our E n g l i s h a r m y w a s so n u m e r o u s , a n d in p u r s u i t of the e n e m y , a n d so n e a r a s to take several a n d destroy t h e m , a n d the e n e m y in s u c h distress for food that our m e n might track t h e m by their rooting in the earth for g r o u n d n u t s , whilst they were flying for their lives. I say, that then our army s h o u l d want provision, a n d be forced to leave their p u r s u i t a n d return h o m e w a r d ; a n d the very next week the e n e m y c a m e u p o n our town, like b e a r s bereft of their w h e l p s , or s o m a n y r a v e n o u s wolves, r e n d i n g u s a n d our l a m b s to d e a t h . B u t what shall I say? G o d s e e m e d to leave his P e o p l e to t h e m s e l v e s , a n d order all things for H i s own holy e n d s . Shall t h e r e be evil in the City a n d the L o r d hath not d o n e i t ? 8 T h e y are not grieved for the affliction of J o s e p h , therefore shall they go c a p t i v e , with the first that go c a p t i v e . 9 It is the Lord's d o i n g , a n d it s h o u l d b e m a r v e l o u s in o u r eyes. 2. I c a n n o t but r e m e m b e r how the I n d i a n s d e r i d e d the s l o w n e s s , a n d d u l l n e s s of the E n g l i s h army, in its setting out. F o r after the d e s o l a t i o n s at L a n c a s t e r a n d M e d f i e l d , a s I went a l o n g with t h e m , they a s k e d m e w h e n I thought the E n g l i s h army would c o m e after t h e m ? I told t h e m I c o u l d not tell. "It may b e they will c o m e in M a y , " said they. T h u s did they scoff at u s , a s if the E n g l i s h would be a q u a r t e r of a year getting ready. 3. W h i c h a l s o I have hinted b e f o r e , w h e n the E n g l i s h a r m y with new s u p p l i e s were sent forth to p u r s u e after the e n e m y , a n d they u n d e r s t a n d i n g it, fled before t h e m till they c a m e to B a n q u a u g river, w h e r e they forthwith went over safely; that that river s h o u l d b e i m p a s s a b l e to the E n g l i s h . I c a n but a d m i r e to s e e the wonderful p r o v i d e n c e of G o d in p r e s e r v i n g the h e a t h e n for further affliction to our p o o r country. T h e y c o u l d go in great n u m b e r s over, but the E n g l i s h m u s t s t o p . G o d h a d a n over-ruling h a n d in all t h o s e things. 4. It w a s t h o u g h t , if their corn were c u t d o w n , they w o u l d starve a n d die with h u n g e r , a n d all their corn that c o u l d b e f o u n d , w a s d e s t r o y e d , a n d they driven from that little they h a d in s t o r e , into the w o o d s in the m i d s t of winter; a n d yet how to a d m i r a t i o n did the L o r d preserve t h e m for H i s holy e n d s , a n d the d e s t r u c t i o n of m a n y still a m o n g s t the E n g l i s h ! strangely did the L o r d

8. Amos 3.6.

9. Amos 6 . 6 - 7 .

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provide for t h e m ; that I did not s e e (all the time I w a s a m o n g t h e m ) o n e m a n , w o m a n , or child, die with h u n g e r . T h o u g h m a n y times they would eat that, that a h o g or a d o g would hardly t o u c h ; yet by that G o d s t r e n g t h e n e d t h e m to be a s c o u r g e to H i s p e o p l e . T h e c h i e f a n d c o m m o n e s t food w a s g r o u n d n u t s . T h e y e a t a l s o n u t s a n d a c o r n s , a r t i c h o k e s , lilly roots, g r o u n d b e a n s , a n d several other w e e d s a n d roots, that I know not. T h e y would p i c k u p old b o n e s , a n d c u t t h e m to p i e c e s at the j o i n t s , a n d if they were full of w o r m s a n d m a g g o t s , they would s c a l d t h e m over the fire to m a k e the vermine c o m e o u t , a n d then boil t h e m , a n d drink u p the liquor, a n d then beat the great e n d s of t h e m in a mortar, a n d s o e a t t h e m . T h e y would eat horse's g u t s , a n d e a r s , a n d all sorts of wild birds which they c o u l d c a t c h ; a l s o bear, v e n i s o n , beaver, tortoise, frogs, squirrels, d o g s , s k u n k s , ratt l e s n a k e s ; yea, the very bark of trees; b e s i d e s all sorts of c r e a t u r e s , a n d provision which they p l u n d e r e d from the E n g l i s h . I c a n b u t s t a n d in a d m i r a t i o n to s e e the wonderful power of G o d in providing for s u c h a vast n u m b e r of our e n e m i e s in the w i l d e r n e s s , where there w a s nothing to b e s e e n , but from h a n d to m o u t h . M a n y times in a m o r n i n g , the generality of t h e m would eat up all they h a d , a n d yet have s o m e further supply a g a i n s t they w a n t e d . It is said, " O h , that my P e o p l e h a d h e a r k e n e d to m e , a n d Israel h a d walked in my ways, I s h o u l d s o o n have s u b d u e d their E n e m i e s , a n d turned my h a n d a g a i n s t their A d v e r s a r i e s " ( P s a l m 8 1 . 1 3 - 1 4 ) . B u t now o u r perverse a n d evil carriages in the sight of the L o r d , have so o f f e n d e d H i m , that i n s t e a d of turning His h a n d a g a i n s t t h e m , the L o r d f e e d s a n d n o u r i s h e s t h e m up to b e a s c o u r g e to the whole l a n d . 5. A n o t h e r thing that I would observe is the s t r a n g e p r o v i d e n c e of G o d , in turning things a b o u t w h e n the I n d i a n s w a s at the highest, a n d the E n g l i s h at the lowest. I w a s with the e n e m y eleven w e e k s a n d five days, a n d not o n e week p a s s e d without the fury of the e n e m y , a n d s o m e d e s o l a t i o n by fire a n d sword u p o n o n e p l a c e or other. T h e y m o u r n e d (with their b l a c k f a c e s ) for their own l o s s e s , yet t r i u m p h e d a n d rejoiced in their i n h u m a n e , a n d m a n y times devilish cruelty to the E n g l i s h . T h e y would b o a s t m u c h of their victories; saying that in two h o u r s time they h a d destroyed s u c h a c a p t a i n a n d his c o m p a n y at s u c h a p l a c e ; a n d b o a s t how m a n y towns they h a d destroyed, a n d then scoff, a n d say they h a d d o n e t h e m a g o o d turn to s e n d t h e m to H e a v e n so s o o n . Again, they would say this s u m m e r that they w o u l d k n o c k all the r o g u e s in the h e a d , or drive t h e m into the s e a , or m a k e t h e m fly the country; thinking surely, Agag-like, " T h e bitterness of D e a t h is p a s t . " 1 N o w the h e a t h e n begins to think all is their own, a n d the p o o r C h r i s t i a n s ' h o p e s to fail (as to m a n ) a n d n o w their eyes are m o r e to G o d , a n d their h e a r t s sigh heaven-ward; a n d to say in g o o d e a r n e s t , " H e l p L o r d , or we p e r i s h . " W h e n the L o r d h a d b r o u g h t H i s p e o p l e to this, that they s a w no h e l p in anything but Himself; then H e takes the quarrel into His own h a n d ; a n d t h o u g h they h a d m a d e a pit, in their own i m a g i n a t i o n s , a s d e e p a s hell for the C h r i s t i a n s that s u m m e r , yet the L o r d hurled t h e m s e l v e s into it. A n d the L o r d h a d not so m a n y ways before to preserve t h e m , but now H e h a t h a s m a n y to destroy them. 1. 1 S a m u e l 15.32. Agag was the king of Amalek; he was defeated by Saul and thought himself spared, but was slain by S a m u e l (see 1 Samuel 15).

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B u t to return again to my going h o m e , w h e r e we m a y s e e a r e m a r k a b l e c h a n g e of p r o v i d e n c e . At first they were all a g a i n s t it, except my h u s b a n d would c o m e for m e , but afterwards they a s s e n t e d to it, a n d s e e m e d m u c h to rejoice in it; s o m e a s k e d m e to s e n d t h e m s o m e b r e a d , others s o m e t o b a c c o , others s h a k i n g m e by the h a n d , offering m e a h o o d a n d s c a r f e to ride in; not o n e moving hand or t o n g u e a g a i n s t it. T h u s hath the L o r d a n s w e r e d my p o o r desire, a n d the m a n y e a r n e s t r e q u e s t s of others p u t u p u n t o G o d for m e . In my travels a n Indian c a m e to m e a n d told m e , if I were willing, he a n d his s q u a w would run away, a n d go h o m e a l o n g with m e . I told him n o : I was not willing to run away, but desired to wait G o d ' s t i m e , that I might go h o m e quietly, a n d without fear. And now G o d hath g r a n t e d m e my d e s i r e . O the wonderful power of G o d that I have s e e n , a n d the experience that I have had. I have b e e n in the midst of t h o s e roaring lions, a n d s a v a g e b e a r s , that feared neither G o d , nor m a n , nor the devil, by night a n d day, a l o n e a n d in c o m p a n y , s l e e p i n g all sorts together, a n d yet not o n e of t h e m ever offered m e the least a b u s e of unchastity to m e , in word or a c t i o n . T h o u g h s o m e are ready to say I s p e a k it for my own credit; but I s p e a k it in the p r e s e n c e of G o d , a n d to His Glory. G o d ' s power is a s great now, a n d a s sufficient to save, a s w h e n H e preserved D a n i e l in the lion's d e n ; or the three children in the fiery f u r n a c e . 2 I may well say a s his P s a l m 1 0 7 . 1 2 " O h give t h a n k s u n t o the L o r d for he is g o o d , for his mercy e n d u r e t h for ever." Let the r e d e e m e d of the L o r d say s o , w h o m H e hath r e d e e m e d from the h a n d of the e n e m y , especially that I s h o u l d c o m e away in the midst of s o m a n y h u n d r e d s of e n e m i e s quietly a n d p e a c e a b l y , a n d not a d o g m o v i n g his t o n g u e . S o I took my leave of t h e m , a n d in c o m i n g a l o n g my heart m e l t e d into tears, more than all the while I w a s with t h e m , a n d I w a s a l m o s t swallowed u p with the t h o u g h t s that ever I s h o u l d go h o m e a g a i n . A b o u t the s u n g o i n g down, Mr. H o a r , a n d myself, a n d the two Indians c a m e to L a n c a s t e r , a n d a s o l e m n sight it w a s to m e . T h e r e h a d I lived m a n y c o m f o r t a b l e years a m o n g s t my relations a n d n e i g h b o r s , a n d now not o n e C h r i s t i a n to b e s e e n , nor o n e h o u s e left s t a n d i n g . W e went on to a f a r m h o u s e that w a s yet s t a n d i n g , where we lay all night, a n d a c o m f o r t a b l e lodging we h a d , t h o u g h n o t h i n g but straw to lie on. T h e L o r d preserved u s in safety that night, a n d raised u s up again in the m o r n i n g , a n d carried u s along, that before n o o n , w e c a m e to C o n c o r d . N o w was I full of joy, a n d yet not without sorrow; j o y to s e e s u c h a lovely sight, so m a n y C h r i s t i a n s together, a n d s o m e of t h e m my n e i g h b o r s . T h e r e I m e t with my brother, a n d my brother-in-law, w h o a s k e d m e , if I knew where his wife w a s ? Poor heart! he h a d h e l p e d to bury her, a n d knew it not. S h e b e i n g shot d o w n by the h o u s e w a s partly burnt, so that t h o s e w h o were at B o s t o n at the d e s o l a t i o n of the town, a n d c a m e b a c k afterward, a n d buried the d e a d , did not know her. Yet I w a s not without sorrow, to think how many were looking a n d longing, a n d my own children a m o n g s t the rest, to enjoy that deliverance that I h a d now received, a n d I did not know w h e t h e r ever I s h o u l d s e e t h e m a g a i n . B e i n g r e c r u i t e d 1 with food a n d r a i m e n t we went to B o s t o n that day, where I met with my d e a r h u s b a n d , but the t h o u g h t s of our d e a r children, o n e being d e a d , a n d the other we c o u l d not tell w h e r e , a b a t e d our c o m f o r t e a c h to other. I w a s not before so m u c h h e m m e d in with the 2 . Shadrach, M e s h a c h , and Abednego refused to worship false gods and were east into a fiery furnace but saved from death by an angel (see Daniel

3.13-30). 3. Relreshed.

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m e r c i l e s s a n d cruel h e a t h e n , but now a s m u c h with pitiful, t e n d e r - h e a r t e d a n d c o m p a s s i o n a t e C h r i s t i a n s . In that poor, a n d d i s t r e s s e d , a n d beggarly condition I w a s received in; I w a s kindly e n t e r t a i n e d in several h o u s e s . S o m u c h love I received from several ( s o m e of w h o m I knew, a n d o t h e r s I k n e w not) that I a m not c a p a b l e to d e c l a r e it. B u t the L o r d knows t h e m all by n a m e . T h e L o r d reward t h e m sevenfold into their b o s o m s of H i s spirituals, for their t e m p o r a l s . 4 T h e twenty p o u n d s , the price of my r e d e m p t i o n , w a s raised by s o m e B o s t o n g e n t l e m e n , a n d M r s . U s h e r , w h o s e b o u n t y a n d religious charity, I would not forget to m a k e m e n t i o n of. T h e n M r . T h o m a s S h e p a r d of C h a r l e s t o w n received u s into his h o u s e , w h e r e we c o n t i n u e d eleven w e e k s ; a n d a father a n d m o t h e r they were to u s . A n d m a n y m o r e tender-hearted friends we m e t with in that p l a c e . W e were n o w in the m i d s t of love, yet not without m u c h a n d f r e q u e n t h e a v i n e s s of heart for our p o o r children, a n d other relations, who were still in affliction. T h e w e e k following, after my c o m i n g in, the governor a n d c o u n c i l sent forth to the I n d i a n s a g a i n ; and that not without s u c c e s s ; for they b r o u g h t in my sister, a n d goodwife Kettle. T h e i r not knowing w h e r e our children were w a s a sore trial to u s still, a n d yet we were not without secret h o p e s that we s h o u l d s e e t h e m a g a i n . T h a t which w a s d e a d lay heavier u p o n my spirit, than t h o s e which were alive a n d a m o n g s t the h e a t h e n : thinking how it suffered with its w o u n d s , a n d I w a s n o way a b l e to relieve it; a n d how it w a s b u r i e d by the h e a t h e n in the wilderness from a m o n g all C h r i s t i a n s . W e were hurried u p a n d d o w n in our t h o u g h t s , s o m e t i m e we s h o u l d hear a report that they were g o n e this way, a n d s o m e t i m e s that; a n d that they were c o m e in, in this p l a c e or that. W e kept inquiring a n d listening to hear c o n c e r n i n g t h e m , b u t n o certain news a s yet. A b o u t this time the c o u n c i l h a d ordered a day of p u b l i c thanksgiving. T h o u g h I thought I h a d still c a u s e of m o u r n i n g , a n d b e i n g u n s e t t l e d in o u r m i n d s , we thought w e would ride toward the e a s t w a r d , to s e e if we c o u l d hear anything c o n c e r n i n g our children. A n d a s we were riding a l o n g ( G o d is the wise d i s p o s e r of all things) b e t w e e n Ipswich a n d Rowley we m e t with M r . William H u b b a r d , w h o told u s that o u r son J o s e p h w a s c o m e in to M a j o r W a l d r o n ' s , a n d a n o t h e r with him, which w a s my sister's s o n . I a s k e d h i m how he knew it? H e said the major himself told him s o . S o a l o n g we went till we c a m e to N e w b u r y ; a n d their minister b e i n g a b s e n t , they desired my h u s b a n d to p r e a c h the thanksgiving for t h e m ; but h e w a s not willing to stay there that night, but w o u l d go over to S a l i s b u r y , to h e a r further, a n d c o m e again in the m o r n i n g , which he did, a n d p r e a c h e d there that day. At night, w h e n he h a d d o n e , o n e c a m e a n d told him that his d a u g h t e r w a s c o m e in at Providence. H e r e w a s mercy o n both h a n d s . N o w hath G o d fulfilled that p r e c i o u s S c r i p t u r e which w a s s u c h a c o m f o r t to m e in my d i s t r e s s e d condition. W h e n my heart w a s ready to sink into the earth (my children b e i n g g o n e , I c o u l d not tell whither) a n d my k n e e s t r e m b l i n g u n d e r m e , a n d I w a s walking t h r o u g h the valley of the s h a d o w of d e a t h ; then the L o r d b r o u g h t , a n d now h a s fulfilled that reviving word u n t o m e : " T h u s saith the L o r d , Refrain thy voice from w e e p i n g , a n d thine eyes from tears, for thy W o r k shall b e r e w a r d e d , saith the L o r d , a n d they shall c o m e a g a i n from the L a n d of the E n e m y . " 5 N o w we were b e t w e e n t h e m , the o n e on the e a s t , a n d the other on the west. O u r son b e i n g n e a r e s t , we went to him first, to P o r t s m o u t h , 4. Worldly goods and gifts.

5. Jeremiah 3 1 . 1 6 .

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where we met with him, a n d with the M a j o r a l s o , who told us h e h a d d o n e what he c o u l d , but c o u l d not r e d e e m him u n d e r seven p o u n d s , which the g o o d p e o p l e t h e r e a b o u t s were p l e a s e d to pay. T h e Lord reward the major, a n d all the rest, though u n k n o w n to m e , for their labor of L o v e . M y sister's s o n w a s r e d e e m e d for four p o u n d s , which the c o u n c i l gave order for the p a y m e n t of. H a v i n g now received o n e of o u r children, we h a s t e n e d toward the other. G o i n g b a c k through N e w b u r y my h u s b a n d p r e a c h e d there on the S a b b a t h day; for which they rewarded him many fold. O n M o n d a y we c a m e to C h a r l e s t o w n , w h e r e we h e a r d that the governor of R h o d e Island h a d sent over for our d a u g h t e r , to take c a r e of her, b e i n g now within his j u r i s d i c t i o n ; which s h o u l d not p a s s without our a c k n o w l e d g m e n t s . B u t s h e b e i n g n e a r e r R e h o b o t h than R h o d e I s l a n d , M r . N e w m a n went over, a n d took c a r e of her a n d b r o u g h t her to his own h o u s e . And the g o o d n e s s of G o d w a s a d m i r a b l e to u s in our low e s t a t e , in that H e raised up p a s s i o n a t e * friends o n every side to u s , w h e n we h a d nothing to r e c o m p e n s e any for their love. T h e Indians were now g o n e that way, that it was a p p r e h e n d e d d a n g e r o u s to go to her. B u t the carts which carried provision to the English army, b e i n g g u a r d e d , b r o u g h t her with t h e m to D o r c h e s t e r , w h e r e we received her s a f e . B l e s s e d be the L o r d for it, for great is H i s power, a n d H e c a n do w h a t s o e v e r s e e m e t h H i m g o o d . H e r c o m i n g in w a s after this m a n n e r : s h e w a s traveling o n e day with the I n d i a n s , with her b a s k e t at her b a c k ; the c o m p a n y of Indians were got before her, a n d g o n e out of sight, all except o n e s q u a w ; s h e followed the s q u a w till night, and then b o t h of t h e m lay down, having nothing over t h e m but the h e a v e n s a n d u n d e r t h e m but the earth. T h u s s h e traveled three days together, not knowing whither s h e w a s going; having nothing to eat or drink b u t water, a n d green hirtle-berries. At last they c a m e into P r o v i d e n c e , w h e r e s h e was kindly e n t e r t a i n e d by several of that town. T h e Indians often said that I s h o u l d never have her under twenty p o u n d s . B u t now the Lord hath b r o u g h t her in u p o n free-cost, a n d given her to m e the s e c o n d t i m e . T h e L o r d m a k e us a b l e s s i n g i n d e e d , e a c h to o t h e r s . N o w have I s e e n that S c r i p t u r e a l s o fulfilled, "If any of thine be driven out to the o u t m o s t parts of h e a v e n , from t h e n c e will the L o r d thy G o d gather t h e e , a n d from t h e n c e will he fetch t h e e . A n d the L o r d thy G o d will put all t h e s e c u r s e s u p o n thine e n e m i e s , a n d on t h e m which h a t e t h e e , which p e r s e c u t e d t h e e " ( D e u t e r o n o m y 30.4—7). T h u s hath the L o r d brought m e a n d m i n e out of that horrible pit, a n d hath set u s in the m i d s t of tenderh e a r t e d a n d c o m p a s s i o n a t e C h r i s t i a n s . It is the desire of my soul that we m a y walk worthy of the m e r c i e s received, a n d which we are receiving. O u r family b e i n g now g a t h e r e d together ( t h o s e of u s that were living), the S o u t h C h u r c h in B o s t o n hired an h o u s e for u s . T h e n we r e m o v e d from Mr. S h e p h a r d ' s , t h o s e cordial friends, a n d went to B o s t o n , w h e r e we c o n t i n u e d a b o u t three-quarters of a year. Still the L o r d went a l o n g with u s , a n d provided g r a c i o u s l y for u s . I t h o u g h t it s o m e w h a t s t r a n g e to set u p h o u s e k e e p i n g with bare walls; but as S o l o m o n says, " M o n e y a n s w e r s all things "7 a n d that we h a d through the b e n e v o l e n c e of C h r i s t i a n friends, s o m e in this town, a n d s o m e in that, a n d o t h e r s ; a n d s o m e from E n g l a n d ; that in a little time we might look, a n d s e e the h o u s e furnished with love. T h e L o r d hath b e e n e x c e e d i n g good to us in o u r low e s t a t e , in that w h e n we h a d neither 6. C o m p a s s i o n a t e .

/. Ecclesiastes 10.19.

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h o u s e nor h o m e , nor other n e c e s s a r i e s , the L o r d s o moved the hearts of t h e s e a n d t h o s e towards u s , that we w a n t e d neither food, nor r a i m e n t for ourselves or o u r s : " T h e r e is a Friend which sticketh c l o s e r than a B r o t h e r " (Proverbs 1 8 . 2 4 ) . A n d how m a n y s u c h friends have we f o u n d , a n d now living a m o n g s t ? A n d truly s u c h a friend have we found him to be u n t o u s , in w h o s e h o u s e we lived, viz. Mr. J a m e s W h i t c o m b , a friend u n t o u s near h a n d , a n d afar off. I c a n r e m e m b e r the time w h e n I u s e d to sleep quietly without workings in my t h o u g h t s , w h o l e nights together, but now it is other ways with m e . W h e n all are fast a b o u t m e , a n d no eye o p e n , but His w h o ever w a k e t h , my t h o u g h t s are upon things p a s t , u p o n the awful d i s p e n s a t i o n of the L o r d towards u s , u p o n H i s wonderful power a n d might, in carrying of us t h r o u g h so m a n y difficulties, in returning us in safety, a n d suffering n o n e to hurt u s . I r e m e m b e r in the night s e a s o n , how the other day I w a s in the midst of t h o u s a n d s of e n e m i e s , a n d nothing but d e a t h before m e . It is then hard work to p e r s u a d e myself, that ever I s h o u l d be satisfied with b r e a d a g a i n . B u t now we are fed with the finest of the wheat, a n d , as I may say, with honey out of the r o c k . s I n s t e a d of the h u s k , we have the fatted calf. 1 ' T h e t h o u g h t s of t h e s e things in the p a r t i c u l a r s of t h e m , a n d of the love a n d g o o d n e s s of G o d towards u s , m a k e it true of m e , what David said of himself, "I w a t e r e d my C o u c h with my t e a r s " ( P s a l m 6 . 6 ) . O h ! the wonderful power of G o d that m i n e eyes have s e e n , affording matter e n o u g h for my t h o u g h t s to run in, that w h e n others a r e s l e e p i n g m i n e eyes are weeping. I have s e e n the extreme vanity of this world: O n e h o u r I have b e e n in h e a l t h , a n d wealthy, w a n t i n g nothing. B u t the next h o u r in s i c k n e s s a n d w o u n d s , a n d d e a t h , having nothing but sorrow a n d affliction. B e f o r e I knew what affliction m e a n t , I w a s ready s o m e t i m e s to wish for it. W h e n I lived in prosperity, having the c o m f o r t s of the world a b o u t m e , my relations by m e , my heart cheerful, a n d taking little c a r e for anything, a n d yet s e e i n g many, w h o m I preferred before myself, u n d e r m a n y trials a n d afflictions, in s i c k n e s s , w e a k n e s s , poverty, l o s s e s , c r o s s e s , a n d c a r e s of the world, I s h o u l d be s o m e t i m e s j e a l o u s least I s h o u l d have my portion in this life, a n d that S c r i p t u r e would c o m e to my m i n d , " F o r w h o m the L o r d loveth he c h a s t e n e t h , a n d s c o u r g e t h every S o n w h o m he r e c e i v e t h " ( H e b r e w s 1 2 . 6 ) . B u t now I see the L o r d h a d His time to s c o u r g e a n d c h a s t e n m e . T h e portion of s o m e is to have their afflictions by d r o p s , now o n e drop a n d then a n o t h e r ; but the d r e g s of the c u p , the wine of a s t o n i s h m e n t , like a s w e e p i n g rain that leaveth no food, did the L o r d p r e p a r e to b e my portion. Affliction I w a n t e d , and affliction I h a d , full m e a s u r e (I t h o u g h t ) , p r e s s e d d o w n a n d r u n n i n g over. Yet I s e e , when G o d calls a p e r s o n to anything, a n d t h r o u g h never so m a n y difficulties, yet H e is fully able to carry t h e m t h r o u g h a n d m a k e t h e m s e e , a n d say they have b e e n gainers thereby. A n d I h o p e I c a n say in s o m e m e a s u r e , a s David did, "It is good for m e that I have b e e n afflicted." 1 T h e L o r d hath s h o w e d m e the vanity of t h e s e o u t w a r d things. T h a t they are the vanity of vanities, a n d vexation of spirit, that they are but a s h a d o w , a blast, a b u b b l e , a n d things of no c o n t i n u a n c e . T h a t we m u s t rely on G o d Himself, a n d our whole d e p e n d a n c e m u s t be u p o n H i m . If trouble from s m a l l e r matters begin to arise in m e , I have s o m e t h i n g at h a n d to c h e c k myself with, finest 8. " H e should have fed them also with the of the wheat: and with honey out of the rock should I have satisfied thee" (Psalm 8 1 . 1 6 ) .

9. "And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it: and let us eat, and be merry" (Luke 15.23). 1. Psalm 1 1 9 . 7 1 .

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a n d say, why a m I t r o u b l e d ? It w a s but the other day that if I h a d h a d the world, I would have given it for my f r e e d o m , or to have b e e n a servant to a C h r i s t i a n . I have learned to look b e y o n d p r e s e n t a n d s m a l l e r t r o u b l e s , a n d to b e q u i e t e d u n d e r t h e m . As M o s e s s a i d , " S t a n d still a n d s e e the salvation of the L o r d " ( E x o d u s 1 4 . 1 3 ) . Finis. 1682

EDWARD c.

TAYLOR

1642-1729

Given the importance of Edward Taylor's role in the town in which he lived for fiftyeight years, it is curious that we should know so little about his life. Taylor was probably born in Sketchly, Leicestershire County, England; his father was a "yeoman farmer"—that is, he was not a "gentleman" with large estates, but an independent landholder with title to his farm. Although his poetry contains no images that reflect his boyhood in Leicestershire, the dialect of that farming country is ever-present and gives his verse an air of provincial charm but also, it must be admitted, makes it difficult and complex for the modern reader. Taylor did not enter Harvard until he was twenty-nine years old and stayed only three years. It is assumed, therefore, that he had some university education in England, but it is not known where. We do know that he taught school and that he left his family and sailed to New England in 1668 because he would not sign an oath of loyalty to the Church of England. Rather than compromise his religious principles as a Puritan, he preferred exile in what he once called a "howling wilderness." It was at Harvard that he must have decided to leave teaching and prepare himself for the ministry. In 1671 a delegation from the frontier town of Westfield, Massachusetts, asked Taylor to join them as their minister, and after a good deal of soul-searching he journeyed with them the hundred miles west to Westfield, where he remained the rest of his life. As by far the most educated member of that community, he served as minister, physician, and public servant. Taylor married twice and had fourteen children, many of whom died in infancy. A rigorous observer of all churchly functions, Taylor did not shy away from the religious controversies of the period. He was a strict observer of the "old" New England way, demanding a public account of conversion before admission to church membership and the right to partake of the sacrament of communion. Taylor was a learned man as well as a pious one. Like most Harvard ministers, he knew Latin, Hebrew, and Greek. He had a passion for books and copied out in his own hand volumes that he borrowed from his college roommate, Samuel Sewall. He was known to Sewall and others as a good preacher, and on occasion he sent poems and letters to Boston friends, some parts of which were published during his lifetime. But Taylor's work as a poet was generally unknown until, in the 1930s, Thomas H. Johnson discovered that most of Taylor's poems had been deposited in the Yale University Library by Taylor's grandson, Ezra Stiles, a former president of Yale. It was one of the major literary discoveries of the twentieth century and revealed a body of work by a Puritan divine that was remarkable both in its quantity and quality. Taylor's interest in poetry was lifelong, and he tried his hand at a variety of poetic genres: elegies on the death of public figures; lyrics in the manner of Elizabethan

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songs; a long poem, God's Determinations, in the tradition of the medieval debate; and an almost unreadable five-hundred-page Metrical History of Christianity, primarily a book of martyrs. But Taylor's best verse is to be found in a series called Preparatory Meditations. These poems, written for his own pleasure and never a part of any religious service, followed chiefly upon his preparation for a sermon to be delivered at monthly communion. They gave the poet an occasion to summarize the emotional and intellectual content of his sermon and to speak directly and fervently to God. Sometimes these poems are gnarled and difficult to follow, but they also reveal a unique voice, unmistakably Taylor's. They are written in an idiom that harks back to the verse Taylor must have known as a child in England—the Metaphysical lyrics of John Donne and George Herbert—and so delight in puns and paradoxes and a rich profusion of metaphors and images. Nothing previously discovered about Puritan literature had suggested that there was a writer in New England who had sustained such a long-term love affair with poetry.

FROM

PREPARATORY

MEDITATIONS'

Prologue Lord, Can a Crumb of Dust the Earth outweigh, Outmatch all mountains, nay, the Crystal sky? Embosom in't designs that shall Display And trace into the Boundless Deity? Yea, hand a Pen whose moisture doth guide o'er Eternal Glory with a glorious glore.2 If it its Pen had of an Angel's Quill, And sharpened on a Precious Stone ground tight, And dipped in liquid Gold, and moved by Skill In Crystal leaves should golden Letters write, It would but blot and blur, yea, jag, and jar Scrivener. Unless Thou mak'st the Pen, and I am this Crumb of Dust which is designed To make my Pen unto Thy Praise alone, And my dull Fancy3 I would gladly grind Unto an Edge on Zion's4 Precious Stone. And Write in Liquid Gold upon Thy Name My Letters till Thy glory forth doth flame. Let not th' attempts break down my Dust, I pray, Nor laugh Thou them to scorn but pardon give. Inspire this crumb of Dust till it display I. The full title is Preparatory' Meditations before my Approach to the Lord s Supper. Chiefly upon the Doctrine preached upon the Day of Administration [of Communion], Taylor administered communion once a month to those members of his congregation who had made a declaration of their faith. H e wrote these meditations in private; they are primarily the result of his contemplation of the biblical texts that served as the basis for the

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communion sermon. A total of 2 1 7 meditations survive, dating from 1682 to 1725. The text used here is from Poems of Edward Taylor, edited by Donald E. Stanford ( 1 9 6 0 ) . 2. Glory (Scottish). 3. I.e., imagination. 4. The hill in J e r u s a l e m on which Solomon built his temple; the City of God on earth.

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Thy Glory through't: and then Thy dust shall live. Its failings then Thou'lt overlook, I trust, They being Slips slipped from Thy Crumb of Dust. Thy Crumb of Dust breathes two words from its breast, That Thou wilt guide its pen to write aright To Prove Thou art, and that Tliou art the best And show Tliy Properties to shine most bright. And then Thy Works will shine as flowers on Stems Or as in Jewelry Shops, do gems. c.1682

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3Q 1939

Meditation 8 (First Series) John

6 . 5 1 . / am the Living

Bread.1

I k e n n i n g t h r o u g h A s t r o n o m y Divine T h e World's bright B a t t l e m e n t , 2 w h e r e i n I spy A G o l d e n Path my Pencil c a n n o t line, F r o m that bright T h r o n e u n t o my T h r e s h o l d lie. A n d while my puzzled t h o u g h t s a b o u t it p o u r , I find the B r e a d of Life in't at my door. W h e n that this Bird of P a r a d i s e * put in T h i s Wicker C a g e (my C o r p s e ) to t w e e d l e p r a i s e H a d p e c k e d the Fruit f o r b a d e : a n d so did fling Away its F o o d ; a n d lost its golden d a y s ; It fell into Celestial F a m i n e s o r e : And never c o u l d attain a m o r s e l m o r e . Alas! alas! P o o r Bird, what wilt thou d o ? T h e C r e a t u r e s ' field no food for S o u l s e'er g a v e . And if thou k n o c k at A n g e l s ' d o o r s they s h o w An E m p t y Barrel: they no soul b r e a d have. Alas! Poor Bird, the World's W h i t e L o a f is d o n e . A n d c a n n o t yield thee here the s m a l l e s t C r u m b . In this s a d s t a t e , G o d ' s T e n d e r B o w e l s 4 run O u t s t r e a m s of G r a c e : a n d H e to e n d all strife T h e P u r e s t W h e a t in H e a v e n His d e a r - d e a r son G r i n d s , a n d k n e a d s up into this B r e a d of Life. W h i c h B r e a d of Life from H e a v e n d o w n c a m e a n d s t a n d s D i s h e d on T h y T a b l e up by A n g e l s ' H a n d s . 1. "The Jews then murmured at him, because he said, 1 am the bread which c a m e down Irom heaven. And they said. Is not this J e s u s , the son oi J o s e p h , whose father and mother we know? how is it then that he saith, 1 c a m e down from heaven? J e s u s therefore answered[,] . . . Verily, verily, I say unto you. He that believeth on me hath everlasting life. I am that bread of life" (John 6 . 4 1 - 4 8 ) . J e s u s offers a "New Covenant of Faith" in place of the "Old Covenant of Works," which Adam broke

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when he disobeyed C o d ' s c o m m a n d m e n t . 2. I.e., discerning, by means of "divine astronomy," the towers of heaven. Taylor goes on to suggest that there is an invisible golden path Irom this world to the Gates of Heaven. 3. I.e., the soul, which is like a bird kept in the body's cage. 4. Here used in the sense of the interior of the body, the "seat ol the tender and sympathetic emotions." the heart.

MEDITATION 2 2

(FIRST

SERIES)

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Did G o d mold up this B r e a d in H e a v e n , a n d b a k e , W h i c h from His T a b l e c a m e , a n d to thine g o e t h ? D o t h H e b e s p e a k thee t h u s , T h i s S o u l B r e a d take. C o m e Eat thy fill of this thy G o d ' s W h i t e L o a f ? It's F o o d too fine for A n g e l s , yet c o m e , take A n d Eat thy fill. It's H e a v e n ' s S u g a r C a k e .

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W h a t G r a c e is this k n e a d in this L o a f ? T h i s thing S o u l s are but petty things it to a d m i r e . Ye A n g e l s , help: T h i s fill would to the brim H e a v ' n s w h e l m e d - d o w n 5 Crystal meal Bowl, yea a n d higher. T h i s B r e a d of Life d r o p p e d in thy m o u t h , doth Cry: E a t , Eat m e , S o u l , a n d thou shalt never die. June 8 , 1 6 8 4

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1939

Meditation 2 2 (First Series) Philippians

2.9.

God hath highly exalted

Him.'

W h e n Thy Bright B e a m s , my L o r d , do strike m i n e E y e , M e t h i n k s I then c o u l d truly C h i d e outright M y H i d e - b o u n d S o u l that s t a n d s so niggardly T h a t s c a r c e a thought gets glorified by't. M y Q u a i n t e s t 2 m e t a p h o r s are ragged Stuff, M a k i n g the S u n s e e m like a Mullipuff.* It's my d e s i r e , T h o u s h o u l d s t be glorified: B u t w h e n Thy Glory s h i n e s before m i n e eye, I p a r d o n C r a v e , lest my desire b e P r i d e , O r b e d T h y Glory in a C l o u d y Sky. T h e S u n grows w a n ; a n d A n g e l s p a l e f a c e d shrink, B e f o r e T h y S h i n e , which I b e s m e a r with Ink. B u t shall the Bird sing forth Thy P r a i s e , a n d shall T h e little B e e p r e s e n t her thankful H u m ? B u t I who s e e T h y s h i n i n g Glory fall B e f o r e mine E y e s , s t a n d B l o c k i s h , Dull, a n d D u m b ? W h e t h e r I s p e a k , or s p e e c h l e s s s t a n d , I spy, I fail T h y Glory: therefore p a r d o n Cry. But this I find; M y R h y m e s do better suit M i n e own D i s p r a i s e than t u n e forth p r a i s e to T h e e . Yet b e i n g C h i d , whether C o n s o n a n t , 4 or M u t e , 5. Turned over. T h e Oxford English Dictionary quotes a passage from Dryden that is relevant: "That the earth is like a trencher and the Heavens a dish whelmed over it." 1. "Let this mind be in vou. which was also in Christ J e s u s : Who, being in the lorm of God. thought it not robbery to he equal with God: But made himself no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and b e c a m e obedient unto

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death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: That at the name of J e s u s every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; And that every tongue should confess that J e s u s Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (Philippians 2 . 5 - 1 1). 2. Most skilled, wise. 3. Fuzz ball. 4. Talkative, making sounds.

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I force my T o n g u e to tattle, as You s e e . T h a t I T h y glorious P r a i s e m a y T r u m p e t right, B e T h o u my S o n g , a n d m a k e , L o r d , m e T h y p i p e . T h i s s h i n i n g Sky will fly away a p a c e , W h e n T h y bright Glory splits the s a m e to m a k e Thy Majesty a Pass, whose Fairest F a c e T o o foul a P a t h is for T h y F e e t to t a k e . W h a t Glory then, shall tend T h e e t h r o u g h the Sky D r a i n i n g the H e a v e n m u c h of A n g e l s dry? W h a t Light then f l a m e will in T h y J u d g m e n t S e a t , 'Fore which all m e n a n d A n g e l s shall a p p e a r ? H o w shall T h y G l o r i o u s R i g h t e o u s n e s s t h e m treat, Rend'ring to e a c h after his W o r k s d o n e h e r e ? T h e n S a i n t s with A n g e l s T h o u wilt glorify: A n d b u r n L e w d ' M e n , a n d Devils Gloriously.

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O n e g l i m p s e , my L o r d , of T h y bright J u d g m e n t D a y , A n d Glory p i e r c i n g t h r o u g h , like fiery D a r t s , All Devils, doth m e m a k e for G r a c e to pray, F o r filling G r a c e h a d I ten t h o u s a n d H e a r t s . I'd t h r o u g h ten Hells to s e e T h y J u d g m e n t D a y W o u l d s t T h o u but gild my S o u l with T h y bright Ray. June 12,1687

40

I960

Meditation 4 2 (First Series) Revelation

3.21.

I will give Him to sit with Me in my

Throne.'

A p p l e s of gold, in silver p i c t u r e s s h r i n e d 2 E n c h a n t the a p p e t i t e , m a k e m o u t h s to water. And L o v e l i n e s s in L u m p s , t u n n ' d , a n d e n r i n e d 3 In J a s p e r 4 C a s k , w h e n t a p p e d , doth briskly vapor: B r i n g forth a birth of Keys t'unlock Love's C h e s t , T h a t L o v e , like B i r d s , m a y fly to't from its n e s t . S u c h is my L o r d , a n d m o r e . B u t what s t r a n g e thing A m I b e c o m e ? S i n r u s t s my L o c k all o'er. T h o u g h H e ten t h o u s a n d Keys all on a string T a k e s o u t , s c a r c e o n e is f o u n d u n l o c k s the D o o r . W h i c h o p e , my L o v e c r i n c h e d 5 in a C o r n e r lies L i k e s o m e s h r u n k C r i c k l i n g 6 a n d s c a r c e c a n rise. L o r d , o p e the D o o r : rub off my R u s t , R e m o v e M y sin, a n d Oil my L o c k . ( D u s t there doth s h e l f ) . M y W a r d s will trig 7 before T h y Key: my L o v e 5. Worthless, fallen. 1. "To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with me in my throne, even a s I also overcame, and am set down with my Father in his throne. He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches" (Revelation 3.21—22). 2. Enshrined, enclosed.

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3. Rendered, melted down. "Tunn'd": placed in a casket. 4. A precious stone, usually green in color. 5. Shrunken, gnarled up. 6. Properly "crinkling," a small, withered apple. 7. Open. "Wards": the protective ridges of a lock that prevent any but the proper key to open it.

UPON

W E D L O C K , AND D E A T H OF C H I L D R E N

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T h e n , a s enlivened, leap will on Thyself. It n e e d s m u s t b e , that giving h a n d s receive Again Receivers H e a r t s furled in L o v e W r e a t h . U n k e y my H e a r t ; u n l o c k T h y W a r d r o b e : bring O u t royal R o b e s : adorn my S o u l , L o r d : s o , M y L o v e in rich attire shall on my K i n g A t t e n d , a n d h o n o r o n H i m well b e s t o w . In Glory H e p r e p a r e s for H i s a p l a c e W h o m H e doth all beglory here with G r a c e . H e takes t h e m to the s h i n i n g t h r e s h o l d clear O f His bright P a l a c e , c l o t h e d in G r a c e ' s f l a m e . T h e n takes t h e m in thereto, not only there T o have a P r o s p e c t , 8 b u t p o s s e s s the s a m e . T h e C r o w n of Life, the throne of Glory's P l a c e , T h e Father's H o u s e b l a n c h e d o'er with orient G r a c e . C a n a a n 9 in gold print enwalled with g e m s : A K i n g d o m r i m m e d with Glory r o u n d : in fine1 A glorious C r o w n p a l e d 2 thick with all the s t e m s O f G r a c e , a n d of all Properties Divine. H o w h a p p y wilt T h o u m a k e m e w h e n t h e s e shall A s a blest H e r i t a g e u n t o m e fall? Adorn m e , L o r d , with Holy Huswifry. 3 All b l a n c h my R o b e s with C l u s t e r s of T h y G r a c e s : T h u s lead m e to T h y threshold: give m i n e E y e A P e e p h o l e there to s e e Bright Glory's C h a s e s . 4 T h e n take m e in: I'll pay, w h e n I p o s s e s s T h y T h r o n e , to T h e e the R e n t in H a p p i n e s s . August 2, 1691

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1939

U p o n W e d l o c k , a n d D e a t h of C h i l d r e n ' A C u r i o u s K n o t 2 G o d m a d e in P a r a d i s e , A n d drew it out e n a m e l e d 3 neatly F r e s h . It w a s the T r u e - L o v e Knot, m o r e sweet than s p i c e , A n d set with all the flowers of G r a c e ' s d r e s s . It's W e d d e n ' s 4 Knot, that ne're c a n be u n t i e d : N o Alexander's S w o r d 5 c a n it divide.

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T h e s l i p s 6 here p l a n t e d , gay a n d glorious grow: U n l e s s a n Hellish breath d o s i n g e their P l u m e s . 8. View, range of vision. 9. T h e land promised by God to Abraham; the biblical name of Jerusalem (cf. Genesis 12.5—8). 1. In essence. 2. Striped. 3. Cloth woven in the home, and the traditional task of the housewife. 4. T h e settings of precious stones. 1. The text used here is from Poems of Edward

Taylor, edited by Donald E. Stanford ( 1 9 6 0 ) . 2. Flower bed. 3. Polished, shining. 4. I.e., wedding's. 5. Alexander the Great cut the Gordian knot devised by the king of Phyrgia when he learned that anyone who could undo it would rule Asia. 6. Cuttings.

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H e r e P r i m r o s e , C o w s l i p s , R o s e s , Lilies b l o w 7 With Violets a n d Pinks that void" p e r f u m e s : W h o s e b e a u t e o u s leaves o'erlaid with H o n e y D e w , And C h a n t i n g birds C h i r p o u t sweet M u s i c true. W h e n in this Knot I p l a n t e d w a s , my S t o c k 9 S o o n knotted, a n d a manly flower out b r a k e . ' A n d after it, my b r a n c h again did knot, B r o u g h t out a n o t h e r Flower, its s w e e t - b r e a t h e d m a t e . O n e knot gave o n e t o t h e r 2 the tother's p l a c e . W h e n c e C h u c k l i n g s m i l e s fought in e a c h other's f a c e . B u t O h ! a glorious h a n d from glory c a m e G u a r d e d with A n g e l s , s o o n did c r o p this flower 3 W h i c h a l m o s t tore the root u p of the s a m e , At that u n l o o k e d for, D o l e s o m e , d a r k s o m e h o u r . In Prayer to C h r i s t p e r f u m e d it did a s c e n d , A n d A n g e l s bright did it to h e a v e n 'tend. B u t p a u s i n g on't, this sweet p e r f u m e d my t h o u g h t : C h r i s t would in Glory have a Flower, C h o i c e , P r i m e , A n d having C h o i c e , c h o s e this my b r a n c h forth b r o u g h t . L o r d take't. I t h a n k T h e e , T h o u tak'st o u g h t of m i n e : It is my p l e d g e in glory, part of m e Is now in it, L o r d , glorified with T h e e . B u t praying o're my b r a n c h , my b r a n c h did s p r o u t , A n d bore a n o t h e r manly flower, a n d g a y , 4 A n d after that a n o t h e r , sweet b r a k e 5 o u t , T h e which the former h a n d s o o n got away. B u t O h ! the tortures, V o m i t , s c r e e c h i n g s , g r o a n s , a n d six week's Fever would p i e r c e hearts like s t o n e s . 6 G r i e f o're doth flow: a n d n a t u r e fault would find W e r e not T h y Will, my S p e l l , C h a r m , J o y , a n d G e m : T h a t a s I said, I say, take, L o r d , they're T h i n e . I p i e c e m e a l p a s s to Glory bright in t h e m . In joy, may I sweet flowers for glory b r e e d , W h e t h e r thou get'st t h e m g r e e n , or lets t h e m s e e d . c.1682

7. Bloom. 8. Emit. 9. S t e m . 1. Samuel Taylor was born on August 27, 1675, and lived to maturity. 2. To the other. 3. Elizabeth Taylor was born on December 27,

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1676, and died on D e c e m b e r 2 5 , 1677. 4. J a m e s Taylor was born on October 12, 1678, and lived to maturity. 5. I.e., broke out. 6. Abigail Taylor was born on August 6, 1681, and died on August 2 2 , 1682.

UPON A WASP

C H I L L E D WITH C O L D

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U p o n a W a s p C h i l l e d with C o l d 1 T h e B e a r that b r e a t h e s the N o r t h e r n b l a s t 2 Did n u m b , T o r p e d o - l i k e , ' a W a s p W h o s e stiffened limbs e n c r a m p e d , lay b a t h i n g In S o l ' s 4 w a r m breath a n d shine a s saving, W h i c h with her h a n d s s h e c h a f e s a n d s t a n d s R u b b i n g her L e g s , S h a n k s , T h i g h s , a n d h a n d s . H e r petty toes, a n d fingers' e n d s N i p p e d with this breath, s h e out extends U n t o the S u n , in great desire T o w a r m her digits at that fire. D o t h hold her T e m p l e s in this state W h e r e p u l s e doth beat, a n d h e a d doth a c h e . D o t h turn, a n d stretch her body small, D o t h C o m b her velvet C a p i t a l . 5 As if her little brain pan were A V o l u m e of C h o i c e p r e c e p t s clear. As if her satin j a c k e t hot C o n t a i n e d Apothecary's S h o p O f N a t u r e ' s r e c e i p t s , 6 that prevails T o r e m e d y all her s a d ails, As if her velvet helmet high Did turret 7 rationality. S h e fans her wing up to the W i n d As if her Pettycoat were lined, With r e a s o n ' s fleece, a n d hoists sails And h u m m i n g flies in thankful gales U n t o her d u n C u r l e d " p a l a c e Hall H e r w a r m thanks offering for all. L o r d , clear my misted sight that I M a y h e n c e view T h y Divinity, S o m e s p a r k s w h e r e o f T h o u up dost h a s p 9 Within this little downy W a s p In w h o s e small C o r p o r a t i o n 1 we A school a n d a s c h o o l m a s t e r s e e , W h e r e we may learn, a n d easily A n i m b l e Spirit bravely m i n d H e r work in every limb: a n d lace It u p neat with a vital g r a c e , Acting e a c h part t h o u g h ne'er so small I. The text used here is from Poems of Edward Taylor, edited by Donald E. Stanford (1960). 2. The northern constellation the Big Dipper, also called Ursa Major, or the Great Bear. 3. The torpedo is a fish, like a stingray, and discharges a shock to one who touches it, causing numbness. Sir T h o m a s Browne writes: "Torpedoes deliver their opium at a distance and stupify beyond themselves" ( 1 6 4 6 ) .

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4. The sun personified. 5. Head. 6. Remedies, prescriptions. "Apothecary's Shop": what we would now call a drugstore or pharmacy. 7. Contain, e n c o m p a s s . 8. Dark curved. 9. Enclose, confine. 1. Body.

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H e r e of this F u s t i a n 2 a n i m a l , Till I e n r a v i s h e d C l i m b into T h e G o d h e a d on this L a d d e r d o , W h e r e all my p i p e s inspired u p r a i s e An H e a v e n l y m u s i c f u r r e d 3 with p r a i s e .

-to

1960

Huswifery' Make me, O Lord, Thy Spinning Wheel complete. Thy Holy W o r d my Distaff m a k e for m e . M a k e m i n e Affections T h y Swift Flyers n e a t A n d m a k e my S o u l T h y holy S p o o l to b e . M y c o n v e r s a t i o n m a k e to b e T h y Reel A n d reel the yarn thereon s p u n of T h y W h e e l . 2

5

M a k e m e T h y L o o m t h e n , knit therein this T w i n e : A n d m a k e T h y Holy Spirit, L o r d , wind q u i l l s : 3 T h e n weave the W e b Thyself. T h e yarn is fine. T h i n e O r d i n a n c e s m a k e my F u l l i n g M i l l s . 4 T h e n dye the s a m e in H e a v e n l y C o l o r s C h o i c e , All p i n k e d with Varnished 5 * F l o w e r s of P a r a d i s e . T h e n clothe therewith m i n e U n d e r s t a n d i n g , Will, Affections, J u d g m e n t , C o n s c i e n c e , M e m o r y , M y W o r d s , a n d A c t i o n s , that their s h i n e may M y ways with glory a n d T h e e glorify. T h e n m i n e a p p a r e l shall display b e f o r e Ye T h a t I a m C l o t h e d in Holy r o b e s for glory.

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2. Coarse-clothed. 3. Trimmed or embellished, as with fur. 1. Housekeeping: used here to mean weaving. In Taylor's Treatise Concerning the Lord's Supper (see p. 3 6 2 ) he considers the significance of the sacrament of communion and takes as his text a passage from the New Testament: "And he saith unto him. Friend, how earnest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? And he was speechless" (Matthew 2 2 . 1 2 ) . Taylor argues that the wedding garment is the proper sign of the regenerate Christian.

T h e text used here is from Poems of Edward Taylor, edited by Donald E. Stanford ( 1 9 6 0 ) . 2. In the lines above Taylor refers to the working parts of a spinning wheel: the "distaff" holds the raw wool or flax; the "flyers" regulate the spinning; the "spool" twists the yarn; and the "reel" takes up the finished thread. 3. I.e., be like a spool or bobbin. 4. Where cloth is beaten and cleansed with fullers earth, or soap. 5. Glossy, sparkling. "Pinked": adorned.

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COTTON

MATHER

1663-1728 Cotton Mather, as the eldest son of Increase Mather and the grandson of Richard Mather and John Cotton, was the heir apparent to the Congregational hierarchy that had dominated the churches of New England for almost fifty years. Like his father before him, Cotton Mather attended Harvard College. He was admitted at the age of twelve, and when he graduated in 1678, President Urian Oakes told the commencement audience that his hope was great that "in this youth, Cotton and Mather shall, in fact as well as name, joint together and once more appear in life." He was expected by his family to excel and did not disappoint them, but there is no doubt he had to pay a price for his ambition: he stammered badly when young, so much so that it was assumed he could never be a preacher, and he was subject all his life to nervous disorders that drove him alternatively to ecstasy and despair. His enemies often complained that he was vain and aggressive. But he was also a genius of sorts, competent in the natural sciences and gifted in the study of ancient languages. He possessed a strong mind, and by the time he had stopped writing he could boast that he had published more than four hundred separate works. A worthy successor to his father's position as pastor of the Second Church of Boston, he remained connected with that church from 1685, when he was ordained, until his death. Like Benjamin Franklin, Mather found great satisfaction in doing good works and organized societies for building churches, supported schools for the children of slaves, and worked to establish funds for indigent clergy. But for all his worldly success, Mather's life was darkened by disappointment and tragedy. He lost two wives and saw his third wife go insane, and of his fifteen children, only two lived until his death. More than one of his contemporaries observed that he never overcame his bitterness at being rejected for the presidency of Harvard. It was the one thing his father had achieved that he could not succeed in doing. Although he was a skillful preacher and an eminent theologian, it is his work as a historian that has earned Mather a significant place in American literature. No one has described more movingly the hopes of the first generation of Puritans, and what gives Mather's best writing its urgency is the sense that the Puritan community as he knew it was fading away. By the time that Mather was writing his history of New England, the issues that seemed most pressing to his parishioners were political and social rather than theological. In his diary of 1700 he noted that "there was hardly any but my father and myself to appear in defense of our invaded churches." Everything that Mather wrote can be seen as a call to defend the old order of church authority against the encroachment of an increasingly secular world. As an apologist for the "old New England way" there is no doubt that Mather left himself open to attack, and by the end of the seventeenth century he had become a scapegoat for the worst in Puritan culture. He is often blamed for the Salem witch trials, for example, but he never actually attended one of them; his greatest crime was in not speaking out against those who he knew had exceeded the limits of authority. Mather saw the devil's presence in Salem as a final effort to undermine and destroy religious community. In spite of its rambling and sometimes self-indulgent nature, the Magnalia Christi Americana (the title may be translated as "A history of the wonderful works of Christ in America") remains Mather's most impressive work. It is described on the title page as an "ecclesiastical history of New England," and in the course of its seven books, Mather attempts to record for future readers not only a history of the New England churches and the college (Harvard) where its ministers were trained but representative biographies of "saint's" lives. Although it is true that Mather was so caught up in his vision of a glorious past that he was sometimes quite blind to the suffocating

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realities of the world in which he lived, no one has set forth more clearly the history of a people who transformed a wilderness into a garden and the ideal of a harmonious community that has been characterized time and again as the American dream. It is, however, in Mather's biographical sketches—his lives of Bradford, Winthrop, Eliot, and Phips—that the Magnalia is most arresting, for it is in his account of a particular saint's reconciliation with God on earth that New England's story is most eloquently realized. In addition to defending Puritan beliefs and attempting to record New England's Mather experimented in a variety of forms that served history in the epic Magnalia, the tastes of an emergent popular literary culture. Certainly that was the case in his handling of such tales as Hannah Dustan's, since the Indian captivity narrative was to be a prolific source for later American writers eager to reach a wide public. But Mather's reach went further. His many forays into what in essence were "conduct books" (such as Ornaments

for the Daughters

of Zion,

1692, and Bonifacius,

1710,

later reprinted as Essays to Do Good), even as they showed him seeking to replace the old political power of the clergy with moral chastisement and persuasion, pioneered a kind of writing that proliferated in England and America across the following century, helping ordinary people imitate the manners and values of the elite and thus rise in the world. Here, too, Mather shared an interest with Benjamin Franklin, whose Poor Richard provided similar guidance for commoners. Likewise, in a book such as Pillars of Salt (1 700), a collection of solemn anecdotes about the last days of criminals condemned to execution, Mather intended to induce meditation on the awful costs of sin. Yet at the same time he unwittingly satisfied the curiosity of the ordinary reader about such transgressive characters—the ones who failed to rise, except to the gallows. The criminal biographies just beginning to pour from the English and American press at the time would soon lead to such literary inventions as Daniel Defoe's Moll Flanders, of whom Cotton Mather was in his own small way an unlikely godfather. In Mather's day, court records were usually mere summaries, often only stating the verdict, and there was virtually no press coverage of trials. Thus the fact that he gave such a man as the convicted murderer James Morgan some opportunity to speak his mind as the two of them walked together to the gallows on Boston Common and then recorded his "last speech" there, was more of an innovation than we may imagine: those Bostonians who had heard of the trial must have been eager for such details. We may suspect that Morgan was coached, or worse, that Mather put words into his mouth, but in some ways we can recognize in their dramatic exchange a voice from the underside of Puritan New England, reminding us of the social realities that existed beneath the level usually occupied by the likes of Mather. That Mather is, from our perspective, transgressive in his own way—scornful of the Indians in many texts, scornful here of the Jews (who, Mather tells Morgan, did worse to Christ than Massachusetts authorities are about to do to Morgan himself)—draws a subtle line of connection between the minister and his lowly companion.

MAGNALIA CHRISTI AMERICANA

FROM

Galeacius

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AMERICANA1

Secundus:2 T h e L i f e of W i l l i a m B r a d f o r d , E s q . , Governor of Plymouth Colony

Omnium Somnos illius vigilantia defendit; omnium otium, illius Labor; omnium Delicias, illius Industrie; omnium vacationem, illius occupation

It has b e e n a m a t t e r of s o m e observation, that a l t h o u g h Yorkshire b e o n e of the largest shires in E n g l a n d ; yet for all the fires of martyrdom which were kindled in the days of Queen M a r y , 4 it afforded no m o r e fuel than o n e poor leaf; namely, J o h n Leaf, an a p p r e n t i c e , w h o suffered for the d o c t r i n e of the R e f o r m a t i o n at the s a m e time a n d stake with the f a m o u s J o h n B r a d f o r d . s B u t w h e n the reign of Queen Elizabeth* would not a d m i t the reformation of worship to p r o c e e d unto t h o s e d e g r e e s , which were p r o p o s e d a n d p u r s u e d by no small n u m b e r of the faithful in t h o s e days, Yorkshire w a s not the least of the shires in E n g l a n d that afforded suffering w i t n e s s e s t h e r e u n t o . T h e c h u r c h e s there g a t h e r e d were quickly m o l e s t e d with s u c h a raging p e r s e c u t i o n , that if the spirit of s e p a r a t i o n in t h e m did carry t h e m unto a further extreme than it s h o u l d have d o n e , o n e b l a m a b l e c a u s e thereof will be f o u n d in the extremity of that p e r s e c u t i o n . T h e i r troubles m a d e that cold country too hot for t h e m , so that they were u n d e r a necessity to s e e k a retreat in the L o w C o u n t r i e s ; 7 a n d yet the watchful m a l i c e a n d fury of their adversaries r e n d e r e d it a l m o s t i m p o s s i b l e for t h e m to find what they s o u g h t . F o r them to leave their native soil, their lands a n d their friends, a n d go into a s t r a n g e p l a c e , where they m u s t hear foreign l a n g u a g e , a n d live meanly* a n d hardly, and in other e m p l o y m e n t s than that of h u s b a n d r y , wherein they had b e e n e d u c a t e d , these m u s t n e e d s have b e e n s u c h d i s c o u r a g e m e n t s as c o u l d have b e e n c o n q u e r e d by n o n e , save t h o s e w h o s o u g h t first the k i n g d o m of G o d , and the r i g h t e o u s n e s s thereof. But that which would have m a d e t h e s e disc o u r a g e m e n t s the m o r e u n c o n q u e r a b l e unto a n ordinary faith, w a s the terrible zeal of their e n e m i e s to g u a r d all ports, and s e a r c h all s h i p s , that n o n e of t h e m s h o u l d be carried off. I will not relate the s a d things of this kind 1. A History of the Wonderful Works of Christ in America (Latin). Mather's book is subtitled The ecclesiastical History of New England from its first planting, in the year 1620, unto the year of our Lord, 1698. The Magnalia contains seven books. The first book is concerned with the landing of the first Europeans in America and the founding and history of the New England settlements. T h e second book contains lives of governors of New England, and the lives of Bradford and Winthrop may be found there; the third book contains lives of sixty famous "Divines, by whose ministry the churches of New England have been planted and continued." Other books contain a history of Harvard College, a record of church ordinances passed in synods, and a record of "illustrious" and "wonderous" events that have been witnessed bv people in New England. First published in London in 1702, the text used here is taken from that edited by T h o m a s Robbins. with translations from the Hebrew, Greek, and Latin by Lucius F. Robinson (185J-55).

2. T h e second Galeazzo (Latin). Galeazzo Caraccioli (1517—1586) was a Neapolitan nobleman who left home and country to follow the example of Calvin in Geneva. 3. His vigilance defends the sleep of all; his labor, their rest; his industry, their pleasures; and his diligence, their leisure (Latin). 4. During the reign of Mary Tudor (1 553—58) an effort was made to restore Roman Catholicism to the position of a national church, and a number of Protestants were executed. 5. Bradford (I 5 10?— I 555), burned at the stake with Leaf on July I, 1555. Their story was well known from John Foxe's Book of Martyrs. 6. Followed Mary Tudor to the throne ( 1 5 5 8 1603) and by virtue of the Act of Uniformity prescribed traditional church ritual. 7. A number of English Puritans went to Holland to form their own churches without being accused of treason. 8. In poverty.

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then s e e n a n d felt by this p e o p l e of G o d ; but only exemplify t h o s e trials with o n e short story. Divers of t h e s e p e o p l e having hired a D u t c h m a n , then lying at Hull, to carry t h e m over to H o l l a n d , h e p r o m i s e d faithfully to take t h e m in, b e t w e e n G r i m s b y a n d H u l l ; but they c o m i n g to the p l a c e a day or two too s o o n , the a p p e a r a n c e of s u c h a m u l t i t u d e a l a r m e d the officers of the town adjoining, w h o c a m e with a great body of soldiers to seize u p o n t h e m . N o w it h a p p e n e d that o n e boat full of m e n h a d b e e n c a r r i e d a b o a r d , while the w o m e n were yet in a bark that lay a g r o u n d in a c r e e k at low water. T h e D u t c h m a n perceiving the storm that w a s t h u s b e g i n n i n g a s h o r e , swore by the s a c r a m e n t that he would stay no longer for any of t h e m ; a n d s o taking the a d v a n t a g e of a fair wind then blowing, h e p u t o u t to s e a for Z e e l a n d 9 T h e w o m e n t h u s left n e a r G r i m s b y - c o m m o n , b e r e a v e d of their h u s b a n d s , w h o h a d b e e n hurried from t h e m , a n d forsaken of their n e i g h b o r s , of w h o m n o n e d u r s t in this fright stay with t h e m , were a very rueful s p e c t a c l e ; s o m e crying for fear, s o m e s h a k i n g for c o l d , all d r a g g e d by t r o o p s of a r m e d a n d angry m e n from o n e J u s t i c e to a n o t h e r , till not k n o w i n g w h a t to d o with t h e m , they even d i s m i s s e d t h e m to shift a s well a s they c o u l d for t h e m s e l v e s . B u t by their singular afflictions, a n d by their C h r i s t i a n b e h a v i o r s , the c a u s e for which they e x p o s e d t h e m s e l v e s did gain c o n s i d e r a b l y . In the m e a n t i m e , the m e n at s e a f o u n d r e a s o n to be glad that their families were not with t h e m , for they were s u r p r i s e d with an horrible t e m p e s t , which h e l d t h e m for fourteen days together, in seven w h e r e o f they s a w not s u n , m o o n or star, b u t were driven u p o n the c o a s t of Norway. T h e m a r i n e r s often d e s p a i r e d of life, a n d o n c e with doleful shrieks g a v e over all, a s thinking the vessel w a s found e r e d : b u t the vessel rose a g a i n , a n d w h e n the m a r i n e r s with s u n k hearts often cried o u t , " W e sink! we s i n k ! " the p a s s e n g e r s , without s u c h distraction of m i n d , even while the water w a s r u n n i n g into their m o u t h s a n d e a r s , would cheerfully s h o u t , "Yet, L o r d , t h o u c a n s t s a v e ! Yet, L o r d , t h o u c a n s t s a v e ! " A n d the L o r d accordingly b r o u g h t t h e m at last s a f e u n t o their d e s i r e d haven: a n d not long after h e l p e d their d i s t r e s s e d relations thither after t h e m , w h e r e i n d e e d they f o u n d u p o n a l m o s t all a c c o u n t s a n e w world, b u t a world in which they f o u n d that they m u s t live like s t r a n g e r s a n d pilgrims. A m o n g t h e s e devout p e o p l e w a s our W i l l i a m B r a d f o r d , w h o w a s b o r n Anno 1 5 8 8 , in a n o b s c u r e village called Austerfield, w h e r e the p e o p l e were a s u n a c q u a i n t e d with the B i b l e , a s the J e w s d o s e e m to have b e e n with part of it in the days of J o s i a h ; ' a m o s t ignorant a n d licentious p e o p l e , a n d like u n t o their priest. H e r e , a n d in s o m e other p l a c e s , he h a d a c o m f o r t a b l e inherit a n c e left him of his h o n e s t p a r e n t s , w h o died while he w a s yet a child, a n d c a s t him o n the e d u c a t i o n , 2 first of his g r a n d p a r e n t s , a n d then of his u n c l e s , w h o devoted him, like his a n c e s t o r s , u n t o the affairs of h u s b a n d r y . S o o n a long s i c k n e s s kept h i m , a s h e w o u l d a f t e r w a r d s thankfully say, from the vanities of y o u t h , a n d m a d e h i m the fitter for w h a t he w a s afterwards to u n d e r g o . W h e n he w a s a b o u t a d o z e n years old, the r e a d i n g of the S c r i p t u r e s b e g a n to c a u s e great i m p r e s s i o n s u p o n h i m ; a n d t h o s e i m p r e s s i o n s were m u c h a s s i s t e d a n d i m p r o v e d , w h e n h e c a m e to enjoy M r . R i c h a r d Clifton's* illuminating ministry, not far from his a b o d e ; he w a s then a l s o further b e f r i e n d e d , by b e i n g b r o u g h t into the c o m p a n y a n d fellowship of s u c h a s 9. I.e., T h e Netherlands. 1. King of J u d a h (c. 6 3 8 - 6 0 8 B.C.E.), who was ignorant of the book of the law of the God of Israel and worshiped false gods (see 2 Kings 22f.). ''Anno": in the year (Latin).

2. I.e., m a d e his education dependent on. 3. A Puritan minister (d. 1616) in the town of Scrooby, who also settled in Amsterdam with the Scrooby Separatists.

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were then called p r o f e s s o r s ; 4 t h o u g h the y o u n g m a n that b r o u g h t him into it did after b e c o m e a p r o f a n e a n d wicked a p o s t a t e . ' N o r c o u l d the wrath of his u n c l e s , nor the scoff of his n e i g h b o r s , now turned u p o n h i m , as o n e of the P u r i t a n s , divert him from his p i o u s inclinations. At last, b e h o l d i n g how fearfully the evangelical a n d a p o s t o l i c a l c h u r c h form, whereinto the c h u r c h e s of the primitive times were c a s t by the g o o d spirit of G o d , had b e e n d e f o r m e d by the a p o s t a c y of the s u c c e e d i n g t i m e s ; a n d what little p r o g r e s s the Reformation h a d yet m a d e in m a n y p a r t s of C h r i s t e n d o m towards its recovery, he set h i m s e l f by reading, by d i s c o u r s e , by prayer, to learn w h e t h e r it w a s not his duty to withdraw from the c o m m u n i o n of the p a r i s h - a s s e m b l i e s , a n d e n g a g e with s o m e society of the faithful, that s h o u l d keep c l o s e u n t o the written W o r d of G o d , a s the rule of their worship. A n d after m a n y d i s t r e s s e s of m i n d c o n c e r n i n g it, h e took u p a very deliberate a n d u n d e r s t a n d i n g resolution, of d o i n g s o ; which resolution he cheerfully p r o s e c u t e d , a l t h o u g h the provoked rage of his friends tried all the ways i m a g i n a b l e to reclaim him from it, unto all w h o m his a n s w e r w a s : W e r e I like to e n d a n g e r my life, or c o n s u m e my e s t a t e by any ungodly c o u r s e s , your c o u n s e l s to m e were very s e a s o n a b l e ; but you know that I have b e e n diligent a n d provident in my calling, a n d not only d e s i r o u s to a u g m e n t what 1 have, but also to enjoy it in your c o m p a n y ; to part from which will be a s great a c r o s s as can befall m e . N e v e r t h e l e s s , to keep a good c o n s c i e n c e , a n d walk in s u c h a way a s G o d h a s p r e s c r i b e d in His W o r d ; is a thing which I m u s t prefer before you all, a n d a b o v e life itself. W h e r e f o r e , s i n c e 'tis for a g o o d c a u s e that I a m like to suffer the d i s a s t e r s which you lay before m e , you have no c a u s e to be either angry with m e , or sorry for m e ; yea, I a m not only willing to part with every thing that is dear to m e in this world for this c a u s e , but I a m a l s o thankful that G o d has given m e an heart so to d o , a n d will a c c e p t m e s o to suffer for Him. S o m e l a m e n t e d him, s o m e derided him, all d i s s u a d e d h i m : n e v e r t h e l e s s , the m o r e they did it, the m o r e fixed he w a s in his p u r p o s e to s e e k the ordin a n c e s of the G o s p e l , w h e r e they s h o u l d be d i s p e n s e d with most of the c o m m a n d e d purity; a n d the s u d d e n d e a t h s of the chief relations which t h u s lay at h i m , 6 quickly after c o n v i n c e d him what a folly it h a d b e e n to have quitted his p r o f e s s i o n , in expectation of any satisfaction from t h e m . S o to H o l l a n d he a t t e m p t e d a removal. Having with a great c o m p a n y of C h r i s t i a n s hired a ship to transport t h e m for Holland, the m a s t e r perfidiously betrayed t h e m into the h a n d s of t h o s e p e r s e c u t o r s , w h o rifled a n d r a n s a c k e d their g o o d s , a n d c l a p p e d their p e r s o n s into prison at B o s t o n , 7 where they lay for a m o n t h together. B u t Mr. Bradford being a y o u n g m a n of a b o u t e i g h t e e n , w a s d i s m i s s e d s o o n e r t h a n the rest, so that within a while he h a d opportunity with s o m e others to get over to Z e e l a n d , through perils, both by land a n d s e a not i n c o n s i d e r a b l e ; w h e r e he was not long a s h o r e ere a viper seized on his h a n d — t h a t is, an officer—who carried him u n t o the m a g i s t r a t e s , u n t o w h o m a n envious p a s s e n g e r h a d a c c u s e d him a s having fled out of E n g l a n d . W h e n the m a g i s t r a t e s u n d e r s t o o d 4. I.e.. those who declared their faith. 5 . One who denies what he formerly professed. 6. I.e., struck out at him and tried to make him

change his heliefs. 7. In England.

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the true c a u s e of his c o m i n g thither, they were well satisfied with h i m ; a n d so he repaired joyfully u n t o his b r e t h r e n at A m s t e r d a m , w h e r e the difficulties to which he afterwards s t o o p e d in l e a r n i n g a n d serving of a F r e n c h m a n at the working of silks, were a b u n d a n t l y c o m p e n s a t e d by the delight wherewith h e sat u n d e r the s h a d o w of o u r L o r d , in H i s purely d i s p e n s e d o r d i n a n c e s . At the e n d of two years, he did, b e i n g of a g e to d o it, convert his estate in E n g l a n d into m o n e y ; but setting u p for himself, he f o u n d s o m e of his d e s i g n s by the P r o v i d e n c e of G o d frowned u p o n , w h i c h h e j u d g e d a correction b e s t o w e d by G o d u p o n him for certain d e c a y s of internal piety, whereinto he h a d fallen; the c o n s u m p t i o n of his e s t a t e h e t h o u g h t c a m e to prevent a c o n s u m p t i o n in his virtue. B u t after h e h a d r e s i d e d in H o l l a n d a b o u t half a s c o r e y e a r s , h e w a s o n e of t h o s e w h o b o r e a part in that h a z a r d o u s a n d g e n e r o u s e n t e r p r i s e of r e m o v i n g into N e w E n g l a n d , with part of the E n g l i s h c h u r c h at L e y d e n , w h e r e , at their first l a n d i n g , his d e a r e s t c o n s o r t 8 accidently falling o v e r b o a r d , w a s d r o w n e d in the harbor; a n d the rest of his days were s p e n t in the services, a n d the t e m p t a t i o n s , of that A m e r i c a n w i l d e r n e s s . H e r e w a s Mr. B r a d f o r d , in the year 1 6 2 1 , u n a n i m o u s l y c h o s e n the governor of the p l a n t a t i o n ; the difficulties w h e r e o f were s u c h , that if h e h a d not b e e n a p e r s o n of m o r e than ordinary piety, w i s d o m a n d c o u r a g e , h e m u s t have s u n k u n d e r t h e m . H e h a d , with a l a u d a b l e industry, b e e n laying u p a t r e a s u r e of e x p e r i e n c e s , a n d he h a d now o c c a s i o n to u s e it; i n d e e d , n o t h i n g but a n e x p e r i e n c e d m a n c o u l d have b e e n s u i t a b l e to the n e c e s s i t i e s of the p e o p l e . T h e p o t e n t n a t i o n s of the I n d i a n s , into w h o s e c o u n t r y they were c o m e , would have c u t t h e m off, if the b l e s s i n g of G o d u p o n his c o n d u c t h a d not q u e l l e d t h e m ; a n d if his p r u d e n c e , j u s t i c e a n d m o d e r a t i o n h a d not overruled t h e m , they h a d b e e n ruined by their own d i s t e m p e r s . O n e s p e c i m e n of his d e m e a n o r is to this day particularly s p o k e n of. A c o m p a n y of y o u n g fellows that were newly arrived were very unwilling to c o m p l y with the governor's order for working a b r o a d on the p u b l i c a c c o u n t ; a n d therefore o n C h r i s t m a s Day, w h e n h e h a d called u p o n t h e m , they e x c u s e d t h e m s e l v e s , with a p r e t e n s e that it w a s a g a i n s t their c o n s c i e n c e to work s u c h a d a y . 9 T h e governor gave t h e m n o a n s w e r , only that h e would s p a r e t h e m till they were better i n f o r m e d ; b u t by a n d by he f o u n d t h e m all at play in the street, sporting t h e m s e l v e s with various diversions; w h e r e u p o n c o m m a n d i n g the instrum e n t s of their g a m e s to b e taken from t h e m , h e effectually g a v e t h e m to u n d e r s t a n d that it w a s a g a i n s t his c o n s c i e n c e that they s h o u l d play whilst others were at work, a n d that if they h a d a n y devotion to the day, they s h o u l d s h o w it at h o m e in the exercises of religion, a n d not in the s t r e e t s with p a s t i m e a n d frolics; a n d this g e n t l e r e p r o o f p u t a final s t o p to all s u c h disorders for the future. F o r two years together after the b e g i n n i n g of the colony, w h e r e o f h e w a s now governor, the p o o r p e o p l e h a d a great e x p e r i m e n t of " m a n ' s not living by b r e a d a l o n e " ; ' for w h e n they were left all together w i t h o u t o n e m o r s e l of b r e a d for m a n y m o n t h s , o n e after a n o t h e r , still the g o o d P r o v i d e n c e of G o d relieved t h e m , a n d s u p p l i e d t h e m , a n d this for the m o s t part o u t of the s e a . In this low condition of affairs, there w a s no little e x e r c i s e for the p r u d e n c e a n d p a t i e n c e of the governor, w h o cheerfully b o r e his part in all; a n d , that industry might not flag, h e quickly set h i m s e l f to settle propriety a m o n g the 8. Wife. 9. Puritans did not observe Christmas as a holi-

day. 1. Luke 4.4.

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new planters, f o r e s e e i n g that while the whole country l a b o r e d u p o n a c o m m o n stock, the h u s b a n d r y a n d b u s i n e s s of the plantation c o u l d not flourish, a s P l a t o 2 a n d others long s i n c e d r e a m e d that it would if a c o m m u n i t y were e s t a b l i s h e d . Certainly, if the spirit which dwelt in the old P u r i t a n s , h a d not inspired t h e s e n e w p l a n t e r s , they h a d s u n k u n d e r the b u r d e n of t h e s e difficulties; but our Bradford h a d a d o u b l e portion of that spirit. T h e plantation w a s quickly thrown into a storm that a l m o s t o v e r w h e l m e d it, by the u n h a p p y a c t i o n s of a minister sent over from E n g l a n d by the advent u r e r s 3 c o n c e r n e d for the p l a n t a t i o n ; but by the b l e s s i n g of H e a v e n on the c o n d u c t of the governor, they w e a t h e r e d out that s t o r m . Only the adventurers, h e r e u p o n b r e a k i n g to p i e c e s , threw up all their c o n c e r n m e n t s with the infant colony; w h e r e o f they gave this a s o n e r e a s o n , that the p l a n t e r s d i s s e m bled with his M a j e s t y a n d their friends in their petition, wherein they d e c l a r e d for a c h u r c h discipline, a g r e e i n g with the F r e n c h a n d others of the reforming c h u r c h e s in E u r o p e . 4 W h e r e a s 'twas now urged, that they h a d a d m i t t e d into their c o m m u n i o n a p e r s o n w h o at his a d m i s s i o n utterly r e n o u n c e d the c h u r c h e s of E n g l a n d , (which p e r s o n , by the way, w a s that very m a n w h o h a d m a d e the c o m p l a i n t s a g a i n s t t h e m ) a n d therefore, t h o u g h they d e n i e d the n a m e of B r o w n i s t s , 5 yet they were the thing. In a n s w e r h e r e u n t o , the very w o r d s written by the governor were t h e s e : W h e r e a s you tax u s with d i s s e m b l i n g a b o u t the F r e n c h d i s c i p l i n e , you d o u s wrong, for we both hold a n d p r a c t i c e the discipline of the F r e n c h a n d other R e f o r m e d C h u r c h e s (as they have p u b l i s h e d the s a m e in the H a r m o n y of C o n f e s s i o n s ) a c c o r d i n g to our m e a n s , in effect a n d s u b s t a n c e . B u t w h e r e a s you would tie u s up to the F r e n c h discipline in every c i r c u m s t a n c e , you d e r o g a t e from the liberty we have in C h r i s t J e s u s . T h e Apostle P a u l would have n o n e to follow him in any thing, but wherein he follows C h r i s t ; m u c h less o u g h t any C h r i s t i a n or c h u r c h in the world to do it. T h e F r e n c h m a y err, we m a y err, a n d other c h u r c h e s m a y err, a n d d o u b t l e s s do in m a n y c i r c u m s t a n c e s . T h a t h o n o r therefore b e l o n g s only to the infallible W o r d of G o d , a n d p u r e T e s t a m e n t of C h r i s t , to b e p r o p o u n d e d a n d followed as the only rule a n d pattern for direction herein to all c h u r c h e s a n d C h r i s t i a n s . A n d it is too great arrog a n c y for any m a n or c h u r c h to think that he or they have so s o u n d e d the W o r d of G o d u n t o the b o t t o m , a s precisely to set d o w n the c h u r c h ' s discipline without error in s u b s t a n c e or c i r c u m s t a n c e , that n o other without b l a m e m a y digress or differ in any thing from the s a m e . A n d it is not difficult to s h o w that the reformed c h u r c h e s differ in m a n y circumstances among themselves. By which words it a p p e a r s how far h e w a s free from that rigid spirit of separation, which broke to p i e c e s the S e p a r a t i s t s t h e m s e l v e s in the L o w C o u n t r i e s , u n t o the great s c a n d a l of the r e f o r m i n g c h u r c h e s . 6 H e w a s i n d e e d 2. Greek philosopher ( 4 2 7 ? - 3 4 7 B.C.E.). "propriety": i.e., property. " C o m m o n stock": property held in common. 3. English investors. 4. In Europe states were declared as either Protestant or Catholic; in France the Edict of Nantes (1598) provided liberty of conscience for all without denying the authority of the Crown. 5. Robert Browne (c. 1 5 5 0 - 1 6 3 3 ) was a Separatist clergyman and identified with Congregation-

alism, a system whereby each church is independent of any national church. 6. By the time the movement for reform had come to an end, the movement for separating ended in dissension and mutual recrimination, with particular churches arguing they were more pure than others. Two English Puritans baptized themselves on the grounds that there were no pure churches to baptize them.

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a p e r s o n of a well-tempered spirit, or else it had b e e n s c a r c e p o s s i b l e for him to have kept the affairs of Plymouth in s o good a t e m p e r for thirty-seven years together; in every o n e of which he was c h o s e n their governor, except the three years wherein Mr. Winslow, a n d the two years wherein Mr. P r i n c e , 7 at the c h o i c e of the p e o p l e , took a turn with him. T h e leader of a p e o p l e in a wilderness had n e e d b e a M o s e s ; 8 a n d if a M o s e s h a d not led the p e o p l e of P l y m o u t h C o l o n y , w h e r e this worthy p e r s o n w a s the governor, the p e o p l e had never with s o m u c h u n a n i m i t y a n d importunity still called him to lead t h e m . A m o n g many i n s t a n c e s thereof, let this o n e p i e c e of self-denial b e told for a m e m o r i a l of h i m , w h e r e s o e v e r this history shall be c o n s i d e r e d : the p a t e n t of the colony w a s taken in his n a m e , running in t h e s e t e r m s : " T o William B r a d f o r d , his heirs, a s s o c i a t e s , a n d a s s i g n s , " but w h e n the n u m b e r of the f r e e m e n 9 ; was m u c h i n c r e a s e d , a n d m a n y n e w t o w n s h i p s e r e c t e d , the G e n e r a l C o u r t there desired of M r . Bradford that he would m a k e a s u r r e n d e r of the s a m e into their h a n d s , which he willingly a n d presently a s s e n t e d u n t o , a n d c o n f i r m e d it a c c o r d i n g to their desire by his h a n d a n d seal, reserving no m o r e for h i m s e l f than w a s his proportion, with o t h e r s , by a g r e e m e n t . B u t as h e f o u n d the P r o v i d e n c e of H e a v e n m a n y ways r e c o m p e n s i n g his m a n y a c t s of self-denial, s o he gave this testimony to the faithfulness of the Divine P r o m i s e s : that he h a d fors a k e n friends, h o u s e s a n d lands for the s a k e of the G o s p e l , a n d the L o r d gave t h e m him again. H e r e he p r o s p e r e d in his e s t a t e ; a n d b e s i d e s a worthy son which he h a d by a former wife, he h a d a l s o two s o n s a n d a d a u g h t e r by another, w h o m he married in this l a n d . H e w a s a p e r s o n for study a s well a s a c t i o n ; a n d h e n c e , n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g the difficulties through which he p a s s e d in his y o u t h , h e a t t a i n e d u n t o a notable skill in l a n g u a g e s : the D u t c h t o n g u e w a s b e c o m e a l m o s t a s vernacular to him a s the E n g l i s h ; the F r e n c h t o n g u e h e c o u l d a l s o m a n a g e ; the Latin a n d the G r e e k h e had m a s t e r e d ; but the H e b r e w he m o s t of all s t u d i e d , b e c a u s e he s a i d he would s e e with his own eyes the a n c i e n t o r a c l e s of G o d in their native beauty. H e w a s a l s o well skilled in history, in antiquity, a n d in philosophy; a n d for theology h e b e c a m e s o versed in it, that he w a s a n irrefragable d i s p u t a n t a g a i n s t the errors, especially t h o s e of A n a b a p t i s m , 1 which with trouble h e saw rising in his colony; wherefore h e wrote s o m e significant things for the confutation of t h o s e errors. B u t the crown of all w a s his holy, prayerful, watchful, a n d fruitful walk with G o d , wherein h e w a s very exemplary. At length h e fell into a n i n d i s p o s i t o n of body, w h i c h r e n d e r e d him u n h e a l t h y for a w h o l e winter; a n d a s the spring a d v a n c e d , his health yet m o r e d e c l i n e d ; yet he felt himself not what he c o u n t e d sick, till o n e day, in the night after w h i c h , the G o d of H e a v e n s o filled his m i n d with ineffable c o n s o l a t i o n s , that he s e e m e d little short of P a u l , rapt u p u n t o the u n u t t e r a b l e e n t e r t a i n m e n t s of P a r a d i s e . 2 T h e next m o r n i n g h e told his friends that the g o o d spirit of G o d had given him a p l e d g e of his h a p p i n e s s in a n o t h e r world, 7. T h o m a s Prince ( 1 6 0 0 - 1 6 7 3 ) . Edward Winslow (1595-1655). 8. The Hebrew lawgiver and prophet who led the Israelites out of Egypt. 9. I.e., those who are not indentured servants and are able to work for themselves. 1. Anabaptists opposed the baptism of children

and advocated separation of church and state. 2. In 2 Corinthians 12.2—I Paul describes a man (himself) who experienced a moment in which he "was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter."

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a n d t h e first fruits of his eternal glory; a n d on the day following h e d i e d , M a y 9, 1 6 5 7 , in the 6 9 t h year o f his a g e — l a m e n t e d by all t h e colonies o f N e w E n g l a n d a s a c o m m o n blessing a n d father to t h e m all. O tnihi si Similis Contingat Clausula Vitae!* Plato's brief description o f a governor, is all that I will n o w leave a s his c h a r a c t e r , in a n EPITAPH. No^iEvg Tpoijiog ayt\i-\• W o r k .

4 5 6

P u t T h i n g s in t h e i r P l a c e s ,

7

>-

8 Evening Question, What G o o d have I d o n e to day?

9

S u p p e r , Musick, o r Diversion, or

->

10 11 12 1 2 3 4

Conversation,

E x a m i n a t i o n o f t h e Day.

Sleep.

THE

A U T O B I O G R A P H Y [ P A R T Two]

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H e a l t h , a n d what is still left to him of a good C o n s t i t u t i o n . T o Industry a n d Frugality the early E a s i n e s s of his C i r c u m s t a n c e s , and A c q u i s i t i o n of his F o r t u n e , with all that K n o w l e d g e which e n a b l e d him to be a n useful Citizen, a n d obtain'd for him s o m e D e g r e e of R e p u t a t i o n a m o n g the L e a r n e d . T o Sincerity and Justice the C o n f i d e n c e of his C o u n t r y , a n d the h o n o r a b l e E m p l o y s it conferr'd u p o n h i m . And to the joint Influence of the w h o l e M a s s of the Virtues, even in their imperfect S t a t e he was able to a c q u i r e t h e m , all that E v e n n e s s of T e m p e r , a n d that C h e e r f u l n e s s in C o n v e r s a t i o n which m a k e s his C o m p a n y still s o u g h t for, and a g r e e a b l e even to his y o u n g e r A c q u a i n t a n c e . I h o p e therefore that s o m e of my D e s c e n d a n t s may follow the E x a m p l e a n d reap the Benefit. It will b e remark'd' 1 that, t h o ' my S c h e m e w a s not wholly without Religion there w a s in it no M a r k of any of the d i s t i n g u i s h i n g T e n e t s of any particular S e c t . I had p u r p o s e l y avoided t h e m ; for being fully p e r s u a d e d of the Utility and Excellency of my M e t h o d , a n d that it might be serviceable to P e o p l e in all Religions, a n d intending s o m e time or other to p u b l i s h it, I would not have anything in it that s h o u l d p r e j u d i c e a n y o n e of any S e c t a g a i n s t it. I p u r p o s e d writing a little C o m m e n t on e a c h Virtue, in which I would have shown the A d v a n t a g e s of p o s s e s s i n g it, a n d the M i s c h i e f s a t t e n d i n g its o p p o site V i c e ; a n d I s h o u l d have called my B o o k the A R T of Virtue, b e c a u s e it would have s h o w n the Means and Manner of o b t a i n i n g Virtue; which would have distinguish'd it from the m e r e Exhortation to b e g o o d , that d o e s not instruct a n d indicate the M e a n s ; but is like the Apostle's M a n of verbal Charity, w h o only, without showing to the N a k e d a n d the H u n g r y how or where they might get C l o t h e s or V i c t u a l s , exhorted t h e m to b e fed a n d clothed. James II, 15, 16.' But it s o h a p p e n e d that my Intention of writing and p u b l i s h i n g this C o m m e n t w a s never fulfilled. I did indeed, from time to time put down short Hints of the S e n t i m e n t s , R e a s o n i n g s , e t c . , to b e m a d e u s e of in it; s o m e of which I have still by m e : B u t the n e c e s s a r y c l o s e Attention to private B u s i n e s s in the earlier part of Life, a n d public B u s i n e s s s i n c e , have o c c a s i o n e d my p o s t p o n i n g it. For it being c o n n e c t e d in my M i n d with a great and extensive Project that required the whole M a n to e x e c u t e , a n d which an u n f o r e s e e n S u c c e s s i o n of E m p l o y s prevented my a t t e n d i n g to, it h a s hitherto r e m a i n ' d unfinish'd. In this P i e c e it w a s my D e s i g n to explain a n d e n f o r c e this D o c t r i n e , that vicious Actions are not hurtful b e c a u s e they are forbidden, but forbidden b e c a u s e they are hurtful, the N a t u r e of M a n a l o n e consider'd: T h a t it w a s therefore every one's Interest to be virtuous, w h o wish'd to b e happy even in this World. A n d I s h o u l d from this C i r c u m s t a n c e (there b e i n g always in the World a N u m b e r of rich M e r c h a n t s , Nobility, S t a t e s a n d P r i n c e s , w h o have n e e d of honest I n s t r u m e n t s lor the M a n a g e m e n t of their Affairs, a n d s u c h b e i n g so rare) have e n d e a v o r e d to c o n v i n c e y o u n g P e r s o n s , that no Qualities were so likely to m a k e a p o o r M a n ' s F o r t u n e as t h o s e of Probity a n d Integrity. M y List of Virtues contain'd at first but twelve: B u t a Quaker Friend having kindly inform'd m e that I w a s generally thought p r o u d ; that my Pride show'd itself frequently in C o n v e r s a t i o n ; that I w a s not c o n t e n t with being in the 9. Observed. 1. "If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food. And one of you say unto them. Depart

in peace, be ye warmed and filled: notwithstanding ye give them not those things which are needful to the bodv: what doth it profit?"

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BENJAMIN

FRANKLIN

right when d i s c u s s i n g any Point, b u t w a s overbearing a n d rather insolent; of which h e convinc'd m e by m e n t i o n i n g several I n s t a n c e s ; I d e t e r m i n e d e n d e a v o r i n g to c u r e myself if I c o u l d of this V i c e or Folly a m o n g the rest, a n d I a d d e d Humility to my L i s t , giving a n extensive M e a n i n g to the W o r d . I c a n n o t b o a s t of m u c h S u c c e s s in a c q u i r i n g the Reality of this V i r t u e ; b u t I h a d a g o o d deal with regard to the Appearance of it. I m a d e it a R u l e to forbear all direct C o n t r a d i c t i o n to the S e n t i m e n t s of o t h e r s , a n d all positive Assertion of my own. I even forbid myself, a g r e e a b l e to the old L a w s of our J u n t o , the U s e of every W o r d or E x p r e s s i o n in the L a n g u a g e that i m p o r t e d 2 a fix'd O p i n i o n ; s u c h a s certainly, undoubtedly, e t c . , a n d I a d o p t e d i n s t e a d of t h e m , I conceive, I apprehend, or I imagine a thing to be s o or s o , or it so a p p e a r s to m e at p r e s e n t . W h e n a n o t h e r a s s e r t e d s o m e t h i n g that I thought a n Error, I d e n i e d myself the P l e a s u r e of c o n t r a d i c t i n g him abruptly, a n d of s h o w i n g i m m e d i a t e l y s o m e Absurdity in his P r o p o s i t i o n ; a n d in a n s w e r i n g I b e g a n by o b s e r v i n g that in certain C a s e s or C i r c u m s t a n c e s his O p i n i o n would be right, b u t that in the p r e s e n t c a s e there appeard or seemd to m e s o m e D i f f e r e n c e , e t c . , I s o o n f o u n d the A d v a n t a g e of this C h a n g e in my M a n n e r s . T h e C o n v e r s a t i o n s I e n g a g ' d in went o n m o r e p l e a s a n t l y . T h e m o d est way in which I p r o p o s ' d my O p i n i o n s , p r o c u r ' d t h e m a r e a d i e r R e c e p t i o n a n d less C o n t r a d i c t i o n ; I h a d less Mortification w h e n I w a s f o u n d to b e in the wrong, a n d I m o r e easily prevail'd with o t h e r s to give u p their M i s t a k e s a n d j o i n with m e w h e n I h a p p e n ' d to b e in the right. A n d this M o d e , which I at first p u t o n , with s o m e violence to n a t u r a l I n c l i n a t i o n , b e c a m e at length s o e a s y a n d s o habitual to m e , that p e r h a p s for t h e s e Fifty Y e a r s p a s t no o n e has ever h e a r d a d o g m a t i c a l E x p r e s s i o n e s c a p e m e . A n d to this H a b i t (after my C h a r a c t e r of Integrity) I think it principally owing, that I h a d early s o m u c h W e i g h t with my Fellow C i t i z e n s , w h e n I p r o p o s e d n e w Institutions, or Alterations in the old; a n d s o m u c h I n f l u e n c e in public C o u n c i l s w h e n I b e c a m e a M e m b e r . F o r I w a s but a b a d S p e a k e r , never e l o q u e n t , s u b j e c t to m u c h H e s i t a t i o n in my c h o i c e of W o r d s , hardly correct in L a n g u a g e , a n d yet I generally carried my P o i n t s . In reality there is p e r h a p s n o o n e of our natural P a s s i o n s s o h a r d to s u b d u e a s Pride. D i s g u i s e it, struggle with it, b e a t it d o w n , stifle it, mortify it a s m u c h a s o n e p l e a s e s , it is still alive, a n d will every now a n d then p e e p o u t a n d s h o w itself. You will s e e it p e r h a p s often in this History. F o r even if I c o u l d c o n ceive that I h a d c o m p l e t e l y o v e r c o m e it, I s h o u l d probably b e p r o u d of my Humility. T h u s far written at P a s s y , 1 7 8 4 .

SAMSON

OCCOM

1723-1792 Bom in New London, Connecticut, Samson Occom was a Mohegan, a member of the northernmost branch of the Pequot tribe. In 1725, two years after Occom's birth, the Mohegans numbered no more than 351 persons; disease and the stress of the colonists' encroachment had caused the tribe to dwindle. When he was sixteen, Occom writes, Christian evangelical preachers came among the Indians and so impressed him that he eventually was moved to conversion. In 1743 Occom was accepted as a pupil by the Beverend Eleazar Wheelock, known to be particularly interested in training young Indian men to become missionaries to their brethren. Wheelock was following in the footsteps of other missionaries to the Indians such as John Eliot of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the mid-seventeenth century, the Mayhews of Martha's Vineyard toward the end of the seventeenth century, James Fitch of Norwich, Connecticut, and John Sergeant (whose successor, and Wheelock's contemporary, was Jonathan Edwards) at Stockbridge, Massachusetts, early in the eighteenth century. Like them, Wheelock was surely sincere in his desire to bring the Indians into the fold of Christianity, and, also like them, he was as surely aware of the advantage to the colonists of having Indian converts. Christian Indians, he wrote, would serve as "a far better defense than all our expensive Fortresses" against those native people still hostile to the settlers. With these ends in mind, Wheelock founded his Moors Indian-Charity School in 1754. Occom, whose studies with Wheelock predated the formal establishment of the school by more than a decade, left him to become a teacher and missionary: first to the Indians in New London, and then to the Indians of Montauk, Long Island, with whom he remained for eleven years. It was there that he met and married Mary Fowler, a Montauk, with whom he had ten children. It was on Long Island as well that he was ordained a minister by the Presbytery of Suffolk in 1759. Occom had kept in regular touch with his mentor, and in 1765 he traveled to England along with the Reverend Nathaniel Whitaker to raise funds for Wheelock's Indian school. In England and Scotland, Occom delivered some three hundred sermons and collected nearly twelve thousand pounds. Upon his return from England, Occom found his family sickly and in extreme poverty, despite Wheelock's promise to care for them in his absence. When Wheelock asked him to set out on a mission to the Iroquois, Occom refused. Then, when he learned that Wheelock intended to use the money he had helped raise to move the charity school from Lebanon, Connecticut, to Hanover, New Hampshire, where it was to become Dartmouth College, Occom angrily wrote Wheelock that the new school would soon "be Naturally ashamed to suckle the Tawnees [the Indians] for she is already equal in Power, Honor and Authority to any College in Europe, [sic] 1 think your College has too much Worked by Grandeur for the Poor Indians, they'll never have much benefit of it." He was right; Dartmouth soon ceased to minister to Indian students, and Occom and Wheelock broke off their long relation. In dire straits financially, having broken with Wheelock, and feeling the vulnerability of his position as an "Indian preacher" in the church, Occom wrote a ten-page autobiography by way of self-justification. Dated September 17, 1768, the text remained unpublished in the Dartmouth archives until 1982. The autobiography, one of the earliest texts written by a Native American, gives fascinating details of the dayto-day life of a rural minister in the eighteenth century. Occom attends to his garden, his animals, and his parish; he preaches to the Indians and he teaches their children, shrewdly innovating to help those "who were Some what Dull" to learn their letters. Occom, however, is an Indian preacher and teacher who does not shrink from wondering whether criticisms leveled against him are simply because, as he writes, "I am a poor Indian."

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Occom's unpublished autobiography was read by very few, but he soon was to have a local audience as large as any he had had abroad. In September 1 7 7 2 , he preached a sermon promoting morality and condemning the effects of strong drink before the execution, for the crime of murder, of Moses Paul, a Mohegan and formerly a convert to Christianity. Published the same year as its delivery, Occom's Sermon at the Execution of Moses Paul was sufficiently popular to run through some nineteen editions, which extended into the nineteenth century. Occom's only other publication was A Choice Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Intended for the Edification of Sincere Christians of All Denominations ( 1 7 7 4 ) . As the American colonists approached the Revolutionary War with England, it was Occom's sense that neutrality was best for the Indians, and he urged his brethren "not to intermeddle in these Quarrils among the White People." In the years after American independence was achieved, Occom served as minister to the Indians at New Stockbridge; he was a teacher of the Tuscarora in New York State at the time of his death in 1 7 9 2 .

A S h o r t N a r r a t i v e of M y L i f e 1 From

my Birth

till I received

the Christian

Religion

I w a s B o r n a H e a t h e n a n d B r o u g h t u p In H e a t h e n i s m , till I w a s b e t w e e n 16 & 17 years of a g e , at a P l a c e C a l l d M o h e g a n , in N e w L o n d o n , C o n n e c t icut, in N e w E n g l a n d . M y P a r e n t s Livd a w a n d e r i n g life, for did all the Indians at M o h e g a n , they Chiefly D e p e n d e d u p o n H u n t i n g , F i s h i n g , & Fowling for their Living a n d h a d no C o n n e c t i o n with the E n g l i s h , e x c e p t i n g to T r a f f i c 2 with t h e m in their small Trifles; a n d they Strictly m a i n t a i n e d a n d followed their H e a t h e n i s h W a y s , C u s t o m s & Religion, t h o u g h there w a s S o m e P r e a c h i n g a m o n g t h e m . O n c e a F o r t n i g h t , in y e 3 S u m m e r S e a s o n , a Minister from N e w L o n d o n u s e d to c o m e u p , a n d the I n d i a n s to a t t e n d ; not that they r e g a r d e d the C h r i s t i a n Religion, b u t they h a d B l a n k e t s given to t h e m every Fall of the Year a n d for t h e s e things they would a t t e n d a n d there w a s a S o r t of S c h o o l kept, w h e n I w a s q u i t e y o u n g , but I believe there never w a s o n e that ever L e a r n t to read any t h i n g , — a n d w h e n I w a s a b o u t 10 Years of a g e t h e r e w a s a m a n w h o went a b o u t a m o n g the I n d i a n W i g w a m s , a n d wherever h e C o u l d find the Indian C h i l d r e n , w o u l d m a k e t h e m r e a d ; b u t the C h i l d r e n U s e d to take C a r e to k e e p o u t of his w a y ; — a n d h e u s e d to C a t c h m e S o m e t i m e s a n d m a k e m e S a y over my L e t t e r s ; a n d I believe I learnt S o m e of t h e m . B u t this w a s S o o n over t o o ; a n d all this T i m e t h e r e w a s not o n e a m o n g s t u s , that m a d e a P r o f e s s i o n of C h r i s t i a n i t y — N e i t h e r did we C u l t i v a t e o u r L a n d , nor kept any S o r t of C r e a t u r e s e x c e p t D o g s , which we u s e d in H u n t i n g ; a n d we Dwelt in w i g w a m s . T h e s e a r e a S o r t of T e n t s , C o v e r e d with M a t t s , m a d e of F l a g s . 4 A n d to this T i m e w e w e r e u n a c q u a i n t e d with the E n g l i s h T o n g u e in g e n e r a l t h o u g h there were a few, w h o u n d e r s t o o d a little of it. I. T h e text, an unedited transcription of Occom's autobiography that preserves the original spelling and punctuation, is from The Elders Wrote: An Anthology of Early Prose by North American Indians, 1768-1931 ( 1 9 8 2 ) , edited by Bernd Peyer.

2 . To trade. 3. T h e . 4. T h e long, sword-shaped leaves of a variety of plants of the flag family.

A

From

SHORT

the Time of our Reformation

NARRATIVE OF MY

till I left Mr.

LIFE

/

295

Wheelocks

W h e n I w a s 1 6 years of a g e , we h e a r d a S t r a n g e R u m o r a m o n g the E n g l i s h , that there were Extraordinary Ministers P r e a c h i n g from P l a c e to P l a c e a n d a S t r a n g e C o n c e r n a m o n g the W h i t e P e o p l e . T h i s w a s in the S p r i n g of the Year. B u t we S a w n o t h i n g of these things, till S o m e T i m e in the S u m m e r , when S o m e M i n i s t e r s b e g a n to visit u s a n d P r e a c h the W o r d of G o d ; a n d the C o m m o n P e o p l e all C a m e frequently a n d exhorted u s to the things of G o d , which it p l e a s e d the L o r d , a s I h u m b l y h o p e , to B l e s s a n d a c c o m p a n y with Divine Influence to the Conviction a n d S a v i n g C o n v e r s i o n of a N u m b e r of u s ; a m o n g s t w h o m I w a s o n e that w a s I m p r e s t with the things we h a d h e a r d . T h e s e P r e a c h e r s did not only c o m e to u s , but we frequently went to their m e e t i n g s a n d C h u r c h e s . After I w a s a w a k e n e d 5 & c o n v e r t e d , I went to all the m e e t i n g s , I c o u l d c o m e at; & C o n t i n u e d u n d e r T r o u b l e of M i n d a b o u t 6 m o n t h s ; at which time I b e g a n to L e a r n the E n g l i s h L e t t e r s ; got m e a Primer, a n d u s e d to go to my E n g l i s h N e i g h b o u r s frequently for A s s i s t a n c e in R e a d i n g , but went to no S c h o o l . A n d w h e n I w a s 1 7 years of a g e , I h a d , as I trust, a Discovery of the way of Salvation through J e s u s C h r i s t , a n d w a s enabl'd to p u t my trust in him a l o n e for Life & Salvation. F r o m this T i m e the D i s t r e s s a n d B u r d e n of my m i n d w a s r e m o v e d , a n d I f o u n d Serenity a n d P l e a s u r e of S o u l , in Serving G o d . By this time I j u s t b e g a n to R e a d in the N e w T e s t a m e n t without S p e l l i n g , — a n d I h a d a S t r o n g e r D e s i r e Still to L e a r n to read the W o r d of G o d , a n d at the S a m e T i m e h a d a n u n c o m m o n Pity a n d C o m p a s s i o n to my P o o r B r e t h r e n A c c o r d i n g to the F l e s h . I u s e d to wish I w a s c a p a b l e of Instructing my p o o r Kindred. I u s e d to think, if I C o u l d o n c e L e a r n to R e a d I would Instruct the p o o r C h i l d r e n in R e a d i n g , — a n d u s e d frequently to talk with our Indians C o n c e r n i n g Religion. T h i s c o n t i n u e d till I w a s in my 19th year: by this T i m e I C o u l d R e a d a little in the B i b l e . At this T i m e my P o o r M o t h e r w a s g o i n g to L e b a n o n , [ C o n n e c t i c u t , ] a n d having h a d S o m e K n o w l e d g e of M r . W h e e l o c k a n d h e a r i n g h e h a d a N u m b e r of E n g l i s h youth u n d e r his T u i t i o n , 6 I h a d a great Inclination to go to h i m a n d be with him a w e e k or a Fortnight, a n d D e s i r e d my M o t h e r to A s k M r . W h e e l o c k whether h e would take m e a little while to Instruct m e in R e a d i n g . M o t h e r did s o ; a n d w h e n S h e C a m e B a c k , S h e S a i d M r . W h e e l o c k w a n t e d to S e e m e as S o o n as p o s s i b l e . S o I went u p , thinking I S h o u l d be b a c k again in a few D a y s ; w h e n I got u p there, h e received m e With k i n d n e s s a n d C o m p a s sion a n d in S t e a d of S t a y i n g a Forthnight or 3 W e e k s , I S p e n t 4 Years with h i m . — A f t e r I h a d b e e n with him S o m e T i m e , h e b e g a n to a c q u a i n t his F r i e n d s of my b e i n g with h i m , a n d of his I n t e n t i o n s of E d u c a t i n g m e , a n d my C i r c u m s t a n c e s . A n d the g o o d P e o p l e b e g a n to give S o m e A s s i s t a n c e to Mr. W h e e l o c k , a n d gave m e S o m e old a n d S o m e N e w C l o t h e s . T h e n h e r e p r e s e n t e d the C a s e to the H o n o r a b l e C o m m i s s i o n e r s at B o s t o n , w h o were C o m m i s s i o n ' d by the H o n o r a b l e Society in L o n d o n for P r o p a g a t i n g the g o s pel a m o n g the I n d i a n s in N e w E n g l a n d a n d p a r t s a d j a c e n t , a n d they allowed him 6 0 £ in old T e n d e r , which w a s a b o u t 6 £ S t e r l i n g , 7 a n d they C o n t i n u ' d 5. I.e., spiritually awakened to a sense of sin. 6. Tutelage, instruction. 7. About $ 1 , 2 0 0 in today's currency. O c c o m throughout the Narrative refers regularly to his

income and his expenses, giving figures in several different currencies (pounds, shillings, "old Tender," and "York currency") in use in his time.

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it 2 or 3 years, I cant't tell exactly.—While I was at Mr. W h e e l o c k ' s , I w a s very weakly a n d my H e a l t h m u c h i m p a i r e d , a n d at the E n d of 4 Y e a r s , I over S t r a i n e d my E y e s to s u c h a D e g r e e , I C o u l d not p e r s u e my S t u d i e s any L o n g e r ; a n d o u t of these 4 years I L o s t J u s t a b o u t o n e y e a r ; — A n d w a s obliged to quit my S t u d i e s . From

the Time I left Mr. Wheelock

till I went to

Europe

As s o o n a s I left Mr. W h e e l o c k , I e n d e a v o r e d to find S o m e E m p l o y a m o n g the I n d i a n s ; went to N a h a n t u c k , thinking they m a y w a n t a S c h o o l M a s t e r , but they h a d o n e ; then went to N a r r a g a n s e t , a n d they were Indifferent a b o u t a S c h o o l , a n d went b a c k to M o h e g a n , a n d h e a r d a n u m b e r of our Indians were g o i n g to M o n t a u k , on L o n g I s l a n d , a n d I went with t h e m , a n d the Indians there were very d e s i r o u s to have m e keep a S c h o o l a m o n g s t t h e m , a n d I C o n s e n t e d , a n d went b a c k a while to M o h e g a n a n d S o m e time in N o v e m b e r I went on the I s l a n d , I think it is 17 years a g o last N o v e m b e r . I a g r e e d to k e e p S c h o o l with t h e m H a l f a Year, a n d left it with t h e m to give m e what they P l e a s e d ; a n d they took turns to Provide F o o d for m e . I h a d n e a r 3 0 S c h o l a r s this winter; I h a d a n evening S c h o o l too for t h o s e that c o u l d not a t t e n d the Day S c h o o l — a n d b e g a n to C a r r y on their m e e t i n g s , they h a d a Minister, o n e Mr. H o r t o n , the S c o t c h Society's M i s s i o n a r y ; but he S p e n t , I think two thirds of his T i m e at S h e e n e c o c k , 3 0 M i l e s from M o n tauk. W e m e t together 3 times for Divine W o r s h i p every S a b b a t h a n d o n c e on every W e d n e s d a y evening. I ( u s e d ) to r e a d the S c r i p t u r e s to t h e m a n d u s e d to e x p o u n d u p o n S o m e particular P a s s a g e s in my own T o n g u e . Visited the S i c k a n d a t t e n d e d their B u r i a l s . — W h e n the half year expired, they D e s i r e d m e to C o n t i n u e with t h e m , which I c o m p l i e d with, for a n o t h e r half year, w h e n I h a d fulfilled that, they were urgent to have m e S t a y L o n g e r . S o I c o n t i n u e d a m o n g s t t h e m till I w a s M a r r i e d , which w a s a b o u t 2 years after I went t h e r e . A n d C o n t i n u e d to Instruct t h e m in the S a m e m a n n e r a s I did before. After I w a s married a while, I f o u n d there w a s n e e d of a S u p p o r t m o r e than I n e e d e d while I was S i n g l e , — a n d m a d e my C a s e K n o w n to M r . B u e l l 8 a n d to Mr. W h e e l o c k , a n d a l s o the N e e d y C i r c u m s t a n c e s a n d the D e s i r e s of t h e s e Indians of my C o n t i n u i n g a m o n g s t t h e m , a n d the C o m m i s sioners were so g o o d a s to grant £ 1 5 a year S t e r l i n g — A n d I kept on in my Service a s u s u a l , yea I h a d additional S e r v i c e ; I kept S c h o o l a s I did before a n d C a r r i e d on the R e l i g i o u s M e e t i n g s a s often a s ever, a n d a t t e n d e d the S i c k a n d their F u n e r a l s , a n d did what Writings they w a n t e d , a n d often S a t a s a J u d g e to r e c o n c i l e a n d D e c i d e their M a t t e r s B e t w e e n t h e m , a n d h a d visitors of I n d i a n s from all Quarters; a n d , a s o u r C u s t o m is, we freely Entertain all Visitors. A n d w a s f e t c h e d often from my T r i b e a n d from others to s e e into their Affairs B o t h R e l i g i o u s , T e m p o r a l , — B e s i d e s my D o m e s t i c C o n c e r n s . A n d it P l e a s e d the L o r d to I n c r e a s e my F a m i l y f a s t — a n d S o o n after I w a s M a r r i e d , Mr. H o r t o n left t h e s e I n d i a n s a n d the S h e n e c o c k & after this I w a s (alone) a n d then I h a d the w h o l e c a r e of t h e s e I n d i a n s at M o n t a u k , a n d visited the S h e n e c o c k Indians often. U s e d to set out S a t u r d a y s towards Night a n d c o m e b a c k again M o n d a y s . I have b e e n obliged to S e t o u t from 8. The Reverend Samuel Buell ( 1 7 1 6 - 1 7 9 8 ) was a Presbyterian minister, ordained, as was O c c o m , on Long Island. T h e renowned Jonathan Edwards

had preached Buell's ordination sermon, and Buell preached Occom's. Buell later wrote of O c c o m , " H e is the glory of the Indian nation."

A

SHORT

NARRATIVE OF MY

LIFE

H o m e after S u n S e t , a n d Ride 3 0 Miles in the Night, to P r e a c h to these I n d i a n s . And S o m e Indians at S h e n e c o c k S e n t their Children to my S c h o o l at M o n t a u k , I kept o n e of t h e m S o m e T i m e , a n d h a d a Y o u n g M a n a half year from M o h e g a n , a L a d from N a h a n t u c k , w h o w a s with m e almost a year; a n d h a d little or n o t h i n g for keeping t h e m . M y M e t h o d in the S c h o o l w a s , a s S o o n a s the C h i l d r e n got together, a n d took their proper S e a t s , I Prayed with t h e m , then b e g a n to hear t h e m . I generally b e g a n (after s o m e of t h e m C o u l d Spell a n d R e a d , ) With t h o s e that were yet in their A l p h a b e t s , S o a r o u n d , a s they were properly S e a t e d till I got through a n d I obliged t h e m to S t u d y their B o o k s , a n d to help o n e a n o t h e r . W h e n they c o u l d not m a k e out a hard word they B r o u g h t it to m e — a n d I usually h e a r d t h e m , in the S u m m e r S e a s o n 8 T i m e s a D a y 4 in the morning, a n d in ye after N o o n . — I n the W i n t e r S e a s o n 6 T i m e s a Day, As S o o n as they c o u l d Spell, they were obliged to Spell when ever they w a n t e d to go out. I c o n c l u d e d with Prayer; I generally h e a r d my E v e n i n g S c h o l a r s 3 T i m e s R o u n d , A n d a s they go out the S c h o o l , every o n e , that C a n Spell, is obliged to Spell a W o r d , a n d to go out Leisurely o n e after a n o t h e r . I C a t e chised 3 or 4 T i m e s a W e e k a c c o r d i n g to the A s s e m b l y ' s S h o u t or C a t e c h i s m , a n d m a n y T i m e s P r o p o s e d Q u e s t i o n s of my own, a n d in my own T o n g u e . I found Difficulty with S o m e C h i l d r e n , who were S o m e what Dull, m o s t of these c a n s o o n learn to S a y over their L e t t e r s , they D i s t i n g u i s h the S o u n d s by the E a r , but their Eyes can't D i s t i n g u i s h the L e t t e r s , a n d the way I took to c u r e t h e m was by m a k i n g a n A l p h a b e t on S m a l l bits of p a p e r , a n d g l u e d them on S m a l l C h i p s of C e d a r after this m a n n e r A B & C . I put t h e s e on Letters in order on a B e n c h then point to o n e Letter a n d bid a C h i l d to take notice of it, a n d then I order the C h i l d to fetch m e the Letter from the B e n c h ; if h e Brings the Letter, it is well, if not he m u s t go again a n d again till he brings ye right Letter. W h e n they c a n bring any L e t t e r s this way, then I j u s t J u m b l e t h e m together, a n d bid t h e m to set t h e m in A l p h a b e t i c a l order, a n d it is a P l e a s u r e to t h e m ; a n d they soon L e a r n their L e t t e r s this w a y . — I frequently D i s c u s s e d or Exhorted my S c h o l a r s , in Religious m a t t e r s . — M y M e t h o d in our R e l i g i o u s M e e t i n g s w a s this; S a b b a t h M o r n i n g we A s s e m b l e together a b o u t 10 o'C a n d begin with S i n g i n g ; we generally S u n g Dr. W a t t ' s P s a l m s or H y m n s . I distinctly read the P s a l m or H y m n first, a n d then gave the m e a n i n g of it to t h e m , after that S i n g , then Pray, a n d S i n g again after Prayer. T h e n p r o c e e d to R e a d from S u i t a b l e portion of S c r i p t u r e , a n d so J u s t give the plain S e n s e of it in F a m i l i a r D i s c o u r s e a n d apply it to t h e m . S o c o n t i n u e d with Prayer a n d S i n g i n g . In the after N o o n a n d E v e n i n g we Proc e e d in the S a m e M a n n e r , a n d s o in W e d n e s d a y E v e n i n g . S o m e T i m e after Mr. Horton left t h e s e I n d i a n s , there w a s a r e m a r k a b l e revival of religion a m o n g these Indians a n d m a n y were hopefully c o n v e r t e d to the S a v i n g knowledge of G o d in J e s u s . It is to be o b s e r v e d before Mr. H o r t o n left t h e s e Indians they h a d S o m e P r e j u d i c e s infused in their m i n d s , by S o m e E n t h u siastical Exhorters from N e w E n g l a n d , a g a i n s t M r . H o r t o n , a n d m a n y of t h e m h a d left h i m ; by this m e a n s h e was D i s c o u r a g e d , a n d w a s d i s p o s e d from t h e s e Indians. A n d being a c q u a i n t e d with the E n t h u s i a s t s in N e w E n g l a n d & the m a k e a n d the D i s p o s i t i o n of the Indians I took a mild way to reclaim t h e m . I o p p o s e d t h e m not openly but let t h e m go on in their way, and whenever I had an opportunity, I would read S u c h p a g e s of the S c r i p -

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t u r e s , a n d I thought would c o n f o u n d their N o t i o n s , a n d I w o u l d c o m e to t h e m with all Authority, S a y i n g " t h e s e S a i t h the L o r d " ; a n d by this m e a n s , the L o r d w a s p l e a s e d to B l e s s my p o o r E n d e a v o u r s , a n d they w e r e r e c l a i m e d , a n d B r o u g h t to hear a l m o s t any of the m i n i s t e r s . 1 a m n o w to give a n A c c o u n t of my C i r c u m s t a n c e s a n d m a n n e r of Living. I Dwelt in a W i g w a m , a S m a l l H u t with S m a l l P o l e s a n d C o v e r e d with M a t t s m a d e of F l a g s , a n d I w a s obligd to r e m o v e twice a Year, a b o u t 2 miles D i s t a n c e , by r e a s o n of the S c a r c i t y of w o o d , for in o n e N e c k of L a n d they P l a n t e d their C o r n , a n d in a n o t h e r , they h a d their w o o d , a n d I w a s obligd to have my C o r n c a r t e d a n d my H a y a l s o , — a n d I got my G r o u n d Plow'd every year, which C o s t m e a b o u t 1 2 shillings an a c r e ; a n d I kept a C o w a n d a H o r s e , for which I p a i d 2 1 shillings every year York c u r r e n c y , 9 a n d went 18 miles to Mill for every D u s t of m e a l we u s e d in my family. I H i r e d or J o i n e d with my N e i g h b o u r s to go to Mill, with a H o r s e or ox C a r t , or o n H o r s e B a c k , a n d S o m e time went myself. M y Family I n c r e a s i n g fast, a n d my Visitors a l s o . I w a s obligd to contrive every way to S u p p o r t my Family; I took all o p p o r t u n i t i e s , to get S o m e thing to feed my F a m i l y Daily. I P l a n t e d my own C o r n , P o t a t o e s , a n d B e a n s ; I u s e d to be o u t h o e i n g my C o r n S o m e t i m e s before S u n R i s e a n d after my S c h o o l is D i s m i s t , a n d by this m e a n s I w a s a b l e to raise my own Pork, for I w a s allowed to keep 5 S w i n e . S o m e m o r n i n g s & E v e n i n g s I w o u l d b e out with my H o o k a n d L i n e to C a t c h fish a n d in the Fall of Year a n d in the S p r i n g , I u s e d my g u n , a n d fed my F a m i l y with F o w l s . I C o u l d m o r e t h a n pay for my P o w d e r & S h o t with F e a t h e r s . 1 At other T i m e s I B o u n d old B o o k s for E a s t h a m p t o n P e o p l e , m a d e w o o d e n S p o o n s a n d L a d l e s , S t o c k e d G u n s , & worked o n C e d a r to m a k e P a i l s , ( P i g g i n s ) , 2 a n d C h u r n s & C . B e s i d e s all t h e s e Difficulties I m e t with advers P r o v i d e n c e , I b o u g h t a M a r e , h a d it b u t a little while, a n d s h e fell into the Quick S a n d a n d D i e d . After a while B o u g h t another, I kept her a b o u t half year, a n d s h e w a s g o n e , a n d I never have h e a r d of nor s e e n her from that D a y to this; it w a s S u p p o s e d S o m e R o g u e S t o l e her. I got a n o t h e r a n d D i e d with a D i s t e m p e r , a n d last of all I B o u g h t a Y o u n g M a r e , a n d kept her till S h e h a d o n e C o l t , a n d S h e broke her L e g a n d D i e d , a n d Presently after the C o l d 3 D i e d a l s o . In the w h o l e I L o s t 5 H o r s e Kind; all t h e s e L o s s e s h e l p e d to pull m e d o w n ; a n d by this T i m e I got greatly in D e b t a n d a c q u a i n t e d my C i r c u m s t a n c e s to S o m e of my F r i e n d s , a n d they R e p r e s e n t e d my C a s e to the C o m m i s s i o n e r s of B o s t o n , a n d I n t e r c e d e d with t h e m for m e , a n d they were p l e a s e d to vote 15 £ for my H e l p , a n d S o o n after S e n t a Letter to my g o o d Friend at N e w L o n d o n , a c q u a i n t i n g h i m that they h a d S u p e r s e d e d 4 their V o t e ; a n d my F r i e n d s were s o g o o d a s to r e p r e s e n t my N e e d y C i r c u m s t a n c e s Still to t h e m , a n d they were s o g o o d at L a s t , a s to Vote £ 1 5 a n d S e n t it, for w h i c h I a m very thankful; a n d the R e v d M r . B u e l l w a s s o kind as to write in my b e h a l f to the g e n t l e m e n of B o s t o n ; a n d he told m e they were m u c h D i s p l e a s e d with h i m , a n d h e a r d a l s o o n c e again that they b l a m e d m e for b e i n g E x t r a v a g a n t ; I C a n ' t C o n c e i v e h o w t h e s e gentlem e n would have m e Live. I a m ready to (forgive) their I g n o r a n c e , a n d I would wish they h a d C h a n g e d C i r c u m s t a n c e s with m e b u t o n e m o n t h , that they m a y know, by e x p e r i e n c e w h a t my C a s e really w a s ; b u t I a m now fully c o n 9. J u s t less than $ 5 0 in today's currency. 1. Either he could trade feathers (used to stuff pillows, mattresses, etc.) for his powder and shot or he could earn enough by selling feathers to pay for

them. 2. Small pails, 3. I.e., the colt, 4. Annulled.

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vinced, that it w a s not I g n o r a n c e , F o r I believe it c a n be proved to the world that t h e s e S a m e G e n t l e m e n gave a y o u n g M i s s i o n a r y a S i n g l e m a n , one Hundred Pounds for o n e year, a n d fifty P o u n d s for a n Interpreter, a n d thirty P o u n d s for an Introducer; so it C o s t t h e m o n e H u n d r e d & Eighty P o u n d s in o n e S i n g l e Year, a n d they S e n t too where there w a s no N e e d of a Missionary. N o w you S e e what difference they m a d e b e t w e e n m e a n d other missionaries; they gave m e 180 P o u n d s for 12 years S e r v i c e , which they gave for o n e years Services in a n o t h e r M i s s i o n . — I n my S e r v i c e (I s p e a k like a fool, but I a m C o n s t r a i n e d ) I w a s my own Interpreter. I w a s both a S c h o o l m a s t e r a n d Minister to the I n d i a n s , yea I w a s their E a r , Eye & H a n d , a s Well a s M o u t h . I leave it with the World, a s wicked a s it is, to J u d g e w h e t h e r I o u g h t not to have h a d half a s m u c h , they gave a y o u n g m a n J u s t m e n t i o n e d which would have b e e n but £ 50 a year; a n d if they o u g h t to have given m e that, I a m not u n d e r obligations to t h e m , I owe t h e m n o t h i n g at all; what c a n b e the R e a s o n that they u s e d m e after this m a n n e r ? I can't think of any thing, b u t this as a Poor Indian Boy S a i d , W h o was B o u n d out to an E n g l i s h Family, a n d he u s e d to Drive Plow for a y o u n g m a n , a n d he whipt a n d B e a t him allmost every Day, a n d the y o u n g m a n f o u n d fault with h i m , a n d C o m p l a i n e d of him to his m a s t e r a n d the p o o r Boy w a s C a l l e d to a n s w e r for h i m s e l f before his m a s t e r , a n d he w a s a s k e d , what it w a s he did, that he w a s S o C o m p l a i n e d of a n d b e a t a l m o s t every Day. H e S a i d , he did not know, b u t he S u p p o s e d it w a s b e c a u s e h e c o u l d not drive any better; but says h e , I Drive a s well a s I know how; a n d at other T i m e s he B e a t s m e , b e c a u s e h e is of a m i n d to beat m e ; but says he believes h e B e a t s m e for the m o s t of the T i m e "because I am an Indian." S o I a m ready to S a y , they have u s e d m e t h u s , b e c a u s e I C a n ' t I n f l u e n c e the Indians so well a s other m i s s i o n a r i e s ; but I c a n a s s u r e t h e m I have e n d e a voured to teach t h e m a s well a s I know h o w ; — b u t I must Say, "I believe it is b e c a u s e I a m a p o o r I n d i a n . " I C a n ' t help that G o d h a s m a d e m e S o ; I did not m a k e my self s o . — 1768

1982

J.

HECTOR

ST. J O H N

DE

CREVECOEUR

1735-1813 Crevecoeur was a man with a mysterious past, and a number of details of his life have puzzled his biographers. He was born Michel-Guillaume Jean de Crevecoeur in Caen, Normandy, in 1735. When he was nineteen, he sailed to England, where he lived with distant relatives. He planned to marry, but his fiancee died before the ceremony could take place, and in 1 7 5 5 he went to Canada; he enlisted in the Canadian militia, served the government as a surveyor and cartographer, and was wounded in the defense of Quebec. His military career came to an end in 1759, at which time he traveled to New York and changed his name to Hector St. John, later expanding his

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surname to St. John de Crevecoeur and adding an initial. For the next ten years Crevecoeur traveled extensively in the colonies as a surveyor and trader with American Indians. In 1769 he bought land in Orange County, New York, and, newly married, settled into the life of an American farmer. Given Crevecoeur's restlessness, it is hard to know whether he would have been happy forever at Pine Hill, but the advent of the American Revolution and his Tory sympathies were enough to determine his return to France. He claimed that he wished to reestablish ownership of family lands, and it is ironic, given his political sympathies, that he was arrested and imprisoned as a rebel spy when he tried to sail from the port of New York. Not until 1780 did Crevecoeur succeed in reaching London. He remained in France until 1783, when he returned as French consul to New York, Connecticut, and New Jersey, only to learn that his farm had been burned in an Indian attack, his wife was dead, and his children were housed with strangers. Crevecoeur was a great success as a diplomat—he was made an honorary citizen of a number of American cities, and the town of St. Johnsbury, Vermont, was named in his honor—but he did not remain long in America. He returned to France in 1785 and after 1790 remained there permanently, first living in Paris and retiring, after 1793, to Normandy. He died at his daughter's home outside Paris. The first year that Crevecoeur spent at Pine Hill he began to write a series of essays about America based on his travels and experience as a farmer. In some he assumed the persona of "Farmer James," which lends an air of fiction to what otherwise appear straightforward letters. He brought them to London in 1 780 and, suppressing those essays most unsympathetic to the American cause, sold them to the bookseller Thomas Davies. Letters from an American

Farmer

appeared in 1782 and was an immediate

success. Crevecoeur found himself a popular hero when the expanded French edition (dated 1784) appeared. Its publication followed close enough on the American Revolution to satisfy an almost insatiable demand for things American and confirmed, for most readers, a vision of a new land, rich and promising, where industry prevailed over class and fashion. George Washington said the book was "too flattering" to be true, but careful readers of the twelve letters will take note of an ambiguous attitude throughout: Crevecoeur's hymn to the land does not make him blind to the ignorant frontier settlers or the calculating slaveholder. His final letter, "Distresses of a Frontiersman," affirms the possibility of a harmonious relationship with nature, but he writes from an American Indian village and with no successful historical models in mind.

From

Letters from an A m e r i c a n F a r m e r 1 F r o m Letter

III. What Is an

American

I wish I c o u l d b e a c q u a i n t e d with the feelings a n d t h o u g h t s w h i c h m u s t agitate t h e heart a n d p r e s e n t t h e m s e l v e s to t h e m i n d of a n e n l i g h t e n e d E n g l i s h m a n , when h e first lands on this c o n t i n e n t . H e m u s t greatly rejoice that he lived at a time to s e e this fair country d i s c o v e r e d a n d s e t t l e d ; h e m u s t necessarily feel a s h a r e of national pride, w h e n h e views t h e c h a i n o f settlem e n t s which e m b e l l i s h e s t h e s e extended s h o r e s . W h e n h e says to himself, this is t h e work of my c o u n t r y m e n , w h o , w h e n c o n v u l s e d by f a c t i o n s , 2 afflicted by a variety o f m i s e r i e s a n d w a n t s , r e s t l e s s a n d i m p a t i e n t , took refu g e h e r e . T h e y brought a l o n g with t h e m their national g e n i u s / to which they principally o w e what liberty they enjoy, a n d what s u b s t a n c e they p o s s e s s . I. From Letters from an American Fanner, edited by Albert Boni and Charles Boni ( 1 9 2 5 ) .

2. Disputes. 3. Spirit; distinctive national character.

LETTERS

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H e r e he s e e s the industry of his native country displayed in a new m a n n e r , a n d traces in their works the e m b r y o s of all the arts, s c i e n c e s , a n d ingenuity which flourish in E u r o p e . H e r e he b e h o l d s fair cities, s u b s t a n t i a l villages, extensive fields, a n i m m e n s e country filled with d e c e n t h o u s e s , g o o d r o a d s , o r c h a r d s , m e a d o w s , a n d b r i d g e s , where an h u n d r e d years a g o all w a s wild, woody, a n d uncultivated! W h a t a train of p l e a s i n g ideas this fair s p e c t a c l e m u s t s u g g e s t ; it is a p r o s p e c t which m u s t inspire a good citizen with the m o s t heartfelt p l e a s u r e . T h e difficulty c o n s i s t s in the m a n n e r of viewing s o extensive a s c e n e . H e is arrived o n a new continent; a m o d e r n society offers itself to his c o n t e m p l a t i o n , different from what he h a d hitherto s e e n . It is not c o m p o s e d , as in E u r o p e , of great lords w h o p o s s e s s everything, a n d of a herd of p e o p l e who have nothing. H e r e are no aristocratical families, no c o u r t s , no kings, no b i s h o p s , n o e c c l e s i a s t i c a l d o m i n i o n , no invisible power giving to a few a very visible o n e ; no great m a n u f a c t u r e r s e m p l o y i n g t h o u s a n d s , no great refinements of luxury. T h e rich a n d the p o o r are not so far r e m o v e d from e a c h other a s they are in E u r o p e . S o m e few towns e x c e p t e d , we a r e all tillers of the earth, from N o v a S c o t i a to W e s t Florida. W e are a p e o p l e of cultivators, s c a t t e r e d over an i m m e n s e territory, c o m m u n i c a t i n g with e a c h other by m e a n s of g o o d roads a n d navigable rivers, united by the silken b a n d s of mild g o v e r n m e n t , all r e s p e c t i n g the laws, without d r e a d i n g their power, b e c a u s e they are e q u i t a b l e . W e are all a n i m a t e d with the spirit of a n industry which is unfettered a n d u n r e s t r a i n e d , b e c a u s e e a c h p e r s o n works for himself. If he travels t h r o u g h our rural districts he views not the hostile c a s t l e , a n d the h a u g h t y m a n s i o n , c o n t r a s t e d with the clay-built hut a n d m i s e r a b l e c a b i n , where cattle a n d m e n help to keep e a c h other w a r m , a n d dwell in m e a n n e s s , s m o k e , a n d i n d i g e n c e . |A p l e a s i n g uniformity of d e c e n t c o m p e t e n c e a p p e a r s t h r o u g h o u t our habitations. T h e m e a n e s t of our l o g - h o u s e s is a dry a n d c o m f o r t a b l e habitation. Lawyer or m e r c h a n t a r e the fairest titles our towns afford; that of a farmer is the only appellation of the rural i n h a b itants of our country. It m u s t take s o m e time ere he c a n r e c o n c i l e h i m s e l f to our dictionary, which is but short in words of dignity, a n d n a m e s of honor. T h e r e , on a S u n d a y , he s e e s a c o n g r e g a t i o n of r e s p e c t a b l e f a r m e r s a n d their wives, all clad in neat h o m e s p u n , well m o u n t e d , or riding in their own h u m ble w a g o n s . T h e r e is not a m o n g t h e m an e s q u i r e , saving the u n l e t t e r e d m a g istrate. T h e r e he s e e s a p a r s o n a s s i m p l e as his flock, a farmer who d o e s not riot 4 on the labor of others. W e have n o p r i n c e s , for w h o m we toil, starve, a n d bleed; we are the m o s t perfect society now existing in the world. H e r e m a n is free as he o u g h t to b e ; nor is this p l e a s i n g equality s o transitory a s m a n y others a r e . M a n y a g e s will not s e e the s h o r e s of our great lakes replenished with inland n a t i o n s , nor the u n k n o w n b o u n d s of N o r t h A m e r i c a entirely p e o p l e d . W h o c a n tell how far it extends? W h o c a n tell the millions of m e n w h o m it will feed a n d c o n t a i n ? for no E u r o p e a n foot has as yet traveled half the extent of this mighty c o n t i n e n t ! T h e next wish of this traveler will be to know w h e n c e c a m e all t h e s e p e o ple? T h e y are a mixture of E n g l i s h , S c o t c h , Irish, F r e n c h , D u t c h , G e r m a n s a n d S w e d e s . F r o m this p r o m i s c u o u s b r e e d , that r a c e now called A m e r i c a n s have arisen. T h e e a s t e r n p r o v i n c e s 5 m u s t indeed be e x c e p t e d , as b e i n g the 4. I.e., indulge himself.

5. New England.

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u n m i x e d d e s c e n d a n t s of E n g l i s h m e n . I have h e a r d m a n y wish that they h a d b e e n m o r e intermixed a l s o : for my p a r t , I a m n o wisher, a n d think it m u c h better a s it h a s h a p p e n e d . T h e y exhibit a most c o n s p i c u o u s figure in this great a n d variegated p i c t u r e ; they too enter for a great s h a r e in the p l e a s i n g p e r s p e c t i v e displayed in t h e s e thirteen provinces. I know it is f a s h i o n a b l e to reflect 6 on t h e m , b u t r e s p e c t t h e m for what they have d o n e ; for the a c c u r a c y a n d w i s d o m with which they have settled their territory; for the d e c e n c y of their m a n n e r s ; for their early love of letters; their a n c i e n t c o l l e g e , 7 the first in this h e m i s p h e r e ; for their industry, which to m e w h o a m b u t a farmer is the criterion of everything. T h e r e never w a s a p e o p l e , s i t u a t e d a s they a r e , w h o with so ungrateful a soil have d o n e m o r e in s o short a t i m e . D o you think that the m o n a r c h i c a l ingredients which are m o r e prevalent in other g o v e r n m e n t s have p u r g e d t h e m from all foul s t a i n s ? T h e i r histories a s s e r t the contrary. In this great A m e r i c a n a s y l u m , the p o o r of E u r o p e have by s o m e m e a n s m e t together, a n d in c o n s e q u e n c e of various c a u s e s ; to what p u r p o s e s h o u l d they a s k o n e a n o t h e r what c o u n t r y m e n they are? A l a s , two thirds of t h e m h a d n o country. C a n a wretch w h o w a n d e r s a b o u t , w h o works a n d starves, w h o s e life is a c o n t i n u a l s c e n e of sore affliction or p i n c h i n g penury, c a n that m a n call E n g l a n d or any other k i n g d o m his country? A c o u n t r y that h a d no b r e a d for him, w h o s e fields p r o c u r e d him no harvest, w h o m e t with nothing but the frowns of the rich, the severity of the laws, with jails a n d p u n i s h m e n t s ; w h o o w n e d not a single foot of the extensive s u r f a c e of this p l a n e t ? N o ! U r g e d by a variety of motives, h e r e they c a m e . Everything h a s t e n d e d to r e g e n e r a t e t h e m ; new laws, a new m o d e of living, a n e w social s y s t e m ; h e r e they a r e b e c o m e m e n : in E u r o p e they were a s so m a n y u s e l e s s p l a n t s , wanting vegetative m o l d a n d refreshing s h o w e r s ; they withered, a n d were m o w e d d o w n by want, h u n g e r , a n d war; but now by the p o w e r of t r a n s p l a n t a t i o n , like all other p l a n t s they have taken root a n d flourished! Formerly they w e r e not n u m b e r e d in any civil lists 8 of their country, e x c e p t in t h o s e of the p o o r ; here they rank a s citizens. By what invisible power h a s this s u r p r i s i n g m e t a m o r p h o s i s b e e n p e r f o r m e d ? By that of the laws a n d that of their industry. T h e laws, the indulgent laws, protect t h e m a s they arrive, s t a m p i n g o n t h e m the symbol of a d o p t i o n ; they receive a m p l e rewards for their l a b o r s ; t h e s e a c c u m u l a t e d rewards p r o c u r e t h e m l a n d s ; t h o s e l a n d s c o n f e r on t h e m the title of f r e e m e n , a n d to that title every benefit is affixed which m e n c a n possibly require. T h i s is the great o p e r a t i o n daily p e r f o r m e d by our laws. F r o m w h e n c e p r o c e e d t h e s e laws? F r o m o u r g o v e r n m e n t . W h e n c e the gove r n m e n t ? It is derived from the original g e n i u s a n d s t r o n g d e s i r e of the p e o p l e ratified a n d c o n f i r m e d by the c r o w n . T h i s is the great c h a i n which links u s all, this is the picture which every province exhibits, N o v a S c o t i a e x c e p t e d . T h e r e the crown h a s d o n e all; 9 either there were n o p e o p l e w h o h a d g e n i u s , or it w a s not m u c h a t t e n d e d to: the c o n s e q u e n c e is that the province is very thinly inhabited i n d e e d ; the power of the crown in c o n j u n c t i o n with the m o s q u i t o e s h a s prevented m e n from settling t h e r e . Yet s o m e p a r t s of it flouri s h e d o n c e , a n d it c o n t a i n e d a mild, h a r m l e s s set of p e o p l e . B u t for the fault 6. C e n s u r e or blame. 7. Harvard College was founded in 1636. 8. Recognized employees of the civil government: ambassadors, j u d g e s , secretaries, etc.

9. In 1755 the French Acadians were banished from Nova Scotia by the British, who had taken it in 1710.

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of a few l e a d e r s , t h e whole were b a n i s h e d . T h e g r e a t e s t political error t h e crown ever c o m m i t t e d in A m e r i c a w a s to c u t off m e n from a country which wanted nothing but men! W h a t a t t a c h m e n t c a n a p o o r E u r o p e a n e m i g r a n t have for a country w h e r e he h a d n o t h i n g ? T h e k n o w l e d g e o f t h e l a n g u a g e , t h e love o f a few kindred a s poor a s himself, were t h e only cords that tied him: his c o u n t r y is n o w that which gives h i m land, b r e a d , protection, a n d c o n s e q u e n c e : Ubi panis ibi patria[ is t h e m o t t o o f all e m i g r a n t s . W h a t then is t h e A m e r i c a n , this n e w m a n ? H e is either a E u r o p e a n , or the d e s c e n d a n t of a E u r o p e a n , h e n c e that s t r a n g e mixture o f blood, which you will find in n o other country. I c o u l d point o u t to you a family w h o s e g r a n d f a t h e r w a s a n E n g l i s h m a n , w h o s e wife was D u t c h , w h o s e s o n married a F r e n c h w o m a n , a n d w h o s e p r e s e n t four s o n s have n o w four wives o f different n a t i o n s . He is a n A m e r i c a n , w h o , leaving b e h i n d him all his a n c i e n t p r e j u d i c e s a n d m a n n e r s , receives n e w o n e s from the new m o d e o f life h e h a s e m b r a c e d , t h e new g o v e r n m e n t h e o b e y s , a n d t h e n e w rank h e h o l d s . H e b e c o m e s a n A m e r i c a n by b e i n g received in the b r o a d lap o f o u r great Alma Mater.2 H e r e individuals o f all n a t i o n s a r e m e l t e d into a new r a c e o f m e n , w h o s e labors a n d posterity will o n e day c a u s e great c h a n g e s in t h e world. A m e r i c a n s a r e t h e w e s t e r n pilgrims, w h o a r e carrying a l o n g with t h e m that great m a s s of arts, s c i e n c e s , vigor, a n d industry which b e g a n long s i n c e in t h e e a s t ; they will finish t h e great circle. T h e A m e r i c a n s were o n c e s c a t t e r e d all over E u r o p e ; here they a r e i n c o r p o r a t e d into o n e o f t h e finest s y s t e m s o f p o p u l a t i o n which h a s ever a p p e a r e d , a n d which will hereafter b e c o m e distinct by t h e p o w e r o f the different c l i m a t e s they inhabit. T h e A m e r i c a n o u g h t therefore to love this country m u c h better than that wherein either h e or his forefathers were born. H e r e t h e rewards of his industry follow with e q u a l s t e p s t h e p r o g r e s s o f his labor; his labor is f o u n d e d o n t h e b a s i s o f n a t u r e , self-interest; c a n it w a n t a s t r o n g e r allurem e n t jfWives a n d children, w h o before in vain d e m a n d e d o f him a m o r s e l of b r e a d , now, fat a n d f r o l i c s o m e , gladly help their father to clear t h o s e fields w h e n c e e x u b e r a n t c r o p s a r e to arise to feed a n d to c l o t h e t h e m all; without any part b e i n g c l a i m e d , either by a d e s p o t i c p r i n c e , a rich a b b o t , or a mighty l o r d . H e r e religion d e m a n d s b u t little of h i m ; a small voluntary salary to t h e minister, a n d g r a t i t u d e to G o d ; c a n h e refuse t h e s e ? T h ^ A r n e r i c a n is a n e w m a r i j j y j K ) a c t s u p r j i n j i e w p r i n c i p l e s ^ h e m u s t therefjprp e n r e r ~ j ^ » r i r i e w icjfias..^

andJojjTjjjeMcrjTjimons. F r o m irrvoT^rijtaryjdleness, servile d e p e n d e n c e , r j e j i j ury, a n d u s e l e s s ^ l a b o r , h e has_passed^toJfgfliLrrf'~a^^ nature, r e w a r d e 3 By"ample s u b s i s t e n c e . — T h i s is a n A m e r i c a n . TJritlsTTAmerica is divided into m a r i y p r o v i n c e s , f o r m i n g a large a s s o c i a tion, s c a t t e r e d a l o n g a c o a s t 1 , 5 0 0 miles extent a n d a b o u t 2 0 0 wide. T h i s society I would fain e x a m i n e , a t least s u c h a s it a p p e a r s in t h e m i d d l e provi n c e s ; if it d o e s n o t afford that variety o f tinges a n d g r a d a t i o n s which m a y be o b s e r v e d in E u r o p e , w e have colors p e c u l i a r to o u r s e l v e s . F o r i n s t a n c e , it is n a t u r a l to c o n c e i v e that t h o s e w h o live n e a r the s e a m u s t b e very different from t h o s e w h o live in t h e w o o d s ; t h e i n t e r m e d i a t e s p a c e will afford a separate a n d distinct c l a s s . M e n a r e like p l a n t s ; t h e g o o d n e s s a n d flavor o f t h e fruit p r o c e e d s from 1. Where there is bread, there is one's fatherland (Latin).

2 . Dear mother (Latin, literal trans.).

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the p e c u l i a r soil a n d exposition in which they grow. W e a r e n o t h i n g but what we derive f r o m the air we b r e a t h e , the climate we inhabit, the g o v e r n m e n t we obey, t h e s y s t e m of religion we p r o f e s s , a n d the n a t u r e of o u r employm e n t . H e r e you will find b u t few c r i m e s ; t h e s e have a c q u i r e d a s yet no root a m o n g u s . I wish I w a s able to trace all my ideas; if m y i g n o r a n c e prevents m e from d e s c r i b i n g t h e m properly, I h o p e I shall b e a b l e to d e l i n e a t e a few of the outlines, which are all I p r o p o s e . T h o s e w h o live near the s e a feed m o r e on fish t h a n on flesh, a n d often e n c o u n t e r that b o i s t e r o u s e l e m e n t . T h i s renders t h e m m o r e bold a n d enterprising; this leads t h e m to neglect the confined o c c u p a t i o n s of the land. T h e y s e e a n d c o n v e r s e with a variety of p e o p l e , their i n t e r c o u r s e with m a n k i n d b e c o m e s extensive. T h e s e a inspires t h e m with a love of traffic, a desire of transporting p r o d u c e from o n e p l a c e to a n o t h e r ; a n d leads t h e m to a variety of r e s o u r c e s which supply t h e p l a c e of labor. T h o s e w h o inhabit the middle s e t t l e m e n t s , by far the m o s t n u m e r o u s , m u s t b e very different; the s i m p l e cultivation of the earth purifies t h e m , b u t the i n d u l g e n c e s of t h e g o v e r n m e n t , the soft r e m o n s t r a n c e s of religion, the rank of i n d e p e n d e n t freeholders, m u s t necessarily inspire them with s e n t i m e n t s , very little known in E u r o p e a m o n g p e o p l e of t h e s a m e c l a s s . W h a t d o I say? E u r o p e h a s no s u c h c l a s s of m e n ; the early knowledge they a c q u i r e , the early bargains they m a k e , give t h e m a great d e g r e e of sagacity. As f r e e m e n they will b e litigious; pride a n d obstinancy a r e often t h e c a u s e of lawsuits; the n a t u r e of o u r laws a n d g o v e r n m e n t s may b e another. As citizens it is easy to i m a g i n e that they will carefully read the n e w s p a p e r s , enter into every political disquisition, freely b l a m e or c e n s u r e governors a n d others. A s f a r m e r s they will b e careful a n d a n x i o u s to get a s m u c h a s they c a n , b e c a u s e what they get is their o w n . As northern m e n they will love t h e cheerful c u p . As C h r i s t i a n s , religion c u r b s t h e m not in their o p i n i o n s ; the general i n d u l g e n c e leaves everyone to think for themselves in spiritual m a t t e r s ; the laws i n s p e c t o u r a c t i o n s , o u r t h o u g h t s are left to Gojk^hrdjisUy^good living, s e l f i s h n e s s , l i t i g i o u s n e s j ^ j M J u r r t r y politics, t h e p r j d g _ j f fre^TmenT^eligious l u x n f T e r e n c e ~ ^ r e t h ^ i r ~ ^ a r a c t e n s t i c s . I f V o u r e c e d e still farther from the s e a , you will c o m e into more~"lnoderiT settlem e n t s ; they exhibit the s a m e strong l i n e a m e n t s , in a r u d e r a p p e a r a n c e . Religion s e e m s to have still less influence, a n d their m a n n e r s a r e less i m p r o v e d . N o w we arrive n e a r the great w o o d s , n e a r the last inhabited d i s t r i c t s ; 1 there m e n s e e m to b e p l a c e d still farther b e y o n d the reach of g o v e r n m e n t , w h i c h in s o m e m e a s u r e leaves t h e m to t h e m s e l v e s . H o w c a n it pervade every c o r n e r ; as they were driven there by m i s f o r t u n e s , n e c e s s i t y of b e g i n n i n g s , d e s i r e of a c q u i r i n g large tracts of land, i d l e n e s s , f r e q u e n t want of e c o n o m y , 4 a n c i e n t d e b t s ; the reunion of s u c h p e o p l e d o e s not afford a very p l e a s i n g s p e c t a c l e . W h e n discord, want of unity a n d f r i e n d s h i p ; w h e n either d r u n k e n n e s s or idleness prevail in s u c h r e m o t e districts; c o n t e n t i o n , inactivity, a n d wretche d n e s s m u s t e n s u e . T h e r e a r e not the s a m e r e m e d i e s to t h e s e evils a s in a long-established c o m m u n i t y . T h e few m a g i s t r a t e s they have a r e in general little better than the rest; they are often in a perfect s t a t e of war; that of m a n a g a i n s t m a n , s o m e t i m e s d e c i d e d by b l o w s , s o m e t i m e s by m e a n s of t h e law; that of m a n a g a i n s t every wild i n h a b i t a n t of t h e s e v e n e r a b l e w o o d s , of which 3. I.e.. the frontier; the land west of the original colonies and east of the Mississippi.

4. I.e., they were improvident and spent beyond their means.

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they a r e c o m e to d i s p o s s e s s t h e m . T h e r e m e n a p p e a r to be no better t h a n carnivorous a n i m a l s of a s u p e r i o r rank, living on the flesh of wild a n i m a l s w h e n they c a n c a t c h t h e m , a n d when they are not a b l e , they s u b s i s t on grain. H e w h o would wish to s e e A m e r i c a in its p r o p e r light, a n d have a true idea of its feeble b e g i n n i n g s a n d b a r b a r o u s r u d i m e n t s , m u s t visit our e x t e n d e d line of frontiers w h e r e the last settlers dwell, a n d w h e r e h e m a y s e e the first labors of s e t t l e m e n t , the m o d e of clearing the earth, in all their different a p p e a r a n c e s ; w h e r e m e n are wholly left d e p e n d e n t on their native t e m p e r s a n d on the s p u r of u n c e r t a i n industry, which often fails w h e n not sanctified by the efficacy of a few moral rules. T h e r e , r e m o t e from the p o w e r of e x a m p l e a n d c h e c k of s h a m e , m a n y families exhibit the m o s t h i d e o u s p a r t s of our society. T h e y are a kind of forlorn h o p e , p r e c e d i n g by ten or twelve years the m o s t r e s p e c t a b l e army of veterans which c o m e after t h e m . In that s p a c e , prosperity will polish s o m e , vice a n d the law will drive off the rest, w h o uniting again with others like t h e m s e l v e s will r e c e d e still farther; m a k i n g room for m o r e i n d u s t r i o u s p e o p l e , w h o will finish their i m p r o v e m e n t s , convert the l o g h o u s e into a c o n v e n i e n t habitation, a n d rejoicing that the first heavy labors are finished, will c h a n g e in a few years that hitherto b a r b a r o u s country into a fine fertile, well-regulated district. S u c h is our p r o g r e s s , s u c h is the m a r c h of the E u r o p e a n s toward the interior p a r t s of this c o n t i n e n t . In all societies these are offcasts; this i m p u r e part serves a s o u r p r e c u r s o r s or p i o n e e r s ; my father h i m s e l f w a s o n e of that c l a s s , 5 b u t h e c a m e u p o n h o n e s t principles, a n d w a s therefore o n e of the few w h o held fast; by g o o d c o n d u c t a n d t e m p e r a n c e , he t r a n s m i t t e d to m e his fair i n h e r i t a n c e , w h e n not a b o v e o n e in fourteen of his c o n t e m p o r a r i e s h a d the s a m e g o o d f o r t u n e . Forty years a g o his smiling country w a s t h u s i n h a b i t e d ; it is now p u r g e d , a general d e c e n c y of m a n n e r s prevails t h r o u g h o u t , a n d s u c h h a s b e e n the fate of our b e s t c o u n t r i e s . Exclusive of t h o s e general c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s , e a c h province h a s its o w n , f o u n d e d on the g o v e r n m e n t , c l i m a t e , m o d e of h u s b a n d r y , c u s t o m s , a n d peculiarity of c i r c u m s t a n c e s . E u r o p e a n s s u b m i t insensibly to t h e s e great powers, a n d b e c o m e , in the c o u r s e of a few g e n e r a t i o n s , not only A m e r i c a n s in general, b u t either P e n n s y l v a n i a n s , Virginians, or provincials u n d e r s o m e other n a m e . W h o e v e r traverses the c o n t i n e n t m u s t easily o b s e r v e t h o s e strong differences, which will grow m o r e evident in t i m e . T h e i n h a b i t a n t s of C a n a d a , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , the middle p r o v i n c e s , the s o u t h e r n o n e s will b e a s different a s their c l i m a t e s ; their only points of unit will b e t h o s e of religion and language. ' A s I have e n d e a v o r e d to s h o w you how E u r o p e a n s b e c o m e A m e r i c a n s , it m a y not b e d i s a g r e e a b l e to s h o w you likewise how the v a r i o u s C h r i s t i a n s e c t s i n t r o d u c e d wear out, a n d h o w religious indifference b e c o m e s prevalent. W h e n any c o n s i d e r a b l e n u m b e r of a particular sect h a p p e n to dwell contigu o u s to e a c h other, they i m m e d i a t e l y erect a t e m p l e , a n d there w o r s h i p the Divinity agreeably to their own p e c u l i a r i d e a s . N o b o d y d i s t u r b s t h e m . If any new sect springs u p in E u r o p e it m a y h a p p e n that m a n y of its p r o f e s s o r s 6 will c o m e a n d settle in A m e r i c a . As they bring their zeal with t h e m , they are at liberty to m a k e proselytes if they c a n , a n d to build a m e e t i n g a n d to follow the dictates of their c o n s c i e n c e s ; for neither the g o v e r n m e n t nor any other 5. His father never c a m e to America.

6. Believers.

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power interferes. If they are p e a c e a b l e s u b j e c t s , a n d a r e i n d u s t r i o u s , what is it to their neighbors h o w a n d in what m a n n e r they think fit to a d d r e s s their prayers to the S u p r e m e B e i n g ? B u t if the s e c t a r i e s a r e not settled c l o s e together, if they are mixed with other d e n o m i n a t i o n s , their zeal will cool for w a n t of fuel, a n d will b e extinguished in a little t i m e . T h e n the A m e r i c a n s b e c o m e a s to religion what they are a s to country, allied to all. In t h e m the n a m e of E n g l i s h m a n , F r e n c h m a n , a n d E u r o p e a n is lost, a n d in like m a n n e r , the strict m o d e s of Christianity a s p r a c t i c e d in E u r o p e a r e lost a l s o . T h i s effect will extend itself still farther hereafter, a n d t h o u g h this m a y a p p e a r to you a s a s t r a n g e i d e a , yet it is a very true o n e . I shall b e a b l e p e r h a p s hereafter to explain myself better; in the m e a n w h i l e , let the following e x a m p l e serve as my first justification. L e t u s s u p p o s e you a n d I to be traveling; we o b s e r v e that in this h o u s e , to the right, lives a C a t h o l i c , w h o prays to G o d a s h e h a s b e e n t a u g h t , a n d believes in t r a n s u b s t a n t i a t i o n ; 7 h e works a n d r a i s e s w h e a t , h e h a s a large family of children, all hale a n d r o b u s t ; his belief, his prayers offend n o b o d y . A b o u t o n e mile farther o n the s a m e r o a d , his next n e i g h b o r m a y b e a g o o d h o n e s t p l o d d i n g G e r m a n L u t h e r a n , w h o a d d r e s s e s h i m s e l f to the s a m e G o d , the G o d of all, agreeably to the m o d e s h e h a s b e e n e d u c a t e d in, a n d believes in c o n s u b s t a n t i a t i o n ; 8 by so d o i n g he s c a n d a l i z e s nobody; h e a l s o works in his fields, e m b e l l i s h e s the earth, c l e a r s s w a m p s , e t c . W h a t h a s the world to d o with his L u t h e r a n p r i n c i p l e s ? H e p e r s e c u t e s n o b o d y , a n d n o b o d y p e r s e c u t e s h i m , he visits his n e i g h b o r s , a n d his n e i g h b o r s visit h i m . N e x t to him lives a s e c e d e r , the m o s t e n t h u s i a s t i c of all s e c t a r i e s ; 9 his zeal is hot a n d fiery, but s e p a r a t e d a s he is from others of the s a m e c o m p l e x i o n , h e h a s n o congregation of his own to resort to, w h e r e he might c a b a l a n d m i n g l e religious pride with worldly obstinacy. H e likewise raises g o o d c r o p s , his h o u s e is h a n d s o m e l y p a i n t e d , his o r c h a r d is o n e of the fairest in the n e i g h b o r h o o d . H o w d o e s it c o n c e r n the welfare of the country, or of the province at large, what this m a n ' s religious s e n t i m e n t s a r e , or really w h e t h e r h e h a s any at all? H e is a g o o d farmer, he is a sober, p e a c e a b l e , g o o d citizen: William P e n n 1 h i m s e l f would not wish for m o r e . T h i s is the visible c h a r a c t e r , the invisible o n e is only g u e s s e d at, a n d is nobody's b u s i n e s s . Next a g a i n lives a L o w D u t c h m a n , w h o implicitly believes the rules laid d o w n by the synod of D o r t . 2 H e c o n c e i v e s n o other idea of a c l e r g y m a n than that of a hired m a n ; if he d o e s his work well he will pay him the s t i p u l a t e d s u m ; if not h e will d i s m i s s h i m , a n d d o without his s e r m o n s , a n d let his c h u r c h b e s h u t u p for years. B u t n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g this c o a r s e idea, you will find his h o u s e a n d farm to be the n e a t e s t in all the country; a n d you will j u d g e by his w a g o n a n d fat h o r s e s that he thinks m o r e of the affairs of this world t h a n of t h o s e of the next. H e is s o b e r a n d l a b o r i o u s , therefore he is all he o u g h t to b e a s to the affairs of this life; a s for t h o s e of the next, he m u s t trust to the great C r e a t o r . E a c h of 7. T h e doctrine followed by Roman Catholics that the substance of the bread and wine used in the sacrament of c o m m u n i o n is changed at the consecration to the substance of the body and blood of Christ. 8. As distinguished from transubstantiation; the doctrine that affirms that Christ's body is not present in or under the elements of bread and wine, but that the bread and wine are signs of Christ's presence through faith.

9. O n e who dissents or withdraws from an established church. " S e c e d e r " : a Presbyterian who has separated from the established C h u r c h of Scotland. 1. English Quaker and founder of Pennsylvania (1644-1718). 2. T h e Synod of Dort met in Holland in 1618 and attempted to settle disputes between Protestant reformed churches. "Low D u t c h m a n " : someone from Holland, not Belgium.

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t h e s e p e o p l e instruct their children a s well a s they c a n , b u t t h e s e i n s t r u c t i o n s are feeble c o m p a r e d to t h o s e which are given to the youth of the p o o r e s t c l a s s in E u r o p e . T h e i r children will therefore grow u p less z e a l o u s a n d m o r e indifferent in m a t t e r s of religion than their p a r e n t s . T h e foolish vanity, or rather the fury of m a k i n g proselytes, is u n k n o w n h e r e ; they have n o t i m e , the s e a s o n s call for all their attention, a n d t h u s in a few y e a r s , this mixed n e i g h b o r h o o d will exhibit a s t r a n g e religious medley, that will b e neither p u r e C a t h o l i c i s m nor p u r e C a l v i n i s m . A very p e r c e p t i b l e indifference, even in the first g e n e r a t i o n , will b e c o m e a p p a r e n t ; a n d it m a y h a p p e n that the d a u g h t e r of the C a t h o l i c will marry the son of the s e c e d e r , a n d settle by t h e m s e l v e s at a d i s t a n c e from their p a r e n t s . W h a t religious e d u c a t i o n will they give their children? A very imperfect o n e . If there h a p p e n s to b e in the n e i g h b o r h o o d any p l a c e of worship, we will s u p p o s e a Quaker's m e e t i n g ; rather t h a n not s h o w their fine c l o t h e s , they will go to it, a n d s o m e of t h e m m a y p e r h a p s a t t a c h t h e m s e l v e s to that society. O t h e r s will r e m a i n in a p e r f e c t state of indifference; the children of t h e s e zealous p a r e n t s will not b e able to tell what their religious principles a r e , a n d their g r a n d c h i l d r e n still l e s s . T h e n e i g h b o r h o o d of a p l a c e of w o r s h i p generally leads t h e m to it, a n d the a c t i o n of going thither is the s t r o n g e s t evidence they c a n give of their a t t a c h m e n t to any s e c t . T h e Quakers are the only p e o p l e w h o retain a f o n d n e s s for their own m o d e of w o r s h i p ; for b e they ever s o far s e p a r a t e d from e a c h other, they hold a sort of c o m m u n i o n with the society, a n d s e l d o m d e p a r t from its r u l e s , at least in this country. T h u s all sects are mixed a s well as all n a t i o n s ; t h u s religious indifference is imperceptibly d i s s e m i n a t e d from o n e e n d of the continent to the other; which is at p r e s e n t o n e of the s t r o n g e s t c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the A m e r i c a n s . W h e r e this will r e a c h no o n e c a n tell, p e r h a p s it m a y leave a v a c u u m fit to receive other s y s t e m s . P e r s e c u t i o n , religious pride, the love of c o n t r a d i c t i o n are the food of what the world c o m m o n l y calls religion. T h e s e motives have c e a s e d h e r e ; zeal in E u r o p e is c o n f i n e d ; here it evaporates in the great d i s t a n c e it h a s to travel; there it is a grain of p o w d e r i n c l o s e d , h e r e it b u r n s away in the o p e n air, a n d c o n s u m e s w i t h o u t effect. B u t to return to o u r b a c k settlers. I m u s t tell you that there is s o m e t h i n g in the proximity of the w o o d s which is very singular. It is with m e n a s it is with the p l a n t s a n d a n i m a l s that grow a n d live in the f o r e s t s ; they are entirely different from t h o s e that live in the p l a i n s . I will candidly tell you all my t h o u g h t s but you are not to expect that I shall a d v a n c e a n y r e a s o n s . By living in or near the w o o d s , their a c t i o n s are r e g u l a t e d by the w i l d n e s s of the neighb o r h o o d . T h e d e e r often c o m e to eat their grain, the wolves to destroy their s h e e p , the b e a r s to kill their h o g s , the foxes to c a t c h their poultry. T h i s s u r r o u n d i n g hostility i m m e d i a t e l y p u t s the g u n into their h a n d s ; they w a t c h these a n i m a l s , they kill s o m e ; a n d t h u s by d e f e n d i n g their property, they s o o n b e c o m e p r o f e s s e d h u n t e r s ; this is the p r o g r e s s ; o n c e h u n t e r s , farewell to the plow. T h e c h a s e r e n d e r s t h e m f e r o c i o u s , gloomy, a n d u n s o c i a b l e ; a h u n t e r w a n t s n o neighbor, he rather h a t e s t h e m , b e c a u s e h e d r e a d s the c o m p e t i t i o n . In a little time their s u c c e s s in the w o o d s m a k e s t h e m n e g l e c t their tillage. T h e y trust to the natural fecundity of the e a r t h , a n d therefore do little; c a r e l e s s n e s s in f e n c i n g often e x p o s e s w h a t little they s o w to d e s t r u c tion; they are not at h o m e to w a t c h ; in order therefore to m a k e u p the deficiency, they g o oftener to the w o o d s . T h a t n e w m o d e of life brings a l o n g with it a new set of m a n n e r s , which I c a n n o t easily d e s c r i b e . T h e s e n e w

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m a n n e r s , b e i n g grafted on the old stock, p r o d u c e a s t r a n g e sort of lawless profligacy, the i m p r e s s i o n s of which are indelible. T h e m a n n e r s of the Indian natives are r e s p e c t a b l e , c o m p a r e d with this E u r o p e a n medley. T h e i r wives a n d children live in sloth a n d inactivity; a n d having no p r o p e r p u r s u i t s , you may j u d g e what e d u c a t i o n the latter receive. Their tender m i n d s have nothing else to c o n t e m p l a t e but the e x a m p l e of their p a r e n t s ; like t h e m they grow u p a mongrel b r e e d , half civilized, half s a v a g e , except n a t u r e s t a m p s on t h e m s o m e constitutional p r o p e n s i t i e s . T h a t rich, that v o l u p t u o u s s e n t i m e n t is g o n e that s t r u c k t h e m s o forcibly; the p o s s e s s i o n of their f r e e h o l d s * no longer conveys to their m i n d s the s a m e p l e a s u r e a n d pride. T o all t h e s e r e a s o n s you m u s t a d d their lonely s i t u a t i o n , a n d you c a n n o t i m a g i n e what a n effect on m a n n e r s the great d i s t a n c e s they live from e a c h other h a s ! C o n s i d e r o n e of the last s e t t l e m e n t s in its first view: of w h a t is it c o m p o s e d ? E u r o p e a n s w h o have not that sufficient s h a r e of k n o w l e d g e they o u g h t to h a v e , in order to p r o s p e r ; p e o p l e w h o have s u d d e n l y p a s s e d from o p p r e s s i o n , d r e a d of gove r n m e n t , a n d fear of laws into the u n l i m i t e d f r e e d o m of the w o o d s . T h i s s u d d e n c h a n g e m u s t have a very great effect on m o s t m e n , a n d o n that c l a s s particularly. E a t i n g of wild m e a t , whatever you may think, t e n d s to alter their t e m p e r : t h o u g h all the p r o o f I c a n a d d u c e is that I have s e e n it: a n d having n o p l a c e of w o r s h i p to resort to, what little society this might afford is d e n i e d t h e m . T h e S u n d a y m e e t i n g s , exclusive of religious benefits, were the only social b o n d s that might have inspired t h e m with s o m e d e g r e e of e m u l a t i o n in n e a t n e s s . Is it then s u r p r i s i n g to s e e m e n t h u s s i t u a t e d , i m m e r s e d in great a n d heavy labors, d e g e n e r a t e a little? It is rather a w o n d e r the effect is not m o r e diffusive. T h e M o r a v i a n s 4 a n d the Q u a k e r s are the only i n s t a n c e s in exception to w h a t I have a d v a n c e d . T h e first never settle singly, it is a colony of the society which e m i g r a t e s ; they carry with t h e m their f o r m s , w o r s h i p , rules, a n d d e c e n c y : the others never begin so h a r d , they a r e always able to buy i m p r o v e m e n t s , in which there is a great a d v a n t a g e , for by that time the country is recovered from its first barbarity. T h u s our b a d p e o p l e are t h o s e w h o are half cultivators a n d half h u n t e r s ; a n d the worst of t h e m are t h o s e w h o have d e g e n e r a t e d altogether into the h u n t i n g s t a t e . A s old p l o w m e n a n d new m e n of the w o o d s , a s E u r o p e a n s a n d n e w - m a d e I n d i a n s , they c o n t r a c t the vices of b o t h ; they a d o p t the m o r o s e n e s s a n d ferocity of a native, without his m i l d n e s s , or even his industry at h o m e . If m a n n e r s are not refined, at least they a r e r e n d e r e d s i m p l e a n d inoffensive by tilling the earth; all o u r w a n t s are s u p p l i e d by it, our time is divided b e t w e e n labor a n d rest, a n d leaves n o n e of the c o m m i s s i o n of great m i s d e e d s . As h u n t e r s it is divided b e t w e e n the toil of the c h a s e , the i d l e n e s s of r e p o s e , or the i n d u l g e n c e of inebriation. H u n t i n g is b u t a licentious idle life, a n d if it d o e s not always pervert g o o d d i s p o s i t i o n s ; yet, w h e n it is u n i t e d with b a d luck, it leads to want: want s t i m u l a t e s that propensity to rapacity a n d i n j u s t i c e , too natural to needy m e n , which is the fatal g r a d a t i o n . After this explanation of the effects which follow by living in the w o o d s , shall we yet vainly flatter ourselves with the h o p e of converting the I n d i a n s ? W e s h o u l d rather begin with converting our back-settlers; a n d now if I d a r e m e n t i o n the n a m e of religion, 3. Land held outright for a specified period of time. 4. Followers of J a c o b Hutter, who was executed in 1536. They were Christian family communities

who gave up private property and were noted for their industry and thrift. They suffered a number of persecutions in the 1 7th century and emigrated to other lands.

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its sweet a c c e n t s w o u l d be lost in the i m m e n s i t y of t h e s e w o o d s . M e n t h u s p l a c e d are not fit either to receive or r e m e m b e r its mild i n s t r u c t i o n s ; they w a n t 5 t e m p l e s a n d m i n i s t e r s , but a s s o o n as m e n c e a s e to r e m a i n at h o m e , a n d begin to lead an erratic life, let t h e m b e either tawny or white, they c e a s e to be its d i s c i p l e s . #

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E u r o p e c o n t a i n s hardly any other distinctions but lords a n d t e n a n t s ; this fair country a l o n e is settled by freeholders, the p o s s e s s o r s of the soil they cultivate, m e m b e r s of the g o v e r n m e n t they obey, a n d the f r a m e r s of their own laws, by m e a n s of their representatives. T h i s is a t h o u g h t which you have t a u g h t m e to c h e r i s h ; o u r difference from E u r o p e , far from d i m i n i s h i n g , rather a d d s to our u s e f u l n e s s a n d c o n s e q u e n c e a s m e n a n d s u b j e c t s . H a d our forefathers r e m a i n e d t h e r e , they would only have c r o w d e d it, a n d perh a p s p r o l o n g e d t h o s e c o n v u l s i o n s which h a d s h o o k it s o long. Every i n d u s trious E u r o p e a n w h o transports h i m s e l f here may be c o m p a r e d to a s p r o u t growing at the foot of a great tree; it enjoys a n d draws but a little portion of s a p ; w r e n c h it from the p a r e n t roots, t r a n s p l a n t it, a n d it will b e c o m e a tree b e a r i n g fruit a l s o . C o l o n i s t s are therefore entitled to the c o n s i d e r a t i o n d u e to the m o s t useful s u b j e c t s ; a h u n d r e d families barely existing in s o m e p a r t s or S c o t l a n d will h e r e in six years c a u s e an a n n u a l exportation of 1 0 , 0 0 0 b u s h e l s of w h e a t ; 1 0 0 b u s h e l s b e i n g b u t a c o m m o n quantity for a n i n d u s trious family to sell, if they cultivated g o o d l a n d . It is h e r e then that fY\? j d l p m a y be e m p l o y e d , the u s e l e s s b e c o m e useful, a n d the p o o r became tifchj k " f "By riches T d o not m e a n gold a n d silver, we have b u t little of t h o s e m e t a l s ; I fnSdii a bcttci noil uf wealth, cleared l a n d s , cattle, g o o d h o u s e s , g o o d c l o t h e s , and~a~rr1ncrease of people*^ p n j o v t h e m . T h e r e is n o w o n d e r that this country h a s s o m a n y c h a r m s , a n d p r e s e n t s to E u r o p e a n s so m a n y t e m p t a t i o n s to r e m a i n in it. A traveler in E u r o p e b e c o m e s a stranger a s s o o n a s he quits his own k i n g d o m ; but it is otherwise h e r e . W e know, properly s p e a k i n g , n o s t r a n g e r s ; this is every p e r s o n ' s c o u n try; the variety of our soils, s i t u a t i o n s , c l i m a t e s , g o v e r n m e n t s , a n d p r o d u c e hath s o m e t h i n g which m u s t p l e a s e everybody. N o s o o n e r d o e s a E u r o p e a n arrive, no m a t t e r of what condition, than his eyes a r e o p e n e d u p o n the fair p r o s p e c t ; he h e a r s his l a n g u a g e s p o k e n , h e retraces m a n y of his own country m a n n e r s , h e perpetually h e a r s the n a m e s of families a n d towns with w h i c h he is a c q u a i n t e d ; h e s e e s h a p p i n e s s a n d prosperity in all p l a c e s d i s s e m i n a t e d ; he m e e t s with hospitality, k i n d n e s s , a n d plenty everywhere; h e b e h o l d s hardly any poor; he s e l d o m h e a r s of p u n i s h m e n t s a n d e x e c u t i o n s ; a n d he w o n d e r s at the e l e g a n c e of o u r towns, t h o s e m i r a c l e s of industry a n d f r e e d o m . H e c a n n o t a d m i r e e n o u g h our rural districts, our c o n v e n i e n t r o a d s , g o o d taverns, a n d our m a n y a c c o m m o d a t i o n s ; h e involuntarily loves a c o u n t r y w h e r e everything is so lovely.

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After a foreigner from any part of E u r o p e is arrived, a n d b e c o m e a citizen, let him devoutly listen to the voice of our great p a r e n t , which says to h i m , " W e l c o m e to my s h o r e s , d i s t r e s s e d E u r o p e a n ; b l e s s the h o u r in w h i c h t h o u 5. Lack.

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didst s e e my verdant fields, my fair navigable rivers, a n d my green m o u n t a i n s ! — I f thou wilt work, I have b r e a d for t h e e ; if t h o u wilt b e h o n e s t , sober, a n d i n d u s t r i o u s , I have greater rewards to confer on t h e e — e a s e a n d indep e n d e n c e . I will give thee fields to feed a n d clothe t h e e ; a c o m f o r t a b l e fires i d e to sit by, a n d tell thy children by what m e a n s t h o u h a s t p r o s p e r e d ; a n d a d e c e n t b e d to r e p o s e o n . I shall e n d o w thee beside with t h e i m m u n i t i e s o f a f r e e m a n . If thou wilt carefully e d u c a t e thy children, t e a c h t h e m gratitude to G o d , a n d reverence to that g o v e r n m e n t , the p h i l a n t h r o p i c g o v e r n m e n t , w h i c h h a s collected h e r e s o m a n y m e n a n d m a d e t h e m happy. I will a l s o provide for thy progeny; a n d to every g o o d m a n this o u g h t to be t h e m o s t holy, t h e m o s t powerful, t h e m o s t e a r n e s t wish h e c a n possibly form, a s well a s t h e m o s t c o n s o l a t o r y p r o s p e c t w h e n h e dies. G o t h o u a n d work a n d till; thou shalt p r o s p e r , provided thou b e j u s t , grateful, a n d i n d u s t r i o u s . " r o m Letter IX. Description of Charles-Town; on Slavery; on Physical Evil; A Melancholy

Tlioughts Scene

C h a r l e s - T o w n is, in t h e north, what L i m a is in the s o u t h ; b o t h are c a p i t a l s of t h e richest provinces of their respective h e m i s p h e r e s : you m a y therefore c o n j e c t u r e , that both cities m u s t exhibit t h e a p p e a r a n c e s n e c e s s a r i l y resulting from riches. P e r u a b o u n d i n g in gold, L i m a is filled with i n h a b i t a n t s w h o enjoy all t h o s e g r a d a t i o n s of p l e a s u r e , refinement, a n d luxury, w h i c h p r o c e e d from w e a l t h . C a r o l i n a p r o d u c e s c o m m o d i t i e s , m o r e valuable_j3ejjiaps4han gold, b e c a u s e they a r e g a i n e d by greater industry; it exhibits a l s o on o u r northern s t a g e , a display of riches a n d luxury, inferior i n d e e d to t h e former, but far s u p e r i o r to w h a t a r e to he s e e n in o u r northern towns. Its situation is a d m i r a b l e , b e i n g built at t h e c o n f l u e n c e of two large rivers, w h i c h receive in their c o u r s e a great n u m b e r of inferior s t r e a m s ; all navigable in t h e spring, for flat-boats. H e r e t h e p r o d u c e of this extensive territory c o n c e n t e r s ; here therefore is t h e seat of t h e m o s t v a l u a b l e exportation; their w h a r f s , their d o c k s , their m a g a z i n e s , 6 a r e extremely c o n v e n i e n t to facilitate this great c o m mercial b u s i n e s s . T h e i n h a b i t a n t s a r e t h e gayest in A m e r i c a ; it is called t h e c e n t e r of o u r b e a u m o n d e , a n d it [is] always filled with the richest p l a n t e r s of t h e p r o v i n c e , w h o resort hither in a q u e s t of health a n d p l e a s u r e . H e r e are always to b e s e e n a great n u m b e r o f v a l e t u d i n a r i a n s from the W e s t I n d i e s , s e e k i n g for t h e renovation of h e a l t h , e x h a u s t e d by t h e debilitating n a t u r e o f their s u n , air, a n d m o d e s of living. M a n y o f t h e s e W e s t Indians have I s e e n , at thirty, l o a d e d with t h e infirmities of old a g e ; for n o t h i n g is m o r e c o m m o n in t h o s e c o u n t r i e s of wealth, than for p e r s o n s to lose the abilities o f enjoying the c o m f o r t s of life, at a time w h e n we northern m e n j u s t begin to t a s t e t h e fruits of o u r labor a n d p r u d e n c e . T h e r o u n d of p l e a s u r e , a n d t h e e x p e n s e s of t h o s e citizens' t a b l e s , a r e m u c h s u p e r i o r to what you w o u l d i m a g i n e : i n d e e d t h e growth of this town a n d province h a s b e e n astonishingly rapid. It is [a] pity that t h e n a r r o w n e s s of the neck on which it s t a n d s prevents it from i n c r e a s i n g ; a n d which is t h e r e a s o n why h o u s e s a r e s o d e a r . T h e heat of t h e c l i m a t e , which is s o m e t i m e s very great in t h e interior p a r t s of t h e country, is always t e m p e r a t e in C h a r l e s - T o w n ; t h o u g h s o m e t i m e s w h e n they have n o s e a breezes t h e s u n is too powerful. T h e c l i m a t e r e n d e r s e x c e s s e s o f all kinds 6 . Warehouses.

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very d a n g e r o u s , particularly t h o s e of the table; a n d yet, i n s e n s i b l e or fearless of d a n g e r , they live o n , a n d enjoy a short a n d a merry life: the rays of their s u n s e e m to urge them irresistably to dissipation a n d p l e a s u r e : o n the c o n trary, the w o m e n , f t o m j j e j n g a b s t e m i o u s , r e a c h to a longer period of life, a n c L s e l d o m die without having h a d several h u s b a n d s . An E u r o p e a n at his first arrival muSfTJe greatly surprised when he Sees f h e " e i e g a n c e of their h o u s e s , their s u m p t u o u s furniture, a s well a s the m a g n i f i c e n c e of their tables. C a n he i m a g i n e h i m s e l f in a country, the e s t a b l i s h m e n t of which is so recent? T h e three principal c l a s s e s of i n h a b i t a n t s a r e , lawyers, p l a n t e r s , a n d merc h a n t s ; this is the province which has afforded to the first the richest spoils, lor nothing c a n exceed their wealth, their power, a n d their i n f l u e n c e . T h e y have r e a c h e d the ne -plus ultra7 of worldly felicity; no p l a n t a t i o n is s e c u r e d , no title is g o o d , no will is valid, but what they d i c t a t e , r e g u l a t e , a n d a p p r o v e . T h e whole m a s s of provincial property is b e c o m e tributary to this society; which, far a b o v e priests a n d b i s h o p s , disdain to be satisfied with the p o o r M o s a i c a l portion of the t e n t h . 8 I a p p e a l to the m a n y i n h a b i t a n t s , w h o , while c o n t e n d i n g p e r h a p s for their right to a few h u n d r e d a c r e s , have lost by the m a z e s of the law their whole patrimony. T h e s e m e n are m o r e properly law givers than interpreters of the law; a n d have u n i t e d h e r e , a s well a s in m o s t other provinces, the skill a n d dexterity of the scribe with the p o w e r a n d a m b i t i o n of the p r i n c e : w h o c a n tell where this m a y lead in a future day? T h e n a t u r e of our laws, a n d the spirit of f r e e d o m , which often t e n d s to m a k e us litigious, m u s t n e c e s s a r i l y throw the g r e a t e s t part of the property of the colonies into the h a n d s of t h e s e g e n t l e m e n . In a n o t h e r century, the law will p o s s e s s in the north, what now the c h u r c h p o s s e s s e s in Peru a n d M e x i c o . While all is joy, festivity, a n d h a p p i n e s s in C h a r l e s - T o w n , would you i m a g ine that s c e n e s of misery o v e r s p r e a d in the country? T h e i r e a r s by habit are b e c o m e deaf, their hearts are h a r d e n e d ; they neither s e e , hear, nor feel for the w o e s of their poor slaves, from w h o s e painful labors all their wealth p r o c e e d s . H e r e the horrors of slavery, the h a r d s h i p of i n c e s s a n t toils, a r e u n s e e n ; a n d no o n e thinks with c o m p a s s i o n of t h o s e s h o w e r s of sweat a n d of tears which from the b o d i e s of A f r i c a n s , daily d r o p , a n d m o i s t e n the g r o u n d they till. T h e c r a c k s of the whip urging t h e s e m i s e r a b l e b e i n g s to excessive labor, a r e far too distant from the gay capital to be h e a r d . The. c h o s e n r a c e eat, drink. a " d liyp happy, w h i l p t h e u n f o r t u n a t e o n e g r u b s u p the g r o u n d , raises indigo, or h u s k s the rice; e x p o s e d 1 0 a s u n tull'as s c o r c h i n g a s their native o n e : without the s u p p o r t of g o o d food, without the cordials o f _ a n y c h e e n n g l i q u o r . T h i s great c o n t r a s t h a s often afforded m e s u b j e c t s of the m o s t attlicting m e d i t a t i o n . O n the o n e s i d e , b e h o l d a p e o p l e enjoying all that life affords m o s t bewitching a n d p l e a s u r a b l e , without labor, without fatigue, hardly s u b j e c t e d to the trouble of wishing. With gold, d u g from Peruvian m o u n t a i n s , they order v e s s e l s to the c o a s t s of G u i n e a ; by virtue of that gold, w a r s , m u r d e r s , a n d d e v a s t a t i o n s are c o m m i t t e d in s o m e h a r m l e s s , p e a c e a b l e African n e i g h b o r h o o d , where dwelt i n n o c e n t p e o p l e , w h o even knew not but that all m e n were black. T h e d a u g h t e r torn from her w e e p i n g 7. No more beyond (Latin, literal trans.); the point of highest achievement. 8. T h e practice of tithing (offering one-tenth of one's worldly goods to God) was begun by Abraham

(Genesis 14.20). It is " M o s a i c a l " b e c a u s e the first five books of the Old Testament are traditionally ascribed to M o s e s .

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m o t h e r , the child from the w r e t c h e d p a r e n t s , the wife from the loving h u s b a n d ; w h o s e families swept away a n d b r o u g h t t h r o u g h s t o r m s a n d t e m p e s t s to this rich metropolis! T h e r e , a r r a n g e d like horses at a fair, they are b r a n d e d like cattle, a n d then driven to toil, to starve, a n d to l a n g u i s h for a few years o n the different p l a n t a t i o n s of t h e s e citizens. A n d for w h o m m u s t they w o r k : F o r p e r s o n s they know not, a n d w h o have no other power over t h e m than that of v i o l e n c e ; n o other right t h a n what this a c c u r s e d m e t a l h a s given t h e m ! S t r a n g e order of things! O h , N a t u r e , w h e r e are t h o u ? — A r e not t h e s e b l a c k s thy children a s well as w e ? O n the other s i d e , n o t h i n g is to b e s e e n b u t the m o s t diffusive misery a n d w r e t c h e d n e s s , unrelieved even in t h o u g h t or wish! D a y after day they d r u d g e on without any p r o s p e c t of ever r e a p i n g for t h e m selves; they are obliged to devote their lives, their l i m b s , their will, a n d every vital exertion to swell the w e a l t h of m a s t e r s ; w h o look not u p o n t h e m with half the k i n d n e s s a n d affection with which they c o n s i d e r their d o g s a n d h o r s e s . K i n d n e s s a n d affection a r e not the portion of t h o s e w h o till the e a r t h , who carry the b u r d e n s , w h o convert the logs into useful b o a r d s . T h i s reward, s i m p l e a n d natural as o n e would c o n c e i v e it, would b o r d e r o n h u m a n i t y ; a n d p l a n t e r s m u s t have n o n e of it! *

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A c l e r g y m a n settled a few years a g o at G e o r g e - T o w n , a n d feeling as I d o now, warmly r e c o m m e n d e d to the p l a n t e r s , from the pulpit, a relaxation of severity; h e i n t r o d u c e d the benignity of Christianity, a n d pathetically m a d e u s e of the a d m i r a b l e p r e c e p t s of that s y s t e m to melt the hearts of his congregation into a g r e a t e r d e g r e e of c o m p a s s i o n toward their slaves t h a n h a d b e e n hitherto c u s t o m a r y ; " S i r (said o n e of his h e a r e r s ) we pay you a genteel salary to read to u s the prayers of the liturgy, a n d to explain to u s s u c h p a r t s of the G o s p e l a s the rule of the c h u r c h d i r e c t s ; b u t we d o not w a n t you to t e a c h u s w h a t we are to do with our b l a c k s . " T h e c l e r g y m a n f o u n d it p r u d e n t to withhold any farther a d m o n i t i o n . W h e n c e this a s t o n i s h i n g right, or rather this b a r b a r o u s c u s t o m , for m o s t certainly we have no kind of right beyond that of force? W e are told, it is t r u e , that slavery c a n n o t b e s o r e p u g n a n t to h u m a n n a t u r e a s we at first i m a g i n e , b e c a u s e it h a s b e e n p r a c t i c e d in all a g e s , a n d in all n a t i o n s : the L a c e d e m o n i a n s 9 t h e m s e l v e s , t h o s e great assertors of liberty, c o n q u e r e d the H e l o t e s with the d e s i g n of m a k i n g t h e m their slaves; the R o m a n s , w h o m we c o n s i d e r a s our m a s t e r s in civil a n d military policy, lived in the exercise of the m o s t horrid o p p r e s s i o n ; they c o n q u e r e d to p l u n d e r a n d to e n s l a v e . W h a t a h i d e o u s a s p e c t the f a c e of the e a r t h m u s t then have exhibited! P r o v i n c e s , towns, districts, often d e p o p u l a t e d ; their i n h a b i t a n t s driven to R o m e , the g r e a t e s t m a r k e t in the world, a n d there sold by t h o u s a n d s ! T h e R o m a n d o m i n i o n s were tilled by the h a n d s of u n f o r t u n a t e p e o p l e , w h o h a d o n c e b e e n , like their victors free, rich, a n d p o s s e s s e d of every benefit society c a n confer; until they b e c a m e s u b j e c t to the cruel right of war, a n d to lawless force. Is there then no s u p e r i n t e n d i n g power w h o c o n d u c t s the moral o p e r a t i o n s of the world, a s well a s the p h y s i c a l ? T h e s a m e s u b l i m e h a n d which g u i d e s the p l a n e t s r o u n d the s u n with so m u c h e x a c t n e s s , which preserves the a r r a n g e m e n t of the w h o l e with s u c h exalted w i s d o m a n d p a t e r n a l c a r e , a n d p r e v e n t s the vast s y s t e m from falling into 9. Another name for the Spartans, who enslaved the people of Helos, a town in Laconia.

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c o n f u s i o n ; d o t h it a b a n d o n m a n k i n d to all the errors, the follies, a n d the m i s e r i e s , which their m o s t frantic rage, a n d their m o s t d a n g e r o u s vices a n d passions can produce? *

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Everywhere o n e part of the h u m a n s p e c i e s a r e t a u g h t the art of s h e d d i n g the blood of the other; of setting fire to their dwellings; of leveling the works of their industry: half of the existence of n a t i o n s regularly e m p l o y e d in destroying other n a t i o n s . W h a t little political felicity is to b e m e t with here a n d there, h a s c o s t o c e a n s of blood to p u r c h a s e ; a s if g o o d w a s never to b e the portion of u n h a p p y m a n . R e p u b l i c s , k i n g d o m s , m o n a r c h i e s , f o u n d e d either o n fraud or s u c c e s s f u l violence, i n c r e a s e by p u r s u i n g the s t e p s of the s a m e policy, until they are destroyed in their turn, either by the i n f l u e n c e of their own c r i m e s , or by m o r e s u c c e s s f u l b u t equally criminal e n e m i e s . If from this general review of h u m a n n a t u r e , we d e s c e n d to the examination of w h a t is called civilized society; there the c o m b i n a t i o n of every natural a n d artificial want, m a k e s u s pay very dear for w h a t little s h a r e of political felicity we enjoy. It is a s t r a n g e h e t e r o g e n e o u s a s s e m b l a g e of vices a n d virtues, a n d of a variety of other principles, forever at war, forever j a r r i n g , forever p r o d u c i n g s o m e d a n g e r o u s , s o m e d i s t r e s s i n g e x t r e m e . W h e r e do you c o n c e i v e then that n a t u r e i n t e n d e d we s h o u l d b e h a p p y ? W o u l d you prefer the s t a t e of m e n in the w o o d s , to that of m e n in a m o r e i m p r o v e d s i t u a t i o n ? Evil p r e p o n d e r a t e s in b o t h ; in the first they often eat e a c h other for want of food, a n d in the other they often starve e a c h other for want of r o o m . F o r my part, I think the vices a n d m i s e r i e s to b e f o u n d in the latter, e x c e e d t h o s e of the former; in which real evil is m o r e s c a r c e , m o r e s u p p o r t a b l e , a n d less e n o r m o u s . Yet we wish to s e e the earth p e o p l e d ; to a c c o m p l i s h the h a p p i n e s s of k i n g d o m s , which is said to c o n s i s t in n u m b e r s . G r a c i o u s G o d ! to what e n d is the introduction of s o m a n y b e i n g s into a m o d e of e x i s t e n c e in which they m u s t g r o p e a m i d s t a s m a n y errors, c o m m i t a s m a n y c r i m e s , a n d m e e t with as m a n y d i s e a s e s , w a n t s , a n d sufferings! T h e following s c e n e will I h o p e a c c o u n t for t h e s e m e l a n c h o l y reflections, a n d apologize for the g l o o m y t h o u g h t s with w h i c h I have filled this letter: my m i n d is, a n d always h a s b e e n , o p p r e s s e d s i n c e I b e c a m e a w i t n e s s to it. I w a s not long s i n c e invited to dine with a p l a n t e r w h o lived three miles from , where h e then r e s i d e d . In order to avoid the h e a t of the s u n , I resolved to go on foot, sheltered in a small p a t h , l e a d i n g t h r o u g h a p l e a s a n t w o o d . I was leisurely traveling along, attentively e x a m i n i n g s o m e p e c u l i a r p l a n t s which I h a d collected, w h e n all at o n c e I felt the air strongly a g i t a t e d ; t h o u g h the day w a s perfectly c a l m a n d sultry. I i m m e d i a t e l y c a s t my eyes toward the c l e a r e d g r o u n d , from which I was b u t at a s m a l l d i s t a n c e , in order to s e e w h e t h e r it w a s not o c c a s i o n e d by a s u d d e n shower; w h e n at that instant a s o u n d r e s e m b l i n g a d e e p r o u g h voice, u t t e r e d , a s I t h o u g h t , a few inarticulate m o n o s y l l a b l e s . A l a r m e d a n d s u r p r i s e d , I precipitately looked all r o u n d , w h e n I p e r c e i v e d at a b o u t six rods d i s t a n c e s o m e t h i n g r e s e m b l i n g a c a g e , s u s p e n d e d to the limbs of a tree; all the b r a n c h e s of which a p p e a r e d c o v e r e d with large birds of prey, fluttering a b o u t , a n d anxiously e n d e a v o r i n g to p e r c h on the c a g e . A c t u a t e d by an involuntary m o t i o n of my h a n d s , m o r e t h a n by any d e s i g n of my m i n d , I fired at t h e m ; they all flew to a short d i s t a n c e , with a m o s t h i d e o u s n o i s e : w h e n , horrid to think a n d painful to r e p e a t , I p e r c e i v e d

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a N e g r o , s u s p e n d e d in the c a g e , a n d left there to expire! I s h u d d e r w h e n I recollect that the birds h a d already p i c k e d out his eyes, his c h e e k b o n e s were b a r e ; his a r m s h a d b e e n a t t a c k e d in several p l a c e s , a n d his body s e e m e d c o v e r e d with a m u l t i t u d e of w o u n d s . F r o m the e d g e s of the hollow s o c k e t s a n d from the l a c e r a t i o n s with which he w a s disfigured, the b l o o d slowly d r o p p e d , a n d tinged the g r o u n d b e n e a t h . N o s o o n e r were the birds flown, t h a n s w a r m s of i n s e c t s c o v e r e d the whole body of this u n f o r t u n a t e w r e t c h , e a g e r to feed on his m a n g l e d flesh a n d to drink his blood. I f o u n d myself s u d d e n l y a r r e s t e d by the power of affright a n d terror; my nerves were c o n v u l s e d ; I t r e m b l e d , I stood m o t i o n l e s s , involuntarily c o n t e m p l a t i n g the fate of this N e g r o , in all its d i s m a l latitude. T h e living s p e c t e r , t h o u g h deprived of his eyes, c o u l d still distinctly hear, a n d in his u n c o u t h dialect b e g g e d m e to give him s o m e water to allay his thirst. H u m a n i t y herself would have recoiled b a c k with horror; s h e w o u l d have b a l a n c e d w h e t h e r to l e s s e n s u c h reliefless d i s t r e s s , or mercifully with o n e blow to e n d this dreadful s c e n e of agonizing torture! H a d I h a d a ball in my g u n , I certainly s h o u l d have disp a t c h e d h i m ; but finding myself u n a b l e to perform s o kind an office, I s o u g h t , t h o u g h trembling, to relieve h i m a s well a s I c o u l d . A shell ready fixed to a p o l e , which h a d b e e n u s e d by s o m e N e g r o e s , p r e s e n t e d itself to m e ; filled it with water, a n d with t r e m b l i n g h a n d s I g u i d e d it to the quivering lips of the w r e t c h e d sufferer. U r g e d by the irresistible power of thirst, h e e n d e a v o r e d to m e e t it, a s he instinctively g u e s s e d its a p p r o a c h by the n o i s e it m a d e in p a s s i n g t h r o u g h the b a r s of the c a g e . " T a n k e , you white m a n , tanke you, p u t e s o m e p o i s o n a n d give m e . " " H o w long have you b e e n h a n g i n g t h e r e ? " I a s k e d h i m . " T w o d a y s , a n d m e no die; the birds, the b i r d s ; a a a h m e ! " O p p r e s s e d with the reflections which this s h o c k i n g s p e c t a c l e afforded m e , I m u s t e r e d strength e n o u g h to walk away, a n d s o o n r e a c h e d the h o u s e at w h i c h I i n t e n d e d to d i n e . T h e r e I h e a r d that the r e a s o n for this slave b e i n g t h u s p u n i s h e d w a s on a c c o u n t of his having killed the overseer of the plantation. T h e y told m e that the laws of self-preservation r e n d e r e d s u c h exec u t i o n s n e c e s s a r y ; a n d s u p p o r t e d the d o c t r i n e of slavery with the a r g u m e n t s generally m a d e u s e of to justify the p r a c t i c e ; with the repetition of which I shall not trouble you at p r e s e n t . Adieu. c.1769-80

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1736-1801 British Americans, hoping to demonstrate their familiarity with the norms that defined a person of learning and sociability, expressed themselves in many of the same poetic forms—elegies, odes, epithalamiums, sonnets, satire, pastoral, for example—that defined English literature in the Augustan Age. But to think of authorship primarily in terms of print publication greatly limits our understanding of such eighteenth-century writing. In fact, colonial Americans prepared a considerable amount

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of belletristic literature for oral presentation or manuscript circulation among friends and like-minded acquaintances. Some of these provincials took as their model the famous English social clubs in which politics and literature were mixed in the headiest concoctions. At such American incarnations of club culture as the Tuesday Club of Annapolis, Maryland ( 1 7 4 5 - 5 6 ) , whose elaborate history was left in manuscript by Dr. Alexander Hamilton, both women and men shared hospitality, conversation, and writing. Equally important, writers who traveled in such circles often prepared fair copies of poetry for literati at a distance from their meetings. For these literary types, manuscripts were the equivalent of print. This kind of literary culture existed all along the Atlantic seaboard but flourished particularly in large port cities or near the few institutions of higher learning that dotted the provincial landscape. The center of one such circle was Princeton, New Jersey, where the poet Annis Boudinot Stockton opened her husband's family manor, Morven, to intellectuals and politicians in the region. Daughter of a well-to-do Philadelphia family that had recently moved to Princeton, Annis married the attorney Richard Stockton, scion of a prominent local family, in 1757 or early 1758. Richard quickly became a favorite of New Jersey governor William Franklin and through such patronage held various offices in the colonial government. Eventually espousing the patriots' cause, he signed the Declaration of Independence. The Stocktons' intellectual and political network ensured their high visibility, and Annis used her social position to establish a literary salon on the model of that of her childhood friend Elizabeth Graeme Fergusson in Philadelphia. Like so many other colonists with close ties to British government, the Stocktons found their lives overturned by the turmoil of politics and war. Forced to leave Morven as battles raged nearby, they soon found themselves under suspicion by the Crown, and, subsequently, Richard was jailed and made to sign an oath not to participate further in resistance to the king. After General Washington recaptured the area, the Stocktons were able to return to their home, which Annis reopened to the kind of company, including Washington himself, that she had known since her youth in Philadelphia. After the death of her husband in 1781 deprived her of her staunchest supporter, poetry continued to bring her solace; several of her most moving poems were written on anniversaries of his death. Stockton's skill as a poet was not totally unknown in the wider world, for eventually she published twenty-one poems in monthly magazines or weekly newspapers (she signed them "Mrs. A.S." or "Mrs. S."), most in the 1780s. The bulk of her oeuvre, however, remained in manuscript, primarily in a volume titled Only for the Eye of a Friend, recently acquired by the New Jersey Historical Society. Her poems' subjects vary from the overtly political to the deeply personal, and all display the wit and intelligence that characterizes the best eighteenth-century writing. In one selection printed here she indicts males for not welcoming women's poetic efforts, stinging verse reminiscent of Anne Bradstreet's "Prologue" to her first book. Other poems, including one on the topic of sensibility—perhaps the topic of the age—speak eloquently of the subject of female friendship and the obligations incumbent on it. Another poem celebrates Washington's presidency and demonstrates how cleverly Stockton was able to negotiate the boundaries between public and private life, as she wrote movingly of her acquaintance and hero. Clearly, as these selections indicate, Stockton thought that writing was indeed publication, albeit in a form that prevented her widespread recognition. Testament to a culture that prided itself on its sense and sensibility, her verse and its appreciation by those in her circle remind us that, despite the undeniable restrictions on eighteenth-century women, some found an audience that valued their skill and intelligence. The texts are from Only for the Eye of a Friend:

Stockton

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A S a r c a s m 1 a g a i n s t t h e l a d i e s in a n e w s p a p e r ; An impromptu answer A S a r c a s m a g a i n s t the ladies in a n e w s p a p e r W o m a n are b o o k s in w h i c h we often spy S o m e bloted lines a n d s o m e t i m e s lines awry A n d tho p e r h a p s s o m e strait o n e s intervene In all of t h e m erata m a y b e s e e n If it be so I wish my wife were An a l m a n a c k — t o c h a n g e her every year

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An i m p r o m p t u a n s w e r " W o m a n are b o o k s " — i n this I d o a g r e e B u t m e n there are that c a n t r e a d A B C A n d m o r e w h o have not g e n i u s to d i s c e r n T h e b e a u t i e s of t h o s e b o o k s they a t t e m p t to learn F o r these an a l m a n a c k m a y always hold As m u c h of S c i e n c e a s they c a n u n f o l d — B u t t h a n k our s t a r s , our C r i t i c s are not these T h e m e n of s e n s e a n d t a s t e we always p l e a s e W h o know to c h o o s e a n d then to prize their b o o k s N o r leave the strait lines for to s e a r c h for c r o o k s A n d from t h e s e b o o k s their n o b l e s t p l e a s u r e s flow Altho p e r f e c t i o n s never f o u n d below W i t h t h e m into a world of error thrown A n d our e r a t a s p l a c e a g a i n s t their own Emelia

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T o my B u r r i s s a — 1 Lovliest of W o m e n ! C o u l d I gain T h y F r i e n d s h i p , which I prize Above the t r e a s u r e s of the M a i n C o m p l e a t w o u l d b e my J o y s B u r r i s s a O h my soul a s p i r e s A n d c l a m e s a kin with yours A daring E m u l a t i o n F i r e s M y M i n d a n d all its p o w e r s P a r d o n the Bold a t t e m p t it m e a n s Only to C o p y you A n d thro' L i f e s V a r i o u s Shiftings S c e n e s Will hold t h e e Still in View O let thy Virtue b e my g u i d e 1. Here, a jest, a jocular presentation. 1. T o Stockton's friend and fellow writer, Esther Edwards Burr, wife of the president of the College

of New Jersey (Princeton) and part of her literary circle.

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DAY O F G E O R G E W A S H I N G T O N

T h y p r e s e p t s I'll improve D o t h o u ore all my ways p r e s i d e R e p r o v e m e & I'll L o v e — W h e n first I knew thy Heavenly M i n d I felt the S a c r e d F l a m e O f F r i e n d s h i p rising in my B r e s t B u t D a r e s t not it p r o c l a i m e B u t now I m p a t i e n t of restraint M y E y e s D e c l a r e Its force A n d Every friendly L o o k a t t e s t s F r o m w h e n c e they take their s i o u r c e — April 1 1 , 1 7 5 7

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To Laura—a card.—1 P e r m i t a sister m u s e to s o a r T o heights s h e never k n e w b e f o r e , A n d then look u p to t h e e ; F o r s u r e e a c h f e m a l e virtue j o i n ' d , C o n s p i r e to m a k e thy lovely m i n d T h e seat of h a r m o n y . Thy f a m e h a s reach'd the c a l m retreat, W h e r e I, s e c l u d e d from the g r e a t , H a v e leisure for my lays; It rais'd a m b i t i o n in my b r e a s t , N o t s u c h a s envious s o u l s p o s s e s s , W h o hate another's p r a i s e . B u t that which m a k e s m e strive to g a i n , And ever-grateful I'd retain, T h y friendship a s a prize; F o r friendship s o a r s a b o v e low rules, T h e formal fetters of the s c h o o l s , S h e wisely c a n d e s p i s e —

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A n o d e o n t h e b i r t h d a y of t h e i l l u s t r i o u s G e o r g e W a s h i n g t o n , P r e s i d e n t of t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s F a i r rise the M o r n that gave o u r h e r o e birth, A n d with it p e a c e d e s c e n d to b l e s s the earth, 1. T o Stockton's friend Elizabeth G r a e m e Ferguson, an accomplished Philadelphia writer.

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A n d hail his natal d a y — Fly d i s c o r d far from t h e s e enlighten'd s h o r e s L e t not fell A t t e 1 with destructive powers, Shed one malignant ray.— B u t let the loves a n d all the g r a c e s C o m e , L e t n a t u r e s m i l i n g S h e d a rich p e r f u m e , And a n t e d a t e the S p r i n g — With M y r t l e 2 crown'd fair F r e e d o m hail the m o r n , O n which your friend our m u c h lov'd chief w a s b o r n , A n d all ye M u s e s S i n g . — L e t venal b a r d s a d e s p o t s brow a d o r n , In every wreath they find a r u g g e d thorn, And praise a Satire proves— B u t our bright t h e m e will m a k e the g a r l a n d s h i n e , T o sweetest flowers his virtues we C o m b i n e , And a d d to t h o s e our l o v e s — W h a t noble qualities enrich his m i n d ; H i s ardent zeal his policy refine'd, His watchfulness and c a r e — W h e n e'er his C o u n t r y n e e d s a faithful g u a r d , N o dire event c a n find him u n p r e p a r ' d , F o r arts of p e a c e or w a r . — W h e n S a v a g e h e r d s invade our fertile p l a i n s , A n d u n d i s t i n g u i s h d S c a l p the p e a c e f u l s w a i n s , His energy is s e e n — C o l l e c t s the h e r o e s from their rural h o m e , T h e i r long n e g l e c t e d h e l m e t s they a s s u m e , A n d p e a c e is h e a r d a g a i n . — W h e n a n c i e n t n a t i o n s p a s t their zenith drive T o that fixed point at which they m u s t arrive, A n d all their glory c l o u d — C o n t e n d i n g a r m i e s c r o u d the e n s a n g u i n d field, T h e glittering a r m s are s e e n the sword the shield, And g a r m e n t s rolld in b l o o d — O n N a t u r e s theatre a l m o s t a l o n e — C o l u m b i a S i t t i n g on a p e a c e f u l t h r o n e — B e c l i n e s her b e a u t e o u s form, U p o n the b o s o m of her favourite S o n — S e e s him C o m p l e a t the work w h i c h h e b e g a n — A n d turn the i m p e n d i n g s t o r m . L o n g may this bright a u s p i c i o u s day a p p e a r , And gild with lucid rays o u r h e m i s p h e r e , Reflecting o n his b r e a s t — T h a t C o n s c i o u s p e a c e that ever m u s t a r i s e , F r o m g o o d n e s s u s e f u l n e s s a n d great e m p r i z e , By which his C o u n t r i e s b l e s t . — A n d w h e n the arbiter of life a n d d e a t h , Shall s e n d his angel to d e m a n d his b r e a t h , A n d S p e e d his heavenly flight— May humble hope and Sacred Joy impart, 1. Daughter of Zeus, who exemplified moral obtuseness, the inability to distinguish between

right and wrong. 2. O n e of the leaves used to crown a poet.

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S t r e a m s of celestial p l e a s u r e to his heart, Incommunicably bright.— c. F e b r u a r y 1 7 9 0

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Sensibility^,] a n o d e S w e e t Sensibility Celestial p o w e r R a i s e in my heart thy altar a n d thy throne N o r p u n i s h m e with o n e u n f e e l i n g hour B u t t e m p e r all my soul, a n d m a r k m e for thy own Give m e to feel the tender t r e m b l i n g tear G l i d e down my c h e e k at sight of h u m a n w o e A n d when I c a n t relieve the p a n g severe T h e m e l t i n g sigh of s y m p a t h y to know T o stretch the h a n d to sorrows tutor'd child T o wipe the tear from off the o r p h a n s eye T o turn from error by instruction mild And s n a t c h from vice the offspring of the sky By t h e e inspir'd oh may I never d a r e T o j o i n the herd in s c a n d a l s groveling vale R e p e a t the whisper in my n e i g h b o u r s ear And give a s a n c t i o n to the s l a n d e r o u s tale B u t let m e feel the sisters m o t h e r s heart W h e n e'er I view my s p e c i e s ' go astray N o r with the pride of virtue plant a dart T o fright returning prodigals a w a y . — And m a y I too participate e a c h J o y T h a t mixes with the c u p of h u m a n life N o r by the s t o i c s ' frown the b a l m alloy T h e b a l m that s w e e t e n s all this mortal strife M a y sprightly wit a n d true b e n e v o l e n c e Give relish to e a c h good which heaven b e s t o w s M a y c h e e r f u l n e s s with smiling i n n o c e n c e I n c r e a s e the c h a r m s that o'er creation glows Nor to t h e s e only do thy laws extend F o r love a n d friendship claim an a m p l e part Ah now I feel t h e m with my b e i n g blend A n d with my A n n a ' s i m a g e fill my heart

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T e a r s of f r i e n d s h i p [ . ] E l e g y t h e t h i r d . — t o a f r i e n d j u s t m a r r i e d , a n d w h o h a d p r o m i s e d to w r i t e , o n p a r t i n g , b u t h a d neglected it.— W h y h a s my A n n a t h u s forgot her friend? Did we not m e e t at friendship's s a c r e d s h r i n e ? 1. School of Greek philosophy founded by Zeno thai emphasized a detachment from passion and luxury as the way to align oneself with the natural order.

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D i d not our m u t u a l vows of truth a s c e n d , A grateful offering to the p o w e r d i v i n e ? — B u t a h ! ev'n t h e r e , I s a w the p a l s i a n q u e e n 1 W i t h strong r e s e n t m e n t in her b e a u t e o u s eyes; S h e walk'd disorder'd near her sister's f a n e , " C u p i d , my s o n , this m u s t not b e ! s h e c r i e s ; W a s not this A n n a to our altars led, By H y m e n 2 lately with a favour'd s w a i n ? D i d not his p u r p l e wings the pair o ' e r s p r e a d ? A n d m u s t his g o l d e n torch b e lit in vain? M u s t s h e n e g l e c t my rites a n d sacrifice B e f o r e my rival, with a f e m a l e friend? C u p i d , it m u s t not b e ; part t h e m s h e c r i e s , A n d s o o n their airy s c h e m e s of bliss will e n d . 'Tis d o n e , a n d m e m o r y with a p a n g s e v e r e , N o w swells my heart with m a n y a rising sigh; T h o ' you, my A n n a , c h e c k ' d the p a r t i n g tear, 'Twas paid with interest w h e n you p a s s ' d m e by. 1. T h e Greek goddess Pallas Athena, patron of Athens, who had great beauty.

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PAINE

1737-1809 The author of two of the most popular books in eighteenth-century America, and the most persuasive rhetorician of the cause for independence, Thomas Paine was born in England in 1737, the son of a Quaker father and an Anglican mother, and did not come to America until he was thirty-seven years old. Paine's early years prepared him to be a supporter of the Revolution. The discrepancy between his high intelligence and the limitations imposed on him by poverty and caste made him long for a new social order. He once said that a sermon he heard at the age of eight impressed him with the cruelty inherent in Christianity and made him a rebel forever. When he arrived in Philadelphia with letters of introduction from Benjamin Franklin, recommending him as an "ingenious, worthy young man," he had already had a remarkably full life. Until he was thirteen he went to grammar school and then was apprenticed in his father's corset shop; at nineteen he ran away from home to go to sea. From 1757 to 1774 he was a corset maker, a tobacconist and grocer, a schoolteacher, and an exciseman (a government employee who taxed goods). His efforts to organize the excisemen and make Parliament raise their salary was unprecedented. He lost his job when he admitted he had stamped as examined goods that had not been opened. His first wife died less than a year after his marriage, and he was separated from his second wife after three years. Scandals about his private life and questions about his integrity when he was employed as an exciseman provided his critics with ammunition for the rest of his life. Franklin was right, however, in recognizing Paine's genius; for, like Franklin himself, he was a remarkable man, self-taught and curious about everything, from the philosophy of law to natural science. In Philadelphia he found himself as a journalist, and he made his way quickly in that city, first as a spokesman against slavery and then as the anonymous author of

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Common Sense, the first pamphlet published in the colonies to urge immediate independence from Britain7*Paine was obviously the right man in the right place at the right time. Relations with England were at their lowest ebb: Boston was under siege, and the Second Continental Congress had convened in Philadelphia. Common Sense sold almost half a million copies, and its authorship (followed by the charge of traitor) could not be kept a secret for long. Paine enlisted in the Revolutionary Army and served as an aide-de-camp in battles in New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. He followed the triumph of Common Sense with the first of sixteen pamphlets titled Crisis. The first Crisis paper ("These are the times that try men's souls") was read to Washington's troops at Trenton and did much to shore up the spirits of the Revolutionary soldiers. Paine received a number of political appointments as rewards for his services as a writer for the American cause, but he misused his privileges and lost the most lucrative offices.^He was too indiscreet and hot tempered for public employment. In 1787 he returned to England, determined to get financial assistance to construct an iron bridge for which he had devised plans. It came to nothing. But in England he wrote his second most successful work, his Rights of Man (1791—92), an impassioned plea against hereditary monarchy, the traditional institution Paine never tired of arguing against. Paine was charged with treason and fled to France, where he was made a citizen and lionized as a spokesman for revolution. The horrors of the French Revolution, however, brought home to Paine the fact that the mere overthrow of monarchy did not usher in light and order. When he protested the execution of Louis XVI, he was accused of sympathy with the Crown and imprisoned. He was saved from trial by the American ambassador, James Monroe, who offered him American citizenship and safe passage back to New York. Paine spent the last years of his life in New York City and in New Rochelle, New York. They were unhappy, impoverished years, and his reputation suffered enormously as a result of The Age of Reason (1794). Paine's attempt to define his beliefs was viewed as an attack on Christianity and, by extension, on conventional society. He was ridiculed and despised. Even George Washington, who had supported Paine's early writing, thought English criticism of him was "not a bad thing." Paine had clearly outlived his time or was living ahead of it, for soon enough his deistic ideas assumed new life and form in American Romanticism. He was buried on his farm at New Rochelle after his request for a Quaker grave site was refused. Ten years later an enthusiastic admirer exhumed his bones with the intention of having him reburied in England. The admirer's plans came to nothing, and the whereabouts of Paine's remains is, at present, unknown. Paine's great gift as a stylist was "plainness." He said he needed no "ceremonious expressions." "It is my design," he wrote, "to make those who can scarcely read understand," to put arguments in a language "as plain as the alphabet," and to shape everything "to fit the powers of thinking and the turn of language to the subject, so as to bring out a clear conclusion that shall hit the point in question and nothing else."

From

Common Sense1 Introduction

P e r h a p s the s e n t i m e n t s c o n t a i n e d in the following p a g e s a r e not yet sufficiently f a s h i o n a b l e to p r o c u r e t h e m general favor; a long habit of not think1. T h e full title is Common Sense: Addressed to the Interesting Inhabitants of America, on the following Subjects: viz.: 1. Of the Origin and Design of Government in General; with Concise Remarks on the English Constitution. II. Of Monarchy and Hered-

itary Succession. 111. Thoughts on the Present State Affairs. IV. Of the Present Ability of of American America; with some Miscellaneous Reflections. T h e text used here is from The Writings of Thomas Paine ( 1 8 9 4 - 9 6 ) , vol. 1, edited by M. D. Conway.

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ing a thing w r o n g gives it a superficial a p p e a r a n c e of b e i n g right, a n d raises at first a formidable outer}' in d e f e n c e of c u s t o m . B u t the t u m u l t s o o n s u b s i d e s . T i m e m a k e s m o r e converts than r e a s o n . As a long a n d violent a b u s e of power is generally the m e a n s of calling the right of it in q u e s t i o n (and in m a t t e r s too which might never have b e e n t h o u g h t of, h a d not the sufferers b e e n a g g r a v a t e d into the inquiry), a n d as the King of E n g l a n d h a t h u n d e r t a k e n in his own right, to s u p p o r t the Parliament in w h a t he calls theirs, a n d a s the g o o d p e o p l e of this country are grievously o p p r e s s e d by the c o m b i n a t i o n , they have a n u n d o u b t e d privilege to inquire into the p r e t e n s i o n s of b o t h , a n d equally to reject the u s u r p a t i o n of either. In the following s h e e t s , the a u t h o r hath studiously avoided everything which is p e r s o n a l a m o n g o u r s e l v e s . C o m p l i m e n t s a s well a s c e n s u r e to individuals m a k e no part thereof. T h e wise a n d the worthy n e e d not the t r i u m p h of a p a m p h l e t ; a n d t h o s e w h o s e s e n t i m e n t s are i n j u d i c i o u s or unfriendly will c e a s e of t h e m s e l v e s , u n l e s s too m u c h p a i n s is b e s t o w e d u p o n their conversions. p T h e c a u s e of A m e r i c a is in a great m e a s u r e the c a u s e of all m a n k i n d . M a n y c i r c u m s t a n c e s have, a n d will, arise which are not local, but universal, a n d t h r o u g h which the principles of all lovers of m a n k i n d are a f f e c t e d , a n d in the event of which their affections are i n t e r e s t e d . T h e laying a country desolate with fire a n d sword, d e c l a r i n g war a g a i n s t the natural rights of all m a n kind, a n d extirpating the d e f e n d e r s t h e r e o f from the f a c e of the earth, is the c o n c e r n of every m a n to w h o m n a t u r e hath given the p o w e r of feeling; of which c l a s s , r e g a r d l e s s of party c e n s u r e , is T h e Author F r o m III. Thoughts

on the Present

State

of American

Affairs

In the following p a g e s I offer n o t h i n g m o r e than s i m p l e f a c t s , plain argum e n t s , a n d c o m m o n s e n s e : a n d have no other p r e l i m i n a r i e s to settle with the reader, than that h e will divest h i m s e l f of p r e j u d i c e a n d p r e p o s s e s s i o n , a n d suffer his r e a s o n a n d his feelings to d e t e r m i n e for t h e m s e l v e s : that h e will p u t o n , or rather that he will not put off, the true c h a r a c t e r of a m a n , a n d g e n e r o u s l y e n l a r g e his views beyond the p r e s e n t day. V o l u m e s have b e e n written on the s u b j e c t of the struggle b e t w e e n E n g l a n d a n d A m e r i c a . _Men of all ranks have e m b a r k e d in the controversy, from different motives, a n d with various d e s i g n s ; but all have b e e n ineffectual, a n d the period of d e b a t e is c l o s e d . A r m s as the last r e s o u r c e d e c i d e the c o n t e s t ; the a p p e a l was the c h o i c e of the King, a n d the c o n t i n e n t h a s a c c e p t e d the challenge. * It hath b e e n reported of the late M r . P e l h a m 2 (who t h o u g h an a b l e minister w a s not without his faults) that on his b e i n g a t t a c k e d in the H o u s e of C o m m o n s on the s c o r e that his m e a s u r e s were only of a t e m p o r a r y kind, replied, "they will last my t i m e . " S h o u l d a t h o u g h t s o fatal a n d u n m a n l y p o s s e s s the c o l o n i e s in the p r e s e n t c o n t e s t , the n a m e of a n c e s t o r s will b e r e m e m b e r e d by future g e n e r a t i o n s with d e t e s t a t i o n . - y T h e s u n never s h i n e d o n a c a u s e of greater worth. 'Tis not the affair of a 2. Henry Pelham ( 1 6 9 6 - 1 754), prime minister of Britain (1 7 4 3 - 5 4 ) .

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city, a county, a province, or a k i n g d o m ; but of a c o n t i n e n t — o f at least o n e eighth part of the habitable g l o b e . 'Tis not the c o n c e r n of a day, a year, or an a g e ; posterity are virtually involved in the c o n t e s t , a n d will be m o r e or less affected even to the e n d of t i m e , by the p r o c e e d i n g s now. N o w is the seed time of continental u n i o n , faith a n d honor. Xhe least fracture now will be like a n a m e engraved with the point of a pin on the t e n d e r rind of a y o u n g oak; the w o u n d would enlarge with the tree, a n d posterity read it in full grown c h a r a c t e r s . By referring the matter from a r g u m e n t to a r m s , a n e w era for politics is s t r u c k — a new m e t h o d of thinking hath arisen. All p l a n s , p r o p o s a l s , e t c . , prior to the n i n e t e e n t h of April, i.e., to the c o m m e n c e m e n t of hostilities,* are like the a l m a n a c s of the last year; which t h o u g h p r o p e r t h e n , are supers e d e d a n d u s e l e s s now. W h a t e v e r w a s a d v a n c e d by the a d v o c a t e s on either side of the q u e s t i o n then, t e r m i n a t e d in o n e a n d the s a m e point, viz., a union with G r e a t Britain; the only difference b e t w e e n the parties w a s the m e t h o d of effecting it; the o n e p r o p o s i n g force, the other friendship; but it hath so far h a p p e n e d that the first hath failed, a n d the s e c o n d hath withdrawn her influence. A s m u c h hath b e e n said of the a d v a n t a g e s ot reconciliation, which, like an a g r e e a b l e d r e a m , hath p a s s e d away a n d left us a s we were, it is but right that we s h o u l d e x a m i n e the contrary side of the a r g u m e n t , a n d inquire into s o m e of the m a n y material injuries which t h e s e c o l o n i e s s u s t a i n , a n d always will s u s t a i n , by b e i n g c o n n e c t e d with a n d d e p e n d e n t on G r e a t Britain. T o e x a m i n e that c o n n e c t i o n a n d d e p e n d e n c e , on the principles of n a t u r e a n d c o m m o n s e n s e , to s e e what we have to trust to, if s e p a r a t e d , a n d what we are to expect, if d e p e n d e n t . - I have heard it a s s e r t e d by s o m e , that a s A m e r i c a has flourished u n d e r her former c o n n e c t i o n with G r e a t Britain, the s a m e c o n n e c t i o n is n e c e s s a r y towards her future h a p p i n e s s , a n d will always have the s a m e effect. N o t h i n g c a n be m o r e fallacious than this kind of a r g u m e n t . W e may a s well a s s e r t that b e c a u s e a child has thrived u p o n milk, that it is never to have m e a t , or that the first twenty years of o u r lives is to b e c o m e a p r e c e d e n t for the next twenty. B u t even this is a d m i t t i n g m o r e than is t r u e ; for I a n s w e r roundly, that A m e r i c a would have flourished as m u c h , a n d probably m u c h m o r e , h a d no E u r o p e a n power taken any notice of her. T h e c o m m e r c e by which s h e hath e n r i c h e d herself are the n e c e s s a r i e s of life, a n d will always have a market while eating is the c u s t o m of E u r o p e . B u t s h e h a s p r o t e c t e d u s , say s o m e . T h a t she hath e n g r o s s e d 4 u s is true, and d e f e n d e d the continent at o u r e x p e n s e a s well a s her o w n , is a d m i t t e d ; a n d s h e would have d e f e n d e d Turkey from the s a m e motive, viz., for the s a k e of trade a n d d o m i n i o n . Alas! we have b e e n long led away by a n c i e n t p r e j u d i c e s a n d m a d e large sacrifices to superstition. W e have b o a s t e d the protection of G r e a t Britain without c o n s i d e r i n g that her motive w a s interest not a t t a c h m e n t ; a n d that she did not protect u s from our e n e m i e s on our a c c o u n t ; but from her e n e m i e s on her own a c c o u n t , from t h o s e w h o had no quarrel with u s on any other a c c o u n t , a n d w h o will always be our e n e m i e s on the s a m e a c c o u n t . 3. T h e " M i n u t e m e n " of Lexington, M a s s a c h u setts, defended their ammunition stores against the British on April 19, 1775, and engaged in

the first armed conflict of the American Revolution. 4. Dominated.

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L e t Britain waive her p r e t e n s i o n s to the c o n t i n e n t , or the c o n t i n e n t throw off the d e p e n d e n c e , a n d we s h o u l d be at p e a c e with F r a n c e a n d S p a i n , were they at war with Britain. T h e miseries of Hanover's last w a r 5 o u g h t to warn us against connections. It h a t h lately b e e n a s s e r t e d in P a r l i a m e n t , that the c o l o n i e s have no relation to e a c h other b u t t h r o u g h the p a r e n t country, i.e., that P e n n s y l v a n i a a n d the J e r s e y s , 6 a n d so on for the rest, a r e sister c o l o n i e s by the way of E n g l a n d ; this is certainly a very r o u n d a b o u t way of proving r e l a t i o n s h i p , but it is the n e a r e s t a n d only true way of proving enmity (or e n e m y s h i p , if I may so call it). F r a n c e a n d S p a i n never w e r e , nor p e r h a p s ever will b e , our e n e m i e s a s A m e r i c a n s , but a s our b e i n g the s u b j e c t s of G r e a t Britain. B u t Britain is the p a r e n t country, say s o m e . T h e n the m o r e s h a m e u p o n her c o n d u c t . E v e n b r u t e s d o not d e v o u r their y o u n g , nor s a v a g e s m a k e war u p o n their families; w h e r e f o r e , the a s s e r t i o n , if t r u e , t u r n s to her r e p r o a c h ; b u t it h a p p e n s not to be t r u e , or only partly s o , a n d the p h r a s e p a r e n t or m o t h e r country h a t h b e e n j e s u i t i c a l l y 7 a d o p t e d by the K i n g a n d his p a r a s i t e s , with a low papistical d e s i g n of g a i n i n g an unfair bias on the c r e d u l o u s weakn e s s of our m i n d s . E u r o p e , a n d not E n g l a n d , is the p a r e n t country of America. T h i s new world hath b e e n the a s y l u m for the p e r s e c u t e d lovers of civil a n d religious liberty from every part of E u r o p e . H i t h e r have they fled, not from the tender e m b r a c e s of the m o t h e r , b u t from the cruelty of the m o n s t e r ; a n d it is s o far true of E n g l a n d , that the s a m e tyranny which drove the first e m i g r a n t s from h o m e , p u r s u e s their d e s c e n d a n t s still. In this extensive q u a r t e r of the g l o b e , we forget the narrow limits of three h u n d r e d a n d sixty m i l e s (the extent of E n g l a n d ) a n d carry o u r friendship on a larger s c a l e ; we c l a i m b r o t h e r h o o d with every E u r o p e a n C h r i s t i a n , a n d t r i u m p h in the generosity of the s e n t i m e n t . It is p l e a s a n t to o b s e r v e by w h a t r e g u l a r g r a d a t i o n s w e s u r m o u n t the force of local p r e j u d i c e s , a s we e n l a r g e o u r a c q u a i n t a n c e with the world. A m a n b o r n in any town in E n g l a n d divided into p a r i s h e s , will naturally a s s o c i a t e m o s t with his fellow p a r i s h i o n e r s ( b e c a u s e their interests in m a n y c a s e s will b e c o m m o n ) a n d distinguish him by the n a m e of n e i g h b o r ; if h e m e e t him b u t a few m i l e s from h o m e , he d r o p s the narrow idea of a street, a n d s a l u t e s him by the n a m e of t o w n s m a n ; if h e travel o u t of the c o u n t y a n d m e e t him in any other, he forgets the minor divisions of street a n d town, a n d calls him c o u n t r y m a n , i.e., c o u n t y m a n : b u t if in their foreign e x c u r s i o n s they s h o u l d a s s o c i a t e in F r a n c e , or any other part of E u r o p e , their local r e m e m b r a n c e w o u l d b e e n l a r g e d into that of E n g l i s h m e n . A n d by a j u s t parity of r e a s o n i n g , all E u r o p e a n s m e e t i n g in A m e r i c a , or any other q u a r t e r of the g l o b e , are c o u n t r y m e n ; for E n g l a n d , H o l l a n d , G e r m a n y , or S w e d e n , w h e n c o m p a r e d with the w h o l e , s t a n d in the s a m e p l a c e s on the larger s c a l e , w h i c h the divisions of street, town, a n d c o u n t y do on the s m a l l e r o n e s ; distinctions too limited for c o n t i n e n t a l m i n d s . N o t o n e third of the i n h a b i t a n t s , even of this p r o v i n c e , 8 a r e of E n g l i s h d e s c e n t . W h e r e f o r e , I r e p r o b a t e the p h r a s e of parent or m o t h e r c o u n t r y a p p l i e d to E n g l a n d only, a s b e i n g false, selfish, narrow and ungenerous. 5. King George III of Great Britain was a descendant of the Prussian H o u s e of Hanover. Paine is referring to the Seven Years' War (1756—63), which originally involved Prussia and Austria and grew to involve all the major European powers. American losses in what is also called the French

and Indian Wars were heavy, even though the war was settled in Britain's favor. 6. T h e colony was divided into East and West Jersey. 7. I.e., cunningly. 8. I.e., Pennsylvania.

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B u t , a d m i t t i n g that we were all of E n g l i s h d e s c e n t , w h a t d o e s it a m o u n t to? N o t h i n g . Britain, b e i n g now an o p e n e n e m y , e x t i n g u i s h e s every other n a m e a n d title: a n d to say that reconciliation is o u r duty is truly farcical. T h e first King of E n g l a n d of the p r e s e n t line (William the C o n q u e r o r ) w a s a F r e n c h m a n , a n d half the p e e r s of E n g l a n d a r e d e s c e n d a n t s from the s a m e country; wherefore, by the s a m e m e t h o d of r e a s o n i n g , E n g l a n d o u g h t to be governed by F r a n c e . > M u c h hath b e e n said of the united strength of Britain a n d the c o l o n i e s , that in c o n j u n c t i o n they might bid defiance to tfie world: but this is m e r e p r e s u m p t i o n ; the fate of war is u n c e r t a i n , neither do the e x p r e s s i o n s m e a n anything; for this c o n t i n e n t would never suffer itself to be d r a i n e d of inhabitants to s u p p o r t the British a r m s in either A s i a , Africa, or E u r o p e . B e s i d e s , what have we to do with setting the world at d e f i a n c e ? O u r plan is c o m m e r c e , a n d that, well a t t e n d e d to, will s e c u r e u s the p e a c e a n d friendship of all E u r o p e ; b e c a u s e it is the interest of all E u r o p e to have A m e r i c a a free port. H e r trade will always be a protection, a n d her b a r r e n n e s s of gold a n d silver s e c u r e her from invaders. * I c h a l l e n g e the w a r m e s t a d v o c a t e for reconciliation to s h o w a single advantage that this c o n t i n e n t c a n reap by b e i n g c o n n e c t e d with G r e a t Britain. I repeat the c h a l l e n g e ; not a single a d v a n t a g e is derived. O u r corn 1 ' will fetch its price in any market in E u r o p e , a n d our i m p o r t e d g o o d s m u s t be paid for buy t h e m w h e r e we will. But the injuries a n d d i s a d v a n t a g e s which we s u s t a i n by that c o n n e c t i o n , are without n u m b e r ; a n d our duty to m a n k i n d at large, a s well as to o u r s e l v e s , instruct us to r e n o u n c e the a l l i a n c e : b e c a u s e , any s u b m i s s i o n to, or d e p e n d e n c e on, G r e a t Britain t e n d s directly to involve this c o n t i n e n t in E u r o p e a n wars a n d q u a r r e l s , a n d set u s at variance with n a t i o n s w h o would otherwise s e e k our friendship, a n d a g a i n s t w h o m we have neither a n g e r nor c o m p l a i n t . As E u r o p e is our m a r k e t for trade, we o u g h t to form no partial c o n n e c t i o n with any part of it. It is the true interest of A m e r i c a to steer clear of E u r o p e a n c o n t e n t i o n s , which s h e never c a n do, while, by her d e p e n d e n c e on Britain, she is m a d e the makeweight in the s c a l e of British politics. E u r o p e is too thickly p l a n t e d with k i n g d o m s to be long at p e a c e , a n d whenever a war b r e a k s out b e t w e e n E n g l a n d a n d any foreign power, the t r a d e of A m e r i c a g o e s to ruin, b e c a u s e of her c o n n e c t i o n with Britain. T h e next war may not turn out like the last, 1 a n d s h o u l d it not, the a d v o c a t e s for reconciliation now will be w i s h i n g for s e p a r a t i o n then, b e c a u s e neutrality in that c a s e would be a safer convoy than a m a n of war. Everything that is right or r e a s o n a b l e p l e a d s for s e p a r a t i o n . T h e blood of the slain, the w e e p i n g voice of n a t u r e cries, " 'Tis time to p a r t . " Even the d i s t a n c e at which the Almighty hath p l a c e d E n g l a n d a n d A m e r i c a is a strong a n d natural p r o o f that the authority of the o n e over the other was never the design of H e a v e n . T h e time likewise at which the c o n t i n e n t w a s d i s c o v e r e d a d d s weight to the a r g u m e n t , a n d the m a n n e r in which it w a s p e o p l e d i n c r e a s e s the force of it. T h e Refo r m a t i o n was p r e c e d e d by the discovery of A m e r i c a : a s if the Almighty graciously m e a n t to open a s a n c t u a r y to the p e r s e c u t e d in future years, w h e n h o m e s h o u l d afford neither friendship nor safety. T h e authority of G r e a t Britain over this c o n t i n e n t is a form of g o v e r n m e n t 9. I.e., corn. 1. T h e

wheat, not

what Americans

now

call

Seven Years' War concluded with the

Treaty of Paris ( 1 7 6 3 ) , hy which Britain gained C a n a d a from France.

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which s o o n e r or later m u s t have a n e n d : a n d a s e r i o u s m i n d c a n draw no true p l e a s u r e by looking forward, u n d e r the painful a n d positive conviction that what h e calls "the p r e s e n t c o n s t i t u t i o n " is merely t e m p o r a r y . A s p a r e n t s , we c a n have n o joy, k n o w i n g that this g o v e r n m e n t is not sufficiently lasting to insure anything which w e may b e q u e a t h to posterity: a n d by a plain m e t h o d of a r g u m e n t , a s we are r u n n i n g the next g e n e r a t i o n into d e b t , we o u g h t to d o the work of it, otherwise we u s e t h e m m e a n l y a n d pitifully. In order to discover the line of our duty rightly, we s h o u l d take o u r children in our h a n d , a n d fix our station a few years farther into life; that e m i n e n c e will p r e s e n t a p r o s p e c t w h i c h a few p r e s e n t fears a n d p r e j u d i c e s c o n c e a l from o u r sight. T h o u g h I would carefully avoid giving u n n e c e s s a r y o f f e n s e , yet I a m inclined to believe that all t h o s e w h o e s p o u s e the d o c t r i n e of reconciliation m a y b e i n c l u d e d within the following d e s c r i p t i o n s . - Interested m e n w h o are not to b e t r u s t e d , w e a k m e n w h o c a n n o t s e e , p r e j u d i c e d m e n w h o will not s e e , a n d a certain set of m o d e r a t e m e n w h o think better of the E u r o p e a n world t h a n it d e s e r v e s ; a n d this last c l a s s , by a n ill-judged deliberation, will b e the c a u s e of m o r e c a l a m i t i e s to this continent than all the other t h r e e . It is the g o o d f o r t u n e of m a n y to live d i s t a n t from the s c e n e of p r e s e n t sorrow; the evil is not sufficiently b r o u g h t to their d o o r s to m a k e t h e m feel the p r e c a r i o u s n e s s with which all A m e r i c a n property is p o s s e s s e d . B u t let our i m a g i n a t i o n s transport u s a few m o m e n t s to B o s t o n ; 2 that seat of wretche d n e s s will t e a c h u s w i s d o m , a n d i n s t r u c t u s forever to r e n o u n c e a power in w h o m w e c a n have n o trust. T h e i n h a b i t a n t s of that u n f o r t u n a t e city, w h o b u t a few m o n t h s a g o were in e a s e a n d a f f l u e n c e , have now n o other alternative t h a n to stay a n d starve, or turn o u t to b e g . E n d a n g e r e d by the fire of their friends if they c o n t i n u e within the city, a n d p l u n d e r e d by the soldiery if they leave it, in their p r e s e n t situation they are p r i s o n e r s without the h o p e of r e d e m p t i o n , a n d in a g e n e r a l a t t a c k for their relief they w o u l d b e e x p o s e d to the fury of b o t h a r m i e s . M e n of p a s s i v e t e m p e r s look s o m e w h a t lightly over the o f f e n s e s of G r e a t Britain, a n d , still h o p i n g for the b e s t , are a p t to call out, " C o m e , c o m e , we shall be friends a g a i n for all t h i s . " B u t e x a m i n e the p a s s i o n s a n d feelings of m a n k i n d : bring the doctrine of reconciliation to the t o u c h s t o n e of n a t u r e , a n d then tell m e w h e t h e r you c a n hereafter love, honor, a n d faithfully serve the power that h a t h carried fire a n d sword into your land? If you c a n n o t do all t h e s e , then a r e you only deceiving yourselves, a n d by y o u r delay bringing ruin u p o n posterity. Your future c o n n e c t i o n with Britain, w h o m you c a n neither love nor honor, will b e forced a n d u n n a t u r a l , a n d , b e i n g f o r m e d only on the plan of p r e s e n t c o n v e n i e n c e , will in a little time fall into a r e l a p s e m o r e w r e t c h e d t h a n the first. B u t if you say, you c a n still p a s s the violations over, then I ask, h a t h your h o u s e b e e n b u r n t ? H a t h your property b e e n destroyed before your f a c e ? Are your wife a n d children d e s t i t u t e of a b e d to lie o n , or b r e a d to live o n ? H a v e you lost a p a r e n t or a child by their h a n d s , a n d yourself the r u i n e d a n d w r e t c h e d survivor? If you have not, then are you not a j u d g e of t h o s e w h o have. B u t if you have, a n d c a n still s h a k e h a n d s with the m u r d e r e r s , then are you unworthy the n a m e of h u s b a n d , father, 2. Boston was under British military occupation and was blockaded for six months.

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friend, or lover, a n d whatever m a y be your rank or title in life, you have the heart of a c o w a r d , a n d the spirit of a s y c o p h a n t . T h i s is not inflaming or exaggerating m a t t e r s , but trying t h e m by t h o s e feelings a n d affections which n a t u r e justifies, a n d without w h i c h we s h o u l d be i n c a p a b l e of d i s c h a r g i n g the social d u t i e s of life, or enjoying the felicities of it. I m e a n not to exhibit horror for the p u r p o s e of provoking r e v e n g e , but to a w a k e n u s from fatal a n d u n m a n l y s l u m b e r s , that we may p u r s u e determinately s o m e fixed object. T i s not in the power of Britain or of E u r o p e to c o n q u e r A m e r i c a , if s h e doth not c o n q u e r herself by delay a n d timidity. T h e p r e s e n t winter is worth a n a g e if rightly e m p l o y e d , but if lost or n e g l e c t e d the w h o l e c o n t i n e n t will p a r t a k e of the m i s f o r t u n e ; a n d there is n o p u n i s h m e n t which that m a n doth not deserve, b e h e w h o , or what, or w h e r e he will, that may be the m e a n s of sacrificing a s e a s o n s o p r e c i o u s a n d useful. T i s r e p u g n a n t to r e a s o n , to the universal order of t h i n g s , to all e x a m p l e s from former a g e s , to s u p p o s e that this c o n t i n e n t c a n long r e m a i n s u b j e c t to any external power. T h e m o s t s a n g u i n e in Britain doth not think s o . T h e u t m o s t stretch of h u m a n w i s d o m c a n n o t , at this t i m e , c o m p a s s a p l a n , short of s e p a r a t i o n , which c a n p r o m i s e the c o n t i n e n t even a year's security. R e c onciliation is now a fallacious d r e a m . N a t u r e hath d e s e r t e d the c o n n e c t i o n , a n d art c a n n o t s u p p l y her p l a c e . For, as M i l t o n wisely e x p r e s s e s , "never c a n true r e c o n c i l e m e n t grow w h e r e w o u n d s of deadly h a t e have p i e r c e d s o deep."3

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A g o v e r n m e n t of our own is our natural right: a n d w h e n a m a n seriously reflects o n the p r e c a r i o u s n e s s of h u m a n affairs, he will b e c o m e c o n v i n c e d that it is infinitely wiser a n d safer to form a c o n s t i t u t i o n of o u r own in a cool deliberate m a n n e r , while we have it in o u r power, t h a n to trust s u c h a n interesting event to time a n d c h a n c e . If we o m i t it now, s o m e M a s s a n e l l o 4 m a y hereafter arise, w h o , laying hold of p o p u l a r d i s q u i e t u d e s , m a y collect together the d e s p e r a t e a n d the d i s c o n t e n t e d , a n d by a s s u m i n g to t h e m s e l v e s the p o w e r s of g o v e r n m e n t , finally s w e e p away the liberties of the c o n t i n e n t like a d e l u g e . S h o u l d the g o v e r n m e n t of A m e r i c a return again into the h a n d s of Britain, the tottering situation of things will b e a t e m p t a t i o n for s o m e d e s p e r a t e adventurer to try his f o r t u n e ; a n d in s u c h a c a s e , w h a t relief c a n Britain give? E r e s h e c o u l d h e a r the n e w s , the fatal b u s i n e s s m i g h t be d o n e ; a n d ourselves suffering like the w r e t c h e d B r i t o n s u n d e r the o p p r e s s i o n of the c o n q u e r o r . Ye that o p p o s e i n d e p e n d e n c e now, ye k n o w not w h a t ye d o : ye are o p e n i n g a d o o r to eternal tyranny by k e e p i n g v a c a n t the seat of gove r n m e n t . T h e r e a r e t h o u s a n d s a n d tens of t h o u s a n d s , w h o w o u l d think it glorious to expel from the c o n t i n e n t that b a r b a r o u s a n d hellish p o w e r , w h i c h hath stirred u p the I n d i a n s a n d the N e g r o e s to destroy u s ; the cruelty hath a d o u b l e guilt: it is d e a l i n g brutally by u s , a n d t r e a c h e r o u s l y by t h e m . T o talk of friendship with t h o s e in w h o m o u r r e a s o n forbids u s to have faith, a n d our affections w o u n d e d t h r o u g h a t h o u s a n d p o r e s instruct u s to d e t e s t , is m a d n e s s a n d folly. Every day w e a r s out the little r e m a i n s of kindred 3. Paradise Lost ( 1 6 6 7 ) , 4 . 9 8 - 9 9 . 4. T h o m a s Anello, otherwise Massanello, a fisherman of Naples, who after spiriting up his countrymen in the public market place, against the

oppression of the Spaniards, to whom the place was then subject, prompted them to revolt, and in the space of a day b e c a m e King [Paine's note].

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b e t w e e n u s a n d t h e m ; a n d c a n there b e any r e a s o n to h o p e , that a s the relationship expires, the affection will i n c r e a s e , or that we shall a g r e e better w h e n we have ten times m o r e a n d g r e a t e r c o n c e r n s to quarrel over than ever? Ye that tell u s of h a r m o n y a n d reconciliation, c a n ye restore to u s the time that is p a s t ? C a n ye give to prostitution its former i n n o c e n c e ? N e i t h e r c a n ye r e c o n c i l e Britain a n d A m e r i c a . T h e last cord now is b r o k e n , the p e o p l e of E n g l a n d are p r e s e n t i n g a d d r e s s e s a g a i n s t u s . T h e r e are injuries w h i c h n a t u r e c a n n o t forgive; s h e would c e a s e to be n a t u r e if she did. As well c a n the lover forgive the ravisher of his m i s t r e s s , a s the c o n t i n e n t forgive the m u r d e r s of Britain. T h e Almighty hath i m p l a n t e d in u s t h e s e u n e x t i n g u i s h a b l e feelings for g o o d a n d wise p u r p o s e s . T h e y a r e the g u a r d i a n s of His i m a g e in our h e a r t s . T h e y distinguish u s from the herd of c o m m o n a n i m a l s . T h e social c o m p a c t would dissolve, a n d j u s t i c e be extirpated from the earth, or have only a c a s u a l existence were we c a l l o u s to the t o u c h e s of affection. T h e robber a n d the m u r d e r e r would often e s c a p e u n p u n i s h e d , did not the injuries which our t e m p e r s s u s t a i n provoke us into j u s t i c e . O ! ye that love m a n k i n d ! Ye that d a r e o p p o s e not only the tyranny but the tyrant, s t a n d forth! Every spot of the old world is overrun with o p p r e s s i o n . F r e e d o m hath b e e n h u n t e d r o u n d the g l o b e . Asia a n d Africa have long expelled her. E u r o p e r e g a r d s her like a stranger, a n d E n g l a n d h a t h given her w a r n i n g to depart. O! receive the fugitive, a n d p r e p a r e in t i m e a n a s y l u m for mankind.

The Crisis,1 No. 1 T h e s e are the t i m e s that try m e n ' s s o u l s . T h e s u m m e r soldier a n d the s u n s h i n e patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that s t a n d s it now, d e s e r v e s the love a n d t h a n k s of m a n a n d w o m a n . Tyranny, like hell, is not easily c o n q u e r e d ; yet we have this c o n s o l a t i o n with u s , that the harder the conflict, the m o r e glorious the t r i u m p h . W h a t we obtain too c h e a p , we e s t e e m too lightly: it is d e a r n e s s only that gives everything its v a l u e . H e a v e n k n o w s how'to p u t a p r o p e r price u p o n its g o o d s ; a n d it would b e s t r a n g e i n d e e d if so celestial a n article a s f r e e d o m s h o u l d not b e highly rated. Britain, with a n army to e n f o r c e her tyranny, h a s d e c l a r e d that s h e has a right (not only to tax) but "to bind us in all c a s e s w h a t s o e v e r , " a n d if b e i n g b o u n d in that m a n n e r is not slavery, then is there not s u c h a thing a s slavery u p o n e a r t h . Even the e x p r e s s i o n is i m p i o u s ; for s o unlimited a power c a n b e l o n g only to G o d . W h e t h e r the i n d e p e n d e n c e of the c o n t i n e n t w a s d e c l a r e d too s o o n , or delayed too long, I will not now enter into a s an a r g u m e n t ; my own s i m p l e opinion is, that h a d it b e e n eight m o n t h s earlier, it would have b e e n m u c h better. W e did not m a k e a p r o p e r u s e of last winter, neither c o u l d w e , while 1. T h e first of sixteen pamphlets that appeared under this title. Paine sometimes referred to this Crisis. There particular essay as The American were three pamphlet editions in one week: one

undated, one dated D e c e m b e r 19, and the one reprinted here, dated D e c e m b e r 2 3 . T h e text used here is from llie Writings of Thomas Paine 1 8 9 4 96. vol. 1, edited by M. D. Conway.

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we were in a d e p e n d e n t state. However, the fault, if it were o n e , w a s all our o w n ; 2 we have n o n e to b l a m e but ourselves. B u t no great deal is lost yet. All that H o w e * has been doing for this m o n t h p a s t is rather a ravage than a c o n q u e s t , which the spirit of the J e r s e y s , 4 a year a g o , w o u l d have quickly r e p u l s e d , a n d which time a n d a little resolution will s o o n recover. T I have as little superstition in m e a s any m a n living, but my secret opinion has ever b e e n , a n d still is, that G o d Almighty will not give u p a p e o p l e to military' d e s t r u c t i o n , or leave t h e m u n s u p p o r t e d l y to p e r i s h , w h o have so earnestly a n d s o repeatedly s o u g h t to avoid the c a l a m i t i e s of war, by every d e c e n t m e t h o d which w i s d o m c o u l d invent. N e i t h e r have I s o m u c h of the infidel in m e a s to s u p p o s e that H e h a s r e l i n q u i s h e d the g o v e r n m e n t of the world, a n d given u s up to the c a r e of devils; a n d a s I d o not, I c a n n o t s e e on what g r o u n d s the King of Britain c a n look up to heaven for help a g a i n s t u s : a c o m m o n m u r d e r e r , a h i g h w a y m a n , or a h o u s e b r e a k e r h a s a s g o o d a pret e n s e a s he. 'Tis surprising to s e e how rapidly a p a n i c will s o m e t i m e s run t h r o u g h a country. All n a t i o n s a n d a g e s have b e e n s u b j e c t to t h e m : Britain h a s t r e m b l e d like a n a g u e 5 at the report of a F r e n c h fleet of flat-bottomed b o a t s ; a n d in the f o u r t e e n t h century the w h o l e E n g l i s h army, after ravaging the k i n g d o m of F r a n c e , w a s driven b a c k like m e n petrified with fear; a n d this brave exploit was p e r f o r m e d by a few broken forces collected a n d h e a d e d by a w o m a n , J o a n of A r c . 6 W o u l d that heaven might inspire s o m e J e r s e y m a i d to spirit u p her c o u n t r y m e n , a n d save her fair fellow sufferers from ravage a n d ravishm e n t ! Yet p a n i c s , in s o m e c a s e s , have their u s e s ; they p r o d u c e a s m u c h good as hurt. T h e i r d u r a t i o n is always short; the mind s o o n grows t h r o u g h t h e m , a n d a c q u i r e s a firmer habit than before. B u t their p e c u l i a r a d v a n t a g e is that they are the t o u c h s t o n e s of sincerity a n d hypocrisy, a n d bring things a n d men to light, which might otherwise have lain forever u n d i s c o v e r e d . In fact, they have the s a m e effect on secret traitors, which a n imaginary apparition would have u p o n a private m u r d e r e r . T h e y sift out the hidden t h o u g h t s of m a n , a n d hold t h e m up in public to the world. M a n y a d i s g u i s e d tory 7 h a s lately s h o w n his h e a d , that shall penitentially s o l e m n i z e with c u r s e s the day on which H o w e arrived u p o n the D e l a w a r e . As I w a s with the troops at Fort L e e , a n d m a r c h e d with t h e m to the e d g e of Pennsylvania, I a m well a c q u a i n t e d with m a n y c i r c u m s t a n c e s , which t h o s e who live at a d i s t a n c e know but little or n o t h i n g of. O u r situation there w a s exceedingly c r a m p e d , the p l a c e b e i n g a narrow n e c k of land b e t w e e n the N o r t h River" a n d the H a c k e n s a c k . O u r force w a s i n c o n s i d e r a b l e , b e i n g not o n e fourth so great a s H o w e c o u l d bring a g a i n s t u s . W e h a d no army at h a n d to have relieved the garrison, h a d we shut o u r s e l v e s u p a n d s t o o d on our d e f e n s e . O u r a m m u n i t i o n , light artillery, a n d the best part of our stores h a d b e e n removed on the a p p r e h e n s i o n that H o w e would e n d e a v o r to p e n e t r a t e 2. "The present winter is worth an age, if rightly employed; hut, if lost or neglected, the whole continent will partake of the evil; and there is no punishment that man does not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful" (Paine's note, taken from Common Sense], Paine wanted an immediate declaration of independence, uniting the colonies and enlisting the aid of France and Spain.

3. Lord William Howe ( 1 7 2 9 - 1 8 1 4 ) was commander of the British Armv in America from 1775 to 1778. 4. T h e colony was divided into East and West Jersey. 5. I.e., like one who is chilled. 6. S h e led the French to victory over the English in 1429 (not the "fourteenth century"). 7. I.e., supporter of the king. 8. I.e., the Hudson River.

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the J e r s e y s , in which c a s e Fort L e e c o u l d be of no u s e to u s ; for it m u s t o c c u r to every thinking m a n , whether in the army or not, that t h e s e kind of field forts are only for t e m p o r a r y p u r p o s e s , a n d last in u s e no longer than the e n e m y directs his force a g a i n s t the particular o b j e c t , which s u c h forts a r e raised to d e f e n d . S u c h w a s our situation a n d c o n d i t i o n at Fort L e e o n the m o r n i n g of the 2 0 t h of N o v e m b e r , w h e n a n officer arrived with inform a t i o n that the e n e m y with 2 0 0 b o a t s h a d l a n d e d a b o u t seven miles a b o v e : M a j o r G e n e r a l G r e e n , 9 w h o c o m m a n d e d the garrison, i m m e d i a t e l y ordered t h e m u n d e r a r m s , a n d sent express to G e n e r a l W a s h i n g t o n at the town of H a c k e n s a c k , d i s t a n t , by the way of the ferry, six m i l e s . O u r first object w a s to s e c u r e the bridge over the H a c k e n s a c k , which laid u p the river b e t w e e n the e n e m y a n d u s , a b o u t six miles from u s , a n d t h r e e from t h e m . G e n e r a l W a s h i n g t o n arrived in a b o u t three q u a r t e r s of an hour, a n d m a r c h e d at the h e a d of the troops towards the b r i d g e , which p l a c e I e x p e c t e d we s h o u l d have a b r u s h for; however, they did not c h o o s e to d i s p u t e it with u s , a n d the greatest part of our troops went over the b r i d g e , the rest over the ferry, except s o m e which p a s s e d at a mill o n a small creek, b e t w e e n the bridge a n d the ferry, a n d m a d e their way t h r o u g h s o m e m a r s h y g r o u n d s u p to the town of H a c k e n s a c k , a n d there p a s s e d the river. W e b r o u g h t off as m u c h b a g g a g e a s the w a g o n s c o u l d c o n t a i n , the rest w a s lost. T h e s i m p l e object w a s to bring off the garrison, a n d m a r c h t h e m on till they c o u l d be s t r e n g t h e n e d by the J e r s e y or Pennsylvania militia, s o a s to b e e n a b l e d to m a k e a s t a n d . W e staid four days at N e w a r k , c o l l e c t e d our o u t p o s t s with s o m e of the J e r s e y militia, a n d m a r c h e d o u t twice to m e e t the e n e m y , on b e i n g i n f o r m e d that they were a d v a n c i n g , t h o u g h our n u m b e r s were greatly inferior to theirs. H o w e , in my little o p i n i o n , c o m m i t t e d a great error in g e n e r a l s h i p in not throwing a body of forces off from S t a t e n Island t h r o u g h A m b o y , by which m e a n s he might have seized all our stores at B r u n s w i c k , a n d i n t e r c e p t e d o u r m a r c h into Pennsylvania; but if we believe the p o w e r of hell to be limited, we m u s t likewise believe that their a g e n t s are u n d e r s o m e providential control. 1 I shall not now a t t e m p t to give all the p a r t i c u l a r s of our retreat to the D e l a w a r e ; suffice it for the p r e s e n t to say, that both officers a n d m e n , t h o u g h greatly h a r a s s e d a n d f a t i g u e d , frequently without rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable c o n s e q u e n c e s of a long retreat, b o r e it with a manly a n d martial spirit. All their w i s h e s c e n t e r e d in o n e , which w a s that the c o u n t r y would turn out a n d help t h e m to drive the e n e m y b a c k . Voltaire h a s r e m a r k e d that King William never a p p e a r e d to full a d v a n t a g e b u t in difficulties a n d in a c t i o n ; 2 the s a m e r e m a r k m a y b e m a d e on G e n e r a l W a s h i n g t o n , for the c h a r a c t e r fits h i m . T h e r e is a n a t u r a l firmness in s o m e m i n d s which c a n n o t be u n l o c k e d by trifles, b u t w h i c h , w h e n u n l o c k e d , d i s c o v e r s a c a b i n e t 5 of fortitude; a n d I reckon it a m o n g t h o s e kind of public b l e s s i n g s , w h i c h we d o not i m m e d i a t e l y s e e , that G o d hath b l e s s e d him with u n i n t e r r u p t e d h e a l t h , a n d given him a m i n d that c a n even flourish u p o n c a r e . I shall c o n c l u d e this p a p e r with s o m e m i s c e l l a n e o u s r e m a r k s o n the state of our affairs; a n d shall begin with a s k i n g the following q u e s t i o n : W h y is it 9. Paine was aide-de-camp to Major General Nathanael Greene ( 1 7 4 2 - 1 7 8 6 ) . 1. T h e American losses were larger than Paine implies. General Howe took three thousand prisoners and a large store of military supplies when he captured Fort Lee. Paine wrote The Crisis,

No. 1 while serving with Washington's army as it retreated through New Jersey. 2. Voltaire ( 1 6 9 4 - 1 7 7 8 ) m a d e this remark about King William III of England ( 1 6 5 0 - 1 7 0 2 ) in his Histor}' of Louis the Fourteenth (1751). 3. Storehouse.

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that the e n e m y have left the N e w E n g l a n d p r o v i n c e s , a n d m a d e t h e s e m i d d l e o n e s the s e a t of war? T h e a n s w e r is easy: N e w E n g l a n d is not infested with tories, a n d we a r e . I have b e e n tender in raising the cry a g a i n s t t h e s e m e n , a n d u s e d n u m b e r l e s s a r g u m e n t s to show t h e m their d a n g e r , but it will not do to sacrifice a world either to their folly or their b a s e n e s s . T h e period is now arrived, in which either they or we m u s t c h a n g e o u r s e n t i m e n t s , or o n e or both m u s t fall. A n d what is a tory? G o o d G o d ! what is h e ? I s h o u l d not be afraid to go with a h u n d r e d w h i g s 4 a g a i n s t a t h o u s a n d tories, were they to a t t e m p t to get into a r m s . Every tory is a c o w a r d ; for servile, slavish, selfinterested fear is the f o u n d a t i o n of toryism; a n d a m a n u n d e r s u c h i n f l u e n c e , though he m a y be cruel, never c a n b e brave. B u t , before the line of irrecoverable s e p a r a t i o n be d r a w n b e t w e e n u s , let us r e a s o n the m a t t e r together: Your c o n d u c t is a n invitation to the e n e m y , yet not o n e in a t h o u s a n d of you h a s heart e n o u g h to j o i n h i m . H o w e is a s m u c h d e c e i v e d by you as the A m e r i c a n c a u s e is injured by y o u . H e e x p e c t s you will all take u p a r m s , a n d flock to his s t a n d a r d , with m u s k e t s on your s h o u l d e r s . Your o p i n i o n s are of n o u s e to h i m , u n l e s s you s u p p o r t him personally, for 'tis soldiers, a n d not tories, that h e w a n t s . I o n c e felt all that kind of a n g e r , which a m a n o u g h t to feel, a g a i n s t the m e a n principles that are held by the tories: a n o t e d o n e , w h o kept a tavern at A m b o y , 5 w a s s t a n d i n g at his door, with a s pretty a child in his h a n d , a b o u t eight or nine years old, a s I ever saw, a n d after s p e a k i n g his m i n d a s freely a s he t h o u g h t was p r u d e n t , finished with this unfatherly e x p r e s s i o n , "Well! give m e p e a c e in my d a y . " N o t a m a n lives on the c o n t i n e n t b u t fully believes that a s e p a r a t i o n m u s t s o m e time or other finally take p l a c e , a n d a g e n e r o u s p a r e n t s h o u l d have said, "If there m u s t be t r o u b l e , let it be in my day, that my child may have p e a c e " ; a n d this single reflection, well a p p l i e d , is sufficient to a w a k e n every m a n to duty. N o t a p l a c e u p o n e a r t h m i g h t b e so h a p p y a s A m e r i c a . H e r situation is r e m o t e from all the wrangling world, a n d s h e h a s nothing to d o but to t r a d e with t h e m . A m a n c a n d i s t i n g u i s h h i m s e l f b e t w e e n t e m p e r a n d principle, a n d I a m a s confident, a s I a m that G o d governs the world, that Ajnerica will never be h a p p y till s h e g e t s clear of « foreign d o m i n i o n . W a r s , without c e a s i n g , will b r e a k out till that period arrives, a n d the c o n t i n e n t m u s t in the e n d be c o n q u e r o r ; for t h o u g h the flame of liberty may s o m e t i m e s c e a s e to s h i n e , the coal c a n never expire. A m e r i c a did not, nor d o e s not, want force; but s h e w a n t e d a p r o p e r application of that force. W i s d o m is not the p u r c h a s e of a day, a n d it is no w o n d e r that we s h o u l d err at the first setting off. F r o m a n e x c e s s of t e n d e r n e s s , we were unwilling to raise a n army, a n d t r u s t e d our c a u s e to the t e m p o r a r y d e f e n s e of a w e l l - m e a n i n g militia. A s u m m e r ' s e x p e r i e n c e h a s now t a u g h t u s better; yet with t h o s e t r o o p s , while they were c o l l e c t e d , we w e r e a b l e to set b o u n d s to the p r o g r e s s of the e n e m y , a n d t h a n k G o d ! they a r e again a s s e m bling. I always c o n s i d e r e d militia as the b e s t troops in the world for a s u d d e n exertion, but they will not do for a long c a m p a i g n . H o w e , it is p r o b a b l e , will m a k e a n a t t e m p t on this city; 6 s h o u l d he fail o n this side of the D e l a w a r e , h e is ruined: if h e s u c c e e d s , o u r c a u s e is not ruined. H e s t a k e s all on his side a g a i n s t a part o n o u r s ; a d m i t t i n g he s u c c e e d s , the c o n s e q u e n c e will b e 4. Supporters of the Revolution. 5. Paine was stationed at Perth Amboy, New Jer-

sey, while in the Continental Army. 6. I.e., Philadelphia.

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that a r m i e s from both e n d s of the c o n t i n e n t will m a r c h to a s s i s t their suffering friends in the m i d d l e s t a t e s ; for h e c a n n o t go everywhere, it is i m p o s sible. I c o n s i d e r H o w e a s the greatest e n e m y the tories have; he is bringing a war into their country, w h i c h , h a d it not b e e n for him a n d partly for t h e m selves, they h a d b e e n clear of. S h o u l d he now be expelled, I wish with all the devotion of a C h r i s t i a n , that the n a m e s of whig a n d tory may never m o r e be m e n t i o n e d ; but s h o u l d the tories give him e n c o u r a g e m e n t to c o m e , or a s s i s t a n c e if he c o m e , I a s sincerely wish that our next year's a r m s may expel t h e m from the c o n t i n e n t , a n d the c o n g r e s s a p p r o p r i a t e their p o s s e s s i o n s to the relief of t h o s e w h o have suffered in well-doing. A single s u c c e s s f u l battle next year will settle the w h o l e . A m e r i c a c o u l d carry o n a two years' war by the confiscation of the property of disaffected p e r s o n s , a n d be m a d e h a p p y by their e x p u l s i o n . S a y not that this is r e v e n g e ; call it rather the soft resentm e n t of a suffering p e o p l e , w h o , having no object in view but the g o o d of all, have staked their own all u p o n a s e e m i n g l y doubtful event. Yet it is folly to a r g u e a g a i n s t d e t e r m i n e d h a r d n e s s ; e l o q u e n c e may strike the ear, a n d the l a n g u a g e of sorrow draw forth the tear of c o m p a s s i o n , but n o t h i n g c a n r e a c h the heart that is steeled with p r e j u d i c e . Quitting this c l a s s of m e n , I turn with the w a r m a r d o r of a friend to t h o s e who have nobly s t o o d , a n d a r e yet d e t e r m i n e d to s t a n d the m a t t e r out: I call not u p o n a few, but u p o n all: not on this state or that s t a t e , but on every state: up a n d help u s ; lay your s h o u l d e r s to the wheel; better have too m u c h force than too little, w h e n so great a n object is at s t a k e . Let it b e told to the future world that in the d e p t h of winter, w h e n n o t h i n g but h o p e a n d virtue could survive, that the city a n d the country, a l a r m e d at o n e c o m m o n d a n g e r , c a m e forth to m e e t a n d to r e p u l s e it. S a y not that t h o u s a n d s are g o n e , turn out your tens of t h o u s a n d s ; 7 throw not the b u r d e n of the day u p o n Provid e n c e , but " s h o w your faith by your w o r k s " " that G o d m a y b l e s s y o u . It m a t t e r s not w h e r e you live, or what r a n k of life you hold, the evil or the b l e s s i n g will r e a c h you all. T h e far a n d the near, the h o m e c o u n t i e s a n d the b a c k , 9 the rich a n d p o o r will suffer or rejoice alike. T h e heart that feels not now is d e a d : the blood of his children will c u r s e his c o w a r d i c e w h o shrinks b a c k at a time w h e n a little might have s a v e d the w h o l e , a n d m a d e t h e m happy. I love the m a n that c a n smile in t r o u b l e , that c a n g a t h e r s t r e n g t h from d i s t r e s s , a n d grow brave by reflection. T i s the b u s i n e s s of little m i n d s to shrink; but he w h o s e heart is firm, a n d w h o s e c o n s c i e n c e a p p r o v e s h i s c o n d u c t , will p u r s u e his principles u n t o d e a t h . M y own line of r e a s o n i n g is to myself a s straight a n d c l e a r as a ray of light. N o t all the t r e a s u r e s of the world, s o far a s I believe, c o u l d have i n d u c e d m e to s u p p o r t a n offensive war, for I think it m u r d e r ; but if a thief breaks into my h o u s e , b u r n s a n d destroys my property, a n d kills or t h r e a t e n s to kill m e , or t h o s e that are in it, a n d to "bind m e in all c a s e s w h a t s o e v e r " 1 to his a b s o l u t e will, a m I to suffer it? W h a t signifies it to m e , w h e t h e r he w h o d o e s it is a king or a c o m m o n m a n ; my c o u n t r y m a n or not my c o u n t r y m a n ; w h e t h e r it be d o n e by a n individual villain, or a n a r m y of t h e m ? If we r e a s o n to the root of t h i n g s we shall find no difference; neither c a n any j u s t c a u s e b e a s s i g n e d why we s h o u l d p u n i s h 7. "Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten t h o u s a n d s " (1 Samuel 18.7). 8. "Shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works" (James 2.18).

9. I.e., the backwoods. 1. From the Declaratory Act of Parliament, February 24, 1766, establishing British authority over the American colonies.

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in the o n e c a s e a n d p a r d o n in the other. .Let t h e m call m e rebel, a n d welc o m e , I feel n o c o n c e r n from it; but I s h o u l d suffer the misery of devils were I to m a k e a whore of my soul by s w e a r i n g a l l e g i a n c e to o n e w h o s e c h a r a c t e r is that of a sottish, s t u p i d , s t u b b o r n , worthless, brutish m a n . 1 c o n c e i v e likewise a horrid idea in receiving mercy from a being, w h o at the last day shall be shrieking to the rocks a n d m o u n t a i n s to cover him, a n d fleeing with terror from the o r p h a n , the widow, a n d the slain of A m e r i c a . T h e r e are c a s e s which c a n n o t b e overdone by l a n g u a g e , a n d this is o n e . T h e r e a r e p e r s o n s , too, w h o s e e not the full extent of the evil which t h r e a t e n s t h e m ; they s o l a c e t h e m s e l v e s with h o p e s that the e n e m y , if he s u c c e e d , will be merciful. It is the m a d n e s s of folly to expect mercy from t h o s e w h o have refused to d o j u s t i c e ; a n d even mercy, w h e r e c o n q u e s t is the o b j e c t , is only a trick of war; the c u n n i n g of the fox is a s m u r d e r o u s a s the v i o l e n c e of the wolf, a n d we ought to g u a r d equally a g a i n s t b o t h . H o w e ' s first object is, partly by threats a n d partly by p r o m i s e s , to terrify or s e d u c e the p e o p l e to deliver up their a r m s a n d receive mercy. T h e ministry r e c o m m e n d e d the s a m e plan to G a g e , 2 a n d this is what the tories call m a k i n g their p e a c e , "a p e a c e which p a s s e t h all u n d e r s t a n d i n g " 5 i n d e e d ! A p e a c e which would b e the i m m e d i a t e forerunner of a w o r s e ruin than any we have yet t h o u g h t of. Ye m e n of Pennsylvania, d o r e a s o n u p o n t h e s e things! W e r e the b a c k c o u n t i e s to give u p their a r m s , they would fall an easy prey to the I n d i a n s , w h o a r e all a r m e d : this p e r h a p s is what s o m e tories w o u l d not b e sorry for. W e r e the h o m e c o u n t i e s to deliver u p their a r m s , they would b e e x p o s e d to the r e s e n t m e n t of the b a c k c o u n t i e s , w h o would then have it in their power to c h a s t i s e their defection at p l e a s u r e . A n d were any o n e state to give u p its a r m s , that s t a t e m u s t be garrisoned by all H o w e ' s army of B r i t o n s a n d H e s s i a n s 4 to preserve it from the a n g e r of the rest. M u t u a l fear is the principal link in the c h a i n of m u t u a l love, a n d w o e be to that state that b r e a k s the c o m p a c t . H o w e is mercifully inviting you to b a r b a r o u s d e s t r u c t i o n , a n d m e n m u s t b e either r o g u e s or fools that will not s e e it. I dwell not u p o n the vapors of i m a g i n a t i o n : I bring r e a s o n to your e a r s , a n d , in l a n g u a g e a s plain a s A, B, C , hold up truth to your eyes. I thank G o d that I fear not. I s e e n o real c a u s e for fear. I know o u r situation well, a n d c a n s e e the way out of it. W h i l e o u r army w a s c o l l e c t e d , H o w e dared not risk a battle; a n d it is no credit to him that he d e c a m p e d from the W h i t e P l a i n s , 5 a n d waited a m e a n opportunity to ravage the d e f e n s e l e s s Jerseys; but it is great credit to u s , that, with a handful of m e n , we s u s t a i n e d an orderly retreat for near an h u n d r e d m i l e s , b r o u g h t off our a m m u n i t i o n , all our field p i e c e s , the greatest part of o u r s t o r e s , a n d h a d four rivers to p a s s . N o n e c a n say that our retreat w a s p r e c i p i t a t e , for we were n e a r three weeks in p e r f o r m i n g it, that the c o u n t r y 6 might have time to c o m e in. T w i c e we m a r c h e d b a c k to m e e t the e n e m y , a n d r e m a i n e d o u t till dark. T h e sign of fear w a s not s e e n in our c a m p , a n d h a d not s o m e of the cowardly a n d disaffected i n h a b i t a n t s s p r e a d false a l a r m s through the country, the J e r s e y s h a d never b e e n ravaged. O n c e m o r e we a r e a g a i n c o l l e c t e d a n d collecting; 2. General T h o m a s G a g e (1721 — 1787), who commanded the British armies in America from 1 763 to 1775, before Howe. 3. "And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ J e s u s " (Philippians 4.7).

4. German mercenaries. 5. At White Plains, New York, on October 28, 1776, General Howe successfully overcame Washington's troops but failed to take full advantage of his victory. 6. I.e., the local volunteers.

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our new a r m y at both e n d s of the c o n t i n e n t is recruiting fast, a n d we shall be able to o p e n the next c a m p a i g n with sixty t h o u s a n d m e n , well a r m e d a n d c l o t h e d . T h i s is our situation, a n d w h o will may know it. By p e r s e v e r a n c e a n d fortitude we have the p r o s p e c t of a glorious i s s u e ; by c o w a r d i c e a n d s u b m i s s i o n , the s a d c h o i c e of a variety of evils—-a r a v a g e d c o u n t r y — a d e p o p u l a t e d c i t y — h a b i t a t i o n s without safety, a n d slavery without h o p e — o u r h o m e s t u r n e d into b a r r a c k s a n d b a w d y h o u s e s for H e s s i a n s , a n d a future r a c e to provide for, w h o s e fathers we shall d o u b t of. L o o k o n this p i c t u r e a n d w e e p over it! a n d if there yet r e m a i n s o n e t h o u g h t l e s s wretch w h o believes it not, let him suffer it u n l a m e n t e d . Common Sense 1776

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1743-1826 President of the United States, first secretary of state, and minister to France, governor of Virginia, and congressman, Thomas Jefferson once said that he wished to be remembered for only three things: drafting the Declaration of Independence, writing and supporting the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom (1786), and founding the University of Virginia. Jefferson might well have included a number of other accomplishments in this list: he was a remarkable architect and designed the Virginia state capitol, his residence Monticello, and the original buildings for the University of Virginia; he farmed thousands of acres and built one of the most beautiful plantations in America; he had a library of some ten thousand volumes, which served as the basis for the Library of Congress, and a collection of paintings and sculpture that made him America's greatest patron of the arts; and he was known the world over for his spirit of scientific inquiry and as the creator of a number of remarkable inventions. The three acts for which he wished to be remembered, however, have this in common: they all testify to Jefferson's lifelong passion to liberate the human mind from tyranny, whether imposed by the state, the church, or our own ignorance. Jefferson was born at Shadwell, in what is now Albermarle County, Virginia. His mother, Jane Randolph, came from one of the most distinguished families in Virginia. Peter Jefferson, his father, was a county official and surveyor. He made the first accurate map of Virginia, something of which Jefferson was always proud. When his father died Thomas was only fourteen. Peter Jefferson left his son 2,750 acres of land, and Jefferson added to this acreage until he died; at one time he owned almost ten thousand acres. Jefferson tells us in his Autobiography that his father's education had been "quite neglected" but that he was always "eager after information" and determined to improve himself. In 1760, when Jefferson entered the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia, he had mastered Latin and Greek, played the violin respectably, and was a skilled horseman. Williamsburg was the capital of Virginia as well as a college town, and Jefferson was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of three men who strongly influenced his life: Governor Francis Fauquier, a fellow of the Royal Society; George Wythe, one of the best teachers of law in the country; and Dr. William Small, an emigrant from Scotland who taught mathematics and philosophy and who introduced Jefferson, as Garry Wills has put it, "to the invigorating realms of the Scot-

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tish Enlightenment," especially the work of Francis Hutcheson, author of Aw Inquiry into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue (1725), and Lord Karnes (Henry Home), author of Essays on the Principles of Morality and Natural Religion (1751).

Jefferson stayed on in Williamsburg to read law after graduation and was admitted to the bar. In 1769 he was elected to the Virginia House of Burgesses and began a distinguished career in the legislature. In 1774 he wrote an influential and daringpamphlet called A Summary

View oft he Rights ofBritish

America,

denying all parliamentary

authority over America and arguing that ties to the British monarchy were voluntary and not irrevocable. Jefferson's reputation as a writer preceded him to Philadelphia, where he was a delegate to the Second Continental Congress, and on June 11,1776, he was appointed to join Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston in drafting a declaration of independence. Although committee members made suggestions, the draft was very much Jefferson's own. As Wills has recently shown, Jefferson was unhappy with the changes made by Congress to his draft, and rightly so; for congressional changes went contrary to some of his basic arguments. Jefferson wished to place the British people on record as the ultimate cause of the Revolution, because they tolerated a corrupt Parliament and king; and he wished to include a strong statement against slavery. Congress tolerated neither passage. Jefferson was justified, however, in asking that he be remembered as the author of the Declaration. It was, as Dumas Malone, Jefferson's biographer, once put it, a "dangerous but glorious opportunity." Whether as the result of these frustrations or merely Jefferson's wish to be nearer his family, he left the Congress in September 1776 and entered the Virginia House of Delegates. In 1779 he was elected governor, and although reelected the following year, Jefferson's term of office came to an ignominious end when he resigned. After the British captured Richmond in 1781, Jefferson and the legislature moved to Charlottesville, and he and the legislators barely escaped imprisonment when the pursuing British Army descended on them at Monticello. Jefferson's resignation and the lack of preparations for the defense of the city were held against him, and it was some time before he regained the confidence of Virginians.

From 1781 to 1784 Jefferson withdrew from public life and remained at Monticello, completing his only book, Notes on the State of Virginia. In 1784 he was appointed minister to France and served with Benjamin Franklin on the commission that signed the Treaty of Paris, ending the Revolutionary War. He returned to Monticello in 1789, and in 1790 Washington appointed him the first secretary of state under the newly adopted Constitution. After three years he announced his retirement once again and withdrew to Monticello, where he rotated his crops and built a grist mill. But Jefferson's political blood was too thick for retirement, and in 1796 he ran for the office of president, losing to John Adams and taking the office of vice president instead. In 1800 he was elected president, the first to be inaugurated in Washington. He named Benjamin Latrobe surveyor of public buildings and worked with Latrobe in planning a great city. When Jefferson returned to Monticello in 1809, he knew that his public life was over. For the final seventeen years of his life he kept a watchful eye on everything that grew in Monticello. But Jefferson was never far from the world. He rose every morning to attack his voluminous correspondence. The Library of Congress holds more than fifty-five thousand Jefferson manuscripts and letters, and the most recent edition of his writings will run to sixty volumes. Jefferson left no treatise on political philosophy and, in a sense, was no political thinker. He was always more interested in the practical consequences of ideas. Although in drafting the Declaration and elsewhere he had argued for the freedom of slaves, he partook of the same prejudices as most of his contemporaries in the colonies and then the United States. Unable to imagine blacks integrated into American society, he counseled their colonization in a separate place. He remained an agrarian aristocrat all his life, and it is to the liberty of mind and the values of the land that he always returned. As Dumas Malone puts it, he was a "homely aristocrat in manner of life

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and personal tastes; he distrusted all rulers and feared the rise of an industrial proletariat, but more than any of his eminent contemporaries, he trusted the common man, if measurably enlightened and kept in rural virtue." Jefferson died a few hours before John Adams on the Fourth of July, 1826.

From

T h e A u t o b i o g r a p h y of T h o m a s J e f f e r s o n 1 From The Declaration *

*

of

Independence

*

It a p p e a r i n g in the c o u r s e of t h e s e d e b a t e s , that the c o l o n i e s of N e w York, N e w J e r s e y , P e n n s y l v a n i a , D e l a w a r e , M a r y l a n d , a n d S o u t h C a r o l i n a were not yet m a t u r e d for falling from the p a r e n t s t e m , but that they were fast a d v a n c i n g to that s t a t e , it w a s thought m o s t p r u d e n t to wait a while for t h e m , a n d to p o s t p o n e the final d e c i s i o n to J u l y 1st; but, that this might o c c a s i o n a s little delay a s p o s s i b l e , a c o m m i t t e e w a s a p p o i n t e d to p r e p a r e a D e c l a r a tion of I n d e p e n d e n c e . T h e c o m m i t t e e were J o h n A d a m s , Dr. F r a n k l i n , R o g e r S h e r m a n , Robert R. Livingston, a n d myself. C o m m i t t e e s were a l s o a p p o i n t e d , at the s a m e t i m e , to p r e p a r e a plan of c o n f e d e r a t i o n for the colo n i e s , a n d to s t a t e the t e r m s p r o p e r to b e p r o p o s e d for foreign a l l i a n c e . T h e c o m m i t t e e for drawing the D e c l a r a t i o n of I n d e p e n d e n c e , desired m e to do it. It w a s accordingly d o n e , a n d b e i n g a p p r o v e d by t h e m , I reported it to the H o u s e on Friday, the 2 8 t h of J u n e , w h e n it w a s r e a d , a n d o r d e r e d to lie on the table. O n M o n d a y , the 1st of July, the H o u s e resolved itself into a c o m mittee of the w h o l e , a n d r e s u m e d the c o n s i d e r a t i o n of the original motion m a d e by the d e l e g a t e s of Virginia, w h i c h , b e i n g again d e b a t e d t h r o u g h the day, w a s carried in the affirmative by the votes of N e w H a m p s h i r e , C o n n e c t i c u t , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , R h o d e I s l a n d , N e w J e r s e y , M a r y l a n d , Virginia, N o r t h C a r o l i n a a n d G e o r g i a . S o u t h C a r o l i n a a n d P e n n s y l v a n i a voted a g a i n s t it. D e l a w a r e h a d b u t two m e m b e r s p r e s e n t , a n d they were divided. T h e dele g a t e s from N e w York d e c l a r e d they were for it t h e m s e l v e s , a n d were a s s u r e d their c o n s t i t u e n t s were for it; but that their instructions having b e e n drawn n e a r a twelve-month before, w h e n reconciliation w a s still the general object, they were e n j o i n e d by t h e m to do n o t h i n g which s h o u l d i m p e d e that object. T h e y , therefore, thought t h e m s e l v e s not justifiable in voting on either s i d e , a n d a s k e d leave to withdraw from the q u e s t i o n : which w a s given t h e m . T h e c o m m i t t e e rose a n d reported their r e s o l u t i o n to the H o u s e . Mr. E d w a r d R u t l e d g e , of S o u t h C a r o l i n a , then r e q u e s t e d the d e t e r m i n a t i o n might be p u t off to the next day, a s he believed his c o l l e a g u e s , t h o u g h they d i s a p p r o v e d of the resolution, would then j o i n in it for the s a k e of u n a n i m i t y . T h e u l t i m a t e q u e s t i o n , w h e t h e r the H o u s e would a g r e e to the resolution of the c o m m i t t e e , I. On J u n e 7, 1776, Richard Henry Lee of Virginia proposed to the Second Continental Congress, meeting in Philadelphia, that "these united Colonies are, and of a right ought to he, free and independent states." O n J u n e 1 I, a committee of five—John Adams of Massachusetts, Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, Robert Livingston of New York, and Thomas Jefferson of Virginia—was instructed to draft a declaration of independence. The draft pre-

sented to Congress on J u n e 28 was primarily the work of Jefferson. Lee's resolution was passed on July 2, and the Declaration was adopted on July 4 with the changes noted by Jefferson in this text, taken from his Autobiography. On August 2 a copy in parchment was signed by all the delegates but three; they signed later. T h e text used here is from The Writings of Thomas Jefferson, edited by A. A. Lipscomb and A. E. Bergh ( 1 9 0 3 ) .

THE

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was accordingly p o s t p o n e d to the next day, w h e n it w a s a g a i n m o v e d , a n d S o u t h C a r o l i n a c o n c u r r e d in voting for it. In the m e a n t i m e , a third m e m b e r h a d c o m e p o s t 2 from the D e l a w a r e c o u n t i e s , a n d t u r n e d the vote of that colony in favor of the resolution. M e m b e r s of a different s e n t i m e n t a t t e n d i n g that m o r n i n g from Pennsylvania a l s o , her vote was c h a n g e d , so that the whole twelve c o l o n i e s w h o were authorized to vote at all, g a v e their voices for it; a n d , within a few d a y s , the convention of N e w York a p p r o v e d of it, a n d thus s u p p l i e d the void o c c a s i o n e d by the withdrawing of her d e l e g a t e s from the vote. C o n g r e s s p r o c e e d e d the s a m e day to c o n s i d e r the D e c l a r a t i o n of I n d e p e n d e n c e , which h a d b e e n reported a n d lain o n the table the Friday p r e c e d i n g , a n d on M o n d a y referred to a c o m m i t t e e of the w h o l e . T h e p u s i l l a n i m o u s idea that we had friends in E n g l a n d worth k e e p i n g t e r m s with, still h a u n t e d the m i n d s of many. F o r this r e a s o n , t h o s e p a s s a g e s which conveyed c e n s u r e s on the p e o p l e of E n g l a n d were s t r u c k o u t , lest they s h o u l d give t h e m o f f e n s e . T h e c l a u s e too, r e p r o b a t i n g the enslaving the i n h a b i t a n t s of Africa, w a s struck o u t in c o m p l a i s a n c e to S o u t h C a r o l i n a a n d G e o r g i a , w h o had never a t t e m p t e d to restrain the importation of slaves, a n d w h o , o n the contrary, still w i s h e d to c o n t i n u e it. O u r northern brethren a l s o , I believe, felt a little tender u n d e r t h o s e c e n s u r e s ; for t h o u g h their p e o p l e h a d very few slaves t h e m s e l v e s , yet they had b e e n pretty c o n s i d e r a b l e carriers of t h e m to o t h e r s . T h e d e b a t e s , having taken u p the greater p a r t s of the 2 d , 3 d , a n d 4 t h days of July, were, on the e v e n i n g of the last, c l o s e d ; the D e c l a r a t i o n w a s reported by the c o m m i t t e e , a g r e e d to by the H o u s e , a n d s i g n e d by every m e m b e r p r e s e n t , except M r . D i c k i n s o n . 5 As the s e n t i m e n t s of m e n a r e known not only by what they receive, b u t what they reject a l s o , I will state the form of the D e c l a r a t i o n as originally reported. T h e parts s t r u c k out by C o n g r e s s shall be d i s t i n g u i s h e d by a b l a c k line drawn u n d e r t h e m , a n d t h o s e inserted by t h e m shall b e p l a c e d in the m a r g i n , or in a c o n c u r r e n t c o l u m n . A DECLARATION

BY T H E

AMERICA,

REPRESENTATIVES OF THE

IN G E N E R A L

CONGRESS

UNITED STATES

W h e n , in the c o u r s e of h u m a n events, it b e c o m e s n e c e s s a r y for o n e p e o p l e to dissolve the political b a n d s which have connected t h e m with a n o t h e r , a n d to a s s u m e a m o n g the p o w e r s of the earth the s e p a r a t e a n d e q u a l station to which the laws of n a t u r e a n d of nature's G o d entitle t h e m , a d e c e n t r e s p e c t to the opinions of m a n k i n d requires that they s h o u l d d e c l a r e the c a u s e s which impel t h e m to the s e p a r a t i o n . W e hold these truths to b e self evident: that all m e n a r e c r e a t e d equal;" 1 that they a r e e n d o w e d by their C r e a t o r with inherent a n d inalienable rights; that a m o n g t h e s e are life, liberty, a n d the p u r s u i t of h a p p i n e s s ; 5 that to s e c u r e t h e s e rights, 2. Speedily, posthaste. 3. J o h n Dickinson of Pennsylvania, who opposed it. 4. Garry Wills, in his study of the Declaration (Inventing America, 1978), tells us that Jefferson means equal in possessing a moral sense: "The moral sense is not only man's highest faculty, hut the one that is equal to all m e n . " 5. In his Second Treatise on Government ( 1 6 8 9 )

OF

ASSEMBLED.

certain

J o h n Locke defined man's natural rights to "life, liberty, and property." Jefferson's substitution of "pursuit of happiness" has puzzled a number of critics. Wills suggests that Jefferson was less influenced by Locke than by the'Scottish philosophers, particularly Francis Hutcheson and his Inquiry into the Original of Our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue ( 1 7 2 5 ) . Wills tells us that "the pursuit of happiness is a phenomenon both obvious and paradoxical. It

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g o v e r n m e n t s a r e instituted a m o n g m e n , deriving their j u s t p o w e r s from the c o n s e n t of the g o v e r n e d ; that w h e n e v e r any form of g o v e r n m e n t b e c o m e s destructive of t h e s e e n d s , it is the right of the p e o p l e to alter or to a b o l i s h it, a n d to institute n e w g o v e r n m e n t , laying its f o u n d a t i o n o n s u c h p r i n c i p l e s , a n d organizing its powers in s u c h form, a s to t h e m shall s e e m m o s t likely to effect their safety a n d h a p p i n e s s . P r u d e n c e , i n d e e d , will dictate that g o v e r n m e n t s long e s t a b l i s h e d s h o u l d not b e c h a n g e d for light a n d transient c a u s e s ; a n d a c c o r d i n g l y all e x p e r i e n c e h a t h s h o w n that m a n k i n d a r e m o r e d i s p o s e d to suffer while evils a r e s u f f e r a b l e , than to right t h e m s e l v e s by a b o l i s h i n g the f o r m s to which they a r e a c c u s t o m e d . B u t w h e n a long train o f a b u s e s a n d u s u r p a t i o n s , b e g u n at a disting u i s h e d 6 period a n d p u r s u i n g invariably the s a m e o b j e c t , evinces a d e s i g n to r e d u c e t h e m u n d e r a b s o l u t e d e s p o t i s m , it is their right, it is their duty to throw off s u c h governm e n t , a n d to provide n e w g u a r d s for their future security. S u c h h a s b e e n the p a t i e n t s u f f e r a n c e o f t h e s e c o l o n i e s ; a n d s u c h is n o w the necessity w h i c h c o n s t r a i n s t h e m to e x p u n g e their former s y s t e m s o f g o v e r n m e n t . T h e history o f the p r e s e n t king of G r e a t B r i t a i n 7 is a history o f u n r e m i t t i n g injuries a n d u s u r p a t i o n s , a m o n g which a p p e a r s n o solitary fact to c o n tradict the u n i f o r m tenor o f the rest, b u t all have in direct o b j e c t the e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f a n a b s o l u t e tyranny over t h e s e s t a t e s . T o prove this, let facts b e s u b m i t t e d to a c a n d i d world for t h e truth of which we p l e d g e a faith yet unsullied by f a l s e h o o d .

alter repeated all having

H e h a s r e f u s e d his a s s e n t to laws t h e m o s t w h o l e s o m e a n d n e c e s s a r y for t h e public g o o d . H e h a s forbidden his governors to p a s s laws o f i m m e d i a t e a n d p r e s s i n g i m p o r t a n c e , u n l e s s s u s p e n d e d in their o p e r a t i o n till his a s s e n t s h o u l d b e o b t a i n e d ; a n d , w h e n s o s u s p e n d e d , h e h a s utterly n e g l e c t e d to a t t e n d to t h e m . H e h a s r e f u s e d to p a s s other laws for t h e a c c o m m o d a t i o n of large districts of p e o p l e , u n l e s s t h o s e p e o p l e w o u l d relinq u i s h the right of r e p r e s e n t a t i o n in the l e g i s l a t u r e , a right inestimable to t h e m , a n d f o r m i d a b l e to tyrants only. H e h a s called together legislative b o d i e s at p l a c e s u n u s u a l , u n c o m f o r t a b l e , a n d d i s t a n t from the depository of their p u b l i c r e c o r d s , for the sole p u r p o s e o f fatiguing t h e m into c o m p l i a n c e with his m e a s u r e s . H e h a s dissolved representative h o u s e s r e p e a t e d l y a n d c o n tinually for o p p o s i n g with manly firmness his invasions on t h e rights o f the p e o p l e . H e h a s r e f u s e d for a long time after s u c h d i s s o l u t i o n s to c a u s e o t h e r s to b e e l e c t e d , whereby the legislative p o w e r s ,

supplies us with the ground of human right and the goal of human virtue. It is the basic drive of the self, and the only m e a n s given for transcending the self. . . . M e n in the eighteenth century felt they could become conscious of their freedom only

by discovering how they were bound: When they found what they must pursue, they knew they had a right to pursue it." 6. I.e., discernible. 7. King George III ( 1 7 3 8 - 1 8 2 0 ) .

THE

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THOMAS J E F F E R S O N

i n c a p a b l e of annihilation, have returned to the p e o p l e at large for their e x e r c i s e , the s t a t e r e m a i n i n g , in the m e a n t i m e , e x p o s e d to all the d a n g e r s of invasion from without a n d c o n vulsions within. H e h a s e n d e a v o r e d to prevent the p o p u l a t i o n of t h e s e s t a t e s ; for that p u r p o s e o b s t r u c t i n g the laws for naturalization of foreigners, refusing to p a s s others to e n c o u r a g e their m i g r a t i o n s hither, a n d raising the c o n d i t i o n s of n e w a p p r o p r i a t i o n s of lands. H e h a s suffered the a d m i n i s t r a t i o n of j u s t i c e totally to c e a s e in s o m e of t h e s e states refusing his a s s e n t to laws for e s t a b l i s h i n g j u d i c i a r y p o w e r s . H e has m a d e our j u d g e s d e p e n d e n t on his will a l o n e for the tenure of their offices, a n d the a m o u n t a n d p a y m e n t of their salaries. H e h a s e r e c t e d a m u l t i t u d e of n e w offices, by a s e l f - a s s u m e d power a n d sent hither s w a r m s of n e w officers to h a r a s s our p e o p l e a n d eat out their s u b s t a n c e . H e h a s kept a m o n g u s in t i m e s of p e a c e s t a n d i n g a r m i e s a n d ships of war without the c o n s e n t of our legislatures. H e h a s affected to r e n d e r the military i n d e p e n d e n t of, a n d s u p e r i o r to, the civil power. H e h a s c o m b i n e d with o t h e r s 8 to s u b j e c t u s to a j u r i s d i c t i o n foreign to our c o n s t i t u t i o n s a n d u n a c k n o w l e d g e d by our laws, giving his a s s e n t to their a c t s of p r e t e n d e d legislation for q u a r tering large bodies of a r m e d troops a m o n g u s ; for p r o t e c t i n g t h e m by a m o c k trial from p u n i s h m e n t for any m u r d e r s which they s h o u l d c o m m i t on the i n h a b i t a n t s of t h e s e s t a t e s ; for c u t t i n g off o u r trade with all p a r t s of the world; for i m p o s i n g taxes on u s without our c o n s e n t ; for depriving u s [ ] of the benefits of trial by jury; for t r a n s p o r t i n g u s beyond s e a s to be tried for p r e t e n d e d o f f e n s e s ; for a b o l i s h i n g the free s y s t e m of E n g l i s h laws in a n e i g h b o r i n g p r o v i n c e , 9 e s t a b l i s h i n g therein a n arbitrary g o v e r n m e n t , a n d enlarging its b o u n d a r i e s , so a s to r e n d e r it at o n c e a n e x a m p l e a n d fit i n s t r u m e n t for introd u c i n g the s a m e a b s o l u t e rule into t h e s e s t a t e s ; for taking away our c h a r t e r s , a b o l i s h i n g our m o s t v a l u a b l e laws, a n d altering f u n d a m e n t a l l y the f o r m s of our g o v e r n m e n t s ; for s u s p e n d i n g our own legislatures, a n d d e c l a r i n g t h e m s e l v e s invested with p o w e r to legislate for u s in all c a s e s w h a t s o e v e r . H e h a s a b d i c a t e d g o v e r n m e n t here withdrawing his governors, a n d d e c l a r i n g u s o u t of his a l l e g i a n c e a n d p r o t e c t i o n . H e h a s p l u n d e r e d our s e a s , ravaged our c o a s t s , b u r n t o u r towns, a n d destroyed the lives of our p e o p l e . H e is at this time t r a n s p o r t i n g large a r m i e s of foreign merc e n a r i e s 1 to c o m p l e t e the works of d e a t h , d e s o l a t i o n a n d tyr8. I.e., the British Parliament. 9. T h e Quebec Act of 1774 recognized the Roman Catholic religion in Quebec and extended the borders of the province to the Ohio River; it restored French civil law and thus angered the New

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obstructed by

in many cases

colonies:

by declaring us out of his protection, and waging war against us.

England colonies. It was often referred to as one of the "intolerable a c t s . " 1. G e r m a n soldiers hired by the king for colonial

r

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a n n y already b e g u n with c i r c u m s t a n c e s of cruelty a n d perfidy [ ] unworthy the h e a d of a civilized n a t i o n . H e has c o n s t r a i n e d o u r fellow citizens taken captive on the high s e a s , to b e a r a r m s a g a i n s t their country, to b e c o m e the e x e c u t i o n e r s of their friends a n d b r e t h r e n , or to fall t h e m selves by their h a n d s . H e has [ ] e n d e a v o r e d to bring on the i n h a b i t a n t s of our frontiers, the m e r c i l e s s Indian s a v a g e s , w h o s e known rule of warfare is an u n d i s t i n g u i s h e d d e s t r u c t i o n of all a g e s , sexes a n d c o n d i t i o n s of existenceH e has incited t r e a s o n a b l e insurrections of our fellow citizens, with the a l l u r e m e n t s of forfeiture a n d confiscation of our property. H e h a s w a g e d cruel war a g a i n s t h u m a n n a t u r e itself, violating its most s a c r e d rights of life a n d liberty in the p e r s o n s of a distant p e o p l e who never offended h i m , captivating a n d carrying t h e m into slavery in a n o t h e r h e m i s p h e r e , or to incur m i s e r a b l e d e a t h in their transportation thither. T h i s piratical warfare, the o p p r o b r i u m of I N F I D E L p o w e r s , is the warfare of the C H R I S T I A N king of G r e a t Britain. D e t e r m i n e d to k e e p o p e n a market w h e r e M E N s h o u l d b e b o u g h t a n d sold, he h a s p r o s tituted his negative for s u p p r e s s i n g every legislative a t t e m p t to prohibit or to restrain this execrable c o m m e r c e . And t h a t this a s s e m b l a g e of horrors might want no fact of d i s t i n g u i s h e d die, he is now exciting t h o s e very p e o p l e to rise in a r m s a m o n g u s , a n d to p u r c h a s e that liberty of which h e has deprived t h e m , by m u r d e r i n g the p e o p l e on w h o m he a l s o o b t r u d e d t h e m : t h u s paying off former c r i m e s c o m m i t t e d a g a i n s t the L I B E R T I E S of o n e p e o p l e , with c r i m e s which he u r g e s t h e m to c o m m i t a g a i n s t the L I V E S of a n o t h e r . In every s t a g e of t h e s e o p p r e s s i o n s w e have petitioned for r e d r e s s in the m o s t h u m b l e t e r m s : our r e p e a t e d petitions have b e e n a n s w e r e d only by r e p e a t e d injuries. A prince w h o s e c h a r a c t e r is t h u s m a r k e d by every act which may define a tyrant is unfit to be the ruler of a [ ] p e o p l e w h o m e a n to be free. F u t u r e a g e s will scarcely believe that the h a r d i n e s s of o n e m a n a d v e n t u r e d , within the short c o m p a s s of twelve years only, to lay a f o u n d a t i o n s o b r o a d a n d s o u n d i s g u i s e d for tyranny over a p e o p l e fostered a n d fixed in principles of f r e e d o m . N o r have we b e e n w a n t i n g in attentions to o u r British brethren. W e have w a r n e d t h e m from time to time of a t t e m p t s by their legislature to extend a j u r i s d i c t i o n over t h e s e our s t a t e s . W e have r e m i n d e d t h e m of the c i r c u m s t a n c e s of our e m i g r a tion a n d s e t t l e m e n t h e r e , no o n e of which c o u l d warrant so s t r a n g e a p r e t e n s i o n : that t h e s e were effected at the e x p e n s e of our own blood a n d t r e a s u r e , u n a s s i s t e d by the wealth or the strength of G r e a t Britain: that in c o n s t i t u t i n g indeed our several forms of g o v e r n m e n t , we h a d a d o p t e d o n e c o m m o n king, thereby laying a f o u n d a t i o n for p e r p e t u a l l e a g u e a n d amity with t h e m : but that s u b m i s s i o n to their p a r l i a m e n t was no part

scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally excited domestic insurrection among us, and has

free

an unwarrantable/us

THE

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THOMAS J E F F E R S O N

of our c o n s t i t u t i o n , nor ever in idea, if history may be c r e d i t e d : a n d , we [ ] a p p e a l e d to their native j u s t i c e a n d m a g n a n i m i t y as well a s to the ties of our c o m m o n kindred to disavow t h e s e u s u r p a t i o n s which were likely to interrupt our c o n n e c t i o n a n d c o r r e s p o n d e n c e . T h e y too have b e e n d e a f to the voice of j u s tice a n d of c o n s a n g u i n i t y , a n d w h e n o c c a s i o n s have b e e n given t h e m , by the regular c o u r s e of their laws, of r e m o v i n g from their c o u n c i l s the disturbers of our harmony, they h a v e , by their free election, r e e s t a b l i s h e d t h e m in power. At this very time too, they are p e r m i t t i n g their chief m a g i s t r a t e to s e n d over not only soldiers of o u r c o m m o n b l o o d , but S c o t c h a n d foreign m e r c e n a r i e s to invade a n d destroy u s . T h e s e facts have given the last s t a b to agonizing affection, a n d manly spirit bids u s to r e n o u n c e forever t h e s e unfeeling b r e t h r e n . W e m u s t e n d e a v o r to forget our former love for t h e m , a n d hold t h e m a s we hold the rest of m a n k i n d , e n e m i e s in war, in p e a c e friends. W e might have b e e n a free a n d a great p e o p l e together; but a c o m m u n i c a t i o n of g r a n d e u r a n d of f r e e d o m , it s e e m s , is below their dignity. B e it s o , s i n c e they will have it. T h e road to h a p p i n e s s a n d to glory is o p e n to u s , too. W e will tread it apart from t h e m , a n d a c q u i e s c e in the necessity w h i c h d e n o u n c e s 2 our eternal s e p a r a t i o n [ ]!

W e therefore the representatives of the U n i t e d S t a t e s of A m e r i c a in G e n e r a l C o n g r e s s a s s e m b l e d , do in the n a m e , a n d by the authority of the good p e o p l e of t h e s e states reject a n d r e n o u n c e all a l l e g i a n c e a n d s u b j e c tion to the kings of G r e a t Britain a n d all others who m a y hereafter claim by, through or u n d e r t h e m ; we utterly dissolve all political c o n n e c tion which may heretofore have s u b sisted between us a n d the p e o p l e or p a r l i a m e n t of G r e a t Britain: a n d finally we do a s s e r t a n d d e c l a r e t h e s e colonies to b e free a n d i n d e p e n d e n t s t a t e s , a n d that a s free a n d i n d e p e n dent s t a t e s , they have full power to levy war, c o n c l u d e p e a c e , c o n t r a c t alliances, e s t a b l i s h c o m m e r c e , a n d to do all other a c t s a n d things which i n d e p e n d e n t states may of right d o . A n d for the s u p p o r t of this decla-

2. Proclaims.

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have and we have conjured them by would inevitably

We must therefore and hold them as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace friends.

W e , therefore, the r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s of the U n i t e d S t a t e s of A m e r i c a in General Congress assembled, app e a l i n g to the s u p r e m e j u d g e of the world for the r e c t i t u d e of our intentions, do in the n a m e , a n d by the authority of the g o o d p e o p l e of t h e s e colonies, solemnly publish and d e c l a r e , that t h e s e u n i t e d c o l o n i e s are, a n d of right o u g h t to b e free a n d i n d e p e n d e n t s t a t e s ; that they are a b s o l v e d from all a l l e g i a n c e to the British c r o w n , a n d that all political c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n t h e m a n d the state of G r e a t Britain is, a n d o u g h t to b e , totally dissolved; a n d that as free a n d i n d e p e n d e n t s t a t e s , they have full power to levy war, c o n c l u d e peace, contract alliances, establish c o m m e r c e , a n d to do all other a c t s a n d things which i n d e p e n d e n t s t a t e s may of right d o .

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ration, we mutually p l e d g e to e a c h other o u r lives, o u r f o r t u n e s , a n d o u r s a c r e d honor.

And for the s u p p o r t of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine p r o v i d e n c e , we mutually p l e d g e to e a c h other o u r lives, o u r f o r t u n e s , a n d o u r s a c r e d honor.

T h e D e c l a r a t i o n t h u s s i g n e d o n the 4 t h , on p a p e r , w a s e n g r o s s e d * on p a r c h m e n t , a n d signed again on the 2d of A u g u s t . 1829

1821

From

N o t e s on the S t a t e of Virginia1 Query XVII.

Religion

T h e first settlers in this country were e m i g r a n t s from E n g l a n d , of t h e E n g l i s h c h u r c h , j u s t at a point of time w h e n it w a s flushed with c o m p l e t e victory over the religious of all other p e r s u a s i o n s . P o s s e s s e d , a s they b e c a m e , of the p o w e r s of m a k i n g , a d m i n i s t e r i n g , a n d e x e c u t i n g t h e laws, they s h o w e d e q u a l intolerance in this country with their Presbyterian b r e t h r e n , w h o had e m i g r a t e d to the northern g o v e r n m e n t . T h e poor Q u a k e r s were flying from p e r s e c u t i o n in E n g l a n d . T h e y c a s t their eyes on t h e s e new c o u n t r i e s a s asyl u m s of civil a n d religious f r e e d o m ; b u t they f o u n d t h e m free only for the reigning sect. Several a c t s of the Virginia a s s e m b l y of 1 6 5 9 , 1 6 6 2 , a n d 1 6 9 3 , h a d m a d e it penal in p a r e n t s to refuse to have their children b a p t i z e d ; had prohibited the unlawful a s s e m b l i n g of Q u a k e r s ; h a d m a d e it p e n a l for any m a s t e r of a vessel to bring a Quaker into the s t a t e ; h a d o r d e r e d t h o s e already here, a n d s u c h as s h o u l d c o m e thereafter, to b e i m p r i s o n e d till they s h o u l d a b j u r e the country; provided a milder p u n i s h m e n t for their first a n d s e c o n d return, b u t d e a t h for their third; h a d inhibited all p e r s o n s from suffering their m e e t i n g s in or near their h o u s e s , e n t e r t a i n i n g t h e m individually, or d i s p o s i n g of b o o k s which s u p p o r t e d their t e n e t s . If no capital e x e c u t i o n took p l a c e h e r e , as did in N e w E n g l a n d , it w a s not owing to the m o d e r a t i o n of the c h u r c h , or spirit of the legislature, a s m a y b e inferred from the law itself; but to historical c i r c u m s t a n c e s which have not b e e n h a n d e d d o w n to u s . T h e A n g l i c a n s retained full p o s s e s s i o n of the country a b o u t a c e n t u r y . O t h e r o p i n i o n s b e g a n then to c r e e p in, a n d the great c a r e of t h e g o v e r n m e n t to s u p p o r t their own c h u r c h , having b e g o t t e n an e q u a l d e g r e e of i n d o l e n c e in its clergy, two-thirds of the p e o p l e h a d b e c o m e d i s s e n t e r s at the c o m m e n c e m e n t of the p r e s e n t revolution. T h e laws i n d e e d were still o p p r e s s i v e o n t h e m , b u t the spirit of the o n e party h a d s u b s i d e d into m o d e r a t i o n , a n d of the other h a d risen to a d e g r e e of d e t e r m i n a t i o n which c o m m a n d e d r e s p e c t . 3. Written in it legal hand. I. In 1 7 8 1 , the year Jefferson resigned as governor ol Virginia, he received a request from the Marquis de Barbe-Marbois, secretary of the French legation at Philadelphia, to answer twenty-three questions concerning the geographical boundaries, the ecology, and the social history of Virginia. Jefferson look the occasion to make some observations on slavery, manufacturing, and government. He

wanted especially to counter the notion, prevalent a m o n g European naturalists, that species in North America had degenerated and were inferior to Old World types. Jefferson's replies were published privately in 1784—85. T h e threat of an unauthorized French translation prompted Jefferson to publish an authorized edition in London in 1 7 8 7 . T h e text used here is from the Norton edition, edited by William Peden ( 1 9 5 4 ) .

NOTES

ON THE

STATE

OF VIRGINIA

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3 4 3

T h e p r e s e n t s t a t e of our laws o n the s u b j e c t of religion is this. T h f ^ c o n vention of M a y 1 7 7 6 , in their declaration of rights, d e c l a r e d it to b e a trjrth, arTcTirrTatural right, that the exercise of religion s h o u l d b e free: hut when they p r o c e e d e d to form on~Tliatdeclaration the o r d i n a n c e of g o v e r n m e n t , i n s t e a d of' taking u p every principle d e c l a r e d in the bill of rights^and g u a r d i n g it by legislative sanction""~frey~passe - cTover that which a s s e r t e d our religious rights^" leaving therrTas they f o u n d ~ t h e m . J T h e s a m e c o n v e n t i o n , however, when they m e t a s a m e m b e r o f t h l T general a s s e m b l y in O c t o b e r 1 7 7 6 , r e p e a l e d all acts of parliament which had r e n d e r e d criminal the m a i n t a i n i n g any opinions in m a t t e r s of religion, the forbearing to repair to c h u r c h , a n d the exercising any m o d e of w o r s h i p ; a n d s u s p e n d e d the laws giving salaries to the clergy, which s u s p e n s i o n was m a d e p e r p e t u a l in O c t o b e r 1 7 7 9 . Statutory o p p r e s s i o n s in religion being t h u s w i p e d away, w e r e m a i n at p r e s e n t u n d e r t h o s e only i m p o s e d by the c o m m o n law, or by o u r own a c t s of a s s e m bly. At the c o m m o n law, heresy w a s a capital o f f e n s e , p u n i s h a b l e by b u r n i n g . Its definition w a s left to the e c c l e s i a s t i c a l j u d g e s , before w h o m the conviction w a s , till the statute of the 1 El. c. I . 3 c i r c u m s c r i b e d it, by d e c l a r i n g , that nothing s h o u l d b e d e e m e d heresy, but what h a d b e e n so d e t e r m i n e d by authority of the c a n o n i c a l s c r i p t u r e s , or by o n e of the four first general c o u n cils, or by s o m e other c o u n c i l having for the g r o u n d s of their declaration the express a n d plain w o r d s of the s c r i p t u r e s . H e r e s y , t h u s c i r c u m s c r i b e d , b e i n g a n offense at the c o m m o n law, our act of a s s e m b l y of O c t o b e r 1 7 7 7 , c. 17. gives c o g n i z a n c e of it to the general c o u r t , by d e c l a r i n g , that the j u r i s d i c t i o n of that court shall b e general in all m a t t e r s at the c o m m o n law. T h e e x e c u t i o n is by the writ De hseretico comburendo.4 By our own act of a s s e m b l y of 1 7 0 5 , c. 3 0 , if a p e r s o n b r o u g h t u p in the C h r i s t i a n religion d e n i e s the b e i n g of a G o d , or the Trinity, or a s s e r t s there are m o r e G o d s than o n e , or d e n i e s the C h r i s t i a n religion to b e t r u e , or the s c r i p t u r e s to be of divine authority, he is p u n i s h a b l e on the first offense by incapacity to hold any office or employm e n t e c c l e s i a s t i c a l , civil, or military; on the s e c o n d by disability to s u e , to take any gift or legacy, to be g u a r d i a n , executor, or a d m i n i s t r a t o r , a n d by three years' i m p r i s o n m e n t , without bail. A father's right to the c u s t o d y of his own children b e i n g f o u n d e d in law on his right of g u a r d i a n s h i p , this b e i n g taken away, they may of c o u r s e be severed from him, a n d p u t , by the authority of a c o u r t , into m o r e orthodox h a n d s . T h i s is a s u m m a r y view of that religious slavery, u n d e r which a p e o p l e have b e e n willing to r e m a i n , w h o have lavished their lives a n d fortunes for the e s t a b l i s h m e n t of their civil freedom. T h e error s e e m s not sufficiently e r a d i c a t e d , that the o p e r a t i o n s of the m i n d , a s well a s the a c t s of the body, are s u b j e c t to the c o e r c i o n of the l a w s . 5 B u t our rulers c a n have authority over s u c h natural rights only a s we have s u b m i t t e d to t h e m . T h e rights of c o n s c i e n c e we never s u b m i t t e d , we c o u l d not s u b m i t . W e are a n s w e r a b l e for t h e m to our G o d . T h e legitimate p o w e r s of g o v e r n m e n t extend to s u c h a c t s only a s are injurious to o t h e r s . B u t it d o e s m e no injury for my n e i g h b o r to say there are twenty g o d s , or no g o d . It 2. Jefferson is referring to Article XVI of Virginia's Declaration of Rights. 3. That is, chapter 1 of the first year ( 1 5 5 8 - 1 559) of the reign of Elizabeth [Peden's note]. 4. On the burning of a heretic (Latin).

5. "Furneaux p a s s i m " [Jefferson's note]. Philip Furneaux (1726—1783), English minister and author of Letters to the Honorable Mr. Justice Bluckstone ( 1 7 7 0 ) .

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neither p i c k s my p o c k e t nor b r e a k s my leg. If it b e s a i d , his t e s t i m o n y in a c o u r t of j u s t i c e c a n n o t b e relied o n , reject it then, a n d b e the s t i g m a o n h i m . C o n s t r a i n t m a y m a k e him w o r s e by m a k i n g him a hypocrite, b u t it will never m a k e him a truer m a n . It m a y fix him obstinately in his errors, b u t will not c u r e t h e m . R e a s o n a n d free enquiry are the only e f f e c t u a l a g e n t s a g a i n s t error. G i v e a l o o s e to t h e m , they will s u p p o r t the true religion, by bringing every false o n e to their tribunal, to the test of their investigation. T h e y are t h e n a t u r a l e n e m i e s of error, a n d of error only. H a d not the R o m a n governm e n t p e r m i t t e d free inquiry, Christianity c o u l d never h a v e b e e n i n t r o d u c e d . H a d not free inquiry b e e n i n d u l g e d , at the era of the R e f o r m a t i o n , the corr u p t i o n s of C h r i s t i a n i t y c o u l d not have b e e n p u r g e d away. If it b e r e s t r a i n e d now, the p r e s e n t c o r r u p t i o n s will b e p r o t e c t e d , a n d new o n e s e n c o u r a g e d . W a s t h e g o v e r n m e n t to p r e s c r i b e to u s o u r m e d i c i n e a n d diet, o u r bodies w o u l d b e in s u c h k e e p i n g a s o u r s o u l s a r e now. T h u s in F r a n c e t h e e m e t i c w a s o n c e forbidden a s a m e d i c i n e , a n d the p o t a t o a s a n article of f o o d . G o v e r n m e n t is j u s t a s infallible too w h e n it fixes s y s t e m s in p h y s i c s . G a l i l e o 6 w a s s e n t to the Inquisition for affirming that the e a r t h w a s a s p h e r e : the g o v e r n m e n t h a d d e c l a r e d it to b e a s flat a s a t r e n c h e r , a n d G a l i l e o w a s o b l i g e d to a b j u r e his error. T h i s error however at length prevailed, the earth b e c a m e a g l o b e , a n d D e s c a r t e s 7 d e c l a r e d it w a s whirled r o u n d its axis by a vortex. T h e g o v e r n m e n t in w h i c h h e lived w a s wise e n o u g h to s e e that this w a s no q u e s t i o n of civil j u r i s d i c t i o n , or we s h o u l d all h a v e b e e n involved by authority in vortices. In fact, the vortices have b e e n e x p l o d e d , a n d the N e w t o n i a n p r i n c i p l e of gravitation is n o w m o r e firmly e s t a b l i s h e d , on the b a s i s of r e a s o n , t h a n it w o u l d b e w e r e the g o v e r n m e n t to s t e p in, a n d to m a k e it a n article of n e c e s s a r y faith. R e a s o n a n d e x p e r i m e n t h a v e b e e n i n d u l g e d , a n d error h a s fled b e f o r e t h e m . It is error a l o n e w h i c h n e e d s the s u p p o r t of g o v e r n m e n t : $ T r u t h c a n s t a n d by itself. S u b j e c t o p i n i o n to c o e r c i o n : w h o m will you m a k e your i n q u i s i t o r s ? Fallible m e n ; m e n g o v e r n e d by b a d p a s s i o n s , by private a s well as p u b l i c r e a s o n s . A n d why s u b j e c t it to c o e r c i o n ? T o p r o d u c e uniformity. B u t is uniformity of opinion d e s i r a b l e ? N o m o r e t h a n of f a c e a n d s t a t u r e . I n t r o d u c e the b e d of P r o c r u s t e s 8 t h e n , a n d a s there is d a n g e r that t h e large m e n m a y b e a t the s m a l l , m a k e u s all of a size, by l o p p i n g t h e f o r m e r a n d s t r e t c h i n g the latter. D i f f e r e n c e of opinion is a d v a n t a g e o u s in religion. T h e several s e c t s p e r f o r m the office of a C e n s o r m o r u m 9 over e a c h other. Is uniformity a t t a i n a b l e ? M i l l i o n s of i n n o c e n t m e n , w o m e n , a n d c h i l d r e n , s i n c e the i n t r o d u c t i o n of C h r i s t i a n i t y , h a v e b e e n b u r n t , tortured, fined, i m p r i s o n e d ; yet we have not a d v a n c e d o n e inch t o w a r d s uniformity. W h a t h a s b e e n the effect of c o e r c i o n ? T o m a k e o n e half the world fools, a n d t h e other half h y p o c r i t e s . T o s u p p o r t roguery a n d error all over t h e e a r t h . L e t u s reflect that it is i n h a b i t e r l b y a t h o u s a n d millions of p e o p l e . T h a t t h e s e p r o f e s s p r o b a b l y a t h o u s a n d different s y s t e m s of religion. T h a t o u r s is b u t o n e of t h a L t h o i i s a n d T h a t if thgrg_be b u t o n e right, a n d o u r s thatTone, we s h o u l d w i s h to s e e t h g . 9 9 9 w a n d e x i n g s e c t s g a t h e r e d i n t o j h e fold ofJTi~irTT. B u t a g a i n s t s u c h a majority we c a n n o t effect this by f o r c e . R e a s o n a n d per6. Italian scientist ( 1 5 6 4 - 1 6 4 2 ) , taught mathematics at P a d u a a n d appeared before the Inquisition in 1632. 7. Rene Descartes (1 5 9 6 - 1 6 5 0 ) , French scientist and philosopher.

8. A highwayman in classical mythology who either stretched or cut off the legs of his captors to fit his iron bed. 9. Critic of morals or c u s t o m s (Latin).

NOTES

ON T H E STATE

OF VIRGINIA

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s u a s i o n are t h e only p r a c t i c a b l e i n s t r u m e n t s . T o m a k e way for t h e s e , free inquiry m u s t b e i n d u l g e d ; a n d h o w c a n w e wish others to i n d u l g e it while we refuse it o u r s e l v e s . B u t every s t a t e , says a n inquisitor, h a s e s t a b l i s h e d s o m e religion. N o two, say I, have e s t a b l i s h e d t h e s a m e . Is thisflTproof o f the infallibility of e s t a b l i s h m e n t s ? O u r sister s t a t e s of Pennsylvania a n d N e w York, however, have long^^ufJsTsted without a n y e s t a b l i s h m e n t at all. T h e experiment w a s n e w a n d doubtful w h e n they m a d e it. It h a s a n s w e r e d beyond c o n c e p t i o n . T h e y flourish infinitely. Beligion is well s u p p o r t e d ; of various kinds, i n d e e d , b u t all g o o d e n o u g h ; all sufficient to preserve p e a c e a n d order: or if a s e c t arises, w h o s e tenets would subvert m o r a l s , g o o d s e n s e h a s fair play, a n d r e a s o n s a n d l a u g h s it out of doors, without suffering t h e state to b e troubled with it. T h e y d o not h a n g m o r e m a l e f a c t o r s t h a n w e d o . T h e y are not m o r e d i s t u r b e d with religious d i s s e n s i o n s . O n t h e contrary, their h a r m o n y is u n p a r a l l e l e d , a n d c a n b e a s c r i b e d to n o t h i n g b u t their u n b o u n d e d t o l e r a n c e , b e c a u s e there is n o other c i r c u m s t a n c e in which they differ from every nation o n earth. T h e y have m a d e t h e h a p p y discovery, that the way to silence religious d i s p u t e s , is to take n o notice of t h e m . L e t u s t o o give this experiment fair play, a n d get rid, while w e m a y , of t h o s e tyrannical laws. It is true, w e a r e a s yet s e c u r e d a g a i n s t t h e m by t h e spirit o f the t i m e s . I d o u b t w h e t h e r t h e p e o p l e of this country would suffer a n e x e c u t i o n for heresy, or a three years' i m p r i s o n m e n t for not c o m p r e h e n d i n g t h e mysteries of the Trinity. B u t is t h e spirit of the p e o p l e a n infallible, a p e r m a n e n t relia n c e ? Is it g o v e r n m e n t ? Is this t h e kind o f protection w e receive in return for t h e rights w e give u p ? B e s i d e s , the spirit o f the t i m e s m a y alter, will alter. O u r rulers will b e c o m e c o r r u p t , o u r p e o p l e c a r e l e s s . A single zealot m a y c o m m e n c e p e r s e c u t o r , a n d better m e n b e his victims. It c a n never b e t o o often r e p e a t e d , that t h e t i m e for fixing every essential right o n a legaTbasis is while o u r rulers a r e h o n e s t , a n d ourselves~united. f r o m t h e c o n c l u s i o n of this war we shalFbe g o i n g downhill. It will not then b e n e c e s s a r y to resort every m o m e n t to t h e p e o p l e for support. T h e y will b e forgotten, therefore, a n d their rights d i s r e g a r d e d . T h e y will forget t h e m s e l v e s , b u t in the sole faculty of m a k i n g m o n e y , a n d will never think o f uniting to effect a d u e r e s p e c t for their rights. T h e s h a c k l e s , therefore, which shall not b e k n o c k e d off at the c o n c l u s i o n of this war, will r e m a i n on u s long, will b e m a d e heavier a n d heavier, till o u r rights shall revive or expire in a c o n v u l s i o n . 1780-81

1787

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L e t t e r to J o h n A d a m s ' [The Natural

Aristocrat]

Monticello, October 28, 1813 D e a r S i r , — A c c o r d i n g to t h e r e s e r v a t i o n b e t w e e n u s , of t a k i n g u p o n e o f t h e s u b j e c t s of o u r c o r r e s p o n d e n c e at a t i m e , I turn to y o u r letters of A u g u s t t h e 1 6 t h a n d S e p t e m b e r t h e 2 d . * * * I a g r e e with you t h a t t h e r e is a n a t u r a l a r i s t o c r a c y a m o n g m e n . T h e g r o u n d s o f this a r e virtue a n d t a l e n t s . F o r m e r l y , bodily p o w e r s g a v e p l a c e a m o n g t h e a r i s t o i . 2 B u t s i n c e t h e invention of g u n p o w d e r h a s a r m e d t h e w e a k a s well a s t h e s t r o n g with m i s s i l e d e a t h , bodily s t r e n g t h , like b e a u t y , g o o d h u m o r , p o l i t e n e s s a n d o t h e r a c c o m p l i s h m e n t s , h a s b e c o m e b u t an auxiliary g r o u n d of d i s t i n c tion. T h e r e is a l s o a n artificial a r i s t o c r a c y , f o u n d e d on w e a l t h a n d b i r t h , w i t h o u t e i t h e r virtue or t a l e n t s ; for with t h e s e it w o u l d b e l o n g to t h e first c l a s s . T h e n a t u r a l a r i s t o c r a c y I c o n s i d e r a s the m o s t p r e c i o u s gift of n a t u r e for t h e i n s t r u c t i o n , t h e t r u s t s , a n d g o v e r n m e n t of society. A n d i n d e e d , it w o u l d hav e b e e n i n c o n s i s t e n t in c r e a t i o n to h a v e f o r m e d m a n for the s o c i a l s t a t e , a n d not to h a v e p r o v i d e d virtue a n d w i s d o m e n o u g h to m a n a g e t h e c o n c e r n s o f t h e society. M a y we not e v e n say that that form o f g o v e r n m e n t is t h e b e s t w h i c h p r o v i d e s the m o s t ef f ec t u a l l y for a p u r e s e l e c t i o n of t h e s e n a t u r a l aristoi into t h e offices o f g o v e r n m e n t ? T h e artificial a r i s t o c r a c y is a m i s c h i e v o u s ingredient in g o v e r n m e n t , a n d provision s h o u l d b e m a d e to p r e v e n t its a s c e n d e n c y . O n t h e q u e s t i o n , w h a t is t h e b e s t p r o v i s i o n , you a n d I differ; b u t we differ a s rational f r i e n d s , u s i n g t h e free e x e r c i s e of o u r o w n r e a s o n , a n d m u t u a l l y i n d u l g i n g its e r r o r s . Y o u think it b e s t to p u t t h e p s e u d o - a r i s t o i into a s e p a r a t e c h a m b e r of l e g i s l a t i o n , w h e r e they m a y b e h i n d e r e d f r o m d o i n g m i s c h i e f by their c o - o r d i n a t e b r a n c h e s , a n d w h e r e , a l s o , they m a y b e a p r o t e c t i o n to w e a l t h a g a i n s t t h e a g r a r i a n a n d p l u n d e r i n g e n t e r p r i s e s of t h e majority o f t h e p e o p l e . I think that to give t h e m p o w e r in o r d e r to p r e v e n t t h e m f r o m d o i n g m i s c h i e f is a r m i n g t h e m for it, a n d i n c r e a s i n g i n s t e a d of r e m e d y i n g t h e evil. F o r if t h e c o - o r d i n a t e b r a n c h e s c a n a r r e s t their a c t i o n , s o m a y they that of t h e c o - o r d i n a t e s . M i s c h i e f m a y b e d o n e negatively a s well a s positively. O f this, a c a b a l in t h e S e n a t e of t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s h a s f u r n i s h e d m a n y p r o o f s . N o r d o I believe t h e m n e c e s s a r y to p r o t e c t t h e w e a l t h y ; b e c a u s e e n o u g h of t h e s e will find their way into every b r a n c h of t h e legislation, to p r o t e c t t h e m s e l v e s . F r o m fifteen to twenty l e g i s l a t u r e s o f o u r o w n , in a c t i o n for thirty y e a r s p a s t , h a v e p r o v e d t h a t n o f e a r s of a n e q u a l i z a t i o n o f property a r e to b e a p p r e h e n d e d from t h e m . I think t h e b e s t r e m e d y is exactly that p r o v i d e d by all o u r c o n s t i t u t i o n s , to leave to

1. T h o m a s Jefferson and John Adams (1735— 1826) hecame estranged when Adams was elected second president in 1796. Adams's federalist positions were opposed by Jefferson, who succeeded him as president in 1 8 0 1 . In 1812 they began to correspond and were able to debate their differences. The text used here is from The Writings of Thomus Jefferson, vol. 1 3, edited bv A. A. Lipscomb and A. E. Bergh ( 1 9 0 3 ) . 2. T h e best (Greek). On July 9, 1813, Adams

wrote to Jefferson that he recalled a maxim from the work of the Greek elegiac poet Theognis (6th century B.C.) that said that " 'nobility in men is worth as much as it is in horses, a s s e s , or rams; but the meanest [i.e., poorest] blooded puppy in the world, if he gets a little money is as good a man as the best of them." Yet birth and wealth together have prevailed over virtue and talents in all ages. The many will acknowledge no other aristoi."

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the citizens the free e l e c t i o n a n d s e p a r a t i o n of the aristoi f r o m the p s e u d o aristoi, of the w h e a t from the chaff. In g e n e r a l they will e l e c t the really g o o d a n d w i s e . In s o m e i n s t a n c e s , w e a l t h may c o r r u p t , a n d birth blind t h e m ; b u t not in sufficient d e g r e e to e n d a n g e r the society. It is p r o b a b l e that o u r d i f f e r e n c e of o p i n i o n m a y , in s o m e m e a s u r e , be p r o d u c e d by a d i f f e r e n c e of c h a r a c t e r in t h o s e a m o n g w h o m w e live. F r o m w h a t I have s e e n of M a s s a c h u s e t t s a n d C o n n e c t i c u t myself, a n d still m o r e from w h a t I have h e a r d , a n d the c h a r a c t e r given of the f o r m e r by y o u r s e l f , ' w h o k n o w t h e m s o m u c h better, t h e r e s e e m s to b e in t h o s e two s t a t e s a traditionary r e v e r e n c e for c e r t a i n f a m i l i e s , w h i c h h a s r e n d e r e d the offices of the g o v e r n m e n t nearly hereditary in t h o s e f a m i l i e s . I p r e s u m e that from a n early p e r i o d of your history, m e m b e r s o f t h o s e f a m i l i e s h a p p e n i n g to p o s s e s s virtue a n d t a l e n t s , h a v e honestly e x e r c i s e d t h e m for the g o o d of the p e o p l e , a n d by their s e r v i c e s h a v e e n d e a r e d their n a m e s to t h e m . In c o u p l i n g C o n n e c t i c u t with y o u , I m e a n it politically only, not morally. F o r having m a d e the B i b l e the c o m m o n law of their l a n d , they s e e m to have m o d e l e d their morality o n the story o f J a c o b a n d L a b a n . 4 B u t a l t h o u g h this hereditary s u c c e s s i o n to office with y o u , may, in s o m e d e g r e e , b e f o u n d e d in real family merit, yet in a m u c h h i g h e r d e g r e e , it h a s p r o c e e d e d from y o u r strict a l l i a n c e of C h u r c h a n d S t a t e . T h e s e f a m i l i e s a r e c a n o n i z e d in the eyes o f the p e o p l e o n c o m m o n p r i n c i p l e s , "you tickle m e , a n d I will tickle y o u . " In Virginia we have n o t h i n g of t h i s . O u r clergy, before the R e v o l u t i o n , h a v i n g b e e n s e c u r e d a g a i n s t rivalship by fixed s a l a r i e s , did not give t h e m s e l v e s the t r o u b l e of a c q u i r i n g i n f l u e n c e over the p e o p l e . O f w e a l t h , t h e r e w e r e g r e a t a c c u m u l a t i o n s in p a r t i c u l a r f a m i l i e s , h a n d e d d o w n from g e n e r a t i o n to g e n e r a t i o n , u n d e r t h e E n g l i s h law of e n t a i l s . 5 B u t the only o b j e c t of a m b i t i o n for the w e a l t h y w a s a s e a t in the King's C o u n c i l . 6 All their c o u r t t h e n w a s p a i d to the c r o w n a n d its c r e a t u r e s ; a n d they p h i l i p p i z e d 7 in all c o l l i s i o n s b e t w e e n the K i n g a n d the p e o p l e . H e n c e they w e r e u n p o p u l a r ; a n d that u n p o p u l a r i t y c o n t i n u e s a t t a c h e d to their n a m e s . A R a n d o l p h , a C a r t e r , or a B u r w e l l 8 m u s t have great p e r s o n a l superiority over a c o m m o n c o m p e t i t o r to be e l e c t e d by the p e o p l e even at this day. At the first s e s s i o n of o u r l e g i s l a t u r e after the D e c l a r a t i o n of I n d e p e n d e n c e , w e p a s s e d a law a b o l i s h i n g e n t a i l s . A n d this w a s followed by o n e a b o l i s h i n g the privilege of p r i m o g e n i t u r e , a n d dividing the l a n d s of intestates'* e q u a l l y a m o n g all their c h i l d r e n , or o t h e r r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . T h e s e laws, d r a w n by myself, laid the axe to the foot o f p s e u d o - a r i s t o c r a c y . A n d h a d a n o t h e r w h i c h I p r e p a r e d b e e n a d o p t e d by the l e g i s l a t u r e , o u r work w o u l d have b e e n c o m p l e t e . It w a s a bill for the m o r e g e n e r a l diffusion of l e a r n i n g . T h i s p r o p o s e d to divide every c o u n t y into w a r d s of five or six m i l e s s q u a r e , like y o u r t o w n s h i p s ; to e s t a b l i s h in e a c h w a r d a free s c h o o l for r e a d i n g , writing a n d c o m m o n a r i t h m e t i c ; to provide for the a n n u a l s e l e c t i o n of t h e b e s t s u b j e c t s from t h e s e s c h o o l s , 3. "Vol, 1, page 1 1 1 " [Jefferson's note]. A reference to Adams's Defense of the Constitutions of Government of the United States of America, 3 vols. ( 1 7 9 7 ) . This work was first published in 1787. 4. I.e., a dynastic family, founded on the marital relations between the daughters of J a c o b and Laban (Genesis 24—31). 5. An estate that cannot be willed but must pass from a prescribed list of successors.

6. T h e Privy Council, a select group of advisers, appointed by the king. 7. Argued against liberty for the people; spoke corrupted by their desire to please the king. 8. John Randolph, Landon Carter, and Lewis Burwell were all Virginia aristocrats. 9. T h o s e who died without wills. "Primogeniture": a law that gives estates to the eldest son.

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THOMAS

JEFFERSON

w h o m i g h t receive, at t h e p u b l i c e x p e n s e , a h i g h e r d e g r e e o f e d u c a t i o n at a district s c h o o l ; a n d from t h e s e district s c h o o l s to s e l e c t a c e r t a i n n u m b e r o f t h e m o s t p r o m i s i n g s u b j e c t s , to b e c o m p l e t e d a t a n university, w h e r e all t h e u s e f u l s c i e n c e s s h o u l d b e t a u g h t . W o r t h a n d g e n i u s w o u l d t h u s h a v e b e e n s o u g h t o u t f r o m every c o n d i t i o n of life, a n d c o m p l e t e l y p r e p a r e d by e d u c a t i o n for d e f e a t i n g t h e c o m p e t i t i o n of w e a l t h a n d birth for p u b l i c t r u s t s . M y p r o p o s i t i o n h a d , for a further o b j e c t , to i m p a r t to t h e s e w a r d s t h o s e p o r t i o n s of s e l f - g o v e r n m e n t for w h i c h they a r e b e s t qualified, by c o n f i d i n g to t h e m t h e c a r e of their p o o r , their r o a d s , p o l i c e , e l e c t i o n s , t h e n o m i n a t i o n of j u r o r s , a d m i n i s t r a t i o n of j u s t i c e in s m a l l c a s e s , e l e m e n t a r y e x e r c i s e s o f militia; in short, to h a v e m a d e t h e m little r e p u b l i c s , with a w a r d e n a t t h e h e a d of e a c h , for all t h o s e c o n c e r n s w h i c h , b e i n g u n d e r their e y e , they w o u l d b e t t e r m a n a g e t h a n t h e l a r g e r r e p u b l i c s of t h e c o u n t y or s t a t e . A g e n e r a l call of w a r d m e e t i n g s by their w a r d e n s on t h e s a m e d a y t h r o u g h t h e s t a t e , w o u l d at a n y t i m e p r o d u c e t h e g e n u i n e s e n s e of t h e p e o p l e o n a n y r e q u i r e d p o i n t , a n d w o u l d e n a b l e t h e s t a t e to a c t in m a s s , a s y o u r p e o p l e h a v e s o often d o n e , a n d with s o m u c h effect by their town m e e t i n g s . T h e law for religious f r e e d o m , 1 w h i c h m a d e a part of this s y s t e m , h a v i n g p u t d o w n the a r i s t o c r a c y o f t h e clergy, a n d r e s t o r e d to t h e citizen t h e f r e e d o m of t h e m i n d , a n d t h o s e o f entails a n d d e s c e n t s n u r t u r i n g a n e q u a l i t y of c o n d i t i o n a m o n g t h e m , this o n e d u c a t i o n w o u l d h a v e r a i s e d t h e m a s s of t h e p e o p l e to t h e high g r o u n d of m o r a l r e s p e c t a b i l i t y n e c e s s a r y to their o w n safety, a n d to orderly g o v e r n m e n t ; a n d w o u l d h a v e c o m p l e t e d t h e g r e a t o b j e c t o f qualifying t h e m to s e l e c t t h e veritable aristoi, for t h e t r u s t s of g o v e r n m e n t , to t h e e x c l u s i o n of t h e p s e u d a l i s t s ; a n d t h e s a m e T h e o g n i s w h o h a s f u r n i s h e d t h e e p i g r a p h s of y o u r two letters, a s s u r e s u s that " O u 5 e L u a v Ttco, Rupv', ayaGcu 7io"A.iv eo/Veaav avSpeZ." A l t h o u g h this law h a s n o t yet b e e n a c t e d o n b u t in a s m a l l a n d inefficient d e g r e e , it is still c o n s i d e r e d a s b e f o r e t h e l e g i s l a t u r e , with o t h e r bills of t h e revised c o d e , n o t yet t a k e n u p , a n d I h a v e g r e a t h o p e that s o m e patriotic spirit will, a t a f a v o r a b l e m o m e n t , call it u p , a n d m a k e it t h e k e y s t o n e o f t h e a r c h o f o u r g o v e r n m e n t . 2

W i t h r e s p e c t to a r i s t o c r a c y , w e s h o u l d further c o n s i d e r , that b e f o r e t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t of t h e A m e r i c a n s t a t e s , n o t h i n g w a s k n o w n to history b u t the m a n of t h e old world, c r o w d e d within limits either s m a l l or o v e r c h a r g e d , a n d s t e e p e d in t h e v i c e s w h i c h that s i t u a t i o n g e n e r a t e s . A g o v e r n m e n t a d a p t e d to s u c h m e n w o u l d b e o n e t h i n g ; b u t a very different o n e , that for t h e m a n of t h e s e s t a t e s . H e r e every o n e m a y h a v e l a n d to labor for himself, if h e c h o o s e s ; or, p r e f e r r i n g t h e e x e r c i s e of any o t h e r industry, m a y exact for it s u c h c o m p e n s a t i o n a s n o t only to afford a c o m f o r t a b l e s u b s i s t e n c e , b u t w h e r e w i t h to provide for a c e s s a t i o n from l a b o r in old a g e . Every o n e , by his property, or by his s a t i s f a c t o r y s i t u a t i o n , is i n t e r e s t e d in t h e s u p p o r t of law a n d order. A n d s u c h m e n m a y safely a n d a d v a n t a g e o u s l y reserve to t h e m s e l v e s a w h o l e s o m e c o n t r o l over their p u b l i c affairs, a n d a d e g r e e of f r e e d o m , w h i c h , in t h e h a n d s of t h e c a n a i l l e ' o f t h e cities o f E u r o p e , w o u l d b e i n s t a n t l y p e r v e r t e d to t h e d e m o l i t i o n a n d d e s t r u c t i o n of everything p u b l i c a n d p r i v a t e . T h e history o f t h e last twenty-five years of F r a n c e , 4 a n d of t h e last forty y e a r s in 1. Passed in 1786. 2. Curnis, good men have never harmed any city (Greek).

1. Mob. 4. I.e., since the French Revolution ( 1 7 8 9 ) .

LETTER

TO J O H N A D A M S

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A m e r i c a , nay of its last two h u n d r e d y e a r s , p r o v e s the t r u t h o f b o t h p a r t s of this o b s e r v a t i o n . » B u t even in E u r o p e a c h a n g e h a s sensibly t a k e n p l a c e in the m i n d of m a n . S c i e n c e h a d l i b e r a t e d the i d e a s of t h o s e w h o r e a d a n d reflect, a n d the A m e r i c a n e x a m p l e h a d kindled feelings of right in the p e o p l e . A n i n s u r r e c t i o n h a s c o n s e q u e n t l y b e g u n , of s c i e n c e , t a l e n t s , a n d c o u r a g e , a g a i n s t rank a n d birth, w h i c h have fallen into c o n t e m p t . It h a s failed in its first effort, b e c a u s e the m o b s of the cities, the i n s t r u m e n t u s e d for its a c c o m p l i s h m e n t , d e b a s e d by i g n o r a n c e , poverty, a n d v i c e , c o u l d not b e r e s t r a i n e d to rational a c t i o n . B u t the world will r e c o v e r f r o m the p a n i c of this first c a t a s t r o p h e . S c i e n c e is p r o g r e s s i v e , a n d t a l e n t s a n d e n t e r p r i s e o n the alert. R e s o r t m a y b e h a d to the p e o p l e of the c o u n t r y , a m o r e g o v e r n a b l e p o w e r from their p r i n c i p l e s a n d s u b o r d i n a t i o n ; a n d rank, a n d birth, a n d t i n s e l - a r i s t o c r a c y will finally s h r i n k into i n s i g n i f i c a n c e , even t h e r e . T h i s , however, we h a v e n o right to m e d d l e with. It s u f f i c e s for u s , if the m o r a l a n d p h y s i c a l c o n d i t i o n o f o u r own citizens qualifies t h e m to s e l e c t the a b l e a n d g o o d for the direction of their g o v e r n m e n t , with a r e c u r r e n c e of e l e c t i o n s at s u c h short p e r i o d s a s will e n a b l e t h e m to d i s p l a c e a n unfaithful s e r v a n t , b e f o r e the m i s c h i e f h e m e d i t a t e s m a y b e irremediable. I have t h u s s t a t e d my o p i n i o n o n a point on w h i c h w e differ, not with a view to controversy, for w e a r e both t o o old to c h a n g e o p i n i o n s w h i c h a r e the result of a l o n g life of inquiry a n d reflection; b u t o n the s u g g e s t i o n s of a f o r m e r letter of y o u r s , that w e o u g h t not to die b e f o r e w e h a v e e x p l a i n e d o u r s e l v e s to e a c h other. W e a c t e d in p e r f e c t h a r m o n y , t h r o u g h a l o n g a n d p e r i l o u s c o n t e s t for o u r liberty a n d i n d e p e n d e n c e . A c o n s t i t u t i o n h a s b e e n a c q u i r e d , w h i c h , t h o u g h n e i t h e r of u s thinks p e r f e c t , yet b o t h c o n s i d e r a s c o m p e t e n t to r e n d e r o u r fellow citizens the h a p p i e s t a n d the s e c u r e s t o n w h o m the s u n h a s ever s h o n e . If we d o not think exactly alike a s to its i m p e r f e c t i o n s , it m a t t e r s little to o u r c o u n t r y , w h i c h , after d e v o t i n g to it long lives of d i s i n t e r e s t e d labor, w e have delivered over to o u r s u c c e s s o r s in life, w h o will b e a b l e to t a k e c a r e of it a n d of t h e m s e l v e s . O f the p a m p h l e t o n a r i s t o c r a c y w h i c h h a s b e e n s e n t to y o u , or w h o m a y b e its a u t h o r , I h a v e h e a r d n o t h i n g but t h r o u g h y o u r letter. If the p e r s o n you s u s p e c t , it m a y b e k n o w n from the q u a i n t , m y s t i c a l , a n d hyperbolical i d e a s , involved in a f f e c t e d , n e w f a n g l e d a n d p e d a n t i c t e r m s w h i c h s t a m p his writings. W h a t e v e r it b e , I h o p e your q u i e t is not to b e a f f e c t e d at this day by the r u d e n e s s or i n t e m p e r a n c e o f s c r i b b l e r s ; b u t t h a t you m a y c o n t i n u e in tranquility to live a n d to rejoice in the p r o s p e r i t y of o u r c o u n t r y , until it shall b e y o u r own wish to take your s e a t a m o n g t h e aristoi w h o have g o n e b e f o r e y o u . Ever a n d affectionately y o u r s . 1813

350

OLAUDAH

EQUIANO

1 745?-l797 The Interesting

Narrative

of the Life of Olaudah

Equiano,

or Gustavus

Vassa, the Afri-

can was published in London in 1789 and found an enthusiastic American audience when it was reprinted in New York in 1791. In the next five years it went through eight more editions, and it was reprinted again in the nineteenth century. This publication history suggests its centrality to the antislavery cause. To offset its importance, proslavery apologists questioned the Narrative's veracity, attacking in particular Equiano's claim to have been born in Africa. Scholars agree that Equiano himself left conflicting evidence about his origins; but no black voice before Frederick Douglass spoke so movingly to American readers about inhumanity, and no work before Douglass's own Narrative had such an impact. Incorporating the vocabulary and ideals of the Enlightenment—particularly the belief that sentiment linked all human beings and thus argued for the university of human rights—Equiano spoke for the countless disenfranchised and exploited workers whose labor fueled the new mercantilism. In a literature replete with self-made figures who voyage from innocence to experience— some Active, some not—Equiano's story stands, in view of the actual horrors he suffered, in a class quite by itself. He defined himself as neither African American (his first owner in the New World was a Virginian) nor Anglo African (with London as his adopted home), and he stands as an exemplary inhabitant of the Atlantic Rim, someone who at various times called Africa, North America, South America, and Europe his home. Equiano writes that he was born in about 1745 in what is now Nigeria, in an unlocated Ibo village called Essaka; he was sold to British slavers in 1756 and transported first to the Barbadoes in the West Indies and then to a plantation in Virginia. He was with his second owner, Lt. Michael Henry Pascal, throughout the Seven Years' War between England and France and was present at the siege of Fort Louisburg on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia. Eventually, he was sold to a Quaker merchant from Philadelphia, Robert King, who carried on much of his business in the West Indies. King often traded in "live cargo," or slaves, and Equiano saw much that made him grateful for his Quaker master's treatment of him, without having any illusions about what the loss of freedom entailed. He saw the ugliest side of American life in both the North and the South. Even in Philadelphia, a city built on the premise of "brotherly love," Equiano observed that the freed black was treated with profound contempt, "plundered" and "universally insulted," with no possibility of redress. King, however, did make it possible for Equiano to purchase his freedom in 1766. Once having gained his freedom by paying forty pounds—earned by his own instincts for enterprise, carrying on his own business while managing King's—he never set foot on American soil again. It was Equiano's intention to settle in London for the rest of his life. He made his living there as a free servant, a musician (he played the French horn), and a barber. But Equiano's skill as a seaman, and his always remarkable curiosity, made him restless for new adventures, and before he died he had traveled as far as Turkey; had heard opera in Rome; and had seen Jamaica, Honduras, and Nicaragua. In 1 783 Equiano brought the case of the infamous ship Zong to the British public: the owners had thrown overboard 1 32 shackled slaves and later made insurance claims against their loss. He lectured widely on the abolition of slavery and approved a project to resettle poor blacks in Sierra Leone, Africa. He was, in fact, given an official post in this undertaking, but lost it after he made accusations of misdeeds against some officials. Although he always spoke about his desire to return to the place of his birth, Africa always lay beyond his reach. In a letter written to his hosts in Birmingham, England, after lecturing there, he wrote:

NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE

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These acts of kindness and hospitality have filled me with a longing desire to see these worthy friends on my own estate in Africa, where the richest produce of it should be devoted to their entertainment. There they should partake of the luxuriant pineapples, and the well-flavored virgin palm-wine, and to heighten the bliss I would burn a certain tree, that would afford us light as clear and brilliant as the virtue of my guests. In 1 7 9 2 Equiano married Susanna Cullcn, and their marriage was duly noticed in the London Gentleman's Magazine. He died on March 3 1 , 1 7 9 7 , and one of his daughters died shortly after him.

From T h e I n t e r e s t i n g N a r r a t i v e of t h e L i f e of O l a u d a h E q u i a n o , or G u s t a v a s V a s s a , t h e A f r i c a n , W r i t t e n by H i m s e l f F r o m Chapter

H

I h o p e the reader will not think I have t r e s p a s s e d on his p a t i e n c e in introd u c i n g myself to him, with s o m e a c c o u n t of the m a n n e r s a n d c u s t o m s of my country. T h e y h a d b e e n i m p l a n t e d in m e with great c a r e , a n d m a d e an impression on my m i n d , which time could not e r a s e , a n d which all the adversity a n d variety of fortune I have s i n c e e x p e r i e n c e d , served only to rivet a n d record; for, whether the love of one's country b e real or imaginary, or a l e s s o n of r e a s o n , or an instinct of n a t u r e , I still look b a c k with p l e a s u r e on the first s c e n e s of my life, though that p l e a s u r e has b e e n for the m o s t part mingled with sorrow. I have already a c q u a i n t e d the reader with the time a n d p l a c e of my birth. M y father, b e s i d e s m a n y slaves, h a d a n u m e r o u s family, of which seven lived to grow u p , including myself a n d a sister, w h o w a s the only d a u g h t e r . A s I was the y o u n g e s t of the s o n s , I b e c a m e , of c o u r s e , the g r e a t e s t favorite with my mother, a n d w a s always with her; a n d s h e u s e d to take p a r t i c u l a r p a i n s to form my m i n d . I w a s trained up from my earliest years in the art of war: my daily exercise w a s s h o o t i n g a n d throwing j a v e l i n s ; a n d my m o t h e r a d o r n e d m e with e m b l e m s , after the m a n n e r of our g r e a t e s t warriors. In this way I grew u p till I was turned the a g e of eleven, w h e n a n e n d w a s p u t to my h a p p i n e s s in the following m a n n e r : — g e n e r a l l y w h e n the grown p e o p l e in the n e i g h b o r h o o d were g o n e far in the fields to labor, the children a s s e m b l e d together in s o m e of the neighboring p r e m i s e s to play; a n d c o m m o n l y s o m e of u s u s e d to get u p a tree to look out for any a s s a i l a n t , or k i d n a p p e r , that might c o m e u p o n u s — f o r they s o m e t i m e s took t h o s e o p p o r t u n i t i e s of our p a r e n t s ' a b s e n c e , to a t t a c k a n d carry off a s many a s they c o u l d seize. O n e day a s I w a s w a t c h i n g at the top of a tree in our yard, I s a w o n e of t h o s e p e o p l e c o m e into the yard of our next n e i g h b o r b u t o n e to k i d n a p , there being m a n y s t o u t 2 y o u n g p e o p l e in it. I m m e d i a t e l y on this I gave the a l a r m of the r o g u e , a n d he was s u r r o u n d e d by the s t o u t e s t of t h e m , who e n t a n g l e d him with c o r d s , so that he c o u l d not e s c a p e till s o m e of the grown p e o p l e c a m e a n d s e c u r e d him. B u t , alas! ere long it w a s my fate to be t h u s a t t a c k e d , a n d to b e carried off, w h e n n o n e of the grown p e o p l e were nigh. O n e day, w h e n all our p e o p l e were g o n e out to their works a s u s u a l , a n d only I a n d 1. T h e text used here is taken from the I st edition, published in two volumes for the author in London in 1789. The original paragraphing has been

altered to facilitate reading, 2. Strong,

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my d e a r sister were left to mind the h o u s e , two m e n a n d a w o m a n got over our walls, a n d in a m o m e n t seized u s b o t h , a n d , without giving u s time to cry o u t , or m a k e r e s i s t a n c e , they s t o p p e d our m o u t h s , a n d ran off with u s into the n e a r e s t w o o d . H e r e they tied o u r h a n d s , a n d c o n t i n u e d to carry u s a s far a s they c o u l d , till night c a m e o n , w h e n we r e a c h e d a s m a l l h o u s e , w h e r e the robbers halted for r e f r e s h m e n t , a n d spent the night. W e w e r e then u n b o u n d , but were u n a b l e to take any f o o d ; a n d , b e i n g q u i t e o v e r p o w e r e d by fatigue a n d grief, our only relief w a s s o m e s l e e p , which allayed o u r misf o r t u n e for a short t i m e . T h e next m o r n i n g we left the h o u s e , a n d c o n t i n u e d traveling all the day. F o r a long time we h a d kept the w o o d s , b u t at last we c a m e into a r o a d which I believed I knew. I h a d now s o m e h o p e s of b e i n g delivered; for we h a d a d v a n c e d but a little way before I d i s c o v e r e d s o m e p e o p l e at a d i s t a n c e , o n w h i c h 1 b e g a n to cry out for their a s s i s t a n c e ; but my cries h a d n o other effect t h a n to m a k e t h e m tie m e f a s t e r a n d s t o p my m o u t h , a n d then they put m e into a large sack. T h e y also s t o p p e d my sister's m o u t h , a n d tied her h a n d s ; a n d in this m a n n e r we p r o c e e d e d till we were o u t of sight of t h e s e p e o p l e . W h e n we went to rest the following night, they offered u s s o m e victuals, b u t we r e f u s e d it; a n d the only c o m f o r t we h a d w a s in b e i n g in o n e a n o t h e r ' s a r m s all that night, a n d b a t h i n g e a c h other with o u r t e a r s . B u t alas! we were s o o n deprived of even the small c o m f o r t of w e e p i n g together. T h e next day proved a day of greater sorrow t h a n I h a d yet exper i e n c e d ; for my sister a n d I were then s e p a r a t e d , while we lay c l a s p e d in e a c h other's a r m s . It w a s in vain that we b e s o u g h t t h e m not to part u s ; s h e w a s torn from m e , a n d i m m e d i a t e l y carried away, while I w a s left in a s t a t e of distraction not to b e d e s c r i b e d . I cried a n d grieved continually; a n d for several days did not eat any thing but what they forced into my m o u t h . At l e n g t h , after m a n y days traveling, d u r i n g w h i c h I h a d often c h a n g e d m a s t e r s , I got into the h a n d s of a chieftain, in a very p l e a s a n t country. T h i s m a n h a d two wives a n d s o m e children, a n d they all u s e d m e extremely well, a n d did all they c o u l d to c o m f o r t m e ; particularly the first wife, w h o w a s s o m e t h i n g like my m o t h e r . A l t h o u g h I w a s a great m a n y days' j o u r n e y from my father's h o u s e , yet t h e s e p e o p l e s p o k e exactly the s a m e l a n g u a g e with u s . T h i s first m a s t e r of m i n e , a s I m a y call him, w a s a s m i t h , 3 a n d my principal employm e n t w a s working his bellows, which were the s a m e kind a s I h a d s e e n in my vicinity. T h e y were in s o m e r e s p e c t s not unlike the stoves h e r e in g e n t l e m e n ' s k i t c h e n s , a n d were covered over with leather; a n d in the m i d d l e of that leather a stick w a s fixed, a n d a p e r s o n s t o o d u p , a n d w o r k e d it in the s a m e m a n n e r a s is d o n e to p u m p water o u t of a c a s k with a h a n d p u m p . I believe it w a s gold he worked, for it w a s of a lovely bright yellow color, a n d w a s worn by the w o m e n on their wrists a n d a n k l e s . I w a s t h e r e I s u p p o s e a b o u t a m o n t h , a n d they at last u s e d to trust m e s o m e little d i s t a n c e f r o m the h o u s e . T h i s liberty I u s e d in e m b r a c i n g every o p p o r t u n i t y to inquire the way to my own h o m e ; a n d I a l s o s o m e t i m e s , for the s a m e p u r p o s e , went with the m a i d e n s , in the cool of the e v e n i n g s , to b r i n g p i t c h e r s of water from the springs for the u s e of the h o u s e . I h a d a l s o r e m a r k e d w h e r e the s u n rose in the m o r n i n g , a n d set in the evening, a s I h a d traveled a l o n g ; a n d I h a d o b s e r v e d that my father's h o u s e w a s towards the rising of the s u n . I therefore d e t e r m i n e d to seize the first opportunity of m a k i n g my e s c a p e , a n d to s h a p e 3. A metalworker; here, a goldsmith.

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my c o u r s e for that q u a r t e r ; for I w a s quite o p p r e s s e d a n d w e i g h e d down by grief after my m o t h e r a n d friends; a n d my love of liberty, ever great, w a s s t r e n g t h e n e d by the mortifying c i r c u m s t a n c e of not d a r i n g to eat with the free-born children, a l t h o u g h I w a s mostly their c o m p a n i o n . W h i l e I w a s projecting my e s c a p e o n e day, a n unlucky event h a p p e n e d , which q u i t e disc o n c e r t e d my plan, a n d p u t a n e n d to my h o p e s . I u s e d to be s o m e t i m e s e m p l o y e d in a s s i s t i n g a n elderly slave to c o o k a n d take c a r e of the poultry; a n d o n e m o r n i n g , while I w a s feeding s o m e c h i c k e n s , I h a p p e n e d to toss a small p e b b l e at o n e of t h e m , which hit it on the m i d d l e , a n d directly killed it. T h e old slave, having s o o n after m i s s e d the c h i c k e n , i n q u i r e d after it; a n d on my relating the a c c i d e n t (for I told her the truth, for my m o t h e r would never suffer m e to tell a lie), s h e flew into a violent p a s s i o n , a n d t h r e a t e n e d that I s h o u l d suffer for it; a n d , my m a s t e r b e i n g out, s h e i m m e d i a t e l y went a n d told her m i s t r e s s what I h a d d o n e . T h i s a l a r m e d m e very m u c h , a n d I expected a n instant flogging, which to m e w a s u n c o m m o n l y dreadful, for I h a d s e l d o m b e e n b e a t e n at h o m e . I therefore resolved to fly; a n d accordingly I ran into a thicket that w a s hard by, a n d hid myself in the b u s h e s . S o o n afterwards my m i s t r e s s a n d the slave r e t u r n e d , a n d , not s e e i n g m e , they s e a r c h e d all the h o u s e , but not finding m e , a n d I not m a k i n g a n s w e r w h e n they called to m e , they t h o u g h t I h a d run away, a n d the w h o l e n e i g h b o r h o o d w a s raised in the p u r s u i t of m e . In that part of the country, a s in o u r s , the h o u s e s a n d villages were skirted with w o o d s , or s h r u b b e r i e s , a n d the b u s h e s were s o thick that a m a n c o u l d readily c o n c e a l h i m s e l f in t h e m , s o a s to e l u d e the strictest s e a r c h . T h e n e i g h b o r s c o n t i n u e d the w h o l e day looking for m e , a n d several times m a n y of t h e m c a m e within a few yards of the p l a c e w h e r e I lay hid. I e x p e c t e d every m o m e n t , w h e n I h e a r d a rustling a m o n g the trees, to be f o u n d o u t , a n d p u n i s h e d by my m a s t e r ; b u t they never discovered m e , t h o u g h they were often s o n e a r that I even h e a r d their c o n j e c tures as they were looking a b o u t for m e ; a n d I now l e a r n e d from t h e m that any a t t e m p t s to return h o m e would be h o p e l e s s . M o s t of t h e m s u p p o s e d I h a d fled towards h o m e ; but the d i s t a n c e w a s s o great, a n d the way so intric a t e , that they t h o u g h t I c o u l d never r e a c h it, a n d that I s h o u l d b e lost in the w o o d s . W h e n I h e a r d this I w a s seized with a violent p a n i c , a n d a b a n d o n e d myself to d e s p a i r . N i g h t , too, b e g a n to a p p r o a c h , a n d a g g r a v a t e d all my fears. I h a d before e n t e r t a i n e d h o p e s of getting h o m e , a n d h a d determ i n e d w h e n it s h o u l d b e dark to m a k e the a t t e m p t ; b u t I w a s now c o n v i n c e d it w a s fruitless, a n d b e g a n to c o n s i d e r that, if possibly I c o u l d e s c a p e all other a n i m a l s , I c o u l d not t h o s e of the h u m a n kind; a n d that, not knowing the way, I m u s t perish in the w o o d s . T h u s w a s I like the h u n t e d d e e r — — " E v e r y leaf a n d every whisp'ring b r e a t h , Convey'd a foe, a n d every foe a d e a t h . " I h e a r d f r e q u e n t rustlings a m o n g the leaves, a n d b e i n g pretty s u r e they were s n a k e s , I e x p e c t e d every instant to be s t u n g by t h e m . T h i s i n c r e a s e d my a n g u i s h , a n d the horror of my situation b e c a m e n o w q u i t e i n s u p p o r t a b l e . I at length quitted the thicket, very faint a n d hungry, for I h a d not e a t e n or d r a n k any thing all the day, a n d crept to my m a s t e r ' s k i t c h e n , from w h e n c e I set o u t at first, which w a s a n o p e n s h e d , a n d laid myself down in the a s h e s with an anxious wish for d e a t h , to relieve m e from all my p a i n s . I w a s scarcely a w a k e in the m o r n i n g , w h e n the old w o m a n slave, who w a s the first u p , c a m e

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to light the fire, a n d s a w m e in the fire p l a c e . S h e w a s very m u c h s u r p r i s e d to s e e m e , a n d c o u l d scarcely believe her own eyes. S h e now p r o m i s e d to intercede for m e , a n d went for her m a s t e r , w h o s o o n after c a m e , a n d , having slightly r e p r i m a n d e d m e , o r d e r e d m e to be taken c a r e of, a n d not ill treated. S o o n after this, my m a s t e r ' s only d a u g h t e r , a n d child by his first wife, s i c k e n e d a n d died, which affected him s o m u c h that for s o m e t i m e he w a s a l m o s t frantic, a n d really would have killed himself, h a d h e not b e e n w a t c h e d a n d p r e v e n t e d . H o w e v e r , in short time afterwards he recovered, a n d I w a s a g a i n sold. I w a s now carried to the left of the s u n ' s rising, t h r o u g h m a n y dreary w a s t e s a n d d i s m a l w o o d s , a m i d s t the h i d e o u s roarings of wild b e a s t s . T h e p e o p l e I w a s sold to u s e d to carry m e very often, w h e n I w a s tired, either on their s h o u l d e r s or o n their b a c k s . I s a w m a n y c o n v e n i e n t well built s h e d s a l o n g the road, at p r o p e r d i s t a n c e s , to a c c o m m o d a t e the m e r c h a n t s a n d travelers, w h o lay in t h o s e b u i l d i n g s a l o n g with their wives, w h o often a c c o m pany t h e m ; a n d they always go well a r m e d . F r o m the time I left my own nation, I always f o u n d s o m e b o d y that unders t o o d m e till I c a m e to the s e a c o a s t . T h e l a n g u a g e s of different n a t i o n s did not totally differ, nor were they s o c o p i o u s a s t h o s e of the E u r o p e a n s , particularly the E n g l i s h . T h e y were therefore, easily l e a r n e d ; a n d , while I w a s j o u r n e y i n g t h u s t h r o u g h Africa, I a c q u i r e d two or three different t o n g u e s . In this m a n n e r I h a d b e e n traveling for a c o n s i d e r a b l e t i m e , w h e n , o n e evening, to my great s u r p r i s e , w h o m s h o u l d I s e e b r o u g h t to the h o u s e w h e r e I w a s but my dear sister! As s o o n a s s h e saw m e , s h e gave a loud shriek, a n d ran into my a r m s — I w a s q u i t e o v e r p o w e r e d : neither of u s c o u l d s p e a k ; b u t , for a c o n s i d e r a b l e t i m e , c l u n g to e a c h other in m u t u a l e m b r a c e s , u n a b l e to d o any thing but w e e p . O u r m e e t i n g affected all w h o saw u s ; a n d , i n d e e d , I m u s t a c k n o w l e d g e , in h o n o r of t h o s e s a b l e destroyers of h u m a n rights, that I never met with any ill t r e a t m e n t , or s a w any offered to their s l a v e s , except tying t h e m , w h e n n e c e s s a r y , to k e e p t h e m from r u n n i n g away. W h e n t h e s e p e o p l e knew we were brother a n d sister, they i n d u l g e d u s to be together; a n d the m a n , to w h o m I s u p p o s e d we b e l o n g e d , lay with u s , he in the m i d d l e , while s h e a n d I held o n e a n o t h e r by the h a n d s a c r o s s his b r e a s t all night; a n d t h u s for a while we forgot our m i s f o r t u n e s , in the joy of b e i n g together; b u t even this small c o m f o r t w a s s o o n to have a n e n d ; for scarcely h a d the fatal m o r n i n g a p p e a r e d w h e n s h e w a s a g a i n torn from m e forever! I w a s now m o r e m i s e r a b l e , if p o s s i b l e , than before. T h e s m a l l relief which her p r e s e n c e g a v e m e from pain w a s g o n e , a n d the w r e t c h e d n e s s of my situation w a s r e d o u b l e d by my anxiety after her fate, a n d my a p p r e h e n s i o n s lest her sufferings s h o u l d be greater than m i n e , w h e n I c o u l d not b e with her to alleviate t h e m . Yes, thou dear p a r t n e r of all my childish s p o r t s ! thou s h a r e r of my j o y s a n d sorrows! h a p p y s h o u l d I have ever e s t e e m e d myself to e n c o u n t e r every misery for you a n d to p r o c u r e your f r e e d o m by the sacrifice of my o w n . — T h o u g h you were early forced from my a r m s , your i m a g e has b e e n always riveted in my heart, from which neither t i m e nor f o r t u n e have b e e n a b l e to r e m o v e it; s o that, while the t h o u g h t s of your sufferings have d a m p e d my prosperity, they have mingled with adversity a n d i n c r e a s e d its b i t t e r n e s s . T o that H e a v e n which p r o t e c t s the w e a k from the strong, I c o m m i t the c a r e of your i n n o c e n c e a n d virtues, if they have not already received their full reward, a n d if your youth a n d delicacy have not long s i n c e fallen victims to the v i o l e n c e of the African trader, the pestilential s t e n c h of a G u i n e a s h i p ,

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the s e a s o n i n g in the E u r o p e a n c o l o n i e s , or the lash a n d lust of a brutal a n d unrelenting overseer. I did not long remain after my sister. I w a s again sold, a n d carried t h r o u g h a n u m b e r of p l a c e s , till after traveling a c o n s i d e r a b l e t i m e , I c a m e to a town called T i n m a h , in the m o s t beautiful country I h a d yet s e e n in Africa. It w a s extremely rich, a n d there were m a n y rivulets which flowed through it, a n d s u p p l i e d a large p o n d in the c e n t e r of the town, w h e r e the p e o p l e w a s h e d . H e r e I first saw a n d tasted c o c o a n u t s , which I t h o u g h t s u p e r i o r to any nuts I h a d ever tasted b e f o r e ; a n d the trees which were loaded, were a l s o inters p e r s e d a m o n g the h o u s e s , which h a d c o m m o d i o u s s h a d e s adjoining, a n d were in the s a m e m a n n e r a s o u r s , the insides b e i n g neatly p l a s t e r e d a n d w h i t e w a s h e d . H e r e I also saw a n d tasted for the first t i m e , s u g a r c a n e . T h e i r m o n e y c o n s i s t e d of little white shells, the size of the finger nail. I w a s sold here for o n e h u n d r e d a n d seventy-two of t h e m , by a m e r c h a n t w h o lived a n d b r o u g h t m e there. I had b e e n a b o u t two or three days at his h o u s e , w h e n a wealthy widow, a n e i g h b o r of his, c a m e there o n e evening, a n d b r o u g h t with her a n only s o n , a y o u n g g e n t l e m a n a b o u t my own a g e a n d size. H e r e they saw m e ; a n d , having taken a fancy to m e , I w a s b o u g h t of the m e r c h a n t , a n d went h o m e with t h e m . H e r h o u s e a n d p r e m i s e s were s i t u a t e d c l o s e to o n e of t h o s e rivulets I have m e n t i o n e d , a n d were the finest I ever s a w in Africa: they were very extensive, a n d she had a n u m b e r of slaves to a t t e n d her. T h e next day I w a s w a s h e d a n d p e r f u m e d , a n d w h e n m e a l t i m e c a m e , I w a s led into the p r e s e n c e of my m i s t r e s s , a n d ate a n d d r a n k before her with her s o n . T h i s filled m e with a s t o n i s h m e n t ; a n d I c o u l d s c a r c e help e x p r e s s i n g my s u r p r i s e that the y o u n g g e n t l e m a n s h o u l d suffer 4 m e , w h o w a s b o u n d , to e a t with him who was free; a n d not only s o , but that he would not at any time either eat or drink till I h a d taken first, b e c a u s e I w a s the eldest, which w a s a g r e e a b l e to our c u s t o m . I n d e e d , every thing h e r e , a n d all their t r e a t m e n t of m e , m a d e m e forget that I w a s a slave. T h e l a n g u a g e of t h e s e p e o p l e r e s e m bled o u r s s o nearly, that we u n d e r s t o o d e a c h other perfectly. T h e y h a d also the very s a m e c u s t o m s as w e . T h e r e were likewise slaves daily to a t t e n d u s , while my y o u n g m a s t e r a n d I, with other boys, s p o r t e d with o u r darts a n d b o w s a n d arrows, a s I h a d b e e n u s e d to d o at h o m e . In this r e s e m b l a n c e to my former happy s t a t e , I p a s s e d a b o u t two m o n t h s ; a n d I now b e g a n to think I w a s to be a d o p t e d into the family, a n d w a s b e g i n n i n g to be r e c o n c i l e d to my situation, a n d to forget by d e g r e e s my m i s f o r t u n e s , w h e n all at o n c e the d e l u s i o n v a n i s h e d ; for, without the least p r e v i o u s k n o w l e d g e , o n e m o r n i n g early, while my dear m a s t e r a n d c o m p a n i o n w a s still a s l e e p , I w a s a w a k e n e d out of my reverie to fresh sorrow, a n d hurried away even a m o n g s t the uncircumcised. T h u s , at the very m o m e n t I d r e a m e d of the g r e a t e s t h a p p i n e s s , I f o u n d myself most m i s e r a b l e ; a n d it s e e m e d a s if f o r t u n e w i s h e d to give m e this taste of joy only to render the reverse m o r e p o i g n a n t . — T h e c h a n g e I now e x p e r i e n c e d , w a s a s painful as it w a s s u d d e n a n d u n e x p e c t e d . It w a s a c h a n g e i n d e e d , from a state of bliss to a s c e n e which is inexpressible by m e , a s it discovered to m e a n e l e m e n t I h a d never before b e h e l d , a n d till then had no idea of, a n d wherein s u c h i n s t a n c e s of h a r d s h i p a n d cruelty continually o c c u r r e d , a s I c a n never reflect on but with horror. 4. Allow.

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All the n a t i o n s a n d p e o p l e I h a d hitherto p a s s e d t h r o u g h , r e s e m b l e d our own in their m a n n e r s , c u s t o m s , a n d l a n g u a g e : b u t I c a m e at length to a country, the i n h a b i t a n t s of which differed f r o m u s in all t h o s e p a r t i c u l a r s . I w a s very m u c h s t r u c k with this d i f f e r e n c e , especially w h e n I c a m e a m o n g a p e o p l e w h o did not c i r c u m c i s e , a n d a t e w i t h o u t w a s h i n g their h a n d s . T h e y c o o k e d a l s o in iron p o t s , a n d h a d E u r o p e a n c u t l a s s e s a n d c r o s s b o w s , which were u n k n o w n to u s , a n d fought with their fists a m o n g t h e m s e l v e s . T h e i r w o m e n were not s o m o d e s t a s o u r s , for they a t e , a n d drank, a n d slept with their m e n . B u t a b o v e all, I w a s a m a z e d to s e e no sacrifices or offerings a m o n g t h e m . In s o m e of t h o s e p l a c e s the p e o p l e o r n a m e n t e d t h e m s e l v e s with s c a r s , a n d likewise filed their teeth very s h a r p . T h e y w a n t e d s o m e t i m e s to o r n a m e n t m e in the s a m e m a n n e r , b u t I w o u l d not suffer t h e m ; h o p i n g that I might s o m e time b e a m o n g a p e o p l e w h o did not t h u s disfigure t h e m s e l v e s , a s I t h o u g h t they did. At last I c a m e to the b a n k s of a large river which w a s covered with c a n o e s , in which the p e o p l e a p p e a r e d to live with their h o u s e hold u t e n s i l s , a n d provisions of all kinds. I w a s b e y o n d m e a s u r e a s t o n i s h e d at this, a s I h a d never b e f o r e s e e n any water larger t h a n a p o n d or a rivulet: a n d my s u r p r i s e w a s m i n g l e d with n o small fear w h e n I w a s p u t into o n e of t h e s e c a n o e s , a n d we b e g a n to p a d d l e a n d m o v e a l o n g the river. W e continu e d g o i n g on t h u s till night, a n d w h e n w e c a m e to l a n d , a n d m a d e fires o n the b a n k s , e a c h family by t h e m s e l v e s ; s o m e d r a g g e d their c a n o e s o n s h o r e , others stayed a n d c o o k e d in theirs, a n d laid in t h e m all night. T h o s e on the land h a d m a t s , of which they m a d e t e n t s , s o m e in the s h a p e of little h o u s e s ; in t h e s e we slept; a n d after the m o r n i n g m e a l , we e m b a r k e d a g a i n a n d proc e e d e d as b e f o r e . I w a s often very m u c h a s t o n i s h e d to s e e s o m e of the w o m e n , a s well a s the m e n , j u m p into the water, dive to the b o t t o m , c o m e u p a g a i n , a n d swim a b o u t . — T h u s I c o n t i n u e d to travel, s o m e t i m e s by land, s o m e t i m e s by water, through different c o u n t r i e s a n d v a r i o u s n a t i o n s , till, at the e n d of six or seven m o n t h s after I h a d b e e n k i d n a p p e d , I arrived at the s e a c o a s t . It w o u l d b e t e d i o u s a n d u n i n t e r e s t i n g to relate all the i n c i d e n t s which befell m e d u r i n g this j o u r n e y , a n d which I have not yet forgotten; of the various h a n d s I p a s s e d t h r o u g h , a n d the m a n n e r s a n d c u s t o m s of all the different p e o p l e a m o n g w h o m I lived—I shall therefore only o b s e r v e , that in all the p l a c e s w h e r e I w a s , the soil w a s exceedingly rich; the p u m p k i n s , e a d a s , 5 p l a i n t a i n s , y a m s , e t c . , e t c . , were in great a b u n d a n c e , a n d of incredible size. T h e r e were a l s o vast q u a n t i t i e s of different g u m s , t h o u g h not u s e d for any p u r p o s e , a n d every w h e r e a great deal of t o b a c c o . T h e c o t t o n even grew q u i t e wild, a n d there w a s plenty of red-wood. I s a w n o m e c h a n i c s 6 whatever in all the way, except s u c h a s I have m e n t i o n e d . T h e c h i e f employm e n t in all t h e s e c o u n t r i e s w a s a g r i c u l t u r e , a n d both the m a l e s a n d f e m a l e s , a s with u s , were b r o u g h t u p to it, a n d trained in the arts of war. T h e first object which s a l u t e d my eyes w h e n I arrived o n the c o a s t , w a s the s e a , a n d a slave s h i p , which w a s then riding at a n c h o r , a n d waiting for its c a r g o . T h e s e filled m e with a s t o n i s h m e n t , which w a s s o o n c o n v e r t e d into terror, w h e n I w a s carried on b o a r d . I w a s i m m e d i a t e l y h a n d l e d , a n d t o s s e d u p to s e e if I were s o u n d , by s o m e of the crew; a n d I w a s n o w p e r s u a d e d that I h a d g o t t e n into a world of b a d spirits, a n d that they were g o i n g to kill 5. More commonly spelled "eddoes": edible roots found in the tropics.

6. Artisans, manual workers,

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m e . T h e i r c o m p l e x i o n s , too, differing so m u c h from o u r s , their long hair, a n d the l a n g u a g e they s p o k e (which was very different from any I h a d ever h e a r d ) , united to confirm m e in this belief. I n d e e d , s u c h were the horrors of my views a n d fears at the m o m e n t , that, if ten t h o u s a n d worlds h a d b e e n my o w n , I would have freely p a r t e d with t h e m all to have e x c h a n g e d my condition with that of the m e a n e s t slave in my own country. W h e n I looked r o u n d the ship too, a n d saw a large f u r n a c e of c o p p e r boiling, a n d a m u l t i t u d e of black p e o p l e of every description c h a i n e d together, every o n e of their c o u n t e n a n c e s e x p r e s s i n g dejection a n d sorrow, I no longer d o u b t e d of my fate; a n d , q u i t e overpowered with horror a n d a n g u i s h , I fell m o t i o n l e s s o n the d e c k a n d fainted. W h e n I recovered a little, I f o u n d s o m e b l a c k p e o p l e a b o u t m e , who I believed w e r e s o m e of t h o s e w h o h a d b r o u g h t m e on b o a r d , a n d h a d b e e n receiving their pay; they talked to m e in order to c h e e r m e , but all in vain. I a s k e d t h e m if we were not to be e a t e n by t h o s e white m e n with horrible looks, red f a c e s , a n d long hair. T h e y told m e I w a s not: a n d o n e of the c r e w b r o u g h t m e a small portion of s p i r i t u o u s liquor in a wine g l a s s , b u t , being afraid of him, I would not take it out of his h a n d . O n e of the b l a c k s , therefore, took it from him a n d gave it to m e , a n d I took a little d o w n my p a l a t e , which, instead of reviving m e , a s they thought it w o u l d , threw m e into the greatest c o n s t e r n a t i o n at the s t r a n g e feeling it p r o d u c e d , having never tasted any s u c h liquor before. S o o n after this, the b l a c k s w h o b r o u g h t m e on b o a r d went off, a n d left m e a b a n d o n e d to despair. I now s a w myself deprived of all c h a n c e of r e t u r n i n g to my native country, or even the least g l i m p s e of h o p e of g a i n i n g the s h o r e , which I now c o n s i d ered a s friendly; a n d I even wished for my former slavery in p r e f e r e n c e to my p r e s e n t s i t u a t i o n , which w a s filled with horrors of every kind, still heighte n e d by my i g n o r a n c e of what I w a s to u n d e r g o . I w a s not long suffered to indulge my grief; I w a s s o o n put down u n d e r the d e c k s , a n d there I received sucfi a salutation in my nostrils a s I had never e x p e r i e n c e d in my life: s o that, with the l o a t h s o m e n e s s of the s t e n c h , a n d crying together, I b e c a m e s o sick a n d low that I w a s not a,ble to eat, nor had I the least desire to t a s t e any thing. I now w i s h e d for the last friend, d e a t h , to relieve m e ; but s o o n , to my grief, two of the white m e n offered m e e a t a b l e s ; a n d , on my refusing to eat, o n e of t h e m held m e fast by the h a n d s , a n d laid m e a c r o s s , I think the w i n d l a s s , a n d tied my feet, while the other flogged m e severely. I h a d never e x p e r i e n c e d any thing of this kind before, a n d a l t h o u g h not b e i n g u s e d to the water, I naturally feared that e l e m e n t the first time I s a w it, yet, nevert h e l e s s , c o u l d I have got over the nettings, I would have j u m p e d over the side, but I could not; a n d b e s i d e s , the crew u s e d to w a t c h u s very closely w h o were not c h a i n e d down to the d e c k s , lest we s h o u l d leap into the water; a n d I have s e e n s o m e of t h e s e poor African p r i s o n e r s m o s t severely c u t , for a t t e m p t i n g to do s o , a n d hourly w h i p p e d for not eating. T h i s i n d e e d w a s often the c a s e with myself. In a little time after, a m o n g s t the poor c h a i n e d m e n , I f o u n d s o m e of my own nation, which in a small d e g r e e gave e a s e to my m i n d . I inquired of t h e s e what w a s to be d o n e with u s ? T h e y gave m e to u n d e r s t a n d we were to be carried to t h e s e white people's c o u n t r y to work for t h e m . I then w a s a little revived, a n d t h o u g h t , if it were no worse than working, my situation w a s not so d e s p e r a t e ; but still I feared I s h o u l d be put to d e a t h , the white p e o p l e looked a n d a c t e d , a s I t h o u g h t , in s o s a v a g e a m a n ner; for 1 h a d never seen a m o n g any p e o p l e s u c h i n s t a n c e s of brutal cruelty;

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a n d this not only s h o w n towards u s b l a c k s , b u t a l s o to s o m e of the whites t h e m s e l v e s . O n e white m a n in p a r t i c u l a r I saw, w h e n we were p e r m i t t e d to b e o n d e c k , flogged s o unmercifully with a large r o p e n e a r the f o r e m a s t , that h e d i e d in c o n s e q u e n c e of it; a n d they t o s s e d h i m over the side a s they w o u l d have d o n e a b r u t e . T h i s m a d e m e fear t h e s e p e o p l e the m o r e ; a n d I e x p e c t e d n o t h i n g less t h a n to b e treated in the s a m e m a n n e r . I c o u l d not help e x p r e s s ing my fears a n d a p p r e h e n s i o n s to s o m e of my c o u n t r y m e n ; I a s k e d t h e m if t h e s e p e o p l e h a d n o country, b u t lived in this hollow p l a c e (the ship)? T h e y told m e they did not, b u t c a m e from a d i s t a n t o n e . " T h e n , " said I, " h o w c o m e s it in all o u r country we never h e a r d of t h e m ? " T h e y told m e b e c a u s e they lived s o very far off. I then a s k e d w h e r e were their w o m e n ? h a d they any like t h e m s e l v e s ? I w a s told they h a d . " A n d why," s a i d I, " d o w e not s e e t h e m ? " T h e y a n s w e r e d , b e c a u s e they were left b e h i n d . I a s k e d h o w the vessel c o u l d go? they told m e they c o u l d not tell; b u t that there w a s c l o t h p u t u p o n the m a s t s by the help of the r o p e s I s a w , a n d t h e n the vessel w e n t o n ; a n d the white m e n h a d s o m e spell or m a g i c they p u t in the water w h e n they liked, in order to s t o p the vessel. I w a s exceedingly a m a z e d at this a c c o u n t , a n d really t h o u g h t they were spirits. I therefore w i s h e d m u c h to be from a m o n g s t t h e m , for I e x p e c t e d they w o u l d sacrifice m e ; b u t my w i s h e s were v a i n — f o r we were s o q u a r t e r e d that it w a s i m p o s s i b l e for any of u s to m a k e our e s c a p e . W h i l e we stayed o n the c o a s t I w a s mostly o n d e c k ; a n d o n e day, to my great a s t o n i s h m e n t , I s a w o n e of t h e s e v e s s e l s c o m i n g in with the sails u p . A s s o o n a s the whites s a w it, they gave a great s h o u t , at w h i c h we were a m a z e d ; a n d the m o r e s o , a s the v e s s e l a p p e a r e d larger by a p p r o a c h i n g nearer. At last, s h e c a m e to a n a n c h o r in my sight, a n d w h e n the a n c h o r w a s let g o , I a n d my c o u n t r y m e n w h o s a w it, were lost in a s t o n i s h m e n t to observe the vessel s t o p — a n d were n o w c o n v i n c e d it w a s d o n e by m a g i c . S o o n after this the other ship got her b o a t s o u t , a n d they c a m e on b o a r d of u s , a n d the p e o p l e of b o t h s h i p s s e e m e d very g l a d to s e e e a c h o t h e r . — S e v e r a l of the s t r a n g e r s a l s o s h o o k h a n d s with u s b l a c k p e o p l e , a n d m a d e m o t i o n s with their h a n d s , signifying I s u p p o s e , we were to g o to their c o u n t r y , b u t we did not u n d e r s t a n d t h e m . At last, w h e n the ship we were in h a d got in all her c a r g o , they m a d e ready with m a n y fearful n o i s e s , a n d w e were all p u t u n d e r d e c k , s o t h a t we c o u l d not s e e how they m a n a g e d the vessel. B u t this d i s a p p o i n t m e n t w a s the least of my sorrow. T h e s t e n c h of the hold while we were on the c o a s t w a s s o intolerably l o a t h s o m e , that it w a s d a n g e r o u s to r e m a i n t h e r e for any t i m e , a n d s o m e of u s h a d b e e n p e r m i t t e d to stay on the d e c k for the f r e s h air; b u t now that the w h o l e ship's c a r g o were c o n f i n e d together, it b e c a m e a b s o l u t e l y pestilential. T h e c l o s e n e s s of the p l a c e , a n d the h e a t of the c l i m a t e , a d d e d to the n u m b e r in the s h i p , w h i c h w a s s o c r o w d e d that e a c h h a d scarcely r o o m to turn himself, a l m o s t s u f f o c a t e d u s . T h i s p r o d u c e d c o p i o u s perspirations, s o that the air s o o n b e c a m e unfit for r e s p i r a t i o n , f r o m a variety of l o a t h s o m e s m e l l s , a n d b r o u g h t o n a s i c k n e s s a m o n g the slaves, of which m a n y d i e d — t h u s falling victims to the improvident a v a r i c e , a s I m a y call it, of their p u r c h a s e r s . T h i s w r e t c h e d situation w a s a g a i n a g g r a v a t e d by the galling of the c h a i n s , now b e c o m e i n s u p p o r t a b l e , a n d the filth of the n e c e s s a r y t u b s , into w h i c h the children often fell, a n d were a l m o s t s u f f o c a t e d . T h e s h r i e k s of the w o m e n , a n d the g r o a n s of the dying, r e n d e r e d the w h o l e

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a s c e n e of horror a l m o s t i n c o n c e i v a b l e . H a p p i l y p e r h a p s , for myself, I w a s s o o n r e d u c e d s o low here that it w a s t h o u g h t n e c e s s a r y to k e e p m e a l m o s t always on d e c k ; a n d from my e x t r e m e youth I w a s not p u t in fetters. In this situation I e x p e c t e d every h o u r to s h a r e the fate of my c o m p a n i o n s , s o m e of w h o m were a l m o s t daily b r o u g h t u p o n d e c k at the point of d e a t h , which I b e g a n to h o p e would s o o n p u t a n e n d to my m i s e r i e s . O f t e n did I think m a n y of the i n h a b i t a n t s of the d e e p m u c h m o r e h a p p y t h a n myself. I envied t h e m the f r e e d o m they enjoyed, a n d a s often w i s h e d I c o u l d c h a n g e my c o n d i t i o n for theirs. Every c i r c u m s t a n c e I m e t with, served only to r e n d e r my s t a t e m o r e painful, a n d h e i g h t e n e d my a p p r e h e n s i o n s , a n d my o p i n i o n of the cruelty of the whites. O n e day they h a d taken a n u m b e r of fishes; a n d w h e n they h a d killed a n d satisfied t h e m s e l v e s with a s m a n y a s they t h o u g h t fit, to our a s t o n i s h m e n t who were o n d e c k , rather than give any of t h e m to u s to eat, a s we e x p e c t e d , they t o s s e d the r e m a i n i n g fish into the s e a a g a i n , a l t h o u g h we b e g g e d a n d prayed for s o m e a s well a s we c o u l d , but in vain; a n d s o m e of my c o u n t r y m e n , b e i n g p r e s s e d by h u n g e r , took a n opportunity, w h e n they t h o u g h t n o o n e s a w t h e m , of trying to get a little privately; but they were d i s c o v e r e d , a n d the a t t e m p t p r o c u r e d t h e m s o m e very severe floggings. O n e day, w h e n we h a d a s m o o t h s e a a n d m o d e r a t e wind, two of my w e a r i e d c o u n t r y m e n w h o were c h a i n e d together (I w a s n e a r t h e m at the t i m e ) , preferring d e a t h to s u c h a life of misery, s o m e h o w m a d e t h r o u g h the nettings a n d j u m p e d into the s e a : immediately, a n o t h e r q u i t e d e j e c t e d fellow, w h o , o n a c c o u n t of his illness, w a s suffered to b e out of irons, a l s o followed their e x a m p l e ; a n d I believe m a n y m o r e would very s o o n have d o n e the s a m e , if they h a d not b e e n p r e vented by the ship's crew, w h o were instantly a l a r m e d . T h o s e of u s that were the m o s t active, were in a m o m e n t put d o w n u n d e r the d e c k , a n d there w a s s u c h a noise a n d c o n f u s i o n a m o n g s t the p e o p l e of the ship a s I never h e a r d b e f o r e , to s t o p her, a n d get the b o a t o u t to go after the slaves. H o w e v e r , two of the w r e t c h e s were d r o w n e d , but they got the other, a n d afterwards flogged him unmercifully, for t h u s a t t e m p t i n g to prefer d e a t h to slavery. In this m a n ner w e c o n t i n u e d to u n d e r g o m o r e h a r d s h i p s than I c a n n o w relate, hards h i p s which are i n s e p a r a b l e from this a c c u r s e d t r a d e . M a n y a t i m e we were n e a r suffocation from the want of fresh air, which we were often without for w h o l e days together. T h i s , a n d the s t e n c h of the n e c e s s a r y t u b s , carried off many. D u r i n g our p a s s a g e , I first s a w flying fishes, which s u r p r i s e d m e very m u c h ; they u s e d frequently to fly a c r o s s the s h i p , a n d m a n y of t h e m fell on the deck. I a l s o now first saw the u s e of the q u a d r a n t ; I h a d often with a s t o n i s h m e n t s e e n the m a r i n e r s m a k e o b s e r v a t i o n s with it, a n d I c o u l d not think what it m e a n t . T h e y at last took notice of my s u r p r i s e ; a n d o n e of t h e m , willing to i n c r e a s e it, a s well a s to gratify my curiosity, m a d e m e o n e day look t h r o u g h it. T h e c l o u d s a p p e a r e d to m e to be l a n d , which d i s a p p e a r e d a s they p a s s e d a l o n g . T h i s h e i g h t e n e d my w o n d e r ; a n d I w a s now m o r e p e r s u a d e d than ever, that I w a s in a n o t h e r world, a n d that every thing a b o u t m e w a s m a g i c . At last, we c a m e in sight of the island of B a r b a d o e s , 7 at w h i c h the whites on b o a r d gave a great s h o u t , a n d m a d e m a n y s i g n s of j o y to u s . W e did not know w h a t to think of this; b u t a s the vessel drew nearer, we plainly 7. In the West Indies.

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s a w the harbor, a n d other s h i p s of different kinds a n d sizes, a n d we s o o n a n c h o r e d a m o n g s t t h e m , off B r i d g e t o w n . M a n y m e r c h a n t s a n d p l a n t e r s now c a m e on b o a r d , t h o u g h it w a s in the evening. T h e y p u t u s in s e p a r a t e p a r c e l s , " a n d e x a m i n e d u s attentively. T h e y a l s o m a d e u s j u m p , a n d p o i n t e d to the land, signifying we were to go t h e r e . W e t h o u g h t by this, we s h o u l d be e a t e n by t h e s e ugly m e n , a s they a p p e a r e d to u s ; a n d , w h e n s o o n after we were all put d o w n u n d e r the d e c k a g a i n , there w a s m u c h d r e a d a n d t r e m b l i n g a m o n g u s , a n d nothing but bitter cries to be h e a r d all the night from t h e s e a p p r e h e n s i o n s , i n s o m u c h , that at last the white p e o p l e got s o m e old slaves from the land to pacify u s . T h e y told u s we were not to b e e a t e n , but to work, a n d were s o o n to g o on land, w h e r e we s h o u l d s e e m a n y of our country p e o p l e . T h i s report e a s e d u s m u c h . A n d s u r e e n o u g h , s o o n after w e were l a n d e d , there c a m e to u s Africans of 3II l a n g u a g e s . W e were c o n d u c t e d i m m e d i a t e l y to the m e r c h a n t ' s yard, w h e r e we were all p e n t up together, like s o m a n y s h e e p in a fold, without regard to sex or a g e . As every object w a s n e w to m e , every thing I s a w filled m e with s u r p r i s e . W h a t s t r u c k m e first, w a s , that the h o u s e s were built with bricks a n d s t o r i e s , 9 a n d in every other r e s p e c t different from t h o s e I h a d s e e n in Africa; b u t I w a s still m o r e a s t o n i s h e d on s e e i n g p e o p l e on h o r s e b a c k . I did not know what this c o u l d m e a n ; a n d , i n d e e d , I t h o u g h t t h e s e p e o p l e w e r e full of nothing but m a g i c a l arts. W h i l e I w a s in this a s t o n i s h m e n t , o n e of my fellow p r i s o n e r s s p o k e to a c o u n t r y m a n of his, a b o u t the h o r s e s , w h o s a i d they were the s a m e kind they h a d in their country. I u n d e r s t o o d t h e m , t h o u g h they were from a distant part of Africa; a n d I thought it o d d I h a d not s e e n any h o r s e s t h e r e ; but afterwards, w h e n I c a m e to c o n v e r s e with different Afric a n s , I found they h a d m a n y h o r s e s a m o n g s t t h e m , a n d m u c h larger than t h o s e 1 then saw. W e were not m a n y days in the m e r c h a n t ' s c u s t o d y , before we were sold after their u s u a l m a n n e r , which is t h i s : — O n a signal given (as the beat of a d r u m ) , the buyers r u s h at o n c e into the yard w h e r e the slaves are confined, a n d m a k e c h o i c e of that parcel they like b e s t . T h e n o i s e a n d c l a m o r with which this is a t t e n d e d , a n d the e a g e r n e s s visible in the c o u n t e n a n c e s of the b u y e r s , serve not a little to i n c r e a s e the a p p r e h e n s i o n of terrified A f r i c a n s , w h o m a y well be s u p p o s e d to c o n s i d e r t h e m a s the ministers of that d e s t r u c t i o n to which they think t h e m s e l v e s devoted. In this m a n n e r , without s c r u p l e , a r e relations a n d friends s e p a r a t e d , m o s t of t h e m never to s e e e a c h other a g a i n . I r e m e m b e r , in the vessel in which I w a s b r o u g h t over, in the m e n ' s a p a r t m e n t , t h e r e were several b r o t h e r s , w h o , in the s a l e , were sold in different lots; a n d it w a s very m o v i n g o n this o c c a s i o n , to s e e a n d hear their cries at p a r t i n g . O , ye n o m i n a l C h r i s tians! 1 might not an African a s k y o u — L e a r n e d you this from your G o d , w h o says u n t o you, D o u n t o all m e n a s you would m e n s h o u l d do u n t o you? Is it not e n o u g h that we are torn from our c o u n t r y a n d friends, to toil for your luxury a n d lust of g a i n ? M u s t every t e n d e r feeling b e likewise sacrificed to your avarice? Are the d e a r e s t friends a n d r e l a t i o n s , now rendered m o r e d e a r by their s e p a r a t i o n from their kindred, still to be parted from e a c h other, a n d t h u s prevented from c h e e r i n g the g l o o m of 8. Groups. 9. I.e., the buildings were two-storied.

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slavery, with the small c o m f o r t of b e i n g together, a n d m i n g l i n g their sufferings a n d sorrows? W h y are p a r e n t s to lose their c h i l d r e n , brothers their sisters, or h u s b a n d s their wives? Surely, this is a n e w refinement in cruelty, w h i c h , while it h a s no a d v a n t a g e to a t o n e for it, t h u s a g g r a v a t e s distress, a n d a d d s fresh horrors even to the w r e t c h e d n e s s of slavery. 1789

PHILIP

FRENEAU

1752-1832 Philip Freneau had all the advantages that wealth and social position could bestow, and the Freneau household in Manhattan was frequently visited by well-known writers and painters. Philip received a good education at the hands of tutors and at fifteen entered the sophomore class at the College of New Jersey (now Princeton University). There he became fast friends with his roommate, James Madison, a future president, and a classmate, Hugh Henry Brackenridge, who became a successful novelist. In their senior year Freneau and Brackenridge composed an ode on The Rising Glory of America, and Brackenridge read the poem at commencement. It establishes early in Freneau's career his recurrent vision of a glorious future in which America would fulfill the collective hope of humankind: Paradise anew Shall flourish, by no second Adam lost, No dangerous tree with deadly fruit shall grow, No tempting serpent to allure the soul From native innocence. . . . The lion and the lamb In mutual friendship linked, shall browse the shrub, And timorous deer with softened tigers stray O'er mead, or lofty hill, or grassy plain. For a short time Freneau taught school. He hoped to make a career as a writer, but it was an impractical wish. When he was offered a position as secretary on a plantation in the West Indies in 1776, he sailed to St. Croix and remained there almost three years. It was on that island, where "Sweet orange groves in lonely valleys rise," that Freneau wrote some of his most sensuous lyrics, but as he tells us in To Sir Toh)', he could not talk of "blossoms" and an "endless spring" forever in a land that abounded in poverty and misery and where the owners grew wealthy on a slave economy. In 1778 he returned home and enlisted as a seaman on a blockade runner; two years later he was captured at sea and imprisoned on the British ship Scorpion, anchored in New York harbor. He was treated brutally, and when he was exchanged from the hospital ship Hunter his family feared for his life. Freneau was to spend ten more years of his life at sea, first as a master of a merchant ship in 1784, and again in 1803, but immediately after he regained his health, he moved to Philadelphia to work in the post office, and it was in that city that he gained his reputation as a satirist, journalist, and poet. As editor of the Freeman's journal, Freneau wrote impassioned verse in support of the American Revolution and turned all his rhetorical gifts against anyone thought to be in sympathy with the British monarchy. It was during this period in his life that he became identified as the "Poet of the American Revolution." In 1791, after he returned from duties at sea, Jefferson, as secretary of state, offered him a position as translator in his department, with the

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understanding that Freneau would have plenty of free time to devote to his newspaper, the National Gazette. Like Thomas Paine, Freneau was a strong supporter of the French Revolution, and he had a sharp eye for anyone not sympathetic to the democratic cause. He had a special grudge against Alexander Hamilton, secretary of the treasury, as chief spokesman for the Federalists. President Washington thought it was ironic that "that rascal Freneau" should be employed by his administration when he attacked it so outspokenly. The National Gazette ceased publication in 1793, and after Jefferson resigned his office, Freneau left Philadelphia for good, alternating between ship's captain and newspaper editor in New York and New Jersey. He spent his last years on his New Jersey farm, unable to make it self-supporting and with no hope of further employment. Year after year he sold off the land he inherited from his father and was finally reduced to applying for a pension as a veteran of the American Revolution. He died impoverished and unknown, lost in a blizzard. Freneau's biographer, Lewis Leary, subtitled his book A Study in Literary Failure and began that work by observing that "Philip Freneau failed in almost everything he attempted." Freneau's most sympathetic readers believe that he was born in a time not ripe for poetry and that his genuine lyric gifts were always in conflict with his political pamphleteering. Had he been born fifty years later, perhaps he could have joined Cooper and Irving in a life devoted exclusively to letters. There is no doubt that he did much to pave the way for these later writers. Freneau is not "the father of American poetry" (as his readers, eager for an advocate for a national literary consciousness, liked to call him), but his obsession with the beautiful, transient things of nature and the conflict in his art between the sensuous and the didactic are central to the concerns of American poetry. Texts used are The Poems of Philip Freneau (1902), edited by F. L. Pattee; The Poems of Freneau (1929), edited by H. H. Clark; and The Last Poems of Philip Freneau (1945), edited by Lewis Leary.

O n the Emigration to A m e r i c a a n d Peopling the W e s t e r n Country T o w e s t e r n w o o d s , a n d lonely p l a i n s , P a l e m o n 1 from the crowd d e p a r t s , W h e r e N a t u r e ' s wildest g e n i u s reigns, T o t a m e the soil, a n d plant the a r t s — W h a t w o n d e r s t h e r e shall f r e e d o m s h o w , W h a t mighty s t a t e s s u c c e s s i v e grow! From Europe's proud, despotic shores H i t h e r t h e s t r a n g e r takes his way, A n d in o u r n e w f o u n d world explores A h a p p i e r soil, a milder sway, W h e r e no p r o u d d e s p o t holds h i m d o w n , N o slaves insult h i m with a c r o w n . W h a t c h a r m i n g s c e n e s attract t h e eye, O n wild O h i o ' s s a v a g e s t r e a m ! T h e r e N a t u r e reigns, w h o s e works outvie

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1. Conventionally, any young man setting out on a journey. Palamon appears in C h a u c e r ' s "Knight's T a l e . " an adaptation of Boccaccio's Teseide.

ON

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T h e boldest pattern art c a n f r a m e ; T h e r e a g e s p a s t have rolled away, A n d forests b l o o m e d but to d e c a y . F r o m t h e s e fair p l a i n s , t h e s e rural s e a t s , S o long c o n c e a l e d , so lately k n o w n , T h e u n s o c i a l Indian far retreats, T o m a k e s o m e other c l i m e his o w n , W h e r e other s t r e a m s , less p l e a s i n g flow, A n d darker forests r o u n d him grow. G r e a t s i r e 2 of floods! w h o s e varied wave T h r o u g h c l i m e s a n d c o u n t r i e s takes its way, T o w h o m c r e a t i n g N a t u r e gave T e n t h o u s a n d s t r e a m s to swell thy sway! N o longer shall they u s e l e s s prove, N o r idly t h r o u g h the forests rove; N o r longer shall your princely flood F r o m d i s t a n t lakes be swelled in vain, N o r longer t h r o u g h a d a r k s o m e wood A d v a n c e , u n n o t i c e d , to the m a i n , 3 F a r other e n d s , the h e a v e n s d e c r e e — A n d c o m m e r c e p l a n s new freights for t h e e . W h i l e virtue w a r m s the g e n e r o u s b r e a s t , T h e r e heaven-born f r e e d o m shall r e s i d e , N o r shall the voice of war m o l e s t , N o r E u r o p e ' s all-aspiring p r i d e — T h e r e R e a s o n shall n e w laws devise, A n d order from c o n f u s i o n rise. F o r s a k i n g kings a n d regal s t a t e , With all their p o m p a n d f a n c i e d bliss, T h e traveler o w n s , 4 c o n v i n c e d t h o u g h late, N o r e a l m so free, s o b l e s s e d a s t h i s — T h e east is half to slaves c o n s i g n e d , W h e r e kings a n d priests e n c h a i n the m i n d . O c o m e the t i m e , a n d h a s t e the day, W h e n m a n shall m a n no longer c r u s h , * ' W h e n R e a s o n shall e n f o r c e her sway, N o r t h e s e fair r e g i o n s raise our b l u s h , W h e r e still the African c o m p l a i n s , A n d m o u r n s his yet u n b r o k e n c h a i n s . F a r brighter s c e n e s a future a g e , T h e m u s e p r e d i c t s , t h e s e s t a t e s will hail, W h o s e g e n i u s m a y the world e n g a g e , Mississippi [Freneau's note]. Ocean.

4. Admits.

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W h o s e d e e d s m a y over d e a t h prevail, And h a p p i e r s y s t e m s bring to view, T h a n all the e a s t e r n s a g e s knew.

60 1785

O n M r . Paine's Rights of M a n 1 T h u s briefly s k e t c h e d the s a c r e d rights of m a n , H o w i n c o n s i s t e n t with the royal plan! W h i c h for itself exclusive h o n o r c r a v e s , W h e r e s o m e are m a s t e r s b o r n , a n d millions slaves. With what c o n t e m p t m u s t every eye look d o w n O n that b a s e , childish b a u b l e called a crown, T h e gilded bait, that lures the c r o w d , to c o m e , B o w down their n e c k s , a n d m e e t a slavish d o o m ; T h e s o u r c e of half the m i s e r i e s m e n e n d u r e , T h e q u a c k 2 that kills t h e m , while it s e e m s to c u r e , R o u s e d by t h e r e a s o n of his manly p a g e , O n c e m o r e shall P a i n e a listening world e n g a g e : F r o m R e a s o n ' s s o u r c e , a bold reform he brings, In raising u p mankind, he pulls d o w n kings, W h o , s o u r c e of d i s c o r d , p a t r o n s of all wrong, O n blood a n d m u r d e r have b e e n fed too long: Hid from the world, a n d tutored to b e b a s e , T h e c u r s e , the s c o u r g e , t h e ruin of o u r r a c e , T h e i r s w a s the task, a dull d e s i g n i n g few, T o s h a c k l e beings that they scarcely knew, W h o m a d e this g l o b e the r e s i d e n c e of slaves, A n d built their t h r o n e s on s y s t e m s f o r m e d by knaves — A d v a n c e , bright years, to work their final fall, A n d h a s t e t h e period that shall c r u s h t h e m all. W h o , that h a s read a n d s c a n n e d t h e historic p a g e B u t glows, at every line, with kindling r a g e , T o s e e by t h e m the rights of m e n a s p e r s e d , F r e e d o m r e s t r a i n e d , a n d N a t u r e ' s law reversed, M e n , ranked with b e a s t s , by m o n a r c h s willed away, And b o u n d y o u n g fools, or m a d m e n to obey: N o w driven to w a r s , a n d n o w o p p r e s s e d at h o m e , C o m p e l l e d in c r o w d s o'er d i s t a n t s e a s to r o a m , F r o m India's c l i m e s the p l u n d e r e d prize to b r i n g T o glad the s t r u m p e t , or to glut the king. C o l u m b i a / hail! i m m o r t a l b e thy reign: W i t h o u t a king, we till the s m i l i n g plain; W i t h o u t a king, we trace the u n b o u n d e d s e a , 1. The original title was "To a Republican w ith Mr. Paine's Rights of M a n . " T h o m a s Paine read E d m u n d Burke's "Reflections on the French Revolution" ( 1 7 9 0 ) . a defense of monarchy and an attack on revolution, when he was living in England. In The Rights of Man ( 1 7 9 1 - 9 2 ) Paine

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argued for the overthrow of monarchy and the right of the people to govern themselves. 2. O n e pretending to be a physician. 3. T h e personification of America (from Christopher C o l u m b u s ) .

ON

THE RELIGION OF NATURE

A n d traffic r o u n d the g l o b e , t h r o u g h e a c h d e g r e e ; E a c h foreign clime our h o n o r e d flag reveres, W h i c h a s k s no m o n a r c h , to s u p p o r t the s t a r s : W i t h o u t a king, the laws m a i n t a i n their sway, W h i l e h o n o r bids e a c h g e n e r o u s heart obey. B e o u r s the task the a m b i t i o u s to restrain, A n d this great lesson t e a c h — t h a t kings are vain; T h a t warring r e a l m s to certain ruin h a s t e , T h a t kings s u b s i s t by war, a n d w a r s a r e w a s t e : S o shall o u r nation, formed on Virtue's p l a n , R e m a i n the g u a r d i a n of the Rights of M a n , A vast r e p u b l i c , f a m e d t h r o u g h every c l i m e , W i t h o u t a king, to s e e the e n d of t i m e .

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O n the Religion of N a t u r e T h e power, that gives with liberal h a n d T h e b l e s s i n g s m a n enjoys, while h e r e , A n d s c a t t e r s through a smiling land A b u n d a n t p r o d u c t s of the year; T h a t power of n a t u r e , ever b l e s s e d , B e s t o w e d religion with the rest. Born with o u r s e l v e s , her early sway Inclines the tender mind to take T h e path of right, fair virtue's way Its own felicity to m a k e . T h i s universally extends A n d leads to no m y s t e r i o u s e n d s . Religion, s u c h a s n a t u r e t a u g h t , With all divine perfection s u i t s ; H a d all m a n k i n d this system s o u g h t S o p h i s t s ' would c e a s e their vain d i s p u t e s , A n d from this s o u r c e would n a t i o n s know All that c a n m a k e their heaven below. T h i s deals not c u r s e s on m a n k i n d , O r d o o m s them to p e r p e t u a l grief, If from its aid no joys they find, It d a m n s t h e m not for unbelief; U p o n a m o r e exalted plan C r e a t r e s s n a t u r e dealt with m a n — J o y to the day, w h e n all a g r e e O n s u c h g r a n d s y s t e m s to p r o c e e d , Teachers of philosophy.

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F r o m f r a u d , d e s i g n , a n d error free, A n d w h i c h to truth a n d g o o d n e s s lead: T h e n p e r s e c u t i o n will retreat A n d m a n ' s religion be c o m p l e t e .

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PHILLIS c.

WHEATLEY

1753-1784

Phillis Wheatley was either nineteen or twenty years old when her Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral was published in London in 1773. At the time of its publication she was the object of considerable public attention because, in addition to being a child prodigy, Wheatley was a black slave, born in Africa (probably in present-day Senegal or Gambia) and brought to Boston in 1761. She had been purchased by a wealthy tailor, John Wheatley, for his wife, Susannah, as a companion, and named for the vessel that carried her to our shores. Wheatley was fortunate in her surroundings, for Susannah Wheatley was sympathetic toward this very frail and remarkably intelligent child. In an age in which few white women were given an education, Wheatley was taught to read and write, and in a short time began to read Latin writers. She came to know the Bible well, and three English poets—Milton, Pope, and Gray—touched her deeply and exerted a strong influence on her verse. The Wheatleys moved in a circle of enlightened Boston Christians, and Phillis, as James Levernier has recently shown, was introduced early on to a community that challenged the role of slavery as incompatible with Christian life. Wheatley's poem on the death of the Reverend George Whitefield, the great egalitarian English evangelist who frequently toured New England, made her famous. In June 1773, she arrived in London with her manuscript in the company of the Wheatleys' son Nathaniel. She went to England partly for reasons of health and partly to seek support for her first book. Benjamin Franklin and the lord mayor of London were among those who paid their respects. Her literary gifts, intelligence, and piety were a striking example to her English and American admirers of the triumph of the human spirit over the circumstances of birth. Her poems appeared early in September, and the governor of Massachusetts and John Wheatley and John Hancock were among the eighteen prominent citizens testifying that "under the Disadvantage of serving as a Slave in a Family in this Town," Wheatley "had been examined and thought qualified to write them." Wheatley did not remain long enough in London to witness their publication; she was called back to Boston with the news that Susannah Wheatley was dying. Early in the fall of 1773 she was manumitted. Susannah Wheatley died in 1774, and John Wheatley, four years later. In that same year, 1778, she married John Peters, a freedman, about whom almost nothing is known other than that the Wheatleys did not like him, that he petitioned for a license to sell liquor in 1784, and that he may have been in debtor's prison when Wheatley died, having endured poverty and the loss of two children in her last years. On her deathbed her third child lay ill beside her and succumbed shortly after Wheatley herself. They were buried together in an unmarked grave. Five years earlier, and only one year after her marriage, a proposal appeared for a second volume of poetry to include thirteen letters and thirty-three poems. The volume was never published, and most of the poems and letters have yet to be found.

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Wheatley's poetry was rediscovered in the 1830s by the New England abolitionists, but it is no exaggeration to say that she has never been better understood than at the present. Her recent critics have not only corrected a number of biographical errors but, more important, have provided a context in which her work can be best read and her life understood. This reconsideration shows Wheatley to be a bold and canny spokesperson for her faith and her politics; she early joined the cause of American independence and the abolition of slavery, anticipating her friend the Reverend Samuel Hopkins's complaint that when American Negroes first heard the "sons of liberty" cry for freedom they were shocked by indifference to their own "abject slavery and utter wretchedness." It doesn't take a philosopher, Wheatley told Samson Occom, a Presbyterian minister and Mohegan tribesman, to see that the exercise of slavery cannot be reconciled with a "principle" that God has implanted in every human breast, "Love of Freedom." In the poem, "To the Right Honorable William, Earl of Dartmouth, printed here, she was mistaken in thinking that the conservative earl of Dartmouth (William Legge) might be sympathetic to the American cause but correct in reminding him that there could be no justice anywhere if people in authority were deaf to the history of human sorrow. With the publication of Wheatley's Poems, Henry Louis Gates Jr. has argued, "Wheatley launched two traditions at once—the black American literary tradition and the black woman's literary tradition. It is extraordinary that not just one but both of these traditions were founded simultaneously by a black woman—certainly an event unique in the history of literature—it is also ironic that this important fact of common, coterminous literary origin seems to have escaped most scholars." The text used here is The Poems of Phillis Wheatley (1966, rev. 1989) edited by Julian D. Mason.

O n B e i n g B r o u g h t f r o m A f r i c a to A m e r i c a 'Twas mercy b r o u g h t m e from my p a g a n land, T a u g h t my b e n i g h t e d soul to u n d e r s t a n d T h a t there's a G o d , that there's a Savior too: O n c e I r e d e m p t i o n neither s o u g h t nor knew. S o m e view our s a b l e ' r a c e with scornful eye. " T h e i r color is a diabolic d y e . " R e m e m b e r , C h r i s t i a n s , N e g r o e s , black a s C a i n , 2 M a y b e refined, a n d join the angelic train.

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T o t h e U n i v e r s i t y o f C a m b r i d g e , in N e w E n g l a n d 1 W h i l e a n intrinsic ardor p r o m p t s to write, T h e m u s e s p r o m i s e to a s s i s t my p e n ; T w a s not long s i n c e I left my native s h o r e T h e land of e r r o r s , 2 a n d Egyptian g l o o m : 3 1. Black. 2. Cain slew his brother Abel and was "marked" by God for doing so. This mark has sometimes been taken to be the origin of dark-skinned peoples (Genesis 4 . 1 - 1 5 ) . 1. Harvard.

2. I.e., theological errors, b e c a u s e Africa was unconverted. 3. "And Moses stretched forth his hand toward heaven; and there was a thick darkness in all the land of Egypt three days" (Exodus 10.22).

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F a t h e r of mercy, 'twas T h y g r a c i o u s h a n d B r o u g h t m e in safety from t h o s e dark a b o d e s . S t u d e n t s , to you 'tis given to s c a n the heights Above, to traverse the ethereal s p a c e , And m a r k the s y s t e m s of revolving worlds. Still m o r e , ye s o n s of s c i e n c e 4 ye receive T h e blissful n e w s by m e s s e n g e r s from H e a v ' n , H o w J e s u s ' blood for your r e d e m p t i o n flows. S e e H i m with h a n d s o u t s t r e t c h e d u p o n the c r o s s ; I m m e n s e c o m p a s s i o n in H i s b o s o m glows; H e h e a r s revilers, nor r e s e n t s their s c o r n : W h a t m a t c h l e s s mercy in the S o n of G o d ! W h e n the whole h u m a n r a c e by sin h a d fall'n, H e d e i g n e d to die that they might rise a g a i n , And s h a r e with H i m in the s u b l i m e s t skies, Life without d e a t h , a n d glory without e n d . I m p r o v e 5 your privileges while they stay, Ye p u p i l s , a n d e a c h h o u r r e d e e m , that b e a r s O r g o o d or b a d report of you to Heav'n. L e t s i n , that baneful evil to the soul, By you b e s h u n n e d , nor o n c e remit your g u a r d ; S u p p r e s s the deadly s e r p e n t in its e g g . Ye b l o o m i n g p l a n t s of h u m a n r a c e divine, An Ethiop 1 ' tells you 'tis your greatest f o e ; Its transient s w e e t n e s s t u r n s to e n d l e s s p a i n , And in i m m e n s e perdition sinks the s o u l .

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O n the D e a t h of the Rev. M r . G e o r g e Whitefield,1

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Hail, happy saint, on thine i m m o r t a l t h r o n e , P o s s e s s e d of glory, life, a n d bliss u n k n o w n ; W e hear no m o r e the m u s i c of thy t o n g u e . T h y w o n t e d auditories- c e a s e to throng. T h y s e r m o n s in u n e q u a l e d a c c e n t s flowed, A n d every b o s o m with devotion g l o w e d ; T h o u didst in strains of e l o q u e n c e refined Inflame the heart, a n d captivate t h e m i n d . 4. Knowledge. 5 . Take advantage of. 6. Ethiopian. In Wheatley's time "Ethiopian" was a conventional name for the black peoples of Africa. I. British clergyman (I 7 14-1 7 7 0 ) and follower ol

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J o h n Wesley, the best-known revivalist in the 18th century. He made several visits to America and died in Newburyport, M a s s a c h u s e t t s . This was Wheatley's first published p o e m , and it made her famous. 2. Listeners. "Wonted": a c c u s t o m e d .

ON

THE DEATH OF THE REV.

MR.

GEORGE WHITEFIELD

U n h a p p y we the setting s u n d e p l o r e , S o glorious o n c e , but ah! it shines no m o r e . B e h o l d the p r o p h e t in his towering flight! H e leaves the earth for heav'n's u n m e a s u r e d height, A n d worlds u n k n o w n receive him from our sight. T h e r e Whitefield wings with rapid c o u r s e his way, A n d sails to Zion* through vast s e a s of day. Thy prayers, great saint, a n d thine i n c e s s a n t cries H a v e pierced the b o s o m of thy native skies. T h o u m o o n h a s t s e e n , a n d all the stars of light, H o w h e h a s wrestled with his G o d by night. H e prayed that g r a c e in every heart might dwell, H e longed to s e e A m e r i c a excel; H e c h a r g e d 4 its youth that every g r a c e divine S h o u l d with full luster in their c o n d u c t s h i n e ; T h a t Savior, which his soul did first receive, T h e greatest gift that ev'n a G o d c a n give, H e freely offered to the n u m e r o u s throng, T h a t on his lips with listening p l e a s u r e h u n g . *

" T a k e H i m , ye w r e t c h e d , for your only g o o d , T a k e H i m ye starving s i n n e r s , for your f o o d ; Ye thirsty, c o m e to this life-giving s t r e a m , Ye p r e a c h e r s , take H i m for your joyful t h e m e ; T a k e H i m my dear A m e r i c a n s , " he said, " B e your c o m p l a i n t s on His kind b o s o m laid: T a k e H i m , ye A f r i c a n s , H e longs for you, Impartial Savior is His title d u e : W a s h e d in the fountain of r e d e e m i n g blood, You shall be s o n s , a n d kings, a n d priests to G o d . " G r e a t Countess* we A m e r i c a n s revere Thy n a m e , a n d mingle in thy grief s i n c e r e ; N e w E n g l a n d deeply feels, the o r p h a n s m o u r n , T h e i r m o r e than father will no m o r e return. B u t , though arrested by the hand of d e a t h , Whitefield no m o r e exerts his laboring b r e a t h . Yet let u s view him in the eternal s k i e s , Let every heart to this bright vision rise; While the t o m b s a f e retains its s a c r e d trust, Till life divine r e - a n i m a t e s his d u s t .

1770

3. Here, the heavenly city of God. 4. Exhorted. 5. Selina Shirley Hastings (I 7 0 7 - 1 7 9 1 ) , countess

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of I luntington, was a strong supporter of George Whitefield and active in Methodist church affairs. Wheatley visited her in England in 1773.

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T h o u g h t s o n t h e W o r k s of P r o v i d e n c e Arise, my s o u l , o n wings e n r a p t u r e d , rise T o p r a i s e the m o n a r c h of the e a r t h a n d s k i e s , Whose goodness and beneficence appear As r o u n d its c e n t e r m o v e s the rolling year, O r w h e n the m o r n i n g glows with rosy c h a r m s , O r the s u n s l u m b e r s in the o c e a n ' s a r m s : O f light divine by a rich portion lent T o g u i d e my soul, a n d favor my intent. C e l e s t i a l m u s e , my a r d u o u s flight s u s t a i n , A n d raise my m i n d to a s e r a p h i c 1 strain! A d o r e d forever b e the G o d u n s e e n , W h i c h r o u n d the s u n revolves this vast m a c h i n e , T h o u g h to H i s eye its m a s s a point a p p e a r s : A d o r e d the G o d that whirls s u r r o u n d i n g s p h e r e s , W h i c h first o r d a i n e d that mighty S o l 2 s h o u l d reign T h e p e e r l e s s m o n a r c h of the e t h e r e a l train: O f m i l e s twice forty millions is his height, A n d yet his r a d i a n c e dazzles mortal sight S o far b e n e a t h — f r o m h i m the e x t e n d e d e a r t h Vigor derives, a n d every flowery birth: V a s t t h r o u g h her orb s h e m o v e s with easy g r a c e A r o u n d her P h c e b u s ' in u n b o u n d e d s p a c e ; T r u e to her c o u r s e the i m p e t u o u s s t o r m d e r i d e s , T r i u m p h a n t o'er the w i n d s , a n d s u r g i n g tides. Almighty, in t h e s e w o n d r o u s works of T h i n e , W h a t Power, what W i s d o m , a n d w h a t G o o d n e s s s h i n e ! A n d are T h y w o n d e r s , L o r d , by m e n explored, A n d yet c r e a t i n g glory u n a d o r e d ! C r e a t i o n s m i l e s in various b e a u t y gay, W h i l e day to night, a n d night s u c c e e d s to day: T h a t W i s d o m , which a t t e n d s J e h o v a h ' s ways, S h i n e s m o s t c o n s p i c u o u s in the s o l a r rays: W i t h o u t t h e m , d e s t i t u t e of heat a n d light, T h i s world w o u l d be the reign of e n d l e s s night: In their e x c e s s h o w w o u l d our r a c e c o m p l a i n , A b h o r r i n g life! how h a t e its l e n g t h e n e d c h a i n ! F r o m air a d u s t 4 what n u m e r o u s ills w o u l d rise? W h a t dire c o n t a g i o n taint the b u r n i n g skies? W h a t pestilential v a p o r s , f r a u g h t with d e a t h , W o u l d rise, a n d o v e r s p r e a d the l a n d s b e n e a t h ? Hail, s m i l i n g m o r n , that from the orient m a i n A s c e n d i n g dost a d o r n the heavenly plain Angelic. T h e sun. Apollo, the Greek sun god.

4. Dried up. 5. O c e a n . "Orient": eastern.

THOUGHTS

ON THE WORKS

OF

PROVIDENCE

S o rich, so various are thy b e a u t e o u s dyes, T h a t s p r e a d t h r o u g h all the circuit of the skies, T h a t , full of t h e e , my soul in r a p t u r e s o a r s , A n d thy great G o d , the c a u s e of all a d o r e s . O'er b e i n g s infinite H i s love e x t e n d s , H i s W i s d o m rules t h e m , a n d H i s P o w e r d e f e n d s . W h e n tasks d i u r n a l 6 tire the h u m a n f r a m e , T h e spirits faint, a n d d i m the vital f l a m e , T h e n too that ever active b o u n t y s h i n e s , W h i c h not infinity of s p a c e c o n f i n e s . T h e s a b l e veil, that Night in s i l e n c e d r a w s , C o n c e a l s effects, b u t s h o w s the Almighty C a u s e ; N i g h t s e a l s in s l e e p the wide creation fair, A n d all is p e a c e f u l but the brow of c a r e . A g a i n , gay Phoebus, as the day b e f o r e , W a k e s every eye, but what shall w a k e no m o r e ; A g a i n the f a c e of n a t u r e is r e n e w e d , W h i c h still a p p e a r s h a r m o n i o u s , fair, a n d g o o d . M a y grateful strains s a l u t e the s m i l i n g m o r n , B e f o r e its b e a m s the e a s t e r n hills a d o r n ! Shall day to day, a n d night to night c o n s p i r e T o s h o w the g o o d n e s s of the Almighty S i r e ? T h i s m e n t a l voice shall m a n r e g a r d l e s s hear, A n d never, never raise the filial prayer? T o d a y , O h e a r k e n , nor your folly m o u r n F o r time m i s s p e n t , that never will return. B u t s e e the s o n s of vegetation rise, A n d s p r e a d their leafy b a n n e r s to the skies. All-wise Almighty p r o v i d e n c e we trace In t r e e s , a n d p l a n t s , a n d all the flowery r a c e ; As clear a s in the nobler f r a m e of m a n , All lovely c o p i e s of the M a k e r ' s p l a n . T h e power the s a m e that f o r m s a ray of light, T h a t called c r e a t i o n from eternal night. " L e t there be light," H e said. F r o m his p r o f o u n d 7 O l d C h a o s h e a r d , a n d t r e m b l e d at the s o u n d : Swift a s the word, inspired by p o w e r divine, B e h o l d the light a r o u n d its m a k e r s h i n e , T h e first fair p r o d u c t of the omnific G o d , A n d now t h r o u g h all H i s works diffused a b r o a d . A s r e a s o n ' s p o w e r s by day o u r G o d d i s c l o s e , S o we m a y trace H i m in the night's r e p o s e : S a y w h a t is s l e e p ? a n d d r e a m s h o w p a s s i n g s t r a n g e ! W h e n action c e a s e s , a n d i d e a s r a n g e L i c e n t i o u s a n d u n b o u n d e d o'er the p l a i n s , 6. Daily. 7. Depths. "And G o d said, Let there be light: and there was light" (Genesis 1.3).

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W h e r e F a n c y ' s " q u e e n in giddy t r i u m p h reigns. H e a r in soft strains the d r e a m i n g lover sigh T o a kind fair, 1 ' or rave in j e a l o u s y ; O n p l e a s u r e now, a n d now o n v e n g e a n c e bent, T h e laboring p a s s i o n s struggle for a vent. W h a t power, O m a n ! thy r e a s o n then r e s t o r e s , S o long s u s p e n d e d in n o c t u r n a l h o u r s ? W h a t secret h a n d r e t u r n s the m e n t a l train, A n d gives improved thine active p o w e r s a g a i n ? F r o m t h e e , O m a n , what g r a t i t u d e s h o u l d rise! A n d , w h e n from balmy sleep t h o u op'st thine eyes, Let thy first t h o u g h t s be p r a i s e s to the skies. H o w merciful our G o d w h o t h u s i m p a r t s O'erflowing tides of joy to h u m a n h e a r t s , W h e n w a n t s a n d w o e s might be our r i g h t e o u s lot, O u r G o d forgetting, by our G o d forgot!

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A m o n g the m e n t a l p o w e r s a q u e s t i o n r o s e , " W h a t m o s t the i m a g e of the E t e r n a l s h o w s ? " W h e n t h u s to R e a s o n (so let F a n c y rove) H e r great c o m p a n i o n s p o k e , i m m o r t a l L o v e . " S a y , mighty power, h o w long shall strife prevail, A n d with its m u r m u r s load the w h i s p e r i n g gale? Refer the c a u s e to R e c o l l e c t i o n ' s s h r i n e , W h o loud p r o c l a i m s my origin divine, T h e c a u s e w h e n c e h e a v e n a n d earth b e g a n to b e , And is not m a n immortalized by m e ? R e a s o n let this m o s t c a u s e l e s s strife s u b s i d e . " T h u s L o v e p r o n o u n c e d , a n d R e a s o n t h u s replied. " T h y birth, celestial q u e e n ! 'tis m i n e to own, In thee r e s p l e n d e n t is the G o d h e a d s h o w n ; T h y w o r d s p e r s u a d e , my soul e n r a p t u r e d feels R e s i s t l e s s beauty which thy s m i l e r e v e a l s . " Ardent s h e s p o k e , a n d , kindling at her c h a r m s , S h e c l a s p e d the b l o o m i n g g o d d e s s in her a r m s . Infinite L o v e wher'er we turn our eyes A p p e a r s : this every c r e a t u r e ' s w a n t s s u p p l i e s ; T h i s m o s t is heard in N a t u r e ' s c o n s t a n t voice, T h i s m a k e s the m o r n , a n d this the eve rejoice; T h i s bids the fostering rains a n d d e w s d e s c e n d T o n o u r i s h all, to serve o n e general e n d , T h e g o o d of m a n : yet m a n ungrateful pays B u t little h o m a g e , a n d but little p r a i s e . T o H i m , w h o s e works arrayed with mercy s h i n e , W h a t s o n g s s h o u l d rise, how c o n s t a n t , how divine! 1773 8. T h e imagination in its image-making aspect.

9. Woman.

To

S.

M.,

A YOUNG

AFRICAN

PAINTER,

ON S E E I N G

H I S WORKS

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T o S . M . , 1 a Young African Painter, on Seeing His Works T o s h o w the laboring b o s o m ' s d e e p intent, A n d thought in living c h a r a c t e r s to p a i n t , W h e n first thy pencil did t h o s e b e a u t i e s give, A n d b r e a t h i n g figures learnt from t h e e to live, H o w did t h o s e p r o s p e c t s give my soul delight, A new creation r u s h i n g on my sight? Still, w o n d ' r o u s youth! e a c h noble p a t h p u r s u e , O n d e a t h l e s s glories fix thine a r d e n t view: Still m a y the painter's a n d the poet's fire T o aid thy pencil, a n d thy verse c o n s p i r e ! A n d m a y the c h a r m s of e a c h s e r a p h i c 2 t h e m e C o n d u c t thy f o o t s t e p s to i m m o r t a l f a m e ! High to the blissful w o n d e r s of the skies E l a t e thy soul, a n d raise thy wishful eyes. T h r i c e happy, w h e n exalted to survey T h a t s p l e n d i d city, c r o w n e d with e n d l e s s day, W h o s e twice six g a t e s ' on radiant h i n g e s ring: C e l e s t i a l S a l e m 4 b l o o m s in e n d l e s s spring. C a l m a n d s e r e n e thy m o m e n t s glide a l o n g , A n d m a y the m u s e inspire e a c h future s o n g ! Still, with the s w e e t s of c o n t e m p l a t i o n blest, M a y p e a c e with balmy wings your soul invest! B u t w h e n t h e s e s h a d e s of time are c h a s e d away, A n d d a r k n e s s e n d s in everlasting day, O n w h a t s e r a p h i c p i n i o n s shall we m o v e , A n d view the l a n d s c a p e in the r e a l m s a b o v e ? T h e r e shall thy t o n g u e in heavenly m u r m u r s flow, A n d there my m u s e with heavenly transport glow: N o m o r e to tell of D a m o n 1 ? tender s i g h s , O r rising r a d i a n c e of A u r o r a ' s 6 e y e s , F o r nobler t h e m e s d e m a n d a nobler strain, A n d p u r e r l a n g u a g e on the ethereal p l a i n . 7 C e a s e , g e n t l e m u s e ! the s o l e m n g l o o m of night N o w s e a l s the fair creation from m y sight.

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1. Scipio Moorhead, a servant to the Reverend John Moorhead of Boston. 2. Angelic. 3. Heaven, like the city of J e r u s a l e m , is thought to have had twelve gates (as many gates as tribes of Israel).

4. 5. for 6. 7.

Heavenly J e r u s a l e m . In classical mythology D a m o n pledged his life his friend Pythias. T h e R o m a n goddess of the dawn. In the heavens.

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T o His Excellency General Washington1 Sir. I have taken the f r e e d o m to a d d r e s s your E x c e l l e n c y in the e n c l o s e d p o e m , a n d entreat your a c c e p t a n c e , t h o u g h I a m not i n s e n s i b l e of its inacc u r a c i e s . Your b e i n g a p p o i n t e d by the G r a n d C o n t i n e n t a l C o n g r e s s to be G e n e r a l i s s i m o of the a r m i e s of N o r t h A m e r i c a , together with the f a m e of y o u r virtues, excite s e n s a t i o n s not e a s y to s u p p r e s s . Your generosity, therefore, I p r e s u m e , will p a r d o n the a t t e m p t . W i s h i n g your Excellency all p o s s i b l e s u c c e s s in the great c a u s e you are s o g e n e r o u s l y e n g a g e d in. I a m , Your Excellency's m o s t o b e d i e n t h u m b l e servant, Phillis W h e a t l e y Providence, Oct. 26, 1775. His Excellency G e n . W a s h i n g t o n . C e l e s t i a l choir! e n t h r o n e d in r e a l m s of light, C o l u m b i a ' s 2 s c e n e s of glorious toils I write. W h i l e f r e e d o m ' s c a u s e her a n x i o u s breast a l a r m s , S h e flashes dreadful in refulgent a r m s . S e e m o t h e r earth her offspring's fate b e m o a n , And n a t i o n s gaze at s c e n e s b e f o r e u n k n o w n ! S e e the bright b e a m s of h e a v e n ' s revolving light Involved in sorrows a n d the veil of night! T h e g o d d e s s c o m e s , s h e m o v e s divinely fair, Olive a n d laurel* b i n d s her g o l d e n hair: W h e r e v e r s h i n e s this native of the s k i e s , U n n u m b e r e d c h a r m s a n d r e c e n t g r a c e s rise. M u s e ! bow propitious while my pen relates H o w p o u r her a r m i e s t h r o u g h a t h o u s a n d g a t e s , As w h e n E o l u s 4 heaven's fair f a c e d e f o r m s , E n w r a p p e d in t e m p e s t a n d a night of s t o r m s ; A s t o n i s h e d o c e a n feels the wild u p r o a r , T h e refluent s u r g e s b e a t the s o u n d i n g s h o r e ; O r thick as leaves in A u t u m n ' s g o l d e n reign, S u c h , a n d s o m a n y , m o v e s the warrior's train. In bright array they s e e k the work of war, W h e r e high unfurled the e n s i g n ' waves in air. Shall I to W a s h i n g t o n their praise recite? E n o u g h thou know'st t h e m in the fields of fight. T h e e , first in p l a c e a n d h o n o r s — w e d e m a n d T h e g r a c e a n d glory of thy martial b a n d . F a m e d for thy valor, for thy virtues m o r e , H e a r every t o n g u e thy g u a r d i a n aid implore! O n e century s c a r c e p e r f o r m e d its d e s t i n e d r o u n d , W h e n Gallic'' p o w e r s C o l u m b i a ' s fury f o u n d ; A n d so may you, whoever d a r e s d i s g r a c e 1. This poem was first published in the Pennsylvania Magazine when T h o m a s Paine was editor. After reading it. Washington invited Wheatley to meet him in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in February 1 776. 2. This reference to America as "the land Columbus found" is believed to be the first in print.

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3. E m b l e m s of victory. 4. Huler ol the winds. 5. Flag or banner. 6. T h e French and Indian Wars (1754—63), between France and England, ended the French colonial empire in North America.

To

THE RIGHT HONORABLE WILLIAM,

EARL

OF DARTMOUTH

T h e land of f r e e d o m ' s h e a v e n - d e f e n d e d r a c e ! Fixed a r e the eyes of n a t i o n s on the s c a l e s , F o r in their h o p e s C o l u m b i a ' s a r m prevails. A n o n B r i t a n n i a d r o o p s the pensive h e a d , While r o u n d i n c r e a s e the rising hills of d e a d . Ah! cruel b l i n d n e s s to C o l u m b i a ' s s t a t e ! L a m e n t thy thirst of b o u n d l e s s power too late. P r o c e e d , great chief, with virtue o n thy s i d e , Thy every action let the g o d d e s s g u i d e . A c r o w n , a m a n s i o n , a n d a t h r o n e that s h i n e , With gold u n f a d i n g , W A S H I N G T O N ! be thine. 1775-76

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T o t h e R i g h t H o n o r a b l e W i l l i a m , E a r l of D a r t m o u t h , 1 H i s M a j e s t y ' s P r i n c i p a l S e c r e t a r y o f S t a t e for N o r t h A m e r i c a , & c Hail, happy day, w h e n , s m i l i n g like the m o r n , Fair F r e e d o m rose N e w E n g l a n d to a d o r n : T h e northern clime b e n e a t h her genial ray, D a r t m o u t h , c o n g r a t u l a t e s thy blissful sway: E l a t e with h o p e her r a c e no longer m o u r n s , E a c h soul e x p a n d s , e a c h grateful b o s o m b u r n s , W h i l e in thine h a n d with p l e a s u r e we b e h o l d T h e silken reins, a n d F r e e d o m ' s c h a r m s unfold. L o n g lost to r e a l m s b e n e a t h the northern skies S h e s h i n e s s u p r e m e , while h a t e d faction d i e s : S o o n a s a p p e a r e d the G o d d e s s long d e s i r e d , S i c k at the view, s h e 2 l a n q u i s h e d a n d expired; T h u s from the s p l e n d o r s of the m o r n i n g light T h e owl in s a d n e s s seeks the c a v e s of night.

5

10

N o m o r e , A m e r i c a , in m o u r n f u l strain O f w r o n g s , a n d grievance u n r e d r e s s e d c o m p l a i n , I N o longer shalt thou dread the iron c h a i n , J W h i c h w a n t o n Tyranny with lawless h a n d H a d m a d e , a n d with it m e a n t t' e n s l a v e the l a n d .

is

S h o u l d you, my lord, while you p e r u s e my s o n g , W o n d e r from w h e n c e my love of F r e e d o m s p r u n g , W h e n c e flow t h e s e w i s h e s for the c o m m o n g o o d , By feeling hearts a l o n e b e s t u n d e r s t o o d , I, y o u n g in life, by s e e m i n g cruel fate W a s s n a t c h ' d from Afric's f a n c i e d h a p p y s e a t : What pangs excruciating must molest, W h a t sorrows labor in my parent's b r e a s t ?

20

1. William Legge ( 1 7 3 1 - 1 8 0 1 ) , second earl of Dartmouth, was appointed secretary in charge of the American colonies in August 1772. Though sympathetic to the Methodist movement in

25

England, he was not sympathetic to the c a u s e of the American Revolution, 2. Faction. "The G o d d e s s " : freedom,

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S t e e l e d w a s that soul a n d by n o misery m o v e d T h a t from a father seized his b a b e beloved: S u c h , s u c h my c a s e . A n d c a n I then b u t pray O t h e r s m a y never feel tyrannic sway? F o r favors p a s t , great Sir, o u r t h a n k s a r e d u e , A n d t h e e we a s k thy favors to renew, S i n c e in thy pow'r,* a s in thy will b e f o r e , T o s o o t h the griefs, which t h o u did'st o n c e d e p l o r e . M a y heav'nly g r a c e the s a c r e d s a n c t i o n give T o all thy works, a n d t h o u forever live N o t only on the wings of fleeting F a m e , T h o u g h p r a i s e i m m o r t a l c r o w n s t h e patriot's n a m e , B u t to c o n d u c t to heav'ns refulgent f a n e , 4 M a y fiery c o u r s e r s s w e e p th' e t h e r e a l p l a i n , 5 A n d b e a r t h e e u p w a r d s to that blest a b o d e , W h e r e , like t h e p r o p h e t , t h o u shalt find thy G o d .

30

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1773

To Maecenas1 M a e c e n a s , y o u , b e n e a t h the myrtle s h a d e , R e a d o'er what p o e t s s u n g , a n d s h e p h e r d s , played. W h a t felt t h o s e p o e t s b u t you feel the s a m e ? D o e s not your soul p o s s e s s the s a c r e d f l a m e ? T h e i r n o b l e strains your e q u a l g e n i u s s h a r e s In softer l a n g u a g e , a n d diviner airs.

5

1

W h i l e H o m e r p a i n t s lo! c i r c u m f u s e d 2 in air, C e l e s t i a l G o d s in moral f o r m s a p p e a r ; Swift a s they m o v e h e a r e a c h r e c e s s r e b o u n d , * Heav'n q u a k e s , earth t r e m b l e s , a n d the s h o r e s r e s o u n d . G r e a t S i r e of verse, b e f o r e my mortal e y e s , T h e lightnings blaze a c r o s s t h e vaulted s k i e s , A n d , a s the t h u n d e r s h a k e s the heav'nly p l a i n s , A deep-felt horror thrills t h r o u g h all m y veins. W h e n gentler strains d e m a n d thy graceful s o n g , T h e length'ning line m o v e s l a n g u i s h i n g a l o n g . W h e n great P a t r o c l u s c o u r t s A c h i l l e s ' 4 aid, T h e grateful tribute of m y t e a r s is p a i d ; P r o n e o n the s h o r e he feels t h e p a n g s of love, And stern P e l i d e s 5 tend'rest p a s s o n s m o v e . 3. I.e., since it is in thy power. 4. Shining temple. 5. T h e heavens. " C o u r s e r s " : steeds; horses. 1. G a i u s Cilnius Maecenas (d. 8 B . C . E . ) , Roman aristocrat and statesman most famous as a patron of letters, especially poetry. 2. Enveloped. "Homer": the Greek poet traditionally named as author of the 9th-century B . C . E . epic p o e m s the Iliad and the Odyssey.

10

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20

3. I.e., each withdrawal reverberate. 4. In the Iliad, the greatest warrior of the Greeks. When in his anger at the leader of the expedition Achilles refuses to fight, his closest friend, Patroclus, goes into battle wearing Achilles' armor and is killed. 5. Another name for Achilles (literally, "son of Peleus"), who weeps for Patroclus.

To

MAECENAS

G r e a t M a r o ' s strain in heav'nly n u m b e r s flows, T h e N i n e inspire, a n d all the b o s o m glows. O c o u l d I rival thine a n d Virgil's p a g e , O r c l a i m the M u s e s with the M a n t u a n S a g e ; 6 S o o n the s a m e b e a u t i e s s h o u l d my m i n d a d o r n , A n d the s a m e ardors in my soul s h o u l d b u r n : T h e n s h o u l d m y s o n g in bolder n o t e s arise, A n d all m y n u m b e r s pleasingly surprize; B u t here I sit, a n d m o u r n a grov'ling m i n d , T h a t fain would m o u n t , a n d ride u p o n the wind. N o t y o u , my friend, t h e s e plaintive strains b e c o m e , N o t y o u , w h o s e b o s o m is the M u s e s h o m e ; W h e n they from tow'ring H e l i c o n retire, T h e y fan in you the bright i m m o r t a l fire, B u t I less happy, c a n n o t raise the s o n g , T h e fault'ring m u s i c dies u p o n my t o n g u e . T h e h a p p i e r T e r e n c e 7 all the choir i n s p i r e d , His soul r e p l e n i s h e d , a n d his b o s o m fired; B u t say, ye M u s e s , why this partial g r a c e , T o o n e a l o n e of Afric's s a b l e 8 r a c e F r o m a g e to a g e transmitting t h u s his n a m e W i t h the first glory in the rolls of f a m e ? Thy virtues, great M a e c e n a s ! shall b e s u n g In p r a i s e of h i m , from w h o m t h o s e virtues s p r u n g : W h i l e b l o o m i n g wreaths a r o u n d thy t e m p l e s s p r e a d , 9 ] I'll s n a t c h a laurel from thine h o n o r e d h e a d , \ While you indulgent smile u p o n the d e e d . J As long as T h a m e s in s t r e a m s m a j e s t i c flows, O r N a i a d s ' in their oozy b e d s r e p o s e , W h i l e Phoebus reigns a b o v e the starry train, W h i l e bright A u r o r a p u r p l e s o'er the m a i n , 2 S o long, great Sir, the m u s e thy p r a i s e shall s i n g , S o long thy p r a i s e shall m a k e P a r n a s s u s 1 ring: T h e n grant, M a e c e n a s , thy p a t e r n a l rays, H e a r m e p r o p i t i o u s , a n d d e f e n d my lays. 4

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55 1773

6. T h e Roman poet Publius Vergilius Maro, or Virgil ( 7 0 - 1 9 B.C.E.). was born near Mantua. " N u m b e r s " : meter. " M u s e s " : in Greek mythology the nine m u s e s were g o d d e s s e s of learning and the creative arts. They lived on Helicon, one of the two peaks of Mount P a r n a s s u s . 7. " H e was an African by birth" [Wheatley's note]. Terence ( c 190—159 B.C.E.), who c a m e to Rome as a slave from North Africa, gained great fame as a writer of comic plays in Latin.

8. Black. 9. In ancient times victors and heroes were crowned with wreaths of laurel or bay leaves. 1. In classical mythology the nymphs of rivers and lakes. " T h a m e s " : England's largest river. 2. Sea. In R o m a n mythology Aurora was the goddess of the dawn, who goes forth before the sun god, Phoebus Apollo. 3. T h e home of the nine M u s e s . S e e n. 6, above. 4. Songs; p o e m s .

3 7 8

ROYALL

TYLER

1757-1826 The colonial period was by no means conducive to English-speaking theater, let alone drama, and it says something about the theater's strength as an institution that it was able to exist at all. For one thing, settlers were too busy wresting a life from soil to be entertained; more important, both Puritans and Quakers disapproved in principle of what Jonathan in The Contrast calls "the devil's drawing-room." Nevertheless, British acting companies occasionally toured the principal cities, amateur theatricals were staged in southern colonies, and college students performed dramatic readings. Even those activities virtually ceased during the Revolution, when Americans were too busy fighting for their new country. After the Revolution, however, as the theater historian Walter J . Meserve has pointed out, "it became clear that the theatre was to be part of a new nation and that a playwright might even elicit some slight fame and fortune," for a national drama would be part of the search for a cultural identity. Bans against theater were lifted, older acting companies returned, and new ones were formed to occupy the new playhouses. One of the few new playwrights to emerge was Royall Tyler, whose play The Contrast was performed in 1787. It was our first English-speaking comedy and an immediate hit. Tyler was not a dramatist with a mission but an accomplished young man with a flair for letters. He earned degrees simultaneously at Harvard College and Yale College in 1776. He served in the Revolutionary War; he enjoyed playing man about town (in his case, Boston); he paid court to Abigail Adams, John and Abigail's daughter. At length he became a lawyer, and an intelligent and successful one; in his later years, he was both chief justice of the Supreme Court of Vermont and professor of law at the University of Vermont. He also—in the same year Tlie Contrast was produced—was a member of the militia that put down Shays's Rebellion, an incident mentioned twice in the play. And he dashed off The Contrast in three weeks. Although its author was an amateur, the play, most readers agree, reads like a polished professional product of the time. It is based, to be sure, on Richard Brinsley Sheridan's famous comedy The School for Scandal (1777), which Tyler saw produced in New York in 1787. From Sheridan's play Tyler took the basic story line that contrasts a mean and shallow fashionable demimonde with a world of honest and wholesome sentiment: the latter, of course, triumphs. He repays his debt handsomely in the scene where the comic Jonathan thinks he has witnessed real life in a privatehome but has actually been watching The School for Scandal itself. What was revolutionary was that Tyler totally Americanized the story. His fashionable New Yorkers ape British modes—most especially the deceitful villain, a young man who runs his life according to Lord Chesterfield's dictates. The hero, Captain Manly, is a model of thoughtful rectitude; a veteran of the Revolution, he may well embody the idea, current at the time, that these officer veterans were America's best hope. His servant Jonathan is one of the first examples of an enduring dramatic type, the comic Yankee: he is the butt of fun because of his ignorance of city ways, but he is also shrewd, honorable, and squarely on the side of homespun good. The critic William L. Hedges notes that Manly and Jonathan embody two American myths— "Publius and Yankee Doodle teamed up to save American virtue from the seductions of British luxury." "Contrasts" run throughout the play. Tyler continued to write for the rest of his life: other plays, satirical essays, verses, and a picaresque novel, The Algerine Captive (1797), one of the first works by an American to be also published in England. None, however, equals The Contrast, with its good humor and its brash, sunny nationalism: Exult each patriot heart!—this night is shewn A piece, which we may fairly call our own.

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The new country wanted a national literature, and in Tyler's play got an excellent example of it. Moreover, because social comedy is so topical, we can also read The Contrast for a vivid idea of what it was like to be an American when this country was still young.

The Contrast' Prologue [Written by a

YOUNG GENTLEMAN

of New York, and Spoken

by

MR. WIGNELL]

Exult e a c h patriot h e a r t ! — t h i s night is shewn A p i e c e , which we m a y fairly call our o w n ; W h e r e the p r o u d titles of " M y Lord! Your G r a c e ! " T o h u m b l e M r . a n d plain Sir give p l a c e . O u r A u t h o r p i c t u r e s not from foreign c l i m e s T h e f a s h i o n s , or the follies of the t i m e s ; B u t has confin'd the s u b j e c t of his work T o the gay s c e n e s — t h e circles of N e w York. O n native t h e m e s his M u s e displays her pow'rs; If o u r s the faults, the virtues too a r e o u r s . W h y s h o u l d our t h o u g h t s to distant c o u n t r i e s r o a m , W h e n e a c h refinement may be f o u n d at h o m e ? W h o travels now to a p e the rich or great, T o d e c k a n e q u i p a g e a n d roll in s t a t e ; T o court the g r a c e s , 2 or to d a n c e with e a s e , O r by hypocrisy to strive to p l e a s e ? O u r free-born a n c e s t o r s s u c h arts d e s p i s ' d ; G e n u i n e sincerity a l o n e they priz'd; T h e i r m i n d s , with h o n e s t e m u l a t i o n fir'd. T o solid g o o d — n o t o r n a m e n t — a s p i r ' d ; Or, if a m b i t i o n rous'd a bolder f l a m e , Stern virtue throve, w h e r e i n d o l e n c e w a s s h a m e . • B u t m o d e r n y o u t h s , with imitative s e n s e , D e e m taste in d r e s s the proof of e x c e l l e n c e ; And s p u r n the m e a n n e s s of your h o m e s p u n arts, S i n c e h o m e s p u n habits would o b s c u r e their p a r t s ; Whilst all, which a i m s at s p l e n d o r a n d p a r a d e , M u s t c o m e from E u r o p e , a n d b e ready m a d e . S t r a n g e ! we s h o u l d t h u s our native worth d i s c l a i m , A n d c h e c k the p r o g r e s s of our rising f a m e . Yet o n e , whilst imitation b e a r s the sway, Aspires to nobler heights, a n d points the way, B e rous'd, my friends! his bold e x a m p l e view; L e t your own B a r d s be p r o u d to copy you! S h o u l d rigid critics r e p r o b a t e our play, At least the patriotic heart will say, 1. First performed in 1787, it was published in 1 7 9 0 by T h o m a s Wignell, which is the source of the text. Wignell, a prominent comic actor and George Washington's favorite comedian, later ran one of the new country's most successful theaters.

the Chestnut Street Theatre, in Philadelphia. He played the part of Jonathan in New York. 2. Greek goddesses, personifications of loveliness or grace. "Equipage": coach.

3 8 0

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ROYALL

TYLER

" G l o r i o u s our fall, s i n c e in a n o b l e c a u s e . " T h e bold a t t e m p t a l o n e d e m a n d s a p p l a u s e . " Still m a y the w i s d o m of the C o m i c M u s e Exalt your m e r i t s , or your faults a c c u s e . B u t think not, 'tis her aim to b e s e v e r e ; — W e all are m o r t a l s , a n d a s m o r t a l s err. If c a n d o r p l e a s e s , we are truly blest; Vice t r e m b l e s , w h e n c o m p e l l ' d to s t a n d c o n f e s s ' d . L e t not light C e n s u r e o n your faults offend, W h i c h a i m s not to e x p o s e t h e m , b u t a m e n d . T h u s d o e s our A u t h o r to your c a n d o r trust; C o n s c i o u s , the free are g e n e r o u s , a s j u s t . Act

First

SCENE

An apartment [CHARLOTTE

at and

1.

CHARLOTTE'S, LETITIA

discovered.]

A n d s o , C h a r l o t t e , you really think t h e p o c k e t - h o o p ' u n b e c o m i n g . N o , I don't say s o : It m a y b e very b e c o m i n g to s a u n t e r r o u n d the h o u s e of a rainy day; to visit m y g r a n d - m a m m a , or g o to Q u a k e r s ' m e e t i n g : b u t to s w i m in a m i n u e t , with the e y e s of fifty w e l l - d r e s s e d b e a u x u p o n m e , to trip it in the M a l l , or walk o n the b a t t e r y , 4 give m e the l u x u r i o u s , j a u n t y , flowing, b e l l - h o o p . It w o u l d h a v e d e l i g h t e d y o u to have s e e n m e the last e v e n i n g , my c h a r m i n g girl! I w a s d a n g l i n g o'er the battery with Billy D i m p l e ; a k n o t of y o u n g fellows w e r e u p o n the p l a t f o r m ; a s I p a s s e d t h e m I f a u l t e r e d with o n e of t h e m o s t b e w i t c h i n g f a l s e s t e p s you ever s a w , a n d t h e n r e c o v e r e d m y s e l f with s u c h a pretty c o n f u s i o n , flirting m y h o o p to d i s c o v e r a j e t b l a c k s h o e a n d brilliant b u c k l e . G a d ! h o w m y little h e a r t thrilled to h e a r the c o n f u s e d r e p t u r e s o f — " D e r a r a e V Jack, what a delicate foot!" " H a ! General, what a well-turn'd—" LETITIA F i e ! fie! C h a r l o t t e [stopping her mouth], I p r o t e s t y o u a r e q u i t e a libertine. CHARLOTTE W h y , my d e a r little p r u d e , a r e w e n o t all s u c h libertines? D o you think, w h e n I sat t o r t u r e d two h o u r s u n d e r the h a n d s o f my friseur, a n d a n h o u r m o r e at my t o i l e t , 6 that I h a d a n y t h o u g h t s o f m y a u n t S u s a n , or my c o u s i n B e t s e y ? t h o u g h they a r e b o t h a l l o w e d to b e critical j u d g e s of d r e s s . LETITIA W h y , w h o s h o u l d w e d r e s s to p l e a s e , b u t t h o s e w h o a r e j u d g e s of its m e r i t s ? CHARLOTTE W h y a c r e a t u r e w h o d o e s n o t k n o w Buffon f r o m Souflee7— M a n ! — m y L e t i t i a — M a n ! for w h o m w e d r e s s , walk, d a n c e , talk, l i s p , l a n g u i s h , a n d s m i l e . D o e s n o t t h e grave S p e c t a t o r 8 a s s u r e u s , t h a t e v e n

LETITIA

CHARLOTTE

3. Hoopskirts b e c a m e fashionable about 1700; the "pocket hoop," confined to the hips, was smaller than the "bell hoop," mentioned a few-lines later. 4. Area at the southernmost tip of Manhattan Island (formerly a Dutch fortification, hence the name). "Beaux": i.e., dandies. "The Mall": fashionable promenade. 5. Affected version of damn me.

6. Dressing table, vanity. "Friseur": hairdresser, 7. I.e., souffle, a puffy dish m a d e with eggs and sauce. "Buffon": a pun on Georges Buffon, 18thcentury French naturalist, and "bouffant," puffed out, as in a hairdo. 8. A popular periodical written and published by J o s e p h Addison and Richard Steele, which provided "a wholesome and pleasant regimen" of essays on morals, manners, and literature.

THE

CONTRAST, ACT

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381

o u r m u c h b e p r a i s e d d i f f i d e n c e , m o d e s t y , a n d b l u s h e s , a r e all d i r e c t e d to m a k e o u r s e l v e s g o o d wives a n d m o t h e r s a s fast a s w e c a n . W h y , I'll u n d e r t a k e with o n e flirt of this h o o p to b r i n g m o r e b e a u x to m y feet in o n e w e e k , t h a n the grave M a r i a , a n d her s e n t i m e n t a l c i r c l e , c a n d o , by s i g h i n g s e n t i m e n t till their hairs a r e grey. LETITIA W e l l , I won't a r g u e with y o u ; you always o u t talk m e ; let u s c h a n g e t h e s u b j e c t . I h e a r t h a t M r . D i m p l e a n d M a r i a a r e s o o n to b e m a r r i e d . CHARLOTTE Y O U h e a r t r u e . I w a s c o n s u l t e d in the c h o i c e o f the w e d d i n g c l o t h e s . S h e is to be m a r r i e d in a d e l i c a t e white s a t i n , a n d h a s a m o n s t r o u s pretty b r o c a d e d l u t e s t r i n g 9 for the s e c o n d day. It w o u l d h a v e d o n e you g o o d to h a v e s e e n with w h a t a n a f f e c t e d i n d i f f e r e n c e the d e a r s e n t i m e n t a l i s t t u r n e d over a t h o u s a n d pretty t h i n g s , j u s t a s if her h e a r t did not p a l p i t a t e with her a p p r o a c h i n g h a p p i n e s s , a n d at last m a d e her c h o i c e , a n d a r r a n g e d her d r e s s with s u c h a p a t h y , a s if s h e did not k n o w that plain white s a t i n , a n d a s i m p l e b l o n d l a c e , w o u l d s h e w her c l e a r skin, a n d d a r k hair, to t h e g r e a t e s t a d v a n t a g e . LETITIA B u t they s a y her i n d i f f e r e n c e to d r e s s , a n d e v e n to the g e n t l e m a n himself, is not entirely a f f e c t e d . CHARLOTTE

HOW?

It is w h i s p e r e d , t h a t if M a r i a gives her h a n d to M r . D i m p l e , it will b e w i t h o u t her h e a r t . CHARLOTTE T h o u g h the giving the h e a r t is o n e of t h e last of all l a u g h a b l e c o n s i d e r a t i o n s in the m a r r i a g e of a girl o f spirit, yet I s h o u l d like to h e a r w h a t a n t i q u a t e d n o t i o n s the d e a r little p i e c e o f old f a s h i o n e d p r u d e r y h a s got in her h e a d . LETITIA W h y you k n o w t h a t old M r . J o h n - R i c h a r d - R o b e r t - J a c o b - I s a a c A b r a h a m - C o r n e l i u s V a n D u m p l i n g , Billy D i m p l e ' s f a t h e r (for h e h a s t h o u g h t fit to soften his n a m e , a s well a s m a n n e r s , d u r i n g his E n g l i s h t o u r ) w a s the m o s t i n t i m a t e friend of M a r i a ' s father. T h e old folks, a b o u t a y e a r b e f o r e M r . V a n D u m p l i n g ' s d e a t h , p r o p o s e d this m a t c h : the y o u n g folks w e r e a c c o r d i n g l y i n t r o d u c e d , a n d told they m u s t love o n e a n o t h e r . Billy w a s t h e n a g o o d n a t u r e d , d e c e n t , d r e s s i n g y o u n g fellow, with a little d a s h of the c o x c o m b , 1 s u c h a s o u r y o u n g fellows of f o r t u n e u s u a l l y h a v e . At this t i m e , I really believe s h e t h o u g h t s h e loved h i m ; a n d h a d they t h e n b e e n m a r r i e d , I d o u b t not, they m i g h t have j o g g e d o n , to the e n d of the c h a p t e r , a g o o d kind of a s i n g - s o n g l a c k - a - d a y s a i c a l life, a s o t h e r h o n e s t m a r r i e d folks d o . LETITIA

W h y did they not t h e n marry? U p o n the d e a t h of his father, Billy w e n t to E n g l a n d to s e e the world, a n d r u b off a little of the p a t r o o n r u s t . 2 D u r i n g his a b s e n c e , M a r i a like a g o o d girl, to k e e p h e r s e l f c o n s t a n t to her nown* true-love, a v o i d e d c o m p a n y , a n d b e t o o k herself, for her a m u s e m e n t , to h e r b o o k s , a n d her d e a r Billy's letters. B u t , a l a s ! h o w m a n y ways h a s t h e m i s c h i e v o u s d e m o n of i n c o n s t a n c y of s t e a l i n g into a w o m a n ' s heart! H e r love w a s d e s t r o y e d by the very m e a n s s h e t o o k to s u p p o r t it. CHARLOTTE H o w ? — O h ! I have i t — s o m e likely y o u n g b e a u f o u n d the way to her s t u d y . LETITIA Be patient, Charlotte—your head so runs upon b e a u x . — W h y she CHARLOTTE LETITIA

9 . A glossy silk. 1. Conceitedness.

2. I.e., old-fashioned country style or manners. 3. I.e., "own" (probably from a popular song).

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r e a d S i r C h a r l e s G r a n d i s o n , C l a r i s s a H a r l o w , S h e n s t o n e , a n d the S e n t i m e n t a l J o u r n e y , 4 a n d b e t w e e n w h i l e s , a s I s a i d , Billy's l e t t e r s . B u t a s her t a s t e i m p r o v e d , her love d e c l i n e d . T h e c o n t r a s t w a s s o striking betwixt the g o o d s e n s e of her b o o k s , a n d the f l i m s i n e s s of h e r love-letters, that s h e d i s c o v e r e d s h e h a d u n t h i n k i n g l y e n g a g e d her h a n d w i t h o u t her h e a r t ; a n d t h e n the w h o l e t r a n s a c t i o n m a n a g e d by the old folks, now a p p e a r e d s o u n s e n t i m e n t a l , a n d l o o k e d s o like b a r g a i n i n g for a b a l e of g o o d s , that s h e f o u n d s h e o u g h t to h a v e r e j e c t e d , a c c o r d i n g to every rule of r o m a n c e , e v e n the m a n o f h e r c h o i c e , if i m p o s e d u p o n her in that m a n n e r — C l a r y H a r l o w w o u l d have s c o r n e d s u c h a m a t c h . CHARLOTTE W e l l , h o w w a s it o n M r . D i m p l e ' s r e t u r n ? D i d h e m e e t a m o r e favorable r e c e p t i o n t h a n his letters? LETITIA M u c h the s a m e . S h e s p o k e of h i m with r e s p e c t a b r o a d , a n d with c o n t e m p t in h e r c l o s e t . 5 S h e w a t c h e d his c o n d u c t a n d c o n v e r s a t i o n , a n d f o u n d that h e h a d by traveling a c q u i r e d t h e w i c k e d n e s s of L o v e l a c e ' ' w i t h o u t his wit, a n d the p o l i t e n e s s of S i r C h a r l e s G r a n d i s o n w i t h o u t his g e n e r o s i t y . T h e ruddy y o u t h w h o w a s h e d his f a c e at t h e c i s t e r n every m o r n i n g , a n d s w o r e a n d l o o k e d e t e r n a l love a n d c o n s t a n c y , w a s n o w m e t a m o r p h o s e d into a flippant, p a l i d , polite b e a u , w h o d e v o t e s the m o r n i n g to his toilet, r e a d s a few p a g e s of C h e s t e r f i e l d ' s l e t t e r s , 7 a n d then m i n c e s o u t , to p u t the i n f a m o u s p r i n c i p l e s in p r a c t i c e u p o n every w o m a n he meets. CHARLOTTE B u t , if s h e is s o a p t at c o n j u r i n g u p t h e s e s e n t i m e n t a l b u g b e a r s , why d o e s s h e not d i s c a r d h i m at o n c e ? LETITIA W h y , s h e thinks her w o r d t o o s a c r e d to b e trifled w i t h . B e s i d e s , her father, w h o h a s a great r e s p e c t for the m e m o r y of his d e c e a s e d friend, is ever telling her how h e shall r e n e w his years in their u n i o n , a n d r e p e a t i n g the dying i n j u n c t i o n s of old V a n D u m p l i n g . CHARLOTTE A mighty pretty story! A n d s o y o u w o u l d m a k e m e b e l i e v e , that the s e n s i b l e M a r i a w o u l d give u p D u m p l i n g m a n o r , a n d the alla c c o m p l i s h e d D i m p l e a s a h u s b a n d , for the a b s u r d , r i d i c u l o u s r e a s o n , f o r s o o t h , b e c a u s e s h e d e s p i s e s a n d a b h o r s h i m . J u s t a s if a lady c o u l d not b e privileged to s p e n d a m a n ' s f o r t u n e , ride in his c a r r i a g e , b e c a l l e d after his n a m e , a n d call him her nown dear lovee w h e n s h e w a n t s m o n e y , w i t h o u t loving a n d r e s p e c t i n g the great h e - c r e a t u r e . O h ! my d e a r girl, you a r e a m o n s t r o u s p r u d e . LETITIA I don't say w h a t I w o u l d d o ; I only i n t i m a t e h o w I s u p p o s e s h e w i s h e s to a c t . CHARLOTTE N o , n o , n o ! A fig for s e n t i m e n t . If s h e b r e a k s , or w i s h e s to b r e a k , with M r . D i m p l e , d e p e n d u p o n it, s h e h a s s o m e o t h e r m a n in her eye. A w o m a n rarely d i s c a r d s o n e lover, until s h e is s u r e of a n o t h e r . — L e t i t i a little t h i n k s w h a t a c l u e I have to D i m p l e ' s c o n d u c t . T h e g e n e r o u s m a n s u b m i t s to r e n d e r h i m s e l f d i s g u s t i n g to M a r i a , in o r d e r that s h e m a y leave h i m at liberty to a d d r e s s m e . I m u s t c h a n g e the s u b j e c t [Aside, and rings a bell.] 4. All sentimental works of the 18th century: Sir Charles Grandison and Clarissa (Harlowe) are novels hy Samuel Richardson, a n d A Sentimental Journey is by Laurence Sterne. William Shenstone was a popular poet. Novel reading was then considered a woman's occupation. 5. Private apartment or room.

6. T h e h a n d s o m e dashing villain in Clarissa. 7. Letters written to his illegitimate son by Philip Stanhope, earl of Chesterfield, on deportment and manners in polite society; published in 1 7 7 4 , they were described by Samuel J o h n s o n as teaching "the morals of a w hore and the manners of a dancing master."

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[Enter S E R V A N T . ] F r a n k , o r d e r the h o r s e s t o . — T a l k i n g of m a r r i a g e — d i d you h e a r that Sally B l o o m s b u r y is g o i n g to b e m a r r i e d next w e e k to M r . I n d i g o , the rich Carolinian? LETITIA S a l l y B l o o m s b u r y m a r r i e d ! — W h y , s h e is not yet in h e r t e e n s . CHARLOTTE I d o not k n o w h o w that is, b u t , you m a y d e p e n d u p o n it, 'tis a d o n e affair. I have it f r o m the b e s t authority. T h e r e is m y a u n t Wyerley's H a n n a h (you k n o w H a n n a h — t h o u g h a b l a c k , s h e is a w e n c h t h a t w a s never c a u g h t in a lie in her life); n o w H a n n a h h a s a b r o t h e r w h o c o u r t s S a r a h , M r s . C a t g u t the milliner's girl, a n d s h e told H a n n a h ' s b r o t h e r , a n d H a n n a h , w h o , a s I s a i d b e f o r e , is a girl of u n d o u b t e d veracity, told it directly to m e , that M r s . C a t g u t w a s m a k i n g a n e w c a p for M i s s B l o o m s b u r y , w h i c h , a s it w a s very d r e s s y , it is very p r o b a b l e is d e s i g n e d for a w e d d i n g c a p : now, a s s h e is to b e m a r r i e d , w h o c a n it b e t o , but to M r . I n d i g o ? W h y , t h e r e is n o o t h e r g e n t l e m a n t h a t visits at her papa's. LETITIA S a y not a word m o r e , C h a r l o t t e . Y o u r i n t e l l i g e n c e 8 is s o d i r e c t a n d well g r o u n d e d , it is a l m o s t a pity that it is not a p i e c e of s c a n d a l . CHARLOTTE O h ! I a m the p i n k of p r u d e n c e . T h o u g h I c a n n o t c h a r g e m y s e l f with ever h a v i n g d i s c r e d i t e d a tea-party by my s i l e n c e , yet I t a k e c a r e never to report a n y t h i n g of my a c q u a i n t a n c e , e s p e c i a l l y if it is to their credit,—discredit, I m e a n — u n t i l I h a v e s e a r c h e d to the b o t t o m of it. It is t r u e , t h e r e is infinite p l e a s u r e in this c h a r i t a b l e p u r s u i t . O h ! h o w d e l i c i o u s to g o a n d c o n d o l e with the friends of s o m e b a c k s l i d i n g sister, or to retire with s o m e old d o w a g e r or m a i d e n a u n t of the family, w h o love s c a n d a l s o well, that they c a n n o t f o r b e a r gratifying their a p p e t i t e at the e x p e n c e o f the r e p u t a t i o n of their n e a r e s t r e l a t i o n s ! A n d then to return full f r a u g h t with a rich c o l l e c t i o n of c i r c u m s t a n c e s , to retail to the next circle of o u r a c q u a i n t a n c e u n d e r the s t r o n g e s t i n j u n c t i o n s o f s e c r e c y , — h a , h a , h a ! — i n t e r l a r d i n g the m e l a n c h o l y tale with s o m a n y doleful s h a k e s of the h e a d , a n d m o r e doleful, " A h ! w h o w o u l d h a v e t h o u g h t it! s o a m i a b l e , s o p r u d e n t a y o u n g lady, a s w e all t h o u g h t her, w h a t a m o n s t r o u s pity! well, I have n o t h i n g to c h a r g e m y s e l f with; I a c t e d the part of a friend, I w a r n e d her of the p r i n c i p l e s of that r a k e , 9 I told her w h a t w o u l d b e the c o n s e q u e n c e ; I told her s o , I told her s o . " — H a , ha, ha! H a , h a , ha! W e l l , b u t C h a r l o t t e , you don't tell m e w h a t you think of M i s s B l o o m s b u r y ' s m a t c h . CHARLOTTE T h i n k ! why I think it is p r o b a b l e s h e cried for a p l a y t h i n g , a n d they h a v e given her a h u s b a n d . W e l l , well, well, the p u l i n g c h i t 1 shall not be d e p r i v e d o f her plaything: 'tis only e x c h a n g i n g L o n d o n dolls for A m e r i c a n b a b i e s — A p r o p o s , of b a b i e s , have you h e a r d w h a t M r s . Affable's high-flying n o t i o n s of d e l i c a c y have c o m e to? LETITIA W h o , s h e that w a s M i s s Lovely? CHARLOTTE T h e s a m e ; s h e m a r r i e d B o b A f f a b l e of S c h e n e c t a d y . D o n ' t you remember? [Enter S E R V A N T . ] SERVANT M a d a m , the c a r r i a g e is ready. LETITIA

8. I.e.. news. 9. Or "rakehell," a libertine or dissolute man.

1. Whimpering child or young woman.

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S h a l l w e g o to t h e s t o r e s first, or visiting? I s h o u l d t h i n k it r a t h e r t o o early to visit; e s p e c i a l l y M r s . P r i m : y o u k n o w s h e is s o p a r t i c u l a r . LETITIA W e l l , b u t w h a t of M r s . A f f a b l e ? CHARLOTTE O h , I'll tell you a s w e g o ; c o m e , c o m e , let u s h a s t e n . I h e a r M r s . C a t g u t h a s s o m e of the p r e t t i e s t c a p s arrived, y o u ever s a w . I shall die if I h a v e n o t the first s i g h t of t h e m . [Exeunt.] LETITIA

CHARLOTTE

SCENE

A room in [MARIA

VAN R O U G H ' S

sitting disconsolate

2.

house. at a Table, with Books, etc.] SONG I

T h e s u n sets in night, a n d the stars s h u n the day; B u t glory r e m a i n s w h e n their lights f a d e away! B e g i n , ye t o r m e n t o r s ! your threats are in vain, F o r the s o n of A l k n o m o o k 2 shall never c o m p l a i n .

R e m e m b e r the arrows h e shot from his b o w ; R e m e m b e r your chiefs by his h a t c h e t laid low: W h y so s l o w ? — d o you wait till I s h r i n k from the p a i n ? N o — t h e s o n of A l k n o m o o k will never c o m p l a i n . in

R e m e m b e r the w o o d w h e r e in a m b u s h we lay; A n d the s c a l p s which we b o r e from your n a t i o n away N o w the flame rises fast, you exult in my p a i n ; B u t the s o n of A l k n o m o o k c a n never c o m p l a i n . r

I g o to the land w h e r e my father is g o n e ; H i s g h o s t shall rejoice in the f a m e of his s o n : D e a t h c o m e s like a friend, h e relieves m e f r o m p a i n ; A n d thy s o n , O h A l k n o m o o k ! h a s scorn'd to c o m p l a i n . T h e r e is s o m e t h i n g in this s o n g which ever calls forth my a f f e c t i o n s . T h e m a n l y virtue of c o u r a g e , that fortitude w h i c h steels the heart a g a i n s t the k e e n e s t m i s f o r t u n e s , which interweaves the laurel of glory a m i d s t the instrum e n t s of torture a n d d e a t h , displays s o m e t h i n g s o n o b l e , s o exalted, that in d e s p i t e of the p r e j u d i c e s of e d u c a t i o n , I c a n n o t b u t a d m i r e it, even in a s a v a g e . T h e p r e p o s s e s s i o n which our sex is s u p p o s e d to e n t e r t a i n for the c h a r a c t e r of a soldier, is, I know, a s t a n d i n g p i e c e of raillery a m o n g the wits. A c o c k a d e , a lapel'd c o a t , a n d a f e a t h e r , 3 they will tell you, are irresistible by a f e m a l e heart. L e t it be s o . — W h o is it that c o n s i d e r s the h e l p l e s s situation 2. An Indian name. T h e authorship of the song is unknown.

3. I.e., military dress. " C o c k a d e " : badge worn on a hat.

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of our sex, that d o e s not s e e we e a c h m o m e n t s t a n d in n e e d of a protector, a n d that a brave o n e too. F o r m e d of the m o r e delicate m a t e r i a l s of n a t u r e , e n d o w e d only with the softer p a s s i o n s , i n c a p a b l e , from o u r i g n o r a n c e of the world, to g u a r d a g a i n s t the wiles of m a n k i n d , our security for h a p p i n e s s often d e p e n d s u p o n their generosity a n d c o u r a g e : — A l a s ! how little of the former do we find. H o w i n c o n s i s t e n t ! that m a n s h o u l d be l e a g u e d to destroy that honor, u p o n w h i c h , solely rests his r e s p e c t a n d e s t e e m . T e n t h o u s a n d t e m p tations allure u s , ten t h o u s a n d p a s s i o n s betray u s ; yet the s m a l l e s t deviation from the p a t h of rectitude is followed by the c o n t e m p t a n d insult of m a n , a n d the m o r e r e m o r s e l e s s pity of w o m a n : years of p e n i t e n c e a n d tears c a n n o t w a s h away the stain, nor a life of virture obliterate its r e m e m b r a n c e . R e p u tation is the life of w o m a n ; yet c o u r a g e to p r o t e c t it, is m a s c u l i n e a n d disg u s t i n g ; a n d the only safe a s y l u m a w o m a n of delicacy c a n find, is in the a r m s of a m a n of honor. H o w naturally then, s h o u l d we love the brave, a n d the g e n e r o u s ; how gratefully s h o u l d we bless the a r m raised for our protection, w h e n nerv'd by virtue, a n d directed by honor! H e a v e n g r a n t that the m a n with w h o m I m a y be c o n n e c t e d — m a y be c o n n e c t e d ! — W h i t h e r h a s my i m a g i n a t i o n t r a n s p o r t e d m e — w h i t h e r d o e s it n o w lead m e ? — A m I not indissolubly e n g a g e d by every obligation of honor, which my own c o n s e n t , a n d my father's a p p r o b a t i o n c a n give, to a m a n w h o c a n never s h a r e my affections, a n d w h o m a few days h e n c e , it will b e criminal for m e to d i s a p p r o v e — to d i s a p p r o v e ! would to h e a v e n that were a l l — t o d e s p i s e . F o r , c a n the m o s t frivolous m a n n e r s , a c t u a t e d by the m o s t depraved heart, m e e t , or merit, anything but c o n t e m p t from every w o m a n of delicacy a n d s e n t i m e n t ? without.] Mary! H a , my father's v o i c e — S i r ! [Enter V A N R O U G H . ] VAN R O U G H W h a t , M a r y , always s i n g i n g doleful ditties, a n d m o p i n g over these plaguy4 books. MARIA I h o p e , Sir, t h a t it is not c r i m i n a l to i m p r o v e m y m i n d with b o o k s ; or to divert my m e l a n c h o l y with s i n g i n g at my l e i s u r e h o u r s . VAN R O U G H W h y , I don't k n o w that, c h i l d ; I don't k n o w that. T h e y u s ' d to s a y w h e n I w a s a y o u n g m a n , that if a w o m a n k n e w h o w to m a k e a p u d d i n g , a n d to k e e p h e r s e l f o u t of fire a n d w a t e r , s h e k n e w e n o u g h for a wife. N o w , w h a t g o o d h a v e t h e s e b o o k s d o n e y o u ? h a v e they not m a d e you m e l a n c h o l y ? a s you call it. Pray, w h a t right h a s a girl of y o u r a g e to be in the d u m p s ? haven't you every t h i n g y o u r h e a r t c a n w i s h ; ain't you g o i n g to b e m a r r i e d to a y o u n g m a n of great f o r t u n e ; ain't you g o i n g to have t h e q u i t - r e n t s o f twenty m i l e s s q u a r e ? MARIA O n e h u n d r e d t h part of the l a n d , a n d a l e a s e for life of the h e a r t of a m a n I c o u l d love, w o u l d satisfy m e . VAN R O U G H Pho, pho, pho! child; n o n s e n s e , downright n o n s e n s e , child. T h i s c o m e s of y o u r r e a d i n g your s t o r y - b o o k s ; y o u r C h a r l e s G r a n d i s o n s , your S e n t i m e n t a l J o u r n a l s , a n d y o u r R o b i n s o n C r u s o e s , a n d s u c h o t h e r t r u m p e r y . 6 N o , n o , n o ! c h i l d , it is m o n e y m a k e s the m a r e g o ; k e e p y o u r eye u p o n t h e m a i n c h a n c e , 7 M a r y . MARIA M a r r i a g e , Sir, is, i n d e e d , a very s e r i o u s affair. [VAN R O U G H ,

MARIA.

4. Annoying, irritating. 5. Small fixed rent. 6. Worthless nonsense. Robinson Crusoe was pub-

lished by Daniel Defoe in 1719. 7. I.e., the biggest advantage.

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You a r e right, c h i l d ; you a r e right. I a m s u r e I f o u n d it s o to my c o s t . MARIA I m e a n , Sir, t h a t a s m a r r i a g e is a p o r t i o n for life, a n d s o i n t i m a t e l y involves o u r h a p p i n e s s , w e c a n n o t b e t o o c o n s i d e r a t e in the c h o i c e o f our companion. VAN R O U G H Right, c h i l d ; very right. A y o u n g w o m a n s h o u l d b e very s o b e r w h e n s h e is m a k i n g h e r c h o i c e , b u t w h e n s h e h a s o n c e m a d e it, a s you have d o n e , I don't s e e w h y s h e s h o u l d not b e a s merry a s a g r i g , 8 I a m s u r e s h e h a s r e a s o n e n o u g h to b e s o — S o l o m o n s a y s , t h a t " t h e r e is a t i m e to l a u g h , a n d a t i m e to w e e p " ; 9 n o w a t i m e for a y o u n g w o m a n to l a u g h is w h e n s h e h a s m a d e s u r e of a g o o d rich h u s b a n d . N o w a t i m e to cry, a c c o r d i n g to y o u , M a r y , is w h e n s h e is m a k i n g c h o i c e of h i m : b u t , I s h o u l d think, that a y o u n g w o m a n ' s t i m e to cry w a s , w h e n s h e d e s p a i r e d of getting o n e . — W h y , t h e r e w a s y o u r m o t h e r n o w ; to b e s u r e w h e n I p o p p ' d t h e q u e s t i o n to her, s h e did l o o k a little silly; b u t w h e n s h e h a d o n c e l o o k e d d o w n o n her a p r o n - s t r i n g s , a s all m o d e s t y o u n g w o m e n u s ' d to d o , a n d d r a w l e d o u t ye-s, s h e w a s a s brisk a n d a s merry as a bee. MARIA M y h o n o r e d m o t h e r , Sir, h a d n o m o t i v e to m e l a n c h o l y ; s h e m a r r i e d t h e m a n of her c h o i c e . VAN R O U G H T h e m a n of her c h o i c e ! A n d pray, M a r y , ain't you g o i n g to m a r r y the m a n of y o u r c h o i c e — w h a t t r u m p e r y n o t i o n is t h i s ? — I t is t h e s e vile b o o k s [throwing them away]. I'd have you to k n o w , M a r y , if y o u won't m a k e y o u n g V a n D u m p l i n g the m a n o f your c h o i c e , you shall marry h i m a s the m a n of my c h o i c e . MARIA You terrify m e , Sir. I n d e e d , Sir, I a m all s u b m i s s i o n . M y will is yours. VAN R O U G H W h y , that is t h e way y o u r m o t h e r u s ' d to talk. " M y will is y o u r s , my d e a r M r . V a n R o u g h , my will is y o u r s " : b u t s h e t o o k s p e c i a l c a r e to have h e r own way t h o u g h for all that. MARIA D o not reflect u p o n my m o t h e r ' s m e m o r y , S i r — VAN R O U G H W h y not, M a r y , why n o t ? S h e k e p t m e f r o m s p e a k i n g my m i n d all her life, a n d d o you think s h e shall h e n p e c k m e n o w s h e is dead t o o ? C o m e , c o m e ; don't g o to sniveling: b e a g o o d girl, a n d m i n d the m a i n c h a n c e . I'll s e e you well s e t t l e d in t h e world. MARIA I d o not d o u b t y o u r love, Sir; a n d it is my duty to o b e y y o u . — I will e n d e a v o r to m a k e my duty a n d i n c l i n a t i o n g o h a n d in h a n d . VAN R O U G H W e l l , well, M a r y ; d o you be a g o o d girl, m i n d the m a i n c h a n c e , a n d never m i n d i n c l i n a t i o n . — W h y , d o you k n o w that I have b e e n d o w n in t h e c e l l a r this very m o r n i n g to e x a m i n e a p i p e of M a d e i r a 1 w h i c h I p u r c h a s e d the w e e k you w e r e b o r n , a n d m e a n to t a p o n y o u r w e d d i n g d a y . — T h a t p i p e c o s t m e fifty p o u n d s sterling. It w a s well w o r t h sixty p o u n d s ; b u t I o v e r - r e a c h e d B e n B u l k h e a d , the s u p e r c a r g o . 2 I'll tell you the w h o l e story. You m u s t k n o w t h a t — [Enter S E R V A N T . ]

VAN R O U G H

H. Lighthearted young person. 9. "A time to weep, and a time to laugh" (Ecclesiastes 3.4); Ecclesiastes is thought to have been written by Solomon.

1. Big cask of wine. 2. Officer of merchant ship concerned with the voyage's commercial aspects.

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Sir, M r . T r a n s f e r , the broker, is b e l o w . [ E x i t . ] W e l l , M a r y , I m u s t g o . — R e m e m b e r , a n d b e a g o o d girl, a n d m i n d the m a i n c h a n c e . [Exit.] MARIA [alone] H o w d e p l o r a b l e is my s i t u a t i o n ! H o w d i s t r e s s i n g for a d a u g h t e r to find her heart militating with her filial duty! I k n o w m y father loves m e tenderly, why then do 1 r e l u c t a n t l y o b e y h i m ? H e a v e n k n o w s ! with w h a t r e l u c t a n c e I s h o u l d o p p o s e the will o f a p a r e n t , or set a n e x a m p l e of filial d i s o b e d i e n c e ; at a p a r e n t ' s c o m m a n d I c o u l d w e d awkw a r d n e s s a n d d e f o r m i t y . W e r e the h e a r t of my h u s b a n d g o o d , I w o u l d s o m a g n i f y his g o o d q u a l i t i e s with the eye of c o n j u g a l a f f e c t i o n , that the d e f e c t s of his p e r s o n a n d m a n n e r s s h o u l d b e lost in the e m a n a t i o n of his v i r t u e s . At a father's c o m m a n d , I c o u l d e m b r a c e poverty. W e r e the p o o r m a n my h u s b a n d , I w o u l d learn r e s i g n a t i o n to my lot; I w o u l d enliven o u r frugal m e a l with g o o d h u m o r , a n d c h a s e a w a y m i s f o r t u n e from o u r c o t t a g e with a s m i l e . At a father's c o m m a n d , I c o u l d a l m o s t s u b m i t , to w h a t every f e m a l e heart k n o w s to b e the m o s t mortifying, to marry a w e a k m a n , a n d b l u s h at my h u s b a n d ' s folly in every c o m p a n y I v i s i t e d . — B u t to m a r r y a d e p r a v e d w r e t c h , w h o s e only virtue is a p o l i s h e d exterior; w h o is a c t u a t e d by the u n m a n l y a m b i t i o n of c o n q u e r i n g t h e d e f e n c e l e s s ; w h o s e h e a r t , i n s e n s i b l e to the e m o t i o n s of p a t r i o t i s m , dilates at the p l a u d i t s of every u n t h i n k i n g girl: w h o s e l a u r e l s a r e the s i g h s a n d t e a r s o f the m i s e r a b l e v i c t i m s o f his s p e c i o u s b e h a v i o r . — C a n h e , w h o h a s n o r e g a r d for the p e a c e a n d h a p p i n e s s of o t h e r f a m i l i e s , ever have a d u e r e g a r d for the p e a c e a n d h a p p i n e s s o f his o w n ? W o u l d to h e a v e n that my f a t h e r w e r e not s o h a s t y in his t e m p e r ! S u r e l y , if I w e r e to s t a t e my r e a s o n s for d e c l i n i n g this m a t c h , he w o u l d not c o m p e l m e to m a r r y a m a n — w h o m , t h o u g h my lips m a y s o l e m n l y p r o m i s e to h o n o r , I find my heart m u s t ever d e s p i s e . [Exit.] SERVANT

VAN R O U G H

Act

Second

SCENE CHARLOTTE'S

[Enter

1.

apartment.

CHARLOTTE

and

LETITIA.]

[at entering] Betty, t a k e t h o s e t h i n g s o u t of the c a r r i a g e a n d carry t h e m to my c h a m b e r ; s e e that you don't t u m b l e 3 t h e m . — M y d e a r , I p r o t e s t , I think it w a s the h o m e l i e s t of the w h o l e . I d e c l a r e I w a s a l m o s t t e m p t e d to return a n d c h a n g e it. LETITIA W h y w o u l d you t a k e it? CHARLOTTE Didn't M r s . C a t g u t say it w a s the m o s t f a s h i o n a b l e ? LETITIA B u t , my d e a r , it will never sit b e c o m i n g l y o n y o u . CHARLOTTE I k n o w t h a t ; b u t did not you h e a r M r s . C a t g u t say it w a s fashionable? LETITIA D i d you s e e that s w e e t airy c a p with the white s p r i g ? CHARLOTTE Y e s , a n d I l o n g e d to t a k e it; b u t , my d e a r , w h a t c o u l d I d o ? — CHARLOTTE

3. Rumple, disorder.

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D i d not M r s . C a t g u t s a y it w a s the m o s t f a s h i o n a b l e ; a n d if I h a d n o t t a k e n it, w a s not t h a t a w k w a r d gawky, S a l l y S l e n d e r , ready to p u r c h a s e it i m m e d i a t e l y ? LETITIA D i d y o u o b s e r v e h o w s h e t u m b l e d over the t h i n g s at t h e next s h o p , a n d t h e n w e n t off w i t h o u t p u r c h a s i n g a n y t h i n g , n o r e v e n t h a n k i n g the p o o r m a n for his t r o u b l e ? — B u t o f all the a w k w a r d c r e a t u r e s , did you s e e M i s s B l o u z e , e n d e a v o r i n g to t h r u s t h e r u n m e r c i f u l a r m into t h o s e s m a l l kid g l o v e s ? CHARLOTTE

Ha,

ha,

ha,

ha!

T h e n did y o u t a k e n o t i c e , with w h a t a n a f f e c t e d w a r m t h of friends h i p s h e a n d M i s s W a s p m e t ? w h e n all their a c q u a i n t a n c e s k n o w h o w m u c h p l e a s u r e they t a k e in a b u s i n g e a c h o t h e r in every c o m p a n y ? CHARLOTTE L u d ! 4 L e t i t i a , is t h a t s o e x t r a o r d i n a r y ? W h y , m y d e a r , I h o p e y o u a r e n o t g o i n g to t u r n s e n t i m e n t a l i s t . — S c a n d a l , y o u k n o w , is b u t a m u s i n g o u r s e l v e s with the f a u l t s , f o i b l e s , follies, a n d r e p u t a t i o n s of o u r f r i e n d s ; — i n d e e d , I don't k n o w why w e s h o u l d h a v e f r i e n d s , if w e a r e n o t at liberty to m a k e u s e of t h e m . B u t n o p e r s o n is s o i g n o r a n t of t h e world a s to s u p p o s e , b e c a u s e I a m u s e m y s e l f with a lady's f a u l t s , t h a t I a m o b l i g e d to q u a r r e l with her p e r s o n , every t i m e w e m e e t ; b e l i e v e m e , my d e a r , w e s h o u l d h a v e very few a c q u a i n t a n c e s at t h a t r a t e . [ S E R V A N T enters and delivers a letter to C H A R L O T T E , and exits.] CHARLOTTE You'll e x c u s e m e , my d e a r . [O-pens and reads to herself.] LETITIA O h , quite excusable. CHARLOTTE A s I h o p e to b e m a r r i e d , m y b r o t h e r H e n r y is in the city. LETITIA What, your brother, Colonel Manly? CHARLOTTE Y e s , my d e a r ; the only b r o t h e r I h a v e in t h e world. LETITIA W a s h e never in this city? CHARLOTTE N e v e r n e a r e r t h a n H a r l e m H e i g h t s , 5 w h e r e h e lay with his regiment. LETITIA W h a t sort of a b e i n g is this b r o t h e r of y o u r s ? If h e is a s c h a t t y , a s pretty, a s sprightly a s y o u , h a l f t h e b e l l e s in t h e city will b e p u l l i n g c a p s 6 for h i m . CHARLOTTE M y b r o t h e r is the very c o u n t e r p a r t a n d r e v e r s e of m e : I a m gay, h e is g r a v e ; I a m airy, h e is s o l i d ; I a m e v e r s e l e c t i n g the m o s t p l e a s i n g o b j e c t s for my l a u g h t e r , h e h a s a tear for every pitiful o n e . A n d t h u s , whilst h e is p l u c k i n g the b r i a r s a n d t h o r n s f r o m the p a t h of the u n f o r t u n a t e , I a m s t r e w i n g o n m y o w n p a t h with r o s e s . LETITIA M y s w e e t friend, not q u i t e s o p o e t i c a l , a n d little m o r e p a r t i c u l a r . CHARLOTTE H a n d s off, L e t i t i a . I feel t h e r a g e o f s i m i l e 7 u p o n m e ; I can't talk to y o u in a n y o t h e r way. M y b r o t h e r h a s a h e a r t r e p l e t e with the n o b l e s t s e n t i m e n t s , b u t t h e n , it is l i k e — i t is l i k e — O h ! y o u p r o v o k i n g girl, y o u h a v e d e r a n g e d all m y i d e a s — i t is l i k e — O h ! I h a v e i t — h i s h e a r t is like a n old m a i d e n lady's b a n d - b o x ; 8 it c o n t a i n s m a n y c o s t l y t h i n g s , a r r a n g e d with t h e m o s t s c r u p u l o u s nicety, yet t h e m i s f o r t u n e is, that they a r e t o o d e l i c a t e , costly, a n d a n t i q u a t e d , for c o m m o n u s e .

LETITIA

4. I.e., Lord. 5. Then north of New York City and site of a Revolutionary War battle. 6. I.e., setting their caps.

7. I.e., desire to make poetic comparisons. 8. Cylindrical box for clothes: its lid was held on by a band of ribbon.

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By w h a t I c a n pick out of y o u r flowery d e s c r i p t i o n , y o u r b r o t h e r is no b e a u . CHARLOTTE N O , i n d e e d ; he m a k e s no p r e t e n s i o n to the c h a r a c t e r . H e ' d ride, or r a t h e r fly, a n h u n d r e d miles to relieve a d i s t r e s s e d o b j e c t , or to d o a g a l l a n t a c t in the service of his c o u n t r y : b u t , s h o u l d you d r o p y o u r fan or b o u q u e t in his p r e s e n c e , it is ten to o n e that s o m e b e a u at the farther e n d of the r o o m w o u l d have the h o n o r of p r e s e n t i n g it to y o u , b e f o r e he h a d o b s e r v e d that it fell. I'll tell you o n e o f his a n t i q u a t e d , antig a l l a n t n o t i o n s . — H e s a i d o n c e in my p r e s e n c e , in a r o o m full of c o m p a n y — w o u l d you believe i t — i n a large circle of l a d i e s , that the b e s t e v i d e n c e a g e n t l e m a n c o u l d give a y o u n g lady of his r e s p e c t a n d a f f e c t i o n , w a s , to e n d e a v o r in a friendly m a n n e r to rectify her f o i b l e s . I p r o t e s t I w a s c r i m s o n to the e y e s , u p o n reflecting that I w a s k n o w n a s his sister. LETITIA I n s u p p o r t a b l e c r e a t u r e ! tell a lady of her f a u l t s ! If h e is s o g r a v e , I fear I have no c h a n c e of c a p t i v a t i n g h i m . CHARLOTTE H i s c o n v e r s a t i o n is like a rich old f a s h i o n e d b r o c a d e , 9 it will s t a n d a l o n e ; every s e n t e n c e is a s e n t i m e n t . N o w you m a y j u d g e w h a t a t i m e I h a d with h i m in my twelve m o n t h s ' visit to my father. H e r e a d m e s u c h l e c t u r e s , o u t of p u r e brotherly a f f e c t i o n , a g a i n s t the e x t r e m e s of f a s h i o n , d r e s s , flirting, a n d c o q u e t r y , a n d all the o t h e r d e a r t h i n g s w h i c h he k n o w s I d o a t u p o n , that, I p r o t e s t , his c o n v e r s a t i o n m a d e m e a s mela n c h o l y a s if I h a d b e e n at c h u r c h ; a n d h e a v e n k n o w s , t h o u g h I never p r a y e d to g o t h e r e b u t on o n e o c c a s i o n , yet I w o u l d have e x c h a n g e d his c o n v e r s a t i o n for a p s a l m a n d a s e r m o n . C h u r c h is rather m e l a n c h o l y , to b e s u r e ; but then I c a n o g l e the b e a u x , a n d b e r e g a l e d with " h e r e e n d e t h the first l e s s o n " ; but his brotherly here, you w o u l d think h a d n o e n d . You c a p t i v a t e him! W h y , my d e a r , he w o u l d a s s o o n fall in love with a box of Italian flowers. T h e r e is M a r i a now, if s h e w e r e not e n g a g e d , s h e m i g h t d o s o m e t h i n g . — O h , h o w I s h o u l d like to s e e that pair of p e n s o r o s o s 1 t o g e t h e r , looking a s grave a s two s a i l o r s ' wives of a s t o r m y night, with a flow of s e n t i m e n t m e a n d e r i n g t h r o u g h their c o n v e r s a t i o n like p u r l i n g s t r e a m s in m o d e r n poetry. LETITIA

O h ! my d e a r f a n c i f u l — H u s h ! I h e a r s o m e p e r s o n c o m i n g t h r o u g h the entry, i [Enter S E R V A N T . ] SERVANT M a d a m , there's a g e n t l e m a n b e l o w w h o calls h i m s e l f C o l o n e l M a n l y ; d o you c h u s e to be at h o m e ? CHARLOTTE S h e w h i m in. [Exit S E R V A N T . ] N O W for a s o b e r f a c e . [Enter C O L O N E L M A N L Y . ] MANLY M y d e a r C h a r l o t t e , I a m h a p p y that I o n c e m o r e e n f o l d you within the a r m s of fraternal affection. I know you a r e g o i n g to a s k ( a m i a b l e i m p a t i e n c e ! ) h o w o u r p a r e n t s d o , — t h e v e n e r a b l e pair t r a n s m i t you their b l e s s i n g by m e — t h e y totter on the verge of a w e l l - s p e n t life, a n d wish only to s e e their c h i l d r e n settled in the world, to d e p a r t in p e a c e . CHARLOTTE I a m very h a p p y to h e a r that they a r e well. [Coolly.] B r o t h e r , will you give m e leave to i n t r o d u c e you to o u r u n c l e ' s w a r d , o n e of my most intimate friends. LETITIA

CHARLOTTE

9 . Rich stiff fabric. I. Melancholy, thoughtful people (from the title

of John Milton's poem about such a person, "II Penseroso").

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[saluting L E T I T I A ] I o u g h t to r e g a r d your f r i e n d s a s m y o w n . C o m e , L e t i t i a , d o give u s a little d a s h o f y o u r vivacity; m y b r o t h e r is s o s e n t i m e n t a l , a n d s o g r a v e , t h a t I p r o t e s t he'll give u s t h e vapors.2 MANLY T h o u g h s e n t i m e n t a n d gravity, I k n o w , a r e b a n i s h e d the p o l i t e world, yet, I h o p e d , they m i g h t find s o m e c o u n t e n a n c e in t h e m e e t i n g o f s u c h n e a r c o n n e c t i o n s a s b r o t h e r a n d sister. CHARLOTTE Positively, b r o t h e r , if you g o o n e s t e p further in this s t r a i n , y o u will set m e crying, a n d t h a t , you know, w o u l d spoil m y e y e s ; a n d t h e n I s h o u l d never g e t the h u s b a n d w h i c h o u r g o o d p a p a a n d m a m m a h a v e s o kindly w i s h e d m e — n e v e r b e e s t a b l i s h e d in the world. MANLY F o r g i v e m e , my s i s t e r — I a m n o e n e m y to m i r t h ; I love y o u r s p r i g h t l i n e s s ; a n d I h o p e it will o n e day enliven t h e h o u r s o f s o m e worthy m a n ; b u t w h e n I m e n t i o n t h e r e s p e c t a b l e a u t h o r s o f my e x i s t e n c e , — t h e c h e r i s h e r s a n d p r o t e c t o r s of my h e l p l e s s infancy, w h o s e h e a r t s glow with s u c h f o n d n e s s a n d a t t a c h m e n t , that they w o u l d willingly lay d o w n their lives for m y w e l f a r e , you will e x c u s e m e , if I a m s o u n f a s h i o n a b l e a s to s p e a k o f t h e m with s o m e d e g r e e o f r e s p e c t a n d r e v e r e n c e . CHARLOTTE W e l l , well, b r o t h e r ; if you won't b e gay, we'll n o t differ; I will b e a s grave a s you w i s h . [Affects gravity.] A n d s o , b r o t h e r , y o u h a v e c o m e to the city to e x c h a n g e s o m e o f y o u r c o m m u t a t i o n n o t e s ' for a little pleasure. MANLY I n d e e d , you a r e m i s t a k e n ; my e r r a n d is not of a m u s e m e n t , b u t b u s i n e s s ; a n d a s I n e i t h e r drink n o r g a m e , m y e x p e n c e s will b e s o trivial, I shall h a v e n o o c c a s i o n to sell my n o t e s . CHARLOTTE T h e n you won't h a v e o c c a s i o n to d o a very g o o d t h i n g . W h y , there was the Vermont General-—he c a m e down s o m e time since, sold all his m u s t y n o t e s at o n e s t r o k e , a n d t h e n laid the c a s h o u t in trinkets for his d e a r F a n n y . I w a n t a d o z e n pretty t h i n g s myself; h a v e y o u got the n o t e s with y o u ? MANLY I shall b e ever willing to c o n t r i b u t e a s far a s it is in m y p o w e r , to a d o r n , or in a n y way to p l e a s e m y sister; yet, I h o p e , I shall n e v e r b e o b l i g e d for this, to sell my n o t e s . I m a y b e r o m a n t i c , b u t I p r e s e r v e t h e m a s a s a c r e d d e p o s i t . T h e i r full a m o u n t is j u s t l y d u e to m e , b u t a s e m b a r r a s s m e n t s , t h e n a t u r a l c o n s e q u e n c e s of a l o n g w a r , d i s a b l e m y c o u n t r y f r o m s u p p o r t i n g its c r e d i t , I shall wait with p a t i e n c e until it is rich e n o u g h to d i s c h a r g e t h e m . If that is n o t in m y day, t h e y shall b e t r a n s m i t t e d a s a n h o n o r a b l e certificate to posterity, t h a t I h a v e h u m b l y imit a t e d o u r i l l u s t r i o u s W A S H I N G T O N , in h a v i n g e x p o s e d m y h e a l t h a n d life in t h e s e r v i c e of m y c o u n t r y , w i t h o u t r e a p i n g a n y o t h e r r e w a r d t h a n the glory of c o n q u e r i n g in s o a r d u o u s a c o n t e s t . CHARLOTTE W e l l s a i d h e r o i c s . W h y , my d e a r H e n r y , y o u h a v e s u c h a lofty w a y of s a y i n g t h i n g s , t h a t I p r o t e s t I a l m o s t t r e m b l e at t h e t h o u g h t of i n t r o d u c i n g you to the polite c i r c l e s in t h e city. T h e b e l l e s w o u l d t h i n k you w e r e a p l a y e r 4 r u n m a d , with y o u r h e a d filled with old s c r a p s of tragedy: a n d , a s to t h e b e a u x , they m i g h t a d m i r e , b e c a u s e t h e y w o u l d n o t u n d e r s t a n d y o u . — B u t , h o w e v e r , I m u s t , I b e l i e v e , v e n t u r e to i n t r o d u c e you to two or t h r e e l a d i e s of my a c q u a i n t a n c e . MANLY

CHARLOTTE

2. I.e., depress us. 3. Notes given to Continental Army officers after the Revolution, promising payment of a pension

when the notes c a m e d u e ; they could be cashed in earlier, for less than the face amount. 4. Actor.

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A n d t h a t will m a k e him a c q u a i n t e d with thirty or forty b e a u x . O h ! b r o t h e r , you don't k n o w w h a t a f u n d o f h a p p i n e s s you have in s t o r e . MANLY I fear, sister, I h a v e not r e f i n e m e n t sufficient to e n j o y it. CHARLOTTE O h ! y o u c a n n o t fail b e i n g p l e a s e d . LETITIA O u r ladies are so delicate and dressy. CHARLOTTE And our beaux so dressy and delicate. LETITIA O u r l a d i e s c h a t a n d flirt s o a g r e e a b l y . CHARLOTTE A n d o u r b e a u x s i m p e r a n d b o w s o gracefully. LETITIA W i t h their hair s o trim a n d n e a t . CHARLOTTE A n d their f a c e s s o soft a n d s l e e k . LETITIA T h e i r b u c k l e s s o t o n i s h 5 a n d bright. CHARLOTTE A n d their h a n d s s o s l e n d e r a n d w h i t e . LETITIA I vow, C h a r l o t t e , w e a r e q u i t e p o e t i c a l . CHARLOTTE A n d t h e n , b r o t h e r , the f a c e s of the b e a u x a r e o f s u c h a lily white h u e ! N o n e of that horrid r o b u s t n e s s of c o n s t i t u t i o n , t h a t v u l g a r corn-fed glow of h e a l t h , w h i c h c a n only serve to a l a r m a n u n m a r r i e d lady with a p p r e h e n s i o n s , a n d p r o v e a m e l a n c h o l y m e m e n t o to a m a r r i e d o n e , that s h e c a n never h o p e for the h a p p i n e s s of b e i n g a w i d o w . I will s a y this to the c r e d i t o f o u r city b e a u x , t h a t s u c h is the d e l i c a c y of their c o m p l e x i o n , d r e s s , a n d a d d r e s s , t h a t , even h a d I n o r e l i a n c e u p o n t h e h o n o r of the d e a r A d o n i s e s , 6 I w o u l d trust m y s e l f in any p o s s i b l e s i t u a t i o n with t h e m , w i t h o u t the least a p p r e h e n s i o n s o f r u d e n e s s . MANLY Sister Charlotte! CHARLOTTE N O W , n o w , n o w b r o t h e r [interrupting him], n o w don't g o to spoil m y mirth with a d a s h of your gravity; I a m s o g l a d to s e e y o u , I a m in tip-top spirits. O h ! that you c o u l d b e with u s at a little s n u g party. T h e r e is Billy S i m p e r , J a c k C h a s s e , a n d C o l o n e l V a n T i t t e r , M i s s Prom o n a d e , a n d the two M i s s T a m b o u r s , s o m e t i m e s m a k e a party, with s o m e other l a d i e s , in a s i d e - b o x 7 at the play. E v e r y t h i n g is c o n d u c t e d with s u c h d e c o r u m , — f i r s t w e b o w r o u n d to the c o m p a n y in g e n e r a l , t h e n to e a c h o n e in p a r t i c u l a r , t h e n w e h a v e s o m a n y i n q u i r i e s after e a c h other's h e a l t h , a n d w e a r e s o h a p p y to m e e t with e a c h o t h e r , a n d it is s o m a n y a g e s s i n c e w e last h a d that p l e a s u r e , a n d , if a m a r r i e d lady is in c o m p a n y , w e h a v e s u c h a s w e e t d i s s e r t a t i o n u p o n her s o n B o b b y ' s c h i n c o u g h , then the c u r t a i n r i s e s , t h e n o u r sensibility" is all a w a k e , a n d t h e n by t h e m e r e force o f a p p r e h e n s i o n , w e t o r t u r e s o m e h a r m l e s s e x p r e s s i o n into a d o u b l e m e a n i n g , w h i c h the p o o r a u t h o r never d r e a m t of, a n d t h e n w e h a v e r e c o u r s e to o u r f a n s , a n d t h e n w e b l u s h , a n d t h e n t h e g e n t l e m e n j o g o n e a n o t h e r , p e e p u n d e r the f a n , a n d m a k e the p r e t t i e s t r e m a r k s ; a n d t h e n w e g i g g l e a n d they s i m p e r , a n d they g i g g l e a n d w e s i m p e r , a n d then t h e c u r t a i n d r o p s , a n d t h e n for n u t s a n d o r a n g e s , a n d t h e n w e b o w , a n d it's pray M a ' a m t a k e it, a n d pray S i r k e e p it, a n d o h ! not for the w o r l d , Sir: a n d t h e n the c u r t a i n rises a g a i n , a n d t h e n w e b l u s h , a n d g i g g l e , a n d s i m p e r , a n d b o w , all over a g a i n . O h ! t h e s e n t i m e n t a l c h a r m s of a side-box c o n v e r s a t i o n ! [All laugh.] M A N L Y . W e l l , sister, I j o i n heartily with y o u in the l a u g h ; for, in my o p i n LETITIA

CHARLOTTE

5. Smart, fashionable (from the French ton). 6. I.e., handsome youths, named for the beautiful young man beloved by Venus in classical myth. "Address": bearing.

7. Fashionable box seats, near the stage. 8. Responsiveness. "Chin-cough": whooping cough.

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ion, it is a s j u s t i f i a b l e to l a u g h at folly, a s it is r e p r e h e n s i b l e to ridicule misfortune. CHARLOTTE. W e l l , b u t b r o t h e r , positively, I can't i n t r o d u c e you in t h e s e c l o t h e s : why, your c o a t looks a s if it w e r e c a l c u l a t e d for t h e v u l g a r p u r p o s e of k e e p i n g y o u r s e l f c o m f o r t a b l e . M A N L Y . T h i s c o a t w a s my r e g i m e n t a l c o a t in the late war. T h e p u b l i c t u m u l t s of o u r s t a t e 9 h a v e i n d u c e d m e to b u c k l e o n the s w o r d in s u p p o r t of that g o v e r n m e n t w h i c h I o n c e f o u g h t to e s t a b l i s h . I c a n only say, sister, that t h e r e w a s a t i m e w h e n this c o a t w a s r e s p e c t a b l e , a n d s o m e p e o p l e even t h o u g h t that t h o s e m e n w h o h a d e n d u r e d s o m a n y winter c a m p a i g n s in the s e r v i c e of their c o u n t r y , w i t h o u t b r e a d , c l o t h i n g , or pay, at least d e s e r v e d that t h e poverty of their a p p e a r a n c e s h o u l d not b e ridiculed. CHARLOTTE. W e a g r e e in o p i n i o n entirely, b r o t h e r , t h o u g h it w o u l d n o t have d o n e for m e to have s a i d it: it is the c o a t m a k e s the m a n r e s p e c t a b l e . In the t i m e of the war, w h e n w e w e r e a l m o s t f r i g h t e n e d to d e a t h , w h y , y o u r c o a t w a s r e s p e c t a b l e , t h a t is, f a s h i o n a b l e ; n o w a n o t h e r kind o f c o a t is f a s h i o n a b l e , that is, r e s p e c t a b l e . A n d pray direct the taylor to m a k e y o u r s the height of the f a s h i o n . M A N L Y . T h o u g h it is of little c o n s e q u e n c e to m e of w h a t s h a p e my c o a t is, yet, a s to the h e i g h t of the f a s h i o n , t h e r e y o u will p l e a s e to e x c u s e m e , sister. You k n o w my s e n t i m e n t s on that s u b j e c t . I h a v e often l a m e n t e d the a d v a n t a g e w h i c h the F r e n c h h a v e over u s in the p a r t i c u l a r . In P a r i s , the f a s h i o n s have their d a w n i n g s , their r o u t i n e a n d d e c l e n s i o n s , 1 a n d d e p e n d a s m u c h u p o n the c a p r i c e of the d a y a s in o t h e r c o u n t r i e s ; but t h e r e every lady a s s u m e s a right to d e v i a t e f r o m the g e n e r a l ton, a s far a s will be of a d v a n t a g e to her own a p p e a r a n c e . In A m e r i c a , the cry is, w h a t is the f a s h i o n ? a n d we follow it, i n d i s c r i m i n a t e l y , b e c a u s e it is s o . CHARLOTTE. T h e r e f o r e it is, that w h e n large h o o p s a r e in f a s h i o n , we often s e e m a n y a p l u m p girl lost in the i m m e n s i t y of a h o o p p e t t i c o a t , w h o s e w a n t of height a n d em-bon-point2 w o u l d never h a v e b e e n r e m a r k e d in a n y other d r e s s . W h e n the high h e a d - d r e s s is the m o d e , h o w then d o we s e e a lofty c u s h i o n , with a p r o f u s i o n o f g a u z e , f e a t h e r s , a n d r i b b a n d , s u p p o r t e d by a f a c e no b i g g e r t h a n a n a p p l e ; whilst a b r o a d full-faced lady, w h o really w o u l d have a p p e a r e d tolerably h a n d s o m e in a large h e a d d r e s s , looks with her s m a r t chapeau* a s m a s c u l i n e a s a soldier. MANLY. B u t r e m e m b e r , my d e a r sister, a n d I w i s h all my fair countryw o m e n w o u l d r e c o l l e c t , that the only e x c u s e a y o u n g lady c a n have for g o i n g extravagantly into a f a s h i o n , is, b e c a u s e it m a k e s her look extravagantly h a n d s o m e . — L a d i e s , I m u s t wish you a g o o d m o r n i n g . CHARLOTTE B u t , b r o t h e r , you a r e g o i n g to m a k e h o m e with u s . MANLY I n d e e d , I c a n n o t . I have s e e n my u n c l e , a n d e x p l a i n e d t h a t m a t t e r . CHARLOTTE C o m e a n d d i n e with u s , t h e n . W e h a v e a family d i n n e r a b o u t half p a s t four o'clock. 9. T h e young nation's problems, especially the financial ones, were by no means solved by the Revolution. Manly may be referring specifically to Shays's Rebellion (I 7 8 7 ) in Massachusetts. Daniel Shays, a war veteran, led an armed protest against high taxes and the lack of paper money; it was

quickly put dow n by the militia, of w hich Tyler was at the time a member. 1. I.e., pattern and fall. 2. Stoutness. "Want": lack. 3. Hat.

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I a m e n g a g e d to d i n e with the S p a n i s h a m b a s s a d o r . I w a s introd u c e d to h i m by a n old brother officer; a n d i n s t e a d of freezing m e with a c o l d c a r d of compliment" 1 to d i n e with h i m ten d a y s h e n c e , h e , with the true old C a s t i l i a n f r a n k n e s s , in a friendly m a n n e r , a s k e d m e to d i n e with h i m t o - d a y — a n h o n o r I c o u l d not r e f u s e . S i s t e r , a d i e u — M a d a m , your most obedient—[Exit.] CHARLOTTE I will wait u p o n you to the d o o r , b r o t h e r ; I h a v e s o m e t h i n g p a r t i c u l a r to s a y to y o u . [Exit.] LETITIA [alone] W h a t a p a i r ! — S h e the pink of flirtation, h e the e s s e n c e o f everything that is outre* a n d g l o o m y . — I think I have c o m p l e t e l y d e c e i v e d C h a r l o t t e by my m a n n e r of s p e a k i n g of M r . D i m p l e ; s h e ' s t o o m u c h the friend of M a r i a to b e c o n f i d e d in. H e is c e r t a i n l y r e n d e r i n g h i m s e l f d i s a g r e e a b l e to M a r i a , in o r d e r to b r e a k with her a n d proffer his h a n d to m e . T h i s is w h a t the d e l i c a t e fellow h i n t e d in o u r last convers a t i o n . [Exit.] MANLY

SCENE

2

The Mall. [Enter J E S S A M Y . ] Positively this M a l l is a very pretty p l a c e . I h o p e the city won't ruin it by repairs. T o be s u r e , it won't d o to s p e a k of in the s a m e day with R a n e l a g h or V a u x h a l l ; 6 however, it's a fine p l a c e for a y o u n g fellow to display his p e r s o n to a d v a n t a g e . I n d e e d , n o t h i n g is lost h e r e ; the girls have t a s t e , a n d I a m very h a p p y to find they have a d o p t e d the e l e g a n t L o n d o n f a s h i o n of l o o k i n g b a c k , after a g e n t e e l fellow like m e h a s p a s s e d t h e m . Ah! w h o c o m e s h e r e ! T h i s , by his a w k w a r d n e s s , m u s t b e the Yank e e c o l o n e l ' s servant. I'll a c c o s t h i m . [Enter J O N A T H A N . ] Votre tres—humble serviteur, M o n s i e u r . 7 I u n d e r s t a n d C o l o n e l M a n l v , the Y a n k e e officer, h a s the h o n o r of your s e r v i c e s . JONATHAN Sir!— JESSAMY I say, Sir, I u n d e r s t a n d that C o l o n e l M a n l y h a s the h o n o r o f h a v i n g you for a s e r v a n t . JONATHAN S e r v a n t ! Sir, d o you t a k e m e for a n e g e r , — I a m C o l o n e l M a n l y ' s waiter.8 JESSAMY A true Y a n k e e distinction e g a d , w i t h o u t a d i f f e r e n c e . W h y , Sir, do you not p e r f o r m all the offices of a s e r v a n t ? D o you not even b l a c k e n his b o o t s ? JONATHAN Y e s ; I d o g r e a s e t h e m a bit s o m e t i m e s ; but 1 a m a true b l u e s o n of liberty, for all that. F a t h e r s a i d I s h o u l d c o m e a s C o l o n e l M a n l y ' s waiter to s e e the world, a n d all that; but no m a n shall m a s t e r m e : my father h a s a s g o o d a f a r m a s the c o l o n e l . JESSAMY W e l l , Sir, w e will not q u a r r e l a b o u t t e r m s u p o n the eve of a n a c q u a i n t a n c e , from w h i c h I p r o m i s e m y s e l f s o m u c h s a t i s f a c t i o n , — t h e r e f o r e sans ceremonie^— JESSAMY

4. Invitation card. 5. Bizarre (French). 6. London pleasure gardens.

7 . Your very humble servant, sir (French). 8 . Valet, manservant. 9 . Without ceremony (French).

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What?—

I say, I a m e x t r e m e l y h a p p y to s e e C o l o n e l M a n l y ' s w a i t e r . JONATHAN W e l l , a n d I vow, t o o , I a m pretty c o n s i d e r a b l y g l a d to s e e y o u — b u t w h a t the d o g s n e e d of all this o u t l a n d i s h l i n g o ? W h o m a y y o u b e , Sir, if I m a y b e s o b o l d ? JESSAMY I h a v e t h e h o n o r to b e M r . D i m p l e ' s s e r v a n t , or, if y o u p l e a s e , waiter. W e l o d g e u n d e r t h e s a m e roof, a n d s h o u l d b e g l a d of the h o n o r of your a c q u a i n t a n c e . JONATHAN You a waiter! B y the living j i n g o , y o u look s o t o p p i n g , I t o o k you for o n e of the a g e n t s to C o n g r e s s . 1 JESSAMY T h e b r u t e h a s d i s c e r n m e n t n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g his a p p e a r a n c e . — G i v e m e l e a v e to s a y I w o n d e r t h e n at y o u r familiarity. JONATHAN W h y , a s to t h e m a t t e r of t h a t , M r . — p r a y , w h a t ' s y o u r n a m e ? JESSAMY J e s s a m y , at y o u r s e r v i c e . JONATHAN W h y , I s w e a r w e don't m a k e a n y g r e a t m a t t e r o f d i s t i n c t i o n in o u r s t a t e , b e t w e e n quality a n d o t h e r folks. JESSAMY T h i s is, i n d e e d , a leveling p r i n c i p l e . I h o p e , M r . J o n a t h a n , y o u h a v e n o t t a k e n part with the i n s u r g e n t s . JONATHAN W h y , s i n c e G e n e r a l S h a y s h a s s n e a k e d off, a n d given u s the b a g to h o l d , I don't c a r e to give my o p i n i o n ; b u t you'll p r o m i s e n o t to t e l l — p u t y o u r e a r this w a y — y o u won't t e l l ? — I vow, I did t h i n k the sturg e o n s 2 w e r e right. JESSAMY I thought, Mr. J o n a t h a n , you M a s s a c h u s e t t s m e n always argued with a g u n in y o u r h a n d . — W h y didn't y o u j o i n t h e m ? JONATHAN W h y , the c o l o n e l is o n e o f t h o s e folks c a l l e d the S h i n — s h i n — d a n g it all, I c a n ' t s p e a k t h e m lignum vitae w o r d s — y o u k n o w w h o I m e a n — t h e r e is a c o m p a n y of t h e m — t h e y w e a r a C h i n a g o o s e at their b u t t o n h o l e — a kind o f gilt t h i n g . 3 — N o w t h e c o l o n e l told f a t h e r a n d b r o t h e r , — y o u m u s t k n o w t h e r e a r e , let m e s e e — t h e r e is E l n a t h a n , S i l a s , and Barnabas, T a b i t h a — n o , no, she's a she—tarnation, now I have it— there's E l n a t h a n , S i l a s , B a r n a b a s , J o n a t h a n , that's I — s e v e n of u s , six w e n t into the w a r s , a n d I s t a i d at h o m e to t a k e c a r e of m o t h e r . C o l o n e l s a i d that it w a s b u r n i n g s h a m e for the t r u e b l u e B u n k e r - h i l l s o n s of liberty, w h o h a d f o u g h t G o v e r n o r H u t c h i n s o n , L o r d N o r t h , 4 a n d the Devil, to h a v e a n y h a n d in k i c k i n g u p a c u r s e d d u s t a g a i n s t a g o v e r n m e n t , w h i c h we h a d every m o t h e r ' s s o n o f u s a h a n d in m a k i n g . JESSAMY B r a v o ! — W e l l , h a v e y o u b e e n a b r o a d in the city s i n c e y o u r arrival? W h a t h a v e you s e e n t h a t is c u r i o u s a n d e n t e r t a i n i n g ? JONATHAN O h ! I h a v e s e e n a p o w e r o f fine s i g h t s . I w e n t to s e e two m a r b l e s t o n e m e n a n d a l e a d e n h o r s e , t h a t s t a n d s o u t in d o o r s in all w e a t h e r s ; a n d w h e n I c a m e w h e r e they w a s , o n e h a d got n o h e a d , a n d t'other wer'nt t h e r e . T h e y s a i d a s h o w the l e a d e n m a n w a s a d a m n ' d tory, 5 a n d t h a t h e t o o k wit in his a n g e r a n d r o d e off in the t i m e o f the t r o u b l e s . JESSAMY

1. Ambassador. 2. Jonathan's awkward mispronunciation of J e s samy's insurgents, above; being from M a s s a c h u setts, he is on Shays's side. 3. T h e badge of the Society of the Cincinnati, a Revolutionary officers fraternal group, was a gold eagle. "Lignum vitae": staff of life (Latin, literal trans.); here, the tough wood of a tropical tree

recently introduced into New England. 4. Lord Frederick North was prime minister of England from 1 7 7 0 to 1 7 8 2 . Bunker Hill, then outside of Boston, was the site of the first engagement in the Revolution. T h o m a s Hutchinson was British governor of M a s s a c h u s e t t s from 1771 to 1774. 5. British loyalist.

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B u t this w a s not the e n d of y o u r e x c u r s i o n . O h , n o ; I w e n t to a p l a c e they call Holy G r o u n d . N o w I c o u n t e d this w a s a p l a c e w h e r e folks g o to m e e t i n g , 6 s o I p u t m y h y m n b o o k in my p o c k e t , a n d w a l k e d softly a n d grave a s a m i n i s t e r ; a n d w h e n I c a m e t h e r e , the d o g s a bit of a m e e t i n g - h o u s e c o u l d I s e e . At last I s p i e d a y o u n g g e n t l e w o m a n s t a n d i n g by o n e of the s e a t s , w h i c h they h a v e h e r e at the d o o r s — I t o o k her to b e the d e a c o n ' s d a u g h t e r , a n d s h e l o o k e d s o kind, a n d s o obliging, t h a t I t h o u g h t I w o u l d g o a n d a s k h e r t h e w a y to l e c t u r e , a n d w o u l d you think i t — s h e c a l l e d m e d e a r , a n d s w e e t i n g , a n d h o n e y , j u s t a s if we w e r e m a r r i e d ; by the living j i n g o , I h a d a m o n t h ' s m i n d to b u s s 7 her. JESSAMY W e l l , b u t how did it e n d ? JONATHAN W h y , a s I w a s s t a n d i n g talking with her, a p a r c e l of sailor m e n a n d boys got r o u n d m e , the snarl h e a d e d c u r s fell a-kicking a n d c u r s i n g of m e at s u c h a t a r n a l 8 r a t e , that, I vow, I w a s g l a d to t a k e to my h e e l s a n d split h o m e , right off, tail o n e n d like a s t r e a m o f c h a l k . JESSAMY W h y , my d e a r friend, you a r e not a c q u a i n t e d with the city; that girl you s a w w a s a—[Whispers.] JONATHAN M e r c y o n my s o u l ! w a s that y o u n g w o m a n a h a r l o t ! — W e l l , if this is N e w York Holy G r o u n d , w h a t m u s t the Holy-day G r o u n d b e ! JESSAMY W e l l , you s h o u l d not j u d g e of the city t o o rashly. W e have a n u m b e r of e l e g a n t fine girls h e r e , that m a k e a m a n ' s l e i s u r e h o u r s p a s s very a g r e e a b l y . I w o u l d e s t e e m it a n h o n o r to a n n o u n c e 9 you to s o m e of t h e m . — G a d ! that a n n o u n c e is a s e l e c t w o r d ; I w o n d e r w h e r e I p i c k e d it up. JONATHAN I don't w a n t to k n o w t h e m . JESSAMY C o m e , c o m e , my d e a r friend, I s e e t h a t I m u s t a s s u m e the h o n o r of b e i n g the d i r e c t o r of y o u r a m u s e m e n t s . N a t u r e h a s given u p p a s s i o n s , a n d y o u t h a n d o p p o r t u n i t y s t i m u l a t e to gratify t h e m . It is n o s h a m e , my d e a r B l u e s k i n , 1 for a m a n to a m u s e h i m s e l f with a little gallantry. JONATHAN Girl huntry! I don't a l t o g e t h e r u n d e r s t a n d . I never p l a y e d at that g a m e . I k n o w h o w to play h u n t the squirrel, b u t I c a n ' t play a n y t h i n g with the girls; I a m a s g o o d a s m a r r i e d . JESSAMY V u l g a r , horrid b r u t e ! M a r r i e d , a n d a b o v e a h u n d r e d m i l e s f r o m his wife, a n d think that a n o b j e c t i o n to his m a k i n g love to every w o m a n he m e e t s ! H e never c a n have r e a d , n o , h e never c a n h a v e b e e n in a r o o m with a v o l u m e of the divine C h e s t e r f i e l d . — S o you a r e m a r r i e d ? JONATHAN N o , I don't s a y s o ; I s a i d I w a s a s g o o d a s m a r r i e d , a kind of promise. JESSAMY As good as married!— JONATHAN W h y , y e s ; there's T a b i t h a W y m e n , t h e d e a c o n ' s d a u g h t e r , at h o m e , s h e a n d I h a v e b e e n c o u r t i n g a g r e a t w h i l e , a n d folks s a y a s h o w w e a r e to b e m a r r i e d ; a n d s o I b r o k e a p i e c e of m o n e y with her w h e n w e p a r t e d , 2 a n d s h e p r o m i s e d not to s p a r k it with S o l o m o n Dyer while I a m g o n e . You w o u l d n ' t h a v e m e f a l s e to my t r u e love, w o u l d y o u ? JESSAMY

JONATHAN

6. Church service. "Holy Ground": New York's whorehouse district, apparently so called b e c a u s e Trinity Church owned much of the land. 7. Kiss. 8. Mild oath (from eternal). "Parcel": pack.

9 . Present. 1. I.e., Yankee (from the blue of the Revolutionary Army uniform); also, possibly, mulatto. 2. A country custom: a coin was broken by a parting couple, and each kept one of the pieces.

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M a y b e you have a n o t h e r r e a s o n for c o n s t a n c y ; p o s s i b l y the y o u n g lady h a s a f o r t u n e ? H a ! M r . J o n a t h a n , the solid c h a r m s ; the c h a i n s of love a r e never s o b i n d i n g a s w h e n the links a r e m a d e of g o l d . JONATHAN W h y , a s to f o r t u n e , I m u s t n e e d s say h e r father is pretty d u m b rich; h e w e n t r e p r e s e n t a t i v e for o u r town last year. H e will give h e r — l e t m e s e e — f o u r t i m e s s e v e n i s — s e v e n t i m e s f o u r — n o u g h t a n d carry o n e ; — h e will give her twenty a c r e s of l a n d — s o m e w h a t rocky t h o u g h — a B i b l e , and a cow. JESSAMY T w e n t y a c r e s of rock, a B i b l e , a n d a c o w ! W h y , my d e a r M r . J o n a t h a n , w e have s e r v a n t m a i d s , or, a s you w o u l d m o r e e l e g a n t l y e x p r e s s it, w a i t ' r e s s e s , in this city, w h o collect m o r e in o n e year f r o m their m i s tress' c a s t ' clothes. JESSAMY

You don't s a y s o ! — Y e s , a n d I'll i n t r o d u c e you to o n e of t h e m . T h e r e is a little l u m p of flesh a n d d e l i c a c y that lives at next d o o r , wait'ress to M i s s M a r i a ; w e often s e e her on the s t o o p . JONATHAN B u t a r e you s u r e s h e w o u l d b e c o u r t e d by m e ? JESSAMY N e v e r d o u b t it; r e m e m b e r a faint h e a r t n e v e r 4 — b l i s t e r s of my t o n g u e — I w a s g o i n g to b e guilty o f a vile p r o v e r b ; flat a g a i n s t t h e a u t h o r ity of C h e s t e r f i e l d . — I s a y t h e r e c a n b e n o d o u b t , that t h e brilliancy of y o u r merit will s e c u r e you a f a v o r a b l e r e c e p t i o n . JONATHAN W e l l , b u t w h a t m u s t I say to h e r ? JESSAMY S a y to her! why, my d e a r friend, t h o u g h I a d m i r e y o u r p r o f o u n d k n o w l e d g e o n every o t h e r s u b j e c t , yet, you will p a r d o n my s a y i n g , t h a t your w a n t of o p p o r t u n i t y h a s m a d e the f e m a l e h e a r t e s c a p e the p o i g n a n c y of your p e n e t r a t i o n . S a y to h e r ! — W h y , w h e n a m a n g o e s a - c o u r t i n g , a n d h o p e s for s u c c e s s , he m u s t b e g i n with d o i n g , a n d not s a y i n g . JONATHAN Well, what must I do? JESSAMY W h y , w h e n you a r e i n t r o d u c e d you m u s t m a k e five or six e l e g a n t bows. JONATHAN Six e l e g a n t b o w s ! I u n d e r s t a n d t h a t ; six, you say? W e l l — JESSAMY T h e n you m u s t p r e s s a n d kiss her h a n d ; t h e n p r e s s a n d k i s s , a n d s o on to her lips a n d c h e e k s ; t h e n talk a s m u c h a s you c a n a b o u t h e a r t s , d a r t s , f l a m e s , n e c t a r a n d a m b r o s i a — t h e m o r e i n c o h e r e n t the b e t t e r . JONATHAN W e l l , but s u p p o s e s h e s h o u l d b e angry with I? JESSAMY W h y , if s h e s h o u l d p r e t e n d — p l e a s e to o b s e r v e , M r . J o n a t h a n — if s h e s h o u l d p r e t e n d to b e o f f e n d e d , you m u s t — B u t I'll tell you how my m a s t e r a c t e d in s u c h a c a s e : H e w a s s e a t e d by a y o u n g lady of e i g h t e e n u p o n a s o f a , p l u c k i n g with a w a n t o n h a n d the b l o o m i n g s w e e t s of youth a n d b e a u t y . W h e n the lady t h o u g h t it n e c e s s a r y to c h e c k his a r d o r , s h e c a l l e d u p a frown u p o n her lovely f a c e , s o irresistably a l l u r i n g , that it w o u l d have w a r m e d the frozen b o s o m of a g e : r e m e m b e r , s a i d s h e , p u t t i n g her d e l i c a t e a r m u p o n his, r e m e m b e r y o u r c h a r a c t e r a n d my h o n o r . M y m a s t e r instantly d r o p p e d u p o n his k n e e s , with e y e s s w i m m i n g with love, c h e e k s g l o w i n g with d e s i r e , a n d in the g e n t l e s t m o d u l a t i o n of v o i c e , h e s a i d — M y d e a r C a r o l i n e , in a few m o n t h s o u r h a n d s will b e i n d i s s o l u b l y u n i t e d at the altar; o u r h e a r t s I feel a r e a l r e a d y s o — t h e favors you n o w g r a n t a s e v i d e n c e of your a f f e c t i o n , a r e favors i n d e e d ; yet w h e n the cer-

JONATHAN JESSAMY

3. I.e.. cast-off.

4 . I.e., a faint heart never won a fair lady.

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e m o n y is o n c e p a s t , w h a t will now be received with r a p t u r e , will t h e n b e a t t r i b u t e d to duty. JONATHAN Well, and what was the c o n s e q u e n c e ? JESSAMY T h e c o n s e q u e n c e ! — A h ! forgive m e , my d e a r friend, b u t you N e w E n g l a n d g e n t l e m e n have s u c h a l a u d a b l e c u r i o s i t y o f s e e i n g the b o t t o m of every t h i n g ; — w h y , to the h o n e s t , I c o n f e s s I s a w t h e b l o o m i n g c h e r u b of a c o n s e q u e n c e s m i l i n g in its a n g e l i c m o t h e r ' s a r m s , a b o u t t e n m o n t h s afterwards. JONATHAN W e l l , if I follow all your p l a n s , m a k e t h e m six b o w s , a n d all t h a t ; shall I have s u c h little c h e r u b i m c o n s e q u e n c e s ? JESSAMY U n d o u b t e d l y . — W h a t are you m u s i n g u p o n ? JONATHAN You s a y you'll certainly m a k e m e a c q u a i n t e d ? — W h y , I w a s t h i n k i n g then h o w I s h o u l d contrive to p a s s this b r o k e n p i e c e o f s i l v e r — won't it buy a s u g a r - d r a m ? s JESSAMY W h a t is that, the love-token f r o m the d e a c o n ' s d a u g h t e r ? — Y o u c o m e o n bravely. B u t I m u s t h a s t e n to my m a s t e r . A d i e u , my d e a r friend. JONATHAN Stay, M r . J e s s a m y — m u s t I b u s s her w h e n I a m i n t r o d u c e d to her? JESSAMY I told y o u , you m u s t kiss her. JONATHAN W e l l , b u t m u s t I b u s s her? JESSAMY W h y , kiss a n d b u s s , a n d b u s s a n d k i s s , is all o n e . JONATHAN O h ! my d e a r friend, t h o u g h you h a v e a p r o f o u n d k n o w l e d g e of all, a p u g n a n c y 6 of t r i b u l a t i o n , you don't k n o w everything. [Exit.] JESSAMY [alone] W e l l , certainly I i m p r o v e ; my m a s t e r c o u l d not have insinu a t e d h i m s e l f with m o r e a d d r e s s into the heart of a m a n h e d e s p i s e d . — N o w will this b l u n d e r i n g d o g s i c k e n J e n n y with his n a u s e o u s p a w i n g s , until s h e flies into my a r m s for very e a s e . H o w s w e e t will the c o n t r a s t b e , b e t w e e n the b l u n d e r i n g J o n a t h a n , a n d the courtly a n d a c c o m p l i s h e d Jessamy. Act

Third

SCENE DIMPLE'S [DIMPLE

1.

room. discovered at a Toilet,7

reading.]

" W o m e n have in g e n e r a l b u t o n e o b j e c t , w h i c h is their b e a u t y . " Very t r u e , my lord; positively very t r u e . " N a t u r e h a s hardly f o r m e d a w o m a n ugly e n o u g h to b e i n s e n s i b l e to flattery u p o n her p e r s o n . " Extremely j u s t , my lord; every day's delightful e x p e r i e n c e c o n f i r m s this. "If her f a c e is s o s h o c k i n g , that s h e m u s t , in s o m e d e g r e e , b e c o n s c i o u s of it, her figure a n d air, s h e t h i n k s , m a k e a m p l e a m e n d s for it." T h e s a l l o w M i s s W a n is a p r o o f of t h i s . — U p o n my telling the d i s t a s t e f u l w r e t c h , the o t h e r day, that her c o u n t e n a n c e s p o k e the p e n s i v e l a n g u a g e of s e n t i m e n t , a n d that L a d y Wortley M o n t a g u e " d e c l a r e d , t h a t if the ladies

DIMPLE

5. I.e., a small amount of sugar. 6 . Another awkward mispronunciation—of samy's poignancy, above.

Jes-

7. I.e., revealed sitting at a dressing table. He is reading Chesterfield's Letters. 8. English poet and letter writer ( 1 6 8 9 - 1 7 6 2 ) .

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w e r e a r r a y e d in the g a r b of i n n o c e n c e , the f a c e w o u l d b e the last p a r t w h i c h w o u l d b e a d m i r e d a s M o n s i e u r M i l t o n e x p r e s s e s it, s h e grin'd horribly a g h a s t l y s m i l e . 9 "If her figure is d e f o r m e d , s h e thinks h e r f a c e c o u n t e r b a l a n c e s it." [Enter J E S S A M Y with letters.] DIMPLE W h e r e got y o u t h e s e , J e s s a m y ? JESSAMY Sir, the E n g l i s h p a c k e t 1 is arrived. [ D I M P L E opens and reads a letter enclosing notes.] "SIR,

"I have d r a w n bills o n y o u in favor of M e s s r s . V a n C a s h a n d C o . a s p e r m a r g i n . I h a v e t a k e n u p y o u r n o t e to C o l . P i q u e t , a n d d i s c h a r g e d y o u r d e b t s to my L o r d L u r c h e r a n d S i r H a r r y R o o k . I h e r e w i t h e n c l o s e y o u c o p i e s of the bills, w h i c h I h a v e n o d o u b t will b e i m m e diately h o n o r e d . O n f a i l u r e , I shall e m p o w e r s o m e lawyer in y o u r c o u n t r y to r e c o v e r the a m o u n t s . "I a m , Sir, "Your most h u m b l e servant, "JOHN

HAZARD."

N o w , did n o t my lord e x p r e s s l y say, t h a t it w a s u n b e c o m i n g a wellb r e d m a n to b e in a p a s s i o n , I c o n f e s s I s h o u l d b e ruffled. [Reads.] " T h e r e is n o a c c i d e n t s o u n f o r t u n a t e , w h i c h a w i s e m a n m a y not turn to his a d v a n t a g e ; n o r a n y a c c i d e n t s o f o r t u n a t e , w h i c h a fool will not turn to his d i s a d v a n t a g e . " T r u e , m y lord: b u t h o w a d v a n t a g e c a n b e derived f r o m this, I c a n ' t s e e . C h e s t e r f i e l d h i m s e l f , w h o m a d e , however, the w o r s t p r a c t i c e of t h e m o s t e x c e l l e n t p r e c e p t s , w a s never in s o e m b a r r a s s i n g a s i t u a t i o n . I love t h e p e r s o n of C h a r l o t t e , a n d it is n e c e s s a r y I s h o u l d c o m m a n d the f o r t u n e of L e t i t i a . A s to M a r i a ! — I d o u b t n o t by m y sang-froid2 b e h a v i o r I shall c o m p e l h e r to d e c l i n e the m a t c h ; b u t the b l a m e m u s t n o t fall u p o n m e . A p r u d e n t m a n , a s my lord s a y s , s h o u l d t a k e all the c r e d i t of a g o o d a c t i o n to h i m s e l f , a n d t h r o w t h e d i s c r e d i t of a b a d o n e u p o n o t h e r s . I m u s t b r e a k with M a r i a , m a r r y L e t i t i a , a n d a s for C h a r l o t t e — w h y , C h a r l o t t e m u s t b e a c o m p a n i o n to my w i f e . — H e r e , J e s s a m y ! [Enter J E S S A M Y . ] folds and seals two letters.] H e r e , J e s s a m y , t a k e this letter to my love. [Gives one.] JESSAMY T O w h i c h of y o u r h o n o r ' s l o v e s ? — O h ! [reading] to M i s s L e t i t i a , y o u r h o n o r ' s rich love. DIMPLE A n d this [delivers another] to M i s s C h a r l o t t e M a n l y . S e e that you deliver t h e m privately. JESSAMY Y e s , y o u r h o n o r . [Going.] DIMPLE J e s s a m y , w h o a r e t h e s e s t r a n g e l o d g e r s t h a t c a m e to the h o u s e last night? JESSAMY W h y , the m a s t e r is a Y a n k e e c o l o n e l ; I h a v e not s e e n m u c h of h i m ; b u t the m a n is the m o s t u n p o l i s h e d a n i m a l y o u r h o n o r ever disg r a c e d y o u r e y e s by l o o k i n g u p o n . I h a v e h a d o n e o f t h e m o s t outre [DIMPLE

DIMPLE

9. "Death / Grinned horrible a ghastly smile." Puradise Lost 2 . 8 4 5 - 4 6 , by J o h n Milton ( 1 6 0 8 - 1 6 7 4 ) .

1. Passenger boat carrying mail and cargo. 2. Cool, unperturbable (French).

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c o n v e r s a t i o n s with h i m ! — H e really h a s a m o s t p r o d i g i o u s effect u p o n my risibility. DIMPLE I o u g h t , a c c o r d i n g to every rule of C h e s t e r f i e l d , to wait o n h i m ' a n d i n s i n u a t e m y s e l f i n t o his g o o d g r a c e s . — J e s s a m y , wait o n the c o l o n e l with my c o m p l i m e n t s , a n d if he is d i s e n g a g e d , I will d o m y s e l f t h e h o n o r of p a y i n g h i m my r e s p e c t s . — S o m e i g n o r a n t u n p o l i s h e d b o o r — ( J E S S A M A Y goes off and returns.] JESSAMY Sir, the c o l o n e l is g o n e o u t , a n d J o n a t h a n , his s e r v a n t , s a y s t h a t h e is g o n e to s t r e t c h his legs u p o n the M a l l — S t r e t c h his l e g s ! w h a t a n i n d e l i c a c y of d i c t i o n ! DIMPLE Very well. R e a c h m e my h a t a n d s w o r d . I'll a c c o s t h i m t h e r e , in m y way to L e t i t i a ' s , a s by a c c i d e n t ; p r e t e n d to b e s t r u c k with his p e r s o n a n d a d d r e s s , a n d e n d e a v o r to steal into his c o n f i d e n c e . J e s s a m y , I h a v e n o b u s i n e s s for you at p r e s e n t . [Exit.] J E S S A M Y [taking up the book] My master and I obtain our knowledge from the s a m e s o u r c e ; — t h o u g h , g a d ! I t h i n k m y s e l f m u c h the prettier fellow o f the two. [Surveying himself in the glass.] T h a t w a s a brilliant t h o u g h t , to i n s i n u a t e that I f o l d e d my m a s t e r ' s letters for h i m ; t h e f o l d i n g is s o n e a t , that it d o e s h o n o r to the o p e r a t o r . I o n c e i n t e n d e d to h a v e insinu a t e d that I wrote his letters t o o ; b u t that w a s b e f o r e I s a w t h e m ; it won't d o now! n o h o n o r t h e r e , p o s i t i v e l y . — " N o t h i n g looks m o r e v u l g a r [reading affectedly], ordinary, a n d illiberal, t h a n ugly, u n e v e n , a n d r a g g e d n a i l s ; the e n d s of w h i c h s h o u l d b e k e p t e v e n a n d c l e a n , not t i p p e d with b l a c k , a n d c u t in s m a l l s e g m e n t s of c i r c l e s " — S e g m e n t s o f c i r c l e s ! surely m y lord did not c o n s i d e r t h a t h e w r o t e for the b e a u x . S e g m e n t s o f c i r c l e s ! w h a t a c r a b b e d t e r m ! N o w I d a r e a n s w e r , t h a t m y m a s t e r , with all his l e a r n i n g , d o e s not k n o w t h a t this m e a n s , a c c o r d i n g to the p r e s e n t m o d e , to let the nails g r o w l o n g , a n d then c u t t h e m off e v e n at t o p . [Laughing without.] H a ! that's J e n n y ' s titter. I p r o t e s t I d e s p a i r of ever t e a c h i n g t h a t girl to l a u g h ; s h e h a s s o m e t h i n g s o e x e c r a b l y n a t u r a l in her l a u g h , t h a t I d e c l a r e it a b s o l u t e l y d i s c o m p o s e s my n e r v e s . H o w c a m e s h e into o u r house!—[Calls.] J e n n y ! [Enter J E N N Y . ] P r y t h e e , J e n n y , don't spoil y o u r fine f a c e with l a u g h i n g . Why, mustn't I laugh, Mr. Jessamy? JESSAMY You m a y s m i l e ; b u t , a s my lord s a y s , n o t h i n g c a n a u t h o r i z e a laugh.4 JENNY W e l l , b u t I can't h e l p l a u g h i n g — H a v e you s e e n h i m , M r . J e s s a m y ? H a , ha, ha! JESSAMY Seen w h o m ? — JENNY W h y , J o n a t h a n , the N e w E n g l a n d c o l o n e l ' s s e r v a n t . D o y o u k n o w h e w a s at the play last night, a n d the s t u p i d c r e a t u r e don't k n o w w h e r e h e h a s b e e n . H e w o u l d n o t g o to a play for the w o r l d ; h e t h i n k s it w a s a s h o w , a s h e c a l l s it. JESSAMY A s i g n o r a n t a n d u n p o l i s h e d a s h e is, d o y o u k n o w , M i s s J e n n y , that I p r o p o s e to i n t r o d u c e him to the h o n o r of y o u r a c q u a i n t a n c e . JENNY I n t r o d u c e h i m to m e ! for w h a t ? JESSAMY JENNY

3. Pay him a formal call.

so ill-bred, as audible laughter"—Chesterfield's

4.

Letters.

T o my mind, there is nothing so illiberal and

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W h y , my lovely girl, t h a t you m a y t a k e h i m u n d e r your p r o t e c t i o n , a s M a d a m R a m b o u l l i e t did y o u n g S t a n h o p e ; that you m a y , by y o u r p l a s t i c 5 h a n d , m o u l d this u n c o u t h c u b into a g e n t l e m a n . H e is to m a k e love to y o u .

JESSAMY

M a k e love to m e ! — Y e s , M i s t r e s s J e n n y , m a k e love to y o u ; a n d , I d o u b t not, w h e n h e shall b e c o m e d o m e s t i c a t e d in y o u r k i t c h e n , that this b o o r , u n d e r y o u r a u s p i c e s , will s o o n b e c o m e un aimable petit Jonathan.* JENNY I m u s t say, M r . J e s s a m y , if h e c o p i e s after m e , h e will b e vastly monstrously polite. JESSAMY S t a y h e r e o n e m o m e n t , a n d I will call h i m . — J o n a t h a n ! — M r . Jonathan!—[Calls.] JONATHAN [within] H o l l a ! there—[Enters.] You p r o m i s e to s t a n d by m e — six b o w s you say. [Bows.] JESSAMY M r s . J e n n y , 1 have the h o n o r of p r e s e n t i n g M r . J o n a t h a n , C o l o n e l M a n l y ' s waiter, to y o u . I a m extremely h a p p y t h a t I h a v e it in m y p o w e r to m a k e two worthy p e o p l e a c q u a i n t e d with e a c h other's m e r i t . JENNY S o M r . J o n a t h a n , I h e a r y o u w e r e at the play last n i g h t . JONATHAN At the play! why, did you t h i n k I w e n t to t h e devil's d r a w i n g room! JENNY T h e devil's d r a w i n g - r o o m ! JONATHAN Y e s ; why ain't c a r d s a n d d i c e the devil's d e v i c e ; a n d the playh o u s e the s h o p w h e r e the devil h a n g s out the vanities o f the world, u p o n the t e n t e r h o o k s of t e m p t a t i o n . I believe y o u h a v e not h e a r d h o w they w e r e a c t i n g the old boy o n e night, a n d the w i c k e d o n e c a m e a m o n g t h e m s u r e e n o u g h ; a n d went right off in a s t o r m , a n d c a r r i e d o n e q u a r t e r of the p l a y - h o u s e with h i m . O h ! n o , n o , n o ! you won't c a t c h m e at a playhouse, I warrant you. JENNY W e l l , M r . J o n a t h a n , t h o u g h I don't s c r u p l e y o u r veracity, I have s o m e r e a s o n s for believing you w e r e t h e r e ; pray, w h e r e w e r e you a b o u t six o'clock? JONATHAN W h y , I went to s e e o n e M r . M o r r i s o n , the hocus pocus m a n ; they s a i d a s h o w h e c o u l d e a t a c a f e k n i f e . 7 JENNY W e l l , a n d h o w did you find t h e p l a c e ? JONATHAN A s I w a s g o i n g a b o u t h e r e a n d t h e r e , to a n d a g a i n , to find it, I s a w a g r e a t c r o u d of folks g o i n g into a l o n g entry, that h a d l a n t h e r n s over the d o o r ; s o I a s k e d a m a n , w h e t h e r that w a s not t h e p l a c e w h e r e they p l a y e d hocus pocus} H e w a s a very civil kind m a n , t h o u g h h e did s p e a k like the H e s s i a n s , 8 h e lifted u p his eyes a n d s a i d — " t h e y play hocus pocus tricks e n o u g h t h e r e , G o t k n o w s , m i n e f r i e n d . " JENNY Well— JONATHAN S o I w e n t right in, a n d they s h e w e d m e a w a y c l e a n u p to the g a r r e t , j u s t like a m e e t i n g - h o u s e gallery. A n d s o I s a w a p o w e r o f t o p p i n g folks, all sitting r o u n d in little c a b i n s , 9 j u s t like father's c o r n c r i b s ; — a n d then t h e r e w a s s u c h a s q u e a k i n g with the f i d d l e s , a n d s u c h a tarnal b l a z e JENNY

JESSAMY

5. Creative. 6. A well-behaved little Jonathan (French). 7. I.e., a restaurant knife: Morrison was evidently not only a conjurer (^hocus-pocus man") but also a sword-swallower.

8. G e r m a n s , especially from H e s s e , had been hired by the British as mercenary troops for the Revolutionary War. 9 . I.e., in boxes in the theater.

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with the lights, m y h e a d w a s n e a r t u r n e d . At last t h e p e o p l e that s a t n e a r m e set u p s u c h a h i s s i n g — h i s s — l i k e s o m a n y m a d c a t s ; a n d t h e n they went t h u m p , t h u m p , t h u m p , j u s t like o u r P e l e g t h r e s h i n g w h e a t , a n d s t a m p t away, j u s t like t h e n a t i o n ; ' a n d c a l l e d o u t for o n e M r . L a n g o l e e , — I s u p p o s e he h e l p s a c t t h e tricks. JENNY W e l l , a n d w h a t did you d o all this t i m e ? JONATHAN. G o r , I — I liked t h e f u n , a n d s o I t h u m p t away, a n d hiss'd a s lustily a s t h e b e s t o f ' e m . O n e sailor-looking m a n that s a t by m e , s e e i n g m e s t a m p , a n d k n o w i n g I w a s a c u t e fellow, b e c a u s e I c o u l d m a k e a r o a r i n g n o i s e , c l a p t m e o n the s h o u l d e r a n d s a i d , y o u a r e a d — d hearty c o c k , s m i t e m y t i m b e r s ! I told h i m s o I w a s , b u t I t h o u g h t h e n e e d not swear so, a n d m a k e u s e of s u c h naughty words. JESSAMY T h e s a v a g e ! — W e l l , a n d did you s e e t h e m a n with h i s tricks? JONATHAN Why, I vow, a s I w a s l o o k i n g o u t for h i m , they lifted u p a g r e a t g r e e n c l o t h , a n d let u s look right into t h e next n e i g h b o r ' s h o u s e . H a v e you a g o o d m a n y h o u s e s in N e w York m a d e s o in t h a t 'ere way? JENNY N o t m a n y : b u t did y o u s e e t h e family? JONATHAN Y e s , s w a m p it; I s e e ' d t h e family. JENNY W e l l , and. h o w did y o u like t h e m ? JONATHAN W h y , I vow they w e r e pretty m u c h like o t h e r f a m i l i e s ; — t h e r e was a poor, good natured, curse of a h u s b a n d , and a sad rantipole2 of a wife. JENNY B u t did you s e e n o other folks? JONATHAN Y e s . T h e r e w a s o n e y o u n g s t e r , they c a l l e d h i m M r . J o s e p h ; h e talked a s s o b e r a n d a s p i o u s a s a m i n i s t e r ; b u t like s o m e m i n i s t e r s that I know, h e w a s a fly t i k e 1 in his heart for all that: H e w a s g o i n g to a s k a y o u n g w o m a n to s p a r k it with h i m , a n d — t h e L o r d h a v e m e r c y on my s o u l ! — s h e w a s a n o t h e r m a n ' s wife! JESSAMY The Wabash!4 JENNY A n d did you s e e a n y m o r e folks? JONATHAN W h y they c a m e o n a s thick a s m u s t a r d . F o r my p a r t , I t h o u g h t the h o u s e w a s h a u n t e d . T h e r e w a s a soldier fellow, w h o talked a b o u t his row d e d o w d o w , a n d c o u r t e d a y o u n g w o m a n : 5 b u t o f all t h e c u t e folk I s a w , I liked o n e little f e l l o w — JENNY

Aye!

who

was

he?

W h y , h e h a d red hair, a n d a little r o u n d p l u m p f a c e like m i n e , only n o t a l t o g e t h e r s o h a n d s o m e . H i s n a m e w a s D a r b y : — t h a t w a s h i s b a p t i z i n g n a m e , h i s o t h e r n a m e I forgot. O h ! it w a s , W i g — W a g — W a g a l l , D a r b y W a g a l l ; 6 — p r a y , d o y o u k n o w h i m ? — I s h o u l d like to t a k e a fling 7 with h i m , or a d r a p o f c y d e r with a p e p p e r - p o d in it, to m a k e it w a r m and comfortable. JENNY I c a n ' t say I have that p l e a s u r e . JONATHAN I wish y o u d i d , h e is a c u t e fellow. B u t t h e r e w a s o n e t h i n g I JONATHAN

1. I.e., damnation. 2. Unruly, wild person. 3. I.e., artful kid. T h e "rantipole" wife and the "pious" J o s e p h had by this time clued in contemporary audiences to the fact that the play Jonathan has taken for real life is Richard Brinsley Sheridan's Tlie School for Scandal ( 1 7 7 7 ) , which had been performed in New York the previous month— a production that Tyler saw.

4. Perhaps "the scoundrel." 5. As there is no "soldier fellow" in The School for Scandal, Jonathan is probably now talking about The Poor Soldier ( 1 7 8 3 ) , a comic opera played on the s a m e bill as Sheridan's play. "Row de dow dow": noisy disturbance. 6. I.e., T h o m a s Wignell, one of whose famous parts was Darbv in 77ie Poor Soldier. 7. Other texts read "sling"—an alcoholic drink.

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didn't like in t h a t M r . D a r b y ; a n d t h a t w a s , h e w a s a f r a i d o f s o m e o f t h e m 'ere s h o o t i n g i r o n s , s u c h a s y o u r t r o o p e r s w e a r o n t r a i n i n g d a y s . N o w , I'm a t r u e b o r n Y a n k e e A m e r i c a n s o n of liberty, a n d I never w a s a f r a i d o f a g u n yet in all my life. JENNY W e l l , M r . J o n a t h a n , y o u w e r e c e r t a i n l y at the p l a y - h o u s e . JONATHAN I at t h e p l a y - h o u s e ! — W h y didn't I s e e the play t h e n ? JENNY Why, the people you saw were players. JONATHAN M e r c y o n my s o u l ! did I s e e t h e w i c k e d p l a y e r s ? — M a y h a p t h a t 'ere D a r b y t h a t I liked s o , w a s the old s e r p e n t himself, a n d h a d his c l o v e n foot in his p o c k e t . W h y , I vow, n o w I c o m e to t h i n k o n ' t , t h e c a n d l e s s e e m e d to b u r n b l u e , a n d I a m s u r e w h e r e I s a t it s m e l t tarnally of b r i m stone. JESSAMY W e l l , M r . J o n a t h a n , f r o m y o u r a c c o u n t , w h i c h I c o n f e s s is very a c c u r a t e , y o u m u s t h a v e b e e n at the p l a y - h o u s e . JONATHAN W h y , I vow I b e g a n to s m e l l a rat. W h e n I c a m e a w a y , I w e n t to the m a n for m y m o n e y a g a i n : y o u w a n t y o u r m o n e y , s a y s h e ; y e s , s a y s I; for w h a t , says h e ; why, s a y s I, n o m a n shall j o c k y m e o u t of my m o n e y ; I p a i d m y m o n e y to s e e s i g h t s , a n d t h e d o g s a bit of a s i g h t h a v e I s e e n , u n l e s s y o u call l i s t e n i n g to p e o p l e ' s p r i v a t e b u s i n e s s a s i g h t . W h y says h e , it is t h e S c h o o l for S c a n d a l i z a t i o n . — T h e S c h o o l for S c a n d a l i z a t i o n — O h , h o ! n o w o n d e r y o u N e w York folks a r e s o c u t e at it, w h e n you g o to s c h o o l to l e a r n it: a n d s o I j o g g e d off. 8 JESSAMY My dear Jenny, my master's business drags m e from you; would to h e a v e n I k n e w n o o t h e r s e r v i t u d e t h a n to y o u r c h a r m s . JONATHAN W e l l , b u t don't g o ; y o u won't l e a v e m e s o . — JESSAMY E x c u s e m e . — R e m e m b e r t h e c a s h . [Aside to him, and—Exit.] JENNY M r . J o n a t h a n , won't y o u p l e a s e to sit d o w n . M r . J e s s a m y tells m e you w a n t e d to h a v e s o m e c o n v e r s a t i o n with m e . [Having brought forward two chairs, they sit.] JONATHAN Ma'am!— JENNY Sir!— JONATHAN Ma'am!— JENNY Pray, h o w d o you like t h e city, S i r ? JONATHAN Ma'am!— JENNY I say, Sir, h o w d o y o u like N e w York? JONATHAN Ma'am!— JENNY T h e s t u p i d c r e a t u r e ! b u t I m u s t p a s s s o m e little t i m e w i t h h i m , if it is only to e n d e a v o r to l e a r n , w h e t h e r it w a s his m a s t e r t h a t m a d e s u c h a n a b r u p t e n t r a n c e into o u r h o u s e , a n d m y y o u n g m i s t r e s s ' s h e a r t , this m o r n i n g . [Aside.] A s y o u don't s e e m to like to talk, M r . J o n a t h a n — d o you sing? JONATHAN G o r , I — I a m g l a d s h e a s k e d t h a t , for I forgot w h a t M r . J e s s a m y bid m e say, a n d I d a r e a s well b e h a n g e d a s a c t w h a t h e bid m e d o , I'm s o a s h a m e d . [Aside.] Y e s , M a ' a m , I c a n s i n g — I c a n s i n g M e a r , O l d H u n dred, and Bangor.9 JENNY O h , I d o n ' t m e a n p s a l m t u n e s . H a v e y o u n o little s o n g to p l e a s e t h e l a d i e s ; s u c h a s R o s l i n C a s t l e , or t h e M a i d of t h e M i l l ? 1 8. Trotted off. 9. Popular n a m e s for hymn tunes: " M e a r " is probably " M e a e Animac Amator" (Jesus, lover of my soul); "Old H u n d r e d " is "All People That on Earth

Do Dwell"; " B a n g o r " is "Eternal God, We Look to Thee." 1. Popular songs of the time.

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W h y , all my t u n e s g o to m e e t i n g t u n e s , s a v e o n e , a n d I c o u n t you won't a l t o g e t h e r like that 'ere. JENNY W h a t is it c a l l e d ? JONATHAN I a m s u r e y o u have h e a r d folks talk a b o u t it, it is c a l l e d Y a n k e e Doodle. JENNY O h ! it is t h e t u n e I a m fond of; a n d , if I k n o w a n y t h i n g of my m i s t r e s s , s h e w o u l d b e g l a d to d a n c e to it. Pray, s i n g ? JONATHAN [sings] JONATHAN

F a t h e r a n d I went to c a m p , — A l o n g with C a p t a i n G o o d w i n ; A n d there we saw the m e n a n d boys, A s thick a s hasty p u d d i n g . 2 Y a n k e e D o o d l e d o , etc. A n d there we saw a s w a m p i n g g u n , B i g a s log of m a p l e , O n a little d e u c e d cart, A load for father's c a t t l e . 3 Y a n k e e D o o d l e d o , etc. A n d every time they fired it off, It took a horn of powder, It m a d e a n o i s e — l i k e father's g u n , Only a nation louder. Y a n k e e D o o d l e d o , etc. T h e r e w a s a m a n in our town, His name w a s — N o , n o , that won't d o . N o w , if I w a s with T a b i t h a W y m e n a n d J e m i m a Cawley, d o w n at father C h a s e ' s , I shouldn't m i n d singing this all out before t h e m — y o u would b e affronted if I w a s to s i n g that, t h o u g h that's a lucky thought; if you s h o u l d be affronted, I have s o m e t h i n g d a n g ' d c u t e , which J e s s a m y told m e to say to you. JENNY Is that all! I a s s u r e you I like it of all things. JONATHAN N o , n o ; I c a n s i n g m o r e , s o m e other t i m e , w h e n you a n d I a r e better a c q u a i n t e d , I'll sing the w h o l e of i t — n o , n o — t h a t ' s a fib—I can't sing b u t a h u n d r e d a n d ninety v e r s e s ; our T a b i t h a at h o m e c a n s i n g it all.— [Sings] M a r b l e h e a d ' s a rocky p l a c e , A n d C a p e - C o d is sandy; C h a r l e s t o n is b u r n t d o w n , B o s t o n is the dandy. Yankee Doodle do, etc. I vow, my own town s o n g h a s p u t m e into s u c h t o p p i n g spirits, that I believe I'll begin to do a little, a s J e s s a m y says we m u s t w h e n we g o a courti n g — [ R u n s and kisses her.] B u r n i n g rivers! c o o l i n g f l a m e s ! red hot r o s e s ! pignuts! hasty-pudding and ambrosia! 2. Breakfast water.

dish made from

Indian corn and

3. I.e., oxen. "Swamping": " D e u c e d " : i.e., damned.

big,

overwhelming,

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W h a t m e a n s this f r e e d o m ! you insulting wretch. [Strikes him.] A r e you affronted? JENNY Affronted ! with what looks shall 1 e x p r e s s my a n g e r ? JONATHAN L o o k s ! why, a s to the m a t t e r of looks, you look a s c r o s s a s a witch. JENNY H a v e you no feeling for the delicacy of my sex? JONATHAN Feeling! G o r , I—I feel the delicacy of your sex pretty smartly [rubbing his cheek], t h o u g h , I vow, I t h o u g h t w h e n you city ladies c o u r t e d a n d m a r r i e d , a n d all that, you p u t feeling out of the q u e s t i o n . B u t 1 want to know w h e t h e r you are really affronted, or only p r e t e n d to b e s o ? ' C a u s e , if you are certainly right d o w n affronted, I a m at the e n d of my t e t h e r ; — J e s s a m y didn't tell m e what to say to you. JENNY Pretend to b e affronted! JONATHAN Aye, a y e , if you only p r e t e n d , you shall hear how I'll go to work to m a k e c h e r u b i m c o n s e q u e n c e s [Runs up to her.] JENNY B e g o n e , you brute! JONATHAN T h a t looks like m a d ; but I won't l o s e m y s p e e c h . M y d e a r e s t J e n n y — y o u r n a m e is J e n n y , I think? My d e a r e s t J e n n y , t h o u g h I have the highest e s t e e m for the sweet favors you have j u s t n o w g r a n t e d m e — G o r , that's a fib t h o u g h , b u t J e s s a m y says it is not wicked to tell lies to the w o m e n . [Aside.] I say, t h o u g h I have the highest e s t e e m for the favors you have j u s t now g r a n t e d m e , yet, you will c o n s i d e r , that a s s o o n a s the dissolvable knot is tied, they will no longer b e favors, but only m a t t e r s of duty, a n d m a t t e r s of c o u r s e . JENNY Marry you! you a u d a c i o u s m o n s t e r ! get o u t of my sight, or rather let m e fly from you. [Exit hastily.] JONATHAN G o r ! she's g o n e off in a swinging p a s s i o n , before I h a d time to think of c o n s e q u e n c e s . If this is the way with your city l a d i e s , give m e the twenty a c r e s of r o c k s , the Bible, the c o w , a n d T a b i t h a , a n d a \itt\e p e a c e a b l e bundling.4 JENNY

JONATHAN

SCENE

Vie

Mall.

2. •

[Enter M A N L Y . ] It m u s t b e s o , M o n t a g u e ! a n d it is n o t at all the tribe of M a n d e villes 5 shall c o n v i n c e m e , that a n a t i o n , to b e c o m e g r e a t , m u s t first b e c o m e d i s s i p a t e d . L u x u r y is s u r e l y t h e b a n e of a n a t i o n : L u x u r y ! w h i c h e n e r v a t e s b o t h s o u l a n d body, by o p e n i n g a t h o u s a n d n e w s o u r c e s of e n j o y m e n t , o p e n s , a l s o , a t h o u s a n d n e w s o u r c e s of c o n t e n t i o n a n d w a n t : L u x u r y ! w h i c h r e n d e r s a p e o p l e w e a k at h o m e , a n d a c c e s s i b l e to bribery, c o r r u p t i o n , a n d f o r c e from a b r o a d . W h e n t h e G r e c i a n s t a t e s k n e w n o o t h e r tools t h a n t h e axe a n d t h e s a w , t h e G r e c i a n s w e r e a g r e a t , a free, a n d a h a p p y p e o p l e . T h e k i n g s of G r e e c e d e v o t e d their lives to t h e service of their c o u n t r y , a n d h e r s e n a t o r s k n e w n o o t h e r superiority over their fellow-citizens t h a n a g l o r i o u s p r e e m i n e n c e in d a n g e r a n d virtue. T h e y exhibited to t h e world a n o b l e s p e c t a c l e , — a n u m b e r of i n d e p e n d e n t

MANLY

4 . An old courtship c u s t o m , in which .1 couple occupied the s a m e bed without undressing. 5 . Edward Montague and Bernard Mandeville.

1 8th-century authors of books on the decline of civilizations and the fo\\y of mankind.

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s t a t e s u n i t e d by a similarity of l a n g u a g e , s e n t i m e n t , m a n n e r s , c o m m o n interest, a n d c o m m o n c o n s e n t , in o n e g r a n d m u t u a l l e a g u e o f p r o t e c t i o n . — A n d , t h u s u n i t e d , l o n g m i g h t they h a v e c o n t i n u e d the c h e r i s h e r s o f arts a n d s c i e n c e s , the p r o t e c t o r s of t h e o p p r e s s e d , the s c o u r g e of tyrants, a n d the s a f e a s y l u m of liberty: B u t w h e n f o r e i g n g o l d , a n d still m o r e p e r n i c i o u s , foreign luxury, h a d c r e p t a m o n g t h e m , they s a p p e d the vitals of their virtue. T h e virtues of their a n c e s t o r s w e r e only f o u n d in their w r i t i n g s . Envy a n d s u s p i c i o n , the vices of little m i n d s , p o s s e s s e d t h e m . T h e v a r i o u s s t a t e s e n g e n d e r e d j e a l o u s i e s of e a c h o t h e r ; a n d , m o r e u n f o r t u n a t e l y , g r o w i n g j e a l o u s o f their g r e a t federal c o u n c i l , t h e A m p h i c t y o n s , 6 they forgot that their c o m m o n safety h a d e x i s t e d , a n d w o u l d exist, in giving t h e m a n h o n o r a b l e extensive p r e r o g a t i v e . T h e c o m m o n g o o d w a s lost in the p u r s u i t of private interest; a n d that p e o p l e , w h o , by uniting, m i g h t h a v e s t o o d a g a i n s t the world in a r m s , by dividing, c r u m b l e d into r u i n ; — t h e i r n a m e is n o w only k n o w n in the p a g e o f the h i s t o r i a n , a n d w h a t they o n c e w e r e , is all w e have left to a d m i r e . O h ! t h a t A m e r i c a ! O h ! that my c o u n t r y , w o u l d in this her day, learn t h e t h i n g s w h i c h b e l o n g to her p e a c e ! [Enter D I M P L E . ] You a r e C o l o n e l M a n l y , I p r e s u m e ? MANLY At your s e r v i c e , Sir. DIMPLE M y n a m e is D i m p l e , Sir. I have the h o n o r to b e a l o d g e r in the s a m e h o u s e with y o u , a n d h e a r i n g you w e r e in t h e M a l l , c a m e hither to take the liberty of j o i n i n g y o u . MANLY You a r e very o b l i g i n g , Sir. DIMPLE A s I u n d e r s t a n d you a r e a s t r a n g e r h e r e , Sir, I h a v e t a k e n the liberty to i n t r o d u c e m y s e l f to your a c q u a i n t a n c e , a s p o s s i b l y I m a y have it in my p o w e r to p o i n t o u t s o m e things in this city worthy your n o t i c e . MANLY An a t t e n t i o n to s t r a n g e r s is worthy a liberal m i n d , a n d m u s t ever be gratefully r e c e i v e d . B u t to a soldier, w h o h a s n o fixed a b o d e , s u c h attentions are particularly pleasing. DIMPLE Sir, t h e r e is n o c h a r a c t e r s o r e s p e c t a b l e a s that of a soldier. A n d , i n d e e d , w h e n w e reflect h o w m u c h w e o w e to t h o s e b r a v e m e n w h o have s u f f e r e d s o m u c h in the s e r v i c e of their c o u n t r y , a n d s e c u r e d to u s t h o s e i n e s t i m a b l e b l e s s i n g s t h a t w e n o w enjoy, o u r liberty a n d i n d e p e n d e n c e , they d e m a n d every a t t e n t i o n w h i c h g r a t i t u d e c a n pay. F o r my own p a r t , I never m e e t a n officer, but I e m b r a c e h i m a s my friend, n o r a private in d i s t r e s s , b u t I i n s e n s i b l y e x t e n d my charity to h i m . — I h a v e hit the B u m p k i n 7 off very tolerably. [Aside.] MANLY G i v e m e y o u r h a n d , Sir! I d o not proffer this h a n d to everybody; b u t you steal into my h e a r t . I h o p e I a m a s i n s e n s i b l e to flattery a s m o s t m e n ; b u t I d e c l a r e (it m a y b e my w e a k s i d e ) , that I never h e a r the n a m e of soldier m e n t i o n e d with r e s p e c t , b u t I e x p e r i e n c e a thrill o f p l e a s u r e , w h i c h I never feel on a n y o t h e r o c c a s i o n . DIMPLE Will you give m e l e a v e , my d e a r c o l o n e l , to c o n f e r a n o b l i g a t i o n o n myself, by s h e w i n g you s o m e civilities d u r i n g y o u r stay h e r e , a n d giving a similar o p p o r t u n i t y to s o m e of my f r i e n d s ? MANLY Sir, I t h a n k y o u ; b u t I believe my stay in this city will b e very s h o r t . DIMPLE

6. Religious associations of Greek states.

7. Rustic.

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I c a n i n t r o d u c e you to s o m e m e n o f excellent s e n s e , in w h o s e c o m p a n y you will e s t e e m y o u r s e l f h a p p y ; a n d , by way of a m u s e m e n t , to s o m e fine girls, w h o will listen to y o u r soft t h i n g s with p l e a s u r e . MANLY Sir, I s h o u l d b e p r o u d of the h o n o r o f b e i n g a c q u a i n t e d with t h o s e g e n t l e m e n ; — b u t , a s for t h e l a d i e s , 1 don't u n d e r s t a n d y o u . DIMPLE W h y , Sir, I n e e d not tell y o u , t h a t w h e n a y o u n g g e n t l e m a n is a l o n e with a y o u n g lady, he m u s t s a y s o m e soft t h i n g s to h e r fair c h e e k — i n d e e d the lady will e x p e c t it. T o b e s u r e , t h e r e is not m u c h p l e a s u r e , w h e n a m a n of the world a n d a finished c o q u e t t e m e e t , w h o perfectly k n o w e a c h other; b u t h o w d e l i c i o u s is it to excite t h e e m o t i o n s o f j o y , h o p e , e x p e c t a t i o n , a n d d e l i g h t , in the b o s o m of a lovely girl, w h o believes every tittle of w h a t you say to b e s e r i o u s . MANLY S e r i o u s , Sir! In my o p i n i o n , the m a n , w h o , u n d e r p r e t e n s i o n s of m a r r i a g e , c a n plant t h o r n s in the b o s o m of a n i n n o c e n t , u n s u s p e c t i n g girl, is m o r e d e t e s t a b l e t h a n a c o m m o n robber, in the s a m e p r o p o r t i o n , a s private v i o l e n c e is m o r e d e s p i c a b l e t h a n o p e n f o r c e , a n d m o n e y o f l e s s value than happiness. DIMPLE H O W h e a w e s m e by the superiority of his s e n t i m e n t s . [Aside.] As y o u say, Sir, a g e n t l e m a n s h o u l d b e c a u t i o u s h o w h e m e n t i o n s m a r r i a g e . MANLY C a u t i o u s , Sir! N o p e r s o n m o r e a p p r o v e s of a n i n t e r c o u r s e b e t w e e n the s e x e s t h a n I d o . F e m a l e c o n v e r s a t i o n s o f t e n s o u r m a n n e r s , whilst o u r d i s c o u r s e , from t h e superiority of o u r literary a d v a n t a g e s , i m p r o v e s their m i n d s . B u t , in o u r y o u n g c o u n t r y , w h e r e t h e r e is n o s u c h t h i n g a s gallantry, w h e n a g e n t l e m a n s p e a k s o f love to a lady, w h e t h e r h e m e n tions m a r r i a g e , or not, s h e o u g h t to c o n c l u d e , e i t h e r that h e m e a n t to i n s u l t her, or, that his i n t e n t i o n s a r e the m o s t s e r i o u s a n d h o n o r a b l e . H o w m e a n , how c r u e l , is it, by a t h o u s a n d t e n d e r a s s i d u i t i e s , to win the a f f e c t i o n s o f an a m i a b l e girl, a n d t h o u g h you leave her virtue u n s p o t t e d , to betray her into the a p p e a r a n c e of s o m a n y t e n d e r p a r t i a l i t i e s , that every m a n of d e l i c a c y w o u l d s u p p r e s s his i n c l i n a t i o n t o w a r d s her, by s u p p o s i n g her h e a r t e n g a g e d ! C a n any m a n , for the trivial g r a t i f i c a t i o n of his l e i s u r e h o u r s , affect the h a p p i n e s s of a w h o l e life! H i s not h a v i n g s p o k e n o f m a r r i a g e , m a y a d d to his perfidy, b u t c a n b e n o e x c u s e for his conduct. DIMPLE

Sir, I a d m i r e your s e n t i m e n t s ; — t h e y a r e m i n e . T h e light o b s e r v a t i o n s that fell f r o m m e , w e r e only a principle of the t o n g u e ; they c a m e not from the h e a r t — m y p r a c t i c e h a s ever d i s a p p r o v e d t h e s e p r i n c i p l e s . MANLY I believe y o u , Sir. I s h o u l d with r e l u c t a n c e s u p p o s e t h a t t h o s e p e r n i c i o u s s e n t i m e n t s c o u l d find a d m i t t a n c e into t h e h e a r t o f a g e n t l e man. DIMPLE I a m now, Sir, g o i n g to visit a family, w h e r e , if you p l e a s e , I will h a v e t h e h o n o r of i n t r o d u c i n g y o u . M r . M a n l y ' s w a r d , M i s s L e t i t i a , is a y o u n g lady of i m m e n s e f o r t u n e ; a n d his n i e c e , M i s s C h a r l o t t e M a n l y is a y o u n g lady of great s p r i g h t l i n e s s a n d b e a u t y . MANLY T h a t g e n t l e m a n . Sir, is my u n c l e , a n d M i s s M a n l y is my sister. DIMPLE T h e devil s h e is! [Aside.] M i s s M a n l y y o u r s i s t e r , S i r ? I r e j o i c e to h e a r it, a n d feel a d o u b l e p l e a s u r e in b e i n g k n o w n to y o u . — P l a g u e on h i m ! I wish h e w a s at B o s t o n a g a i n with all my s o u l . [Aside.] MANLY C o m e , Sir, will you g o ? DIMPLE I will follow you in a m o m e n t , Sir. [Exit M A N L Y . ] DIMPLE

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P l a g u e o n it! this is u n l u c k y . A fighting b r o t h e r is a c u r s e d a p p e n d a g e to a fine girl. E g a d ! I j u s t s t o p p e d in t i m e ; h a d h e not d i s c o v e r e d himself, in two m i n u t e s m o r e I s h o u l d have told him h o w well I w a s with his s i s t e r . — I n d e e d , I c a n n o t s e e the s a t i s f a c t i o n of a n i n t r i g u e , if o n e c a n ' t have the p l e a s u r e of c o m m u n i c a t i n g it to o u r f r i e n d s . [Exit.] Act

Fourth

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leading in Maria.] T h i s is s o kind, my s w e e t friend, to c o m e to s e e m e at this m o m e n t . I d e c l a r e , if I w e r e g o i n g to be m a r r i e d in a few d a y s , a s you a r e , I s h o u l d s c a r c e have f o u n d t i m e to visit my f r i e n d s . MARIA D o you t h i n k t h e n that t h e r e is a n impropriety in i t ? — H o w s h o u l d you d i s p o s e of y o u r t i m e ? CHARLOTTE W h y , I s h o u l d b e s h u t u p in m y c h a m b e r ; a n d my h e a d w o u l d s o run u p o n — u p o n — u p o n the s o l e m n c e r e m o n y that I w a s to p a s s t h r o u g h — I d e c l a r e it w o u l d t a k e m e a b o v e two h o u r s m e r e l y to learn t h a t little monosyllable—Yes. A h ! my d e a r , y o u r s e n t i m e n t a l i m a g i n a t i o n d o e s not c o n c e i v e w h a t that little tiny w o r d i m p l i e s . MARIA S p a r e m e y o u r raillery, my s w e e t friend; I s h o u l d love your a g r e e a b l e vivacity at any o t h e r t i m e . CHARLOTTE W h y this is the very t i m e to a m u s e y o u . You grieve m e to s e e you look so u n h a p p y . MARIA H a v e I not r e a s o n to look s o ? CHARLOTTE W h a t n e w grief d i s t r e s s e s y o u ? MARIA O h ! h o w s w e e t it is, w h e n the heart is b o r n e d o w n with m i s f o r t u n e , to r e c l i n e a n d r e p o s e o n t h e b o s o m of f r i e n d s h i p ! H e a v e n k n o w s , that, a l t h o u g h it is i m p r o p e r for a y o u n g lady to p r a i s e a g e n t l e m a n , yet I have ever c o n c e a l e d M r . D i m p l e ' s f o i b l e s , a n d s p o k e of h i m a s o f o n e w h o s e r e p u t a t i o n I e x p e c t e d w o u l d b e linked with m i n e : but his late c o n d u c t t o w a r d s m e , h a s t u r n e d my c o o l n e s s into c o n t e m p t . H e b e h a v e s a s if h e m e a n t to i n s u l t a n d d i s g u s t m e ; whilst my father, in t h e last c o n v e r s a t i o n o n the s u b j e c t of o u r m a r r i a g e , s p o k e of it a s a m a t t e r w h i c h laid n e a r his h e a r t , a n d in w h i c h h e w o u l d not b e a r c o n t r a d i c t i o n . CHARLOTTE T h i s works well: o h ! the g e n e r o u s D i m p l e . I'll e n d e a v o r to excite her to d i s c h a r g e h i m . [Aside.] B u t , my d e a r friend, y o u r h a p p i n e s s d e p e n d s o n y o u r s e l f : — W h y don't you d i s c a r d h i m ? T h o u g h the m a t c h h a s b e e n of long s t a n d i n g , I w o u l d not b e f o r c e d to m a k e m y s e l f misera b l e : n o p a r e n t in the world s h o u l d o b l i g e m e to m a r r v the m a n I did not like. MARIA O h ! my d e a r , you never lived with y o u r p a r e n t s , a n d d o not k n o w w h a t i n f l u e n c e a father's frowns h a v e u p o n a d a u g h t e r ' s h e a r t . B e s i d e s , w h a t have I to a l l e g e a g a i n s t M r . D i m p l e , to justify m y s e l f to t h e world? H e c a r r i e s h i m s e l f s o s m o o t h l y , t h a t every o n e w o u l d i m p u t e the b l a m e to m e , a n d call m e c a p r i c i o u s . CHARLOTTE A n d call her c a p r i c i o u s ! D i d ever s u c h a n o b j e c t i o n start into the heart of w o m a n ? F o r my part, I w i s h I h a d fifty lovers to d i s c a r d , for [CHARLOTTE

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n o other r e a s o n , t h a n b e c a u s e I did not f a n c y t h e m . M y d e a r M a r i a , you will forgive m e ; I k n o w y o u r c a n d o r a n d c o n f i d e n c e in m e ; b u t I h a v e at t i m e s , I c o n f e s s , b e e n led to s u p p o s e , t h a t s o m e other g e n t l e m a n w a s the c a u s e of your a v e r s i o n to M r . D i m p l e . MARIA N o , my s w e e t friend, you m a y b e a s s u r e d , that t h o u g h I h a v e s e e n m a n y g e n t l e m e n I c o u l d prefer to M r . D i m p l e , yet I never s a w o n e that I t h o u g h t I c o u l d give my h a n d t o , until this m o r n i n g . CHARLOTTE This morning! MARIA Y e s ; — o n e of t h e s t r a n g e s t a c c i d e n t s in t h e world. T h e o d i o u s D i m p l e , after d i s g u s t i n g m e with his c o n v e r s a t i o n , h a d j u s t left m e , w h e n a g e n t l e m a n , w h o , it s e e m s , b o a r d s in the s a m e h o u s e with h i m , s a w h i m c o m i n g o u t of o u r d o o r , a n d the h o u s e s l o o k i n g very m u c h a l i k e , h e c a m e into our h o u s e i n s t e a d of his l o d g i n g s ; n o r did h e d i s c o v e r his m i s t a k e until h e got into the parlor, w h e r e I w a s : h e t h e n b o w e d s o gracefully; m a d e such a genteel apology, and looked so manly and n o b l e ! — CHARLOTTE I s e e s o m e folks, t h o u g h it is s o g r e a t a n i m p r o p r i e t y , c a n p r a i s e a g e n t l e m a n , w h e n h e h a p p e n s to b e t h e m a n o f their fancy. [Aside.] MARIA I don't k n o w h o w it w a s , — I h o p e h e did not think m e i n d e l i c a t e — b u t I a s k e d h i m , I b e l i e v e , to sit d o w n , or p o i n t e d to a c h a i r . H e sat d o w n a n d i n s t e a d of h a v i n g r e c o u r s e to o b s e r v a t i o n s u p o n t h e w e a t h e r , or h a c k n e y e d c r i t i c i s m s u p o n t h e t h e a t e r , h e e n t e r e d readily into a convers a t i o n worthy a m a n of s e n s e to s p e a k , a n d a lady of d e l i c a c y a n d s e n t i m e n t to h e a r . H e w a s not strictly h a n d s o m e , b u t h e s p o k e t h e l a n g u a g e of s e n t i m e n t , a n d his eyes l o o k e d t e n d e r n e s s a n d h o n o r . CHARLOTTE O h ! [eagerly] you s e n t i m e n t a l grave girls, w h e n your h e a r t s a r e o n c e t o u c h e d , b e a t u s rattles a bar's l e n g t h . A n d s o , you a r e q u i t e in love with this h e - a n g e l ? MARIA In love with h i m ! H o w c a n y o u rattle s o , C h a r l o t t e ? a m I not g o i n g to b e m i s e r a b l e ? [Sighs.] In love with a g e n t l e m a n I never s a w b u t o n e h o u r in my life, a n d don't k n o w his n a m e ! — N o : I only w i s h e d t h a t the m a n I shall marry, m a y look, a n d talk, a n d a c t , j u s t like h i m . B e s i d e s , m y d e a r , h e is a m a r r i e d m a n . CHARLOTTE W h y , t h a t w a s g o o d n a t u r e d . — H e told you s o , I s u p p o s e , in m e r e charity, to p r e v e n t y o u r falling in love with h i m ? MARIA H e didn't tell m e s o [peevishly]; h e l o o k e d a s if h e w a s m a r r i e d . CHARLOTTE H o w , my d e a r , did h e l o o k s h e e p i s h ? MARIA I a m s u r e h e h a s a s u s c e p t i b l e h e a r t , a n d t h e l a d i e s of his a c q u a i n t a n c e m u s t b e very s t u p i d not t o — CHARLOTTE Hush! I hear some person coming. [Enter L E T I T I A . ] LETITIA M y d e a r M a r i a , I a m h a p p y to s e e y o u . L u d ! w h a t a pity it is t h a t you p u r c h a s e d your wedding clothes. MARIA I t h i n k s o . [Sighing.] LETITIA W h y , my d e a r , t h e r e is t h e s w e e t e s t p a r c e l o f silks c o m e over y o u ever s a w . N a n c y Brilliant h a s a full s u i t c o m e ; s h e s e n t over h e r m e a s u r e , a n d it fits her to a hair; it is i m m e n s e l y d r e s s y , a n d m a d e for a courth o o p . I t h o u g h t they s a i d the l a r g e h o o p s w e r e g o i n g o u t of f a s h i o n . CHARLOTTE D i d y o u s e e the h a t ? — I s it a f a c t , t h a t t h e d e e p l a c e s r o u n d the b o r d e r is still t h e f a s h i o n ?

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[WttJiiw] U p o n my h o n o r , Sir! H a ! D i m p l e ' s v o i c e ! M y d e a r , I m u s t t a k e leave o f y o u . T h e r e a r e s o m e t h i n g s n e c e s s a r y to b e d o n e at o u r h o u s e . — C a n ' t I g o t h r o u g h the other room? [Enter D I M P L E and M A N L Y . ] DIMPLE L a d i e s , your m o s t o b e d i e n t . CHARLOTTE M i s s V a n R o u g h , shall I p r e s e n t my b r o t h e r H e n r y to y o u ? Colonel Manly, M a r i a , — M i s s Van R o u g h , brother. MARIA H e r b r o t h e r ! [Turns and sees M A N L Y . ] O h ! my heart! T h e very g e n t l e m a n I have b e e n p r a i s i n g . MANLY T h e s a m e a m i a b l e girl I s a w this m o r n i n g ! CHARLOTTE W h y , you look a s if you w e r e a c q u a i n t e d . MANLY I u n i n t e n t i o n a l l y i n t r u d e d into this lady's p r e s e n c e this m o r n i n g , for w h i c h s h e w a s s o g o o d a s to p r o m i s e m e her f o r g i v e n e s s . CHARLOTTE O h ! h o ! is t h a t the c a s e ! H a v e t h e s e two p e n s e r o s o s b e e n t o g e t h e r ? W e r e they H e n r y ' s eyes that l o o k e d s o t e n d e r l y ? [Aside.] A n d s o y o u p r o m i s e d to p a r d o n h i m ? a n d c o u l d you b e s o g o o d n a t u r e d ? — h a v e y o u really forgiven h i m ? I b e g y o u w o u l d d o it for my s a k e . [Whisp e r i n g loud to M A R I A . ] B u t , m y d e a r , a s you a r e in s u c h h a s t e , it w o u l d b e cruel to d e t a i n y o u : I c a n s h o w you t h e way t h r o u g h the o t h e r r o o m . MARIA S p a r e m e , sprightly friend. MANLY T h e lady d o e s not, I h o p e , i n t e n d to deprive u s of t h e p l e a s u r e of her c o m p a n y s o s o o n . CHARLOTTE S h e h a s only a m a n t u a - m a k e r 8 w h o w a i t s for h e r at h o m e . B u t , a s I a m to give my o p i n i o n of t h e d r e s s , I think s h e c a n n o t g o yet. W e w e r e talking of the f a s h i o n s w h e n y o u c a m e in; b u t I s u p p o s e the s u b j e c t m u s t b e c h a n g e d to s o m e t h i n g of m o r e i m p o r t a n c e n o w . — M r . D i m p l e , will you favor u s with a n a c c o u n t of t h e p u b l i c e n t e r t a i n m e n t s ? DIMPLE W h y , really, M i s s M a n l y , you c o u l d not h a v e a s k e d m e a q u e s t i o n F o r my part, I m u s t c o n f e s s , that to a m a n w h o h a s m o r e mal-apropos.9 traveled, t h e r e is n o t h i n g that is worthy the n a m e of a m u s e m e n t to b e f o u n d in this city. CHARLOTTE E x c e p t visiting the l a d i e s . DIMPLE P a r d o n m e , M a d a m ; that is the a v o c a t i o n o f a m a n of t a s t e . B u t , for a m u s e m e n t , I positively k n o w of n o t h i n g that c a n b e c a l l e d s o , u n l e s s you dignify with t h a t title the h o p p i n g o n c e a fortnight to the s o u n d of two or t h r e e s q u e a k i n g fiddles, a n d the c l a t t e r i n g of the old tavern wind o w s , or sitting to s e e the m i s e r a b l e m u m m e r s , w h o m you call a c t o r s , m u r d e r c o m e d y , a n d m a k e a f a r c e of tragedy. MANLY D O you never a t t e n d the t h e a t e r , S i r ? DIMPLE I was tortured there o n c e . CHARLOTTE Pray, M r . D i m p l e , w a s it a t r a g e d y or a c o m e d y ? DIMPLE F a i t h , M a d a m , I c a n n o t tell; for I sat with my b a c k to the s t a g e all the t i m e , a d m i r i n g a m u c h better a c t r e s s t h a n a n y t h e r e ; — a lady w h o p l a y e d the fine w o m a n to p e r f e c t i o n ; — t h o u g h , by the l a u g h o f the horrid c r e a t u r e s a r o u n d m e , I s u p p o s e it w a s c o m e d y . Yet, o n s e c o n d t h o u g h t s , it m i g h t b e s o m e h e r o in a tragedy, dying s o c o m i c a l l y a s to set the w h o l e h o u s e in a n u p r o a r . — C o l o n e l , I p r e s u m e you h a v e b e e n in E u r o p e ? DIMPLE MARIA

8. I.e.. dressmaker.

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I n d e e d , Sir, I w a s never ten l e a g u e s f r o m t h e c o n t i n e n t . Believe m e , C o l o n e l , you have a n i m m e n s e p l e a s u r e to c o m e ; a n d w h e n you shall h a v e s e e n the brilliant exhibitions of E u r o p e , you will learn to d e s p i s e the a m u s e m e n t s of this c o u n t r y a s m u c h a s I d o . MANLY T h e r e f o r e I d o not wish to s e e t h e m ; for I c a n never e s t e e m that k n o w l e d g e v a l u a b l e , w h i c h t e n d s to give m e a d i s t a s t e for my native country. DIMPLE W e l l , C o l o n e l , t h o u g h y o u h a v e n o t traveled, you h a v e r e a d . MANLY I h a v e , a little; a n d by it have d i s c o v e r e d that t h e r e is a l a u d a b l e partiality, w h i c h i g n o r a n t , u n t r a v e l e d m e n e n t e r t a i n for everything that b e l o n g s to their native c o u n t r y . I call it l a u d a b l e ; — i t i n j u r e s n o o n e ; a d d s to their own h a p p i n e s s ; a n d , w h e n e x t e n d e d , b e c o m e s the n o b l e p r i n c i p l e of p a t r i o t i s m . T r a v e l e d g e n t l e m e n rise s u p e r i o r , in their o w n o p i n i o n , to this: b u t , if t h e c o n t e m p t w h i c h they c o n t r a c t for their c o u n t r y is t h e m o s t v a l u a b l e a c q u i s i t i o n of their travels, I a m far f r o m t h i n k i n g that their t i m e a n d m o n e y a r e well s p e n t . MARIA What noble sentiments! CHARLOTTE L e t my b r o t h e r set o u t f r o m w h e r e h e will in t h e fields of c o n v e r s a t i o n , h e is s u r e to e n d his t o u r in the t e m p l e of gravity. MANLY F o r g i v e m e , m y sister. I love my c o u n t r y ; it h a s its foibles u n d o u b t e d l y ; — s o m e f o r e i g n e r s will with p l e a s u r e r e m a r k t h e m — b u t s u c h r e m a r k s fall very u n g r a c e f u l l y f r o m the lips of h e r c i t i z e n s . DIMPLE You a r e perfectly in the right, C o l o n e l — A m e r i c a h a s h e r f a u l t s . MANLY Y e s , S i r ; a n d w e , h e r c h i l d r e n , s h o u l d b l u s h for t h e m in p r i v a t e , a n d e n d e a v o r , a s i n d i v i d u a l s , to r e f o r m t h e m . B u t , if o u r c o u n t r y h a s its errors in c o m m o n with o t h e r c o u n t r i e s , I a m p r o u d to s a y A m e r i c a , I m e a n the U n i t e d S t a t e s , have d i s p l a y e d virtues a n d a c h i e v e m e n t s w h i c h m o d e r n n a t i o n s m a y a d m i r e , b u t of w h i c h they h a v e s e l d o m set u s the example. CHARLOTTE B u t , b r o t h e r , w e m u s t i n t r o d u c e you to s o m e o f o u r gay folks, a n d let you s e e the city, s u c h a s it is. M r . D i m p l e is k n o w n to a l m o s t every family in t o w n ; — h e will d o u b t l e s s t a k e a p l e a s u r e in i n t r o d u c i n g you. DIMPLE I shall e s t e e m every s e r v i c e I c a n r e n d e r your b r o t h e r a n h o n o r . MANLY I fear the b u s i n e s s I a m u p o n will t a k e u p all my t i m e , a n d my family will be a n x i o u s to h e a r f r o m m e . MARIA H i s family! B u t w h a t is it to m e that h e is m a r r i e d ! [Aside.] Pray, h o w did you leave y o u r lady, S i r ? CHARLOTTE M y b r o t h e r is not m a r r i e d [observing her anxiety]; it is only a n o d d way h e h a s of e x p r e s s i n g h i m s e l f . — P r a y , b r o t h e r , is this b u s i n e s s w h i c h you m a k e your c o n t i n u a l e x c u s e , a s e c r e t ? MANLY N o sister, I c a m e hither to solicit the h o n o r a b l e C o n g r e s s that a n u m b e r of my b r a v e old s o l d i e r s may b e p u t u p o n the p e n s i o n - l i s t , w h o w e r e , at first, not j u d g e d to b e s o materially w o u n d e d a s to n e e d the p u b l i c a s s i s t a n c e . — M y s i s t e r s a y s t r u e : [To M A R I A . ] I call my late s o l d i e r s my f a m i l y . — T h o s e w h o w e r e not in the field in the late g l o r i o u s c o n t e s t , a n d t h o s e w h o w e r e , have their r e s p e c t i v e m e r i t s ; b u t , I c o n f e s s , my old b r o t h e r - s o l d i e r s a r e d e a r e r to m e t h a n t h e f o r m e r d e s c r i p t i o n . F r i e n d s h i p s m a d e in adversity a r e l a s t i n g ; o u r c o u n t r y m e n m a y forget u s ; b u t that is n o r e a s o n why w e s h o u l d forget o n e a n o t h e r . B u t I m u s t leave y o u ; my t i m e of e n g a g e m e n t a p p r o a c h e s . MANLY

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W e l l , b u t b r o t h e r , if you will g o , will you p l e a s e to c o n d u c t my fair friend h o m e ? You live in the s a m e s t r e e t ; — I w a s to h a v e g o n e with her m y s e l f — [ A s i d e . ] A lucky t h o u g h t . MARIA I a m o b l i g e d to y o u r sister, Sir, a n d w a s j u s t i n t e n d i n g to g o . [Going.] MANLY I shall a t t e n d her with p l e a s u r e . [Exit with M A R I A , followed by D I M P L E and C H A R L O T T E . ] MARIA N o w , pray don't betray m e to your b r o t h e r . CHARLOTTE [just as she sees him make a motion to take his leave]. O n e word with y o u , b r o t h e r , if you p l e a s e . [Follows them out.] [Manent D I M P L E and L E T I T I A . ] DIMPLE Y O U r e c e i v e d the b i l l e t 2 I s e n t y o u , 1 p r e s u m e ? LETITIA Hush!—Yes. DIMPLE W h e n shall I pay my r e s p e c t s to y o u ? LETITIA At eight I shall be u n e n g a g e d . [Reenter C H A R L O T T E . ] DIMPLE D i d my lovely a n g e l receive my billet? [To C H A R L O T T E . ] CHARLOTTE

1

CHARLOTTE

Yes.

W h a t h o u r shall I expect with i m p a t i e n c e ? CHARLOTTE At eight I shall be at h o m e , u n e n g a g e d . DIMPLE U n f o r t u n a t e ! I have a horrid e n g a g e m e n t of b u s i n e s s at that h o u r . — C a n ' t you finish your visit earlier, a n d let six b e t h e h a p p y h o u r ? CHARLOTTE You k n o w y o u r i n f l u e n c e over m e . [Exeunt severally.] DIMPLE

SCENE VAN R O U G H ' S

2.

house.

alone.] It c a n n o t p o s s i b l y b e t r u e ! T h e s o n of my old friend can't h a v e a c t e d s o u n a d v i s e d l y . S e v e n t e e n t h o u s a n d p o u n d s ! in b i l l s ! — M r . T r a n s fer m u s t h a v e b e e n m i s t a k e n . H e always a p p e a r e d s o p r u d e n t , a n d t a l k e d s o well u p o n m o n e y - m a t t e r s , a n d even a s s u r e d m e that he i n t e n d e d to c h a n g e his d r e s s for a suit of c l o t h e s w h i c h w o u l d not c o s t s o m u c h , a n d look m o r e s u b s t a n t i a l , a s s o o n a s h e m a r r i e d . N o , n o , n o ! it c a n ' t b e ; it c a n n o t b e . — B u t , however, I m u s t look o u t s h a r p . I did n o t c a r e w h a t his p r i n c i p l e s or his a c t i o n s w e r e , s o l o n g a s h e m i n d e d the m a i n c h a n c e . S e v e n t e e n t h o u s a n d p o u n d s ! — I f h e h a d lost it in t r a d e , why t h e b e s t m e n may have ill-luck; b u t to g a m e it a w a y , a s T r a n s f e r s a y s — w h y , at this rate, his w h o l e e s t a t e m a y go in o n e night, a n d , w h a t is ten t i m e s w o r s e , m i n e into the b a r g a i n . N o , n o ; M a r y is right. L e a v e w o m e n to look o u t in t h e s e m a t t e r s ; for all they look a s if they didn't k n o w a j o u r n a l f r o m a ledger, w h e n their interest is c o n c e r n e d , they k n o w w h a t ' s w h a t ; they m i n d the m a i n c h a n c e a s well a s t h e b e s t o f u s . — I w o n d e r M a r y did not tell m e s h e k n e w of his s p e n d i n g his m o n e y s o foolishly. S e v e n t e e n t h o u s a n d p o u n d s ! W h y , if my d a u g h t e r w a s s t a n d i n g u p to b e m a r ried, I w o u l d forbid the b a n n s , if I f o u n d it w a s to a m a n w h o did not mind the m a i n c h a n c e . — H u s h ! I h e a r s o m e b o d y c o m i n g . 'Tis M a r y ' s voice: a m a n with her too! I s h o u l d n ' t b e s u r p r i z e d if this s h o u l d b e the o t h e r string to her b o w . — A y e , a y e , let t h e m a l o n e ; w o m e n u n d e r s t a n d [VAN R O U G H ,

VAN R O U G H

I. I.e., Dimple and Letitia remain.

2. Letter, note.

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t h e m a i n c h a n c e . — T h o u g h , i' faith, I'll listen a little. [Retires into a closet.] [ M A N L Y leading in M A R I A . ] MANLY I h o p e y o u will e x c u s e m y s p e a k i n g u p o n s o i m p o r t a n t a s u b j e c t , s o abruptly; b u t the m o m e n t I e n t e r e d y o u r r o o m , you s t r u c k m e a s the lady w h o m I h a d l o n g loved in i m a g i n a t i o n , a n d never h o p e d to s e e . MARIA I n d e e d , Sir, I h a v e b e e n led to h e a r m o r e u p o n this s u b j e c t t h a n I ought. MANLY D o y o u t h e n d i s a p p r o v e my suit, M a d a m , or the a b r u p t n e s s of my i n t r o d u c i n g it? If the latter, my p e c u l i a r s i t u a t i o n , b e i n g o b l i g e d to leave the city in a few d a y s , will, I h o p e , b e my e x c u s e ; if t h e f o r m e r , I will retire: for I a m s u r e I w o u l d not give a m o m e n t ' s i n q u i e t u d e to her, w h o m I c o u l d d e v o t e m y life to p l e a s e . I a m not s o i n d e l i c a t e a s to s e e k y o u r i m m e d i a t e a p p r o b a t i o n ; p e r m i t m e only to b e n e a r y o u , a n d by a t h o u s a n d t e n d e r a s s i d u i t i e s to e n d e a v o r to excite a grateful r e t u r n . MARIA I h a v e a father, w h o m I w o u l d die to m a k e h a p p y — h e will d i s a p prove— MANLY D o you t h i n k m e s o u n g e n e r o u s a s to s e e k a p l a c e in y o u r e s t e e m w i t h o u t his c o n s e n t ? Y o u m u s t — y o u ever o u g h t to c o n s i d e r t h a t m a n a s u n w o r t h y of y o u , w h o s e e k s a n interest in y o u r h e a r t , c o n t r a r y to a father's a p p r o b a t i o n . A y o u n g lady s h o u l d reflect, t h a t the l o s s of a lover m a y b e s u p p l i e d , b u t n o t h i n g c a n c o m p e n s a t e for t h e l o s s of a p a r e n t ' s a f f e c t i o n . Yet, why d o you s u p p o s e y o u r f a t h e r w o u l d d i s a p p r o v e ? In o u r c o u n t r y , the a f f e c t i o n s a r e n o t s a c r i f i c e d to r i c h e s , or family a g g r a n d i z e m e n t : — s h o u l d you a p p r o v e , my family is d e c e n t , a n d m y r a n k h o n o r a b l e . MARIA You d i s t r e s s m e , Sir. MANLY T h e n I will s i n c e r e l y b e g y o u r e x c u s e for o b t r u d i n g s o d i s a g r e e a b l e a s u b j e c t a n d retire. [Going.] MARIA S t a y , Sir! Y o u r g e n e r o s i t y a n d g o o d o p i n i o n of m e d e s e r v e a r e t u r n ; b u t why m u s t I d e c l a r e w h a t , for t h e s e few h o u r s , I h a v e s c a r c e s u f f e r e d m y s e l f to t h i n k ? — I a m — MANLY What?— MARIA E n g a g e d , S i r ; — a n d , in a few d a y s , to b e m a r r i e d to the g e n t l e m a n y o u s a w at y o u r sister's. MANLY E n g a g e d to b e m a r r i e d ! A n d h a v e I b e e n b a s e l y i n v a d i n g the rights o f a n o t h e r ? W h y h a v e you p e r m i t t e d t h i s — I s this the r e t u r n for the partiality I d e c l a r e d for y o u ? MARIA You d i s t r e s s m e , Sir. W h a t w o u l d y o u h a v e m e to say? You are t o o g e n e r o u s to w i s h the truth: o u g h t I to s a y that I d a r e d n o t suffer m y s e l f to t h i n k of my e n g a g e m e n t , a n d that I a m g o i n g to give m y h a n d w i t h o u t m y h e a r t ? — W o u l d you h a v e m e c o n f e s s a partiality for y o u ? If s o , y o u r t r i u m p h is c o m p l e t e ; a n d c a n b e only m o r e s o , w h e n d a y s o f m i s e r y , with the m a n I c a n n o t love, will m a k e m e think of h i m w h o m I c o u l d prefer. MANLY [after a pause] W e a r e b o t h u n h a p p y ; b u t it is y o u r d u t y to o b e y your p a r e n t , — m i n e to o b e y my h o n o r . L e t u s , t h e r e f o r e , b o t h follow the p a t h of r e c t i t u d e ; a n d o f this w e m a y b e a s s u r e d , t h a t if w e a r e not h a p p y , w e shall, at least d e s e r v e to b e s o . A d i e u ! I d a r e n o t t r u s t m y s e l f l o n g e r with y o u . [Exeunt severally.3] 3. Separately.

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lodgings.

meeting J O N A T H A N . ] W e l l , M r . J o n a t h a n , w h a t s u c c e s s with the fair? JONATHAN W h y , s u c h a tarnal c r o s s t i k e 4 y o u never s a w ! — Y o u w o u l d have c o u n t e d s h e h a d lived u p o n c r a b a p p l e s a n d v i n e g a r for a fortnight. B u t w h a t the rattle m a k e s you look s o t a r n a t i o n g l u m ? JESSAMY I w a s thinking, M r . J o n a t h a n , w h a t c o u l d b e t h e r e a s o n o f her carrying h e r s e l f s o coolly to y o u . JONATHAN C o o l l y , d o y o u call it? W h y , I vow, s h e w a s fire-hot angry: m a y be it w a s b e c a u s e I b u s s ' d her. JESSAMY N o , n o , M r . J o n a t h a n ; t h e r e m u s t b e s o m e o t h e r c a u s e : I never yet k n e w a lady angry at b e i n g k i s s e d . JONATHAN W e l l , if it is n o t the y o u n g w o m a n ' s b a s h f u l n e s s , I vow I c a n ' t c o n c e i v e why s h e s h o u ' d n't like m e . JESSAMY M a y b e it is b e c a u s e you h a v e n o t the G r a c e s , M r . J o n a t h a n . JONATHAN G r a c e ! W h y , d o e s the y o u n g w o m a n e x p e c t I m u s t b e c o n v e r t e d before I court her?5 JESSAMY I m e a n g r a c e s of p e r s o n ; for i n s t a n c e , my lord tells u s that we m u s t c u t off o u r nails even at t o p , in s m a l l s e g m e n t s of c i r c l e s ; — t h o u g h you won't u n d e r s t a n d t h a t — I n the next p l a c e , y o u m u s t r e g u l a t e y o u r laugh. JONATHAN M a p l e - l o g sieze it! don't I l a u g h n a t u r a l ? JESSAMY T h a t ' s the very fault, M r . J o n a t h a n . B e s i d e s , y o u a b s o l u t e l y m i s p l a c e it. I w a s told by a friend of m i n e that you l a u g h e d o u t r i g h t at the play t h e o t h e r night, w h e n y o u o u g h t only to h a v e tittered. JONATHAN G o r ! I — w h a t d o e s o n e g o to s e e fun for if they can't l a u g h ? JESSAMY Y O U m a y l a u g h ; — b u t you m u s t l a u g h by r u l e . JONATHAN S w a m p i t — l a u g h by rule! W e l l , I s h o u l d like t h a t tarnally. JESSAMY W h y you k n o w , M r . J o n a t h a n , that to d a n c e , a lady to play with her f a n , or a g e n t l e m a n with his c a n e , a n d all o t h e r n a t u r a l m o t i o n s , a r e r e g u l a t e d by art. M y m a s t e r h a s c o m p o s e d a n i m m e n s e l y p r e t t y g a m u t , 6 by w h i c h a n y lady, or g e n t l e m a n , with a few y e a r s ' c l o s e a p p l i c a t i o n , m a y learn to l a u g h a s gracefully a s if they w e r e b o r n a n d b r e d to it. JONATHAN M e r c y o n my s o u l ! A g a m u t for l a u g h i n g — j u s t like fa, la, s o l ? JESSAMY Y e s . It c o m p r i s e s every p o s s i b l e d i s p l a y o f j o c u l a r i t y , f r o m a n affetuoso s m i l e to a piano titter, or full c h o r u s fortissimo7 ha, ha, ha! My m a s t e r e m p l o y s his l e i s u r e - h o u r s in m a r k i n g o u t t h e p l a y s , like a c a t h e dral c h a n t i n g - b o o k , 8 t h a t the i g n o r a n t m a y k n o w w h e r e to l a u g h ; a n d t h a t pit, box, a n d g a l l e r y 9 m a y k e e p t i m e t o g e t h e r , a n d not h a v e a s n i g g e r in o n e part of t h e h o u s e , a b r o a d grin in the o t h e r , a n d a d — d g r u m 1 look in the third. H o w delightful to s e e the a u d i e n c e all s m i l e t o g e t h e r , [JESSAMY

JESSAMY

4. Here, churlish person. "The fair": i.e., the fair sex. 5. Jonathan takes "grace" in its religious sense. 6. Full range (of musical notes). 7. Very loud. "Affetuoso": passionate. "Piano": soft.

T h e s e are all musical terms. 8. I.e., hymnal. 9. I.e. balcony. "Pit": playhouse area nearest the stage. 1. Surly, grim.

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then look o n their b o o k s , then twist their m o u t h s into a n a g r e e a b l e s i m per, then a l t o g e t h e r s h a k e the h o u s e with a g e n e r a l h a , h a , h a ! l o u d a s a full c h o r u s of H a n d e l ' s , at a n A b b e y - c o m m e m o r a t i o n . 2 JONATHAN H a , h a , h a ! that's d a n g ' d c u t e , I swear. JESSAMY T h e g e n t l e m e n , you s e e , will l a u g h the t e n o r ; the l a d i e s will play the c o u n t e r - t e n o r ; the b e a u x will s q u e a k the t r e b l e ; a n d o u r jolly f r i e n d s in the gallery a t h o r o u g h b a s s , ' h o , h o , h o ! JONATHAN W e l l , can't you let m e s e e t h a t g a m u t ? JESSAMY O h ! y e s , M r . J o n a t h a n ; h e r e it is. [Takes out a book.} O h ! n o , this is only a titter with its v a r i a t i o n s . A h , h e r e it is. [Takes out another.] Now you m u s t k n o w , M r . J o n a t h a n , this is a p i e c e written by B e n J o n s o n , 4 w h i c h I have set to my m a s t e r ' s g a m u t . T h e p l a c e s w h e r e you m u s t s m i l e , look g r a v e , or l a u g h o u t r i g h t , a r e m a r k e d b e l o w the line. N o w look over m e . — " T h e r e was a certain m a n " — n o w you m u s t smile. JONATHAN W e l l , r e a d it a g a i n ; 1 w a r r a n t I'll m i n d m y e y e . JESSAMY "There was a certain man, who had a sad scolding wife,"—now you m u s t l a u g h . JONATHAN Tarnation! That's no laughing matter, though. JESSAMY " A n d s h e lay s i c k a - d y i n g " ; — n o w you m u s t titter. JONATHAN W h a t , s n i g g e r w h e n the g o o d w o m a n ' s a-dying! G o r , I — JESSAMY Y e s ; the n o t e s say y o u m u s t — " A n d s h e a s k e d her h u s b a n d leave to m a k e a w i l l , " — n o w y o u m u s t b e g i n to look g r a v e ; — " a n d h e r h u s b a n d said"— JOHNATHAN Ay, w h a t did her h u s b a n d s a y ? — S o m e t h i n g d a n g ' d c u t e , I reckon. JESSAMY " A n d her h u s b a n d s a i d , you h a v e h a d y o u r will all y o u r life t i m e , a n d w o u l d you h a v e it after y o u a r e d e a d t o o ? " JONATHAN H o , h o , h o ! T h e r e the old m a n w a s even with her; h e w a s u p to the n o t c h — h a , h a , h a ! JESSAMY B u t , M r . J o n a t h a n , you m u s t not l a u g h s o . W h y , you o u g h t to h a v e tittered piano, a n d you have l a u g h e d fortissimo. L o o k h e r e ; you s e e t h e s e m a r k s , A . B . C . a n d s o o n ; t h e s e a r e the r e f e r e n c e s to t h e o t h e r part of the b o o k . L e t u s turn to it, a n d you will s e e the d i r e c t i o n s h o w to m a n a g e t h e m u s c l e s . T h i s [turns over] w a s n o t e D you b l u n d e r e d a t . — "You m u s t p u r s e the m o u t h into a s m i l e , t h e n titter, d i s c o v e r i n g t h e lower part of the t h r e e front u p p e r t e e t h . " JONATHAN H o w ! r e a d it a g a i n . JESSAMY "There was a certain man"—very well!—"who had a sad scolding w i f e , " — w h y don't you l a u g h ? JONATHAN N o w , that s c o l d i n g wife s t i c k s in my gizzard s o pluckily, t h a t I can't l a u g h for the b l o o d a n d n o w n s 5 of m e . L e t m e l o o k g r a v e h e r e , a n d I'll l a u g h y o u r belly full w h e r e t h e old c r e a t u r e ' s a - d y i n g . — JESSAMY " A n d s h e a s k e d her h u s b a n d " — [ B e l l rings.] M y m a s t e r ' s bell! he's r e t u r n e d , I f e a r — H e r e , M r . J o n a t h a n , t a k e this g a m u t ; a n d , I m a k e n o 2. I.e., in an oratorio by George Frederick Handel ( 1 6 8 5 - 1 7 5 9 ) , British composer, performed at Westminster Abbey in London. 3. In Baroque music, the bass part. 4. British dramatist ( 1 5 7 2 - 1 6 3 7 ) .

5. From the oath "God's blood and wounds." "Pluckily" may be a pun to go with "gizzard," for pluck means not only courage but also the heart, liver, and lungs of a slaughtered animal.

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d o u b t but with a few y e a r s ' c l o s e a p p l i c a t i o n , you m a y b e a b l e to s m i l e gracefully. [Exeunt severally.] SCENE CHARLOTTE'S

[Enter

2.

apartment. MANLY]

W h a t , n o o n e at h o m e ? H o w u n f o r t u n a t e to m e e t the only lady my h e a r t w a s ever m o v e d by, to find her e n g a g e d to a n o t h e r , a n d c o n f e s s i n g her partiality for m e ! Yet e n g a g e d to a m a n , w h o , by her i n t i m a tion, a n d his libertine c o n v e r s a t i o n with m e , I fear, d o e s not merit her. Aye! there's the sting; for, w e r e I a s s u r e d that M a r i a w a s h a p p y , my heart is not s o selfish, b u t that it w o u l d dilate in k n o w i n g it, even t h o u g h it w e r e with a n o t h e r . — B u t to k n o w s h e is u n h a p p y ! — I m u s t drive t h e s e t h o u g h t s f r o m m e . C h a r l o t t e h a s s o m e b o o k s ; a n d this is w h a t I believe s h e c a l l s her little library. [Enters a closet.] [Enter D I M P L E leading L E T I T I A . ] LETITIA A n d will you p r e t e n d to say, now, M r . D i m p l e , t h a t you p r o p o s e to b r e a k with M a r i a ? Are not the b a n n s p u b l i s h e d ? 6 A r e not the c l o t h e s p u r c h a s e d ? Are not the f r i e n d s invited? In s h o r t , is it not a d o n e affair? DIMPLE Believe m e , my d e a r Letitia, I w o u l d not m a r r y her. LETITIA W h y h a v e you not b r o k e with h e r b e f o r e this, a s you all a l o n g d e l u d e d m e by s a y i n g you w o u l d ? DIMPLE B e c a u s e I w a s in h o p e s s h e w o u l d ere this h a v e b r o k e with m e . LETITIA You c o u l d not e x p e c t it. DIMPLE N a y , b u t b e c a l m a m o m e n t ; 'twas f r o m my r e g a r d to you t h a t I did not d i s c a r d her. LETITIA R e g a r d to m e ! DIMPLE Y e s ; I have d o n e everything in my p o w e r to b r e a k with her, but the foolish girl is s o fond of m e , that n o t h i n g c a n a c c o m p l i s h it. B e s i d e s , h o w c a n I offer her my h a n d , w h e n my heart is i n d i s s o l u b l y e n g a g e d to you?— LETITIA T h e r e m a y b e r e a s o n in this; b u t why s o a t t e n t i v e to M i s s M a n l y ? DIMPLE Attentive to M i s s M a n l y ! F o r h e a v e n ' s s a k e , if you h a v e n o b e t t e r o p i n i o n of my c o n s t a n c y , pay not s o ill a c o m p l i m e n t to my t a s t e . LETITIA D i d I not s e e you w h i s p e r her to-day? DIMPLE Possibly I m i g h t — b u t s o m e t h i n g of s o very trifling a n a t u r e , t h a t I have already forgot w h a t it w a s . LETITIA I b e l i e v e , s h e h a s not forgot it. DIMPLE M y d e a r c r e a t u r e , h o w c a n you for a m o m e n t s u p p o s e I s h o u l d have a n y s e r i o u s t h o u g h t s of that trifling, gay, flighty c o q u e t t e , that disagreeable— [Enter C H A R L O T T E . ] DIMPLE M y d e a r M i s s M a n l y , I rejoice to s e e y o u ; t h e r e is a c h a r m in y o u r c o n v e r s a t i o n t h a t always m a r k s your e n t r a n c e into c o m p a n y a s f o r t u n a t e . LETITIA W h e r e h a v e you b e e n , my d e a r ? MANLY

6 . I.e., the marriage been publicly announced.

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W h y , I h a v e b e e n a b o u t to twenty s h o p s , t u r n i n g over pretty t h i n g s , a n d s o h a v e left twenty visits u n p a i d . I w i s h y o u w o u l d s t e p into the c a r r i a g e a n d w h i s k r o u n d , m a k e my a p o l o g y , a n d leave m y c a r d s w h e r e o u r friends a r e n o t at h o m e ; t h a t you k n o w will s e r v e a s a visit. C o m e , do go. LETITIA S O a n x i o u s to g e t m e o u t ! b u t I'll w a t c h y o u . [Aside.] O h ! y e s , I'll g o ; I w a n t a little e x e r c i s e . — P o s i t i v e l y [ D I M P L E offering to accompany her], M r . D i m p l e , y o u shall not g o , why, h a l f m y visits a r e c a k e a n d c a u d l e 7 visits; it won't d o , you k n o w , for you to g o . — [Exit, hut returns to the door in the back scene and listens.] DIMPLE T h i s a t t a c h m e n t of y o u r b r o t h e r to M a r i a is f o r t u n a t e . CHARLOTTE H O W did you c o m e to the k n o w l e d g e o f it? DIMPLE I r e a d it in their e y e s . CHARLOTTE A n d I h a d it f r o m her m o u t h . It w o u l d h a v e a m u s e d y o u to have s e e n her! S h e that t h o u g h t it s o g r e a t a n i m p r o p r i e t y to p r a i s e a g e n t l e m a n , t h a t s h e c o u l d not b r i n g o u t o n e w o r d in your favor, f o u n d a r e d u n d a n c y to p r a i s e h i m . DIMPLE I h a v e d o n e everything in my p o w e r to a s s i s t his p a s s i o n t h e r e : y o u r d e l i c a c y , m y d e a r e s t girl, w o u l d b e s h o c k e d at h a l f t h e i n s t a n c e s of neglect and misbehavior. CHARLOTTE I don't k n o w h o w I s h o u l d b e a r n e g l e c t ; b u t M r . D i m p l e m u s t m i s b e h a v e h i m s e l f i n d e e d , to forfeit my g o o d o p i n i o n . DIMPLE Y o u r g o o d o p i n i o n , m y a n g e l , is t h e p r i d e a n d p l e a s u r e of my h e a r t ; a n d if the m o s t r e s p e c t f u l t e n d e r n e s s for y o u a n d a n utter indiff e r e n c e for all y o u r sex b e s i d e s , c a n m a k e m e w o r t h y o f y o u r e s t e e m , I shall richly merit it. CHARLOTTE All m y sex b e s i d e s , M r . D i m p l e — y o u forgot y o u r tete-d-tete8 with L e t i t i a . DIMPLE H o w c a n y o u , m y lovely a n g e l , c a s t a t h o u g h t o n t h a t i n s i p i d , wrym o u t h e d , ugly c r e a t u r e ! CHARLOTTE But her fortune may have c h a r m s ? DIMPLE N o t to a h e a r t like m i n e . T h e m a n w h o h a s b e e n b l e s s e d with the g o o d o p i n i o n of m y C h a r l o t t e , m u s t d e s p i s e t h e a l l u r e m e n t s of fortune. CHARLOTTE I a m satisfied. DIMPLE L e t u s t h i n k no m o r e o n t h e o d i o u s s u b j e c t , b u t d e v o t e t h e p r e s e n t h o u r to h a p p i n e s s . CHARLOTTE C a n I b e h a p p y , w h e n I s e e t h e m a n I p r e f e r g o i n g to b e m a r r i e d to a n o t h e r ? DIMPLE H a v e I not a l r e a d y satisfied my c h a r m i n g a n g e l t h a t I c a n never think of m a r r y i n g t h e p u l i n g M a r i a . B u t , even if it w e r e s o , c o u l d t h a t b e a n y b a r to o u r h a p p i n e s s ; for, a s the p o e t s i n g s —

CHARLOTTE

L o v e , free a s air, at sight of h u m a n ties, S p r e a d s his light wings, a n d in a m o m e n t flies. 9 C o m e t h e n , my c h a r m i n g a n g e l ! w h y d e l a y o u r b l i s s ! T h e m o m e n t is o u r s ; the next is in the h a n d o f f a t e . [Kissing her.] 7. Warm ale or wine, mixed with bread, sugar, eggs, and spices. 8. Private conversation of two people.

present

9. "Eloisa to Abelard" ( 1 7 1 7 ) , lines 7 5 - 7 6 , by Alexander Pope, British poet.

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B e g o n e , Sir! By your d e l u s i o n s you h a d a l m o s t lulled my h o n our asleep. DIMPLE L e t m e lull the d e m o n to s l e e p a g a i n with k i s s e s . [He struggles with her; she screams.] [Enter M A N L Y . ] MANLY T u r n , villain! a n d d e f e n d y o u r s e l f . — [Draws, V A N R O U G H enters and beats down their swords.] VAN R O U G H I S the devil in y o u ? a r e you g o i n g to m u r d e r o n e a n o t h e r ? [Holding D I M P L E . ] DIMPLE H o l d h i m , hold h i m , — I c a n c o m m a n d my p a s s i o n . [Enter J O N A T H A N . ] JONATHAN W h a t a r e the rattle ails y o u ? Is the old o n e 1 in y o u ? L e t the c o l o n e l a l o n e , c a n ' t y o u ? I feel c h o c k full of fight,—do you w a n t to kill the c o l o n e l ? — MANLY B e still, J o n a t h a n ; the g e n t l e m a n d o e s not w a n t to h u r t m e . JONATHAN G o r ! I — I w i s h h e d i d ; I'd s h e w h i m Y a n k e e boys play, pretty q u i c k — D o n ' t y o u s e e y o u h a v e f r i g h t e n e d the y o u n g w o m a n into the hystrikes2 VAN R O U G H Pray, s o m e of you explain t h i s ; w h a t h a s b e e n t h e o c c a s i o n o f all this r a c k e t ? MANLY T h a t g e n t l e m a n c a n explain it to y o u ; it will b e a very diverting story for a n i n t e n d e d father-in-law to h e a r . VAN R O U G H H o w w a s this m a t t e r , M r . V a n D u m p l i n g ? DIMPLE Sir, u p o n my h o n o r — a l l I k n o w is, t h a t I w a s talking to this y o u n g lady, a n d this g e n t l e m a n b r o k e in o n u s , in a very e x t r a o r d i n a r y m a n n e r . VAN R O U G H W h y , all this is n o t h i n g to t h e p u r p o s e : c a n you explain it, M i s s ? [To C H A R L O T T E . ] [Enter L E T I T I A through the back scene.]* LETITIA I c a n explain it to t h a t g e n t l e m a n ' s c o n f u s i o n . T h o u g h l o n g b e t r o t h e d to y o u r d a u g h t e r [to V A N R O U G H ] , yet a l l u r e d by my f o r t u n e , it s e e m s (with s h a m e d o I s p e a k it), h e h a s privately p a i d his a d d r e s s e s to m e . I w a s d r a w n in to listen to h i m by his a s s u r i n g m e that the m a t c h w a s m a d e by his father w i t h o u t his c o n s e n t , a n d t h a t h e p r o p o s e d to b r e a k with M a r i a , w h e t h e r h e m a r r i e d m e or not. B u t w h a t e v e r w e r e his i n t e n t i o n s r e s p e c t i n g your d a u g h t e r , Sir, e v e n to m e h e w a s f a l s e ; for h e h a s r e p e a t e d the s a m e story, with s o m e cruel reflections u p o n my p e r s o n , to M i s s M a n l y . JONATHAN W h a t a tarnal c u r s e ! LETITIA N o r is this all, M i s s M a n l y . W h e n h e w a s with m e this very m o r n ing, h e m a d e t h e s a m e u n g e n e r o u s r e f l e c t i o n s u p o n t h e w e a k n e s s of y o u r m i n d a s h e h a s s o recently d o n e u p o n the d e f e c t s o f my p e r s o n . JONATHAN W h a t a tarnal c u r s e a n d d a m n too! DIMPLE H a ! s i n c e I h a v e lost L e t i t i a , I believe I h a d a s g o o d m a k e it u p wdth M a r i a — M r . V a n R o u g h , at p r e s e n t I c a n n o t e n t e r into p a r t i c u l a r s ; b u t , I believe I c a n explain everything to y o u r s a t i s f a c t i o n in p r i v a t e . VAN R O U G H T h e r e is a n o t h e r m a t t e r , M r . V a n D u m p l i n g , w h i c h I w o u l d CHARLOTTE

1. I.e., the devil. 2. Awkward pronunciation of hysterics.

3. I.e., from the rear of the acting area.

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h a v e you e x p l a i n : — p r a y , Sir, h a v e M e s s r s . V a n C a s h a n d C o . p r e s e n t e d you t h o s e bills for a c c e p t a n c e ? DIMPLE T h e d e u c e ! H a s h e h e a r d o f t h o s e bills! N a y , t h e n , all's u p with M a r i a , t o o ; b u t a n affair of this sort c a n never p r e j u d i c e m e a m o n g the l a d i e s ; they will r a t h e r l o n g to k n o w w h a t t h e d e a r c r e a t u r e p o s s e s s e s to m a k e h i m s o a g r e e a b l e . [Aside.] Sir, you'll h e a r f r o m m e . [To M A N L Y . ] MANLY A n d you from m e , S i r . — DIMPLE Sir, you w e a r a s w o r d . — MANLY Y e s , S i r : — T h i s s w o r d w a s p r e s e n t e d to m e by t h a t brave G a l l i c h e r o , t h e M a r q u i s D e L a F a y e t t e . 4 I h a v e d r a w n it in t h e s e r v i c e of my c o u n t r y , a n d in private life, o n t h e only o c c a s i o n w h e r e a m a n is j u s t i f i e d in d r a w i n g his s w o r d , in d e f e n c e of a lady's h o n o r . I h a v e f o u g h t t o o m a n y b a t t l e s in t h e s e r v i c e of m y c o u n t r y to d r e a d t h e i m p u t a t i o n o f c o w a r d i c e . — D e a t h from a m a n of h o n o r w o u l d b e a glory you d o n o t merit; you shall live to b e a r t h e insult of m a n , a n d t h e c o n t e m p t of that sex, w h o s e g e n e r a l s m i l e s a f f o r d e d y o u all y o u r h a p p i n e s s . DIMPLE Y O U won't m e e t m e , S i r ? — T h e n I'll p o s t y o u 5 a c o w a r d . MANLY I'll v e n t u r e t h a t , S i r . — T h e r e p u t a t i o n of m y life d o e s not d e p e n d u p o n t h e b r e a t h of a M r . D i m p l e . I w o u l d h a v e y o u to k n o w , however, Sir, that I h a v e a c a n e to c h a s t i s e t h e i n s o l e n c e o f a s c o u n d r e l , a n d a s w o r d a n d t h e g o o d laws o f my c o u n t r y , to p r o t e c t m e f r o m t h e a t t e m p t s of a n a s s a s s i n . — DIMPLE M i g h t y well! Very fine, i n d e e d ! — l a d i e s a n d g e n t l e m e n , I t a k e my leave, a n d you will p l e a s e to o b s e r v e , in t h e c a s e of my d e p o r t m e n t , t h e c o n t r a s t b e t w e e n a g e n t l e m a n , w h o h a s r e a d C h e s t e r f i e l d a n d received t h e p o l i s h of E u r o p e , a n d a n u n p o l i s h e d , u n t r a v e l e d A m e r i c a n . [Exit.] [Enter M A R I A . ] MARIA IS he indeed g o n e ? — LETITIA I h o p e n eve r to r e t u r n . VAN R O U G H I a m g l a d I h e a r d of t h o s e bills; t h o u g h it's p l a g u y u n l u c k y ; I h o p e d to s e e M a r y m a r r i e d b e f o r e I d i e d . MANLY Will you p e r m i t a g e n t l e m a n , Sir, to offer h i m s e l f a s a s u i t o r to your d a u g h t e r ? T h o u g h a s t r a n g e r to y o u , h e is not a l t o g e t h e r s o to her, or u n k n o w n in this city. You m a y find a s o n - i n - l a w of m o r e f o r t u n e , b u t you c a n n ever m e e t with o n e w h o is r i c h e r in love for her, or r e s p e c t for you. VAN R O U G H W h y , M a r y , you h a v e not let this g e n t l e m a n m a k e love t o 6 you w i t h o u t my leave? MANLY I did not say, S i r — MARIA S a y , S i r ! — I — t h e g e n t l e m a n , to b e s u r e , m e t m e a c c i d e n t a l l y . VAN R O U G H H a , h a , h a ! M a r k m e , M a r y ; y o u n g folks t h i n k old folks to b e f o o l s ; b u t old folks k n o w y o u n g folks to b e f o o l s . — W h y , I k n e w all a b o u t this a f f a i r : — T h i s w a s only a c u n n i n g w a y I h a d to b r i n g it a b o u t — H a r k ye! I w a s in t h e c l o s e t w h e n you a n d h e w e r e at o u r h o u s e . [Twrws to the company.] I h e a r d t h a t little b a g g a g e say s h e loved h e r old f a t h e r , a n d w o u l d die to m a k e h i m h a p p y ! O h ! h o w I loved t h e little b a g g a g e ! — A n d you t a l k e d very p r u d e n t l y , y o u n g m a n . I h a v e i n q u i r e d i n t o y o u r char4. French statesman and genera] who fought with the Continental Army in 1780 and 1 7 8 1 .

5. I.e., denounce you as. 6. I.e., court.

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a c t e r , a n d find you to b e a m a n of p u n c t u a l i t y a n d m i n d the m a i n c h a n c e . A n d s o , a s you love M a r y , a n d M a r y loves y o u , you shall have my c o n s e n t i m m e d i a t e l y to be m a r r i e d . I'll settle my f o r t u n e on y o u , a n d g o a n d live with you the r e m a i n d e r of my life. MANLY Sir, I h o p e — VAN R O U G H C o m e , c o m e , no fine s p e e c h e s ; m i n d the m a i n c h a n c e , y o u n g m a n , a n d you a n d I shall always a g r e e . LETITIA I sincerely w i s h you j o y [advancing to M A R I A ] ; a n d h o p e your pard o n for my c o n d u c t . MARIA I t h a n k you for y o u r c o n g r a t u l a t i o n s , a n d h o p e w e shall at o n c e forget the wretch w h o h a s given u s s o m u c h d i s q u i e t , a n d the t r o u b l e that he has occasioned. CHARLOTTE A n d I, my d e a r M a r i a , — h o w shall I look u p to you for forg i v e n e s s ? I, w h o , in the p r a c t i c e of the m e a n e s t a r t s , h a v e violated the m o s t s a c r e d rights of f r i e n d s h i p ? I c a n never forgive myself, or h o p e charity f r o m the world, b u t I c o n f e s s I h a v e m u c h to h o p e f r o m s u c h a brother! a n d I a m h a p p y that I m a y s o o n say, s u c h a s i s t e r . — MARIA M y d e a r , you d i s t r e s s m e ; you have all my love. MANLY And mine. CHARLOTTE If r e p e n t a n c e c a n entitle m e to f o r g i v e n e s s , I have a l r e a d y m u c h merit; for I d e s p i s e the littleness of my p a s t c o n d u c t . I n o w find, that the heart of a n y worthy m a n c a n n o t b e g a i n e d by invidious a t t a c k s u p o n the rights a n d c h a r a c t e r s of o t h e r s ; — b y c o u n t e n a n c i n g the a d d r e s s e s o f a t h o u s a n d ; — o r that the finest a s s e m b l a g e of f e a t u r e s , the g r e a t e s t t a s t e in d r e s s , the g e n t e e l e s t a d d r e s s , or the m o s t brilliant wit, c a n n o t eventually s e c u r e a c o q u e t t e from c o n t e m p t a n d r i d i c u l e . MANLY A n d I h a v e l e a r n e d that probity, v i r t u e , h o n o r , t h o u g h they s h o u l d not h a v e r e c e i v e d the p o l i s h of E u r o p e , will s e c u r e to a n h o n e s t A m e r i c a n the g o o d g r a c e s of his fair c o u n t r y w o m a n , a n d , I h o p e , the a p p l a u s e of THE

PUBLIC.

[curtain]

1787, 1790

BRITON fl.

HAMMON 1760

We tend to associate Indian captivity narratives with Puritan colonists in New England, but Briton Hammon's account of his capture and incarceration challenges this preconception. The title page of his Narrative of the Uncommon Sufferings, and Surprizing Deliverance (1760) reveals not only that he is "a Negro Man," and thus that Native Americans were quite as willing to capture African Americans if opportunity arose, but also that he was captured in Florida, which indicates that captivity could occur anywhere along the Atlantic coast. However, save for one line on the title page announcing his condition, "Servant to General Winslow, of Marshfield, in

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New England," Hammon's Narrative gives no other clue to his heritage. Published in Boston in 1760, in its day the pamphlet was but another example of the kind of story that since the 1680s had fascinated readers who often lived under the threat of Indian captivity. But for modern readers Hammon's account is not only a geographically atypical example of its genre but also the first known autobiographical text by an African American. All that we know of Hammon we learn from his Narrative. Securing permission from General Winslow to work on a ship bound for Jamaica, presumably under the condition that some of his salary go to his master, he sailed from Plymouth, Massachusetts, in 1747. On the return the ship went aground on a reef off Florida. Ordered ashore, he and several other crewmen were subsequently attacked and captured by Native Americans. After five weeks in captivity, Hammon was rescued by the crew of a Spanish ship and brought to Havana. His troubles were not over, however, for there he was jailed for several years because he refused service on Spanish vessels. Eventually he got aboard an English vessel and was carried to Jamaica and thence to London, where he continued to work in the sea trades. Serendipitously, one day he discovered that he was on the same boat with his old master, General Winslow. After returning with him to Boston, he provided an account of his tribulations (probably at Winslow's suggestion) to a public eager to hear of such adventures. Along with its details of captivity, Hammon's Narrative offers a striking example of life along what historians have come to call the Atlantic Rim, the transatlantic coasts along which thousands of slaves, servants, and common laborers—"hewers of wood and drawers of water," as they were known—expedited the trade on which nations enlarged their treasuries and empires. Hammon's trip to the Caribbean on a coasting vessel to secure "logwood," extended as it was by lengthy imprisonment in Cuba and subsequent work in "the King's service" during what in Europe was called the Seven Years' War, outlines a shadowy world whose parameters are only now being explored by historians. A pioneering example of African American autobiography, Hammon's Narrative also marks the beginning of a literature associated with an emergent class consciousness.

Narrative of the U n c o m m o n Sufferings, and Surprizing Deliverance of Briton H a m m o n , a N e g r o M a n 1 T o the B e a d e r , As my Capacities and Condition of Life are very low, it cannot be expected that I should make those Remarks on the Sufferings I have met with, or the kind Providence of a good GOD for my Preservation, as one in a higher Station; but shall leave that to the Reader as he goes along, and so I shall only relate Matters of Fact as they occur to my Mind— O n M o n d a y , 2 5 t h Day of December, 1 7 4 7 , with the leave of my M a s t e r , I went from Marshfield,2 with a n Intention to go a V o y a g e to S e a , a n d the next D a y , the 2 6 t h , got to Plymouth, w h e r e I i m m e d i a t e l y ship'd myself on b o a r d of a S l o o p , C a p t . John Howland, M a s t e r , b o u n d to Jamaica a n d the Bay.—We sailed from Plymouth in a short T i m e , a n d after a p l e a s a n t P a s s a g e of a b o u t 3 0 D a y s , arrived at Jamaica; we w a s detain'd at Jamaica only 5 D a y s , 1. T h e text is from the first edition of Narrative of the Uncommon Sufferings, and Surprizing Deliv-

erance of Briton Hammon, a Negro Man (1760). 2. Town on the south shore of M a s s a c h u s e t t s .

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from w h e n c e we sailed for the Bay, where we arrived s a f e in 10 D a y s . W e l o a d e d our V e s s e l with L o g w o o d , a n d sailed from the Bay the 2 5 t h D a y of May following, a n d the 1 5th Day of June, we were c a s t away o n Cave-Florida, a b o u t 5 L e a g u e s from the S h o r e ; being now d e s t i t u t e of every H e l p , we knew not what to do or what C o u r s e to take in this our s a d C o n d i t i o n : — T h e C a p t a i n w a s advised, intreated, a n d beg*d o n , by every P e r s o n on b o a r d , to heave over but only 2 0 T o n of the Wood, a n d we s h o u l d get clear, which if he h a d d o n e , might have sav'd his V e s s e l a n d C a r g o , a n d not only s o , but his own Life, a s well a s the Lives of the M a t e a n d N i n e H a n d s , a s I shall presently relate. After b e i n g u p o n this R e e f two D a y s , the C a p t a i n order'd the B o a t to be hoisted out, a n d then ask'd w h o were willing to tarry on b o a r d ? T h e whole C r e w w a s for g o i n g on S h o r e at this T i m e , but a s the B o a t w o u l d not carry 12 P e r s o n s at o n c e , a n d to prevent a n y U n e a s i n e s s , the C a p t a i n , a P a s s e n g e r , a n d o n e H a n d tarry'd o n b o a r d , while the M a t e , with S e v e n H a n d s b e s i d e s myself, were order'd to go on S h o r e in the B o a t , which a s s o o n a s we h a d r e a c h e d , o n e half were to be L a n d e d , a n d the other four to return to the S l o o p , to fetch the C a p t a i n a n d the others on S h o r e . T h e C a p t a i n order'd u s to take with u s our A r m s , A m m u n i t i o n , Provisions a n d N e c e s s a r i e s for C o o k i n g , a s a l s o a Sail to m a k e a T e n t of, to shelter u s from the W e a t h e r ; after having left the S l o o p we s t o o d towards the S h o r e , a n d b e i n g within T w o L e a g u e s of the s a m e , we espy'd a N u m b e r of C a n o e s , which we at first took to be R o c k s , but s o o n f o u n d our M i s t a k e , for we perceiv'd they m o v e d towards u s ; we presently saw a n E n g l i s h C o l o u r hoisted in o n e of the C a n o e s , at the Sight of which we were not a little rejoiced, but on our a d v a n c i n g yet nearer, we f o u n d t h e m , to our very great S u r p r i z e , to be Indians of which there were Sixty; b e i n g now so near t h e m we c o u l d not possibly m a k e our E s c a p e ; they s o o n c a m e u p with a n d b o a r d e d u s , took away all our A r m s [ , ] A m m u n i t i o n , a n d Provision. T h e whole N u m b e r of C a n o e s ( b e i n g a b o u t Twenty,) then m a d e for the S l o o p , except T w o which they left to g u a r d u s , w h o order'd u s to follow on with t h e m ; the E i g h t e e n which m a d e for the S l o o p , went so m u c h faster than we that they got on b o a r d a b o v e T h r e e H o u r s before we c a m e a l o n g s i d e , a n d h a d kill'd C a p t a i n Howland, the P a s s e n g e r a n d the other h a n d ; we c a m e to the L a r b o a r d side of the S l o o p , a n d they order'd u s r o u n d to the S t a r b o a r d , a n d a s we were p a s s i n g r o u n d the B o w , we s a w the w h o l e N u m b e r of Indians, a d v a n c i n g forward a n d loading their G u n s , u p o n which the M a t e s a i d , "my Lads we are all dead men," a n d before we h a d got r o u n d , they d i s c h a r g e d their S m a l l A r m s u p o n u s , a n d kill'd T h r e e of our h a n d s , viz. Reuben Young of Cape-Cod, M a t e ; Joseph Little a n d Lemuel Doty of Plymouth, u p o n which I immediately j u m p ' d o v e r b o a r d , c h u s i n g rather to be d r o w n e d , than to be kill'd by t h o s e b a r b a r o u s a n d inhum a n S a v a g e s . In three or four M i n u t e s after, I heard a n o t h e r Volley which Rich, both d i s p a t c h e d the other five, viz. John Nowland, a n d Nathaniel b e l o n g i n g to Plymouth, a n d Elkanah Collymore, a n d James Webb, S t r a n g e r s , a n d Moses Newmock, M o l a t t o . As s o o n a s they h a d kill'd the w h o l e of the P e o p l e , o n e of the C a n o e s p a d l e d after m e , a n d s o o n c a m e u p with m e , hawled m e into the C a n o e , a n d beat m e m o s t terribly with a C u t l a s s , after that they ty'd m e d o w n , then this C a n o e stood for the S l o o p again a n d as s o o n a s s h e c a m e a l o n g s i d e , the Indians on b o a r d the S l o o p betook t h e m selves to their C a n o e s , then set the Vessel on Fire, m a k i n g a p r o d i g i o u s

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s h o u t i n g a n d hallowing like s o m a n y Devils. As s o o n a s the V e s s e l w a s b u r n t d o w n to the W a t e r ' s e d g e , the Indians s t o o d for the S h o r e , together with our B o a t , on b o a r d of which they p u t 5 h a n d s . After we c a m e to the S h o r e , they led m e to their H u t t s , w h e r e I e x p e c t e d n o t h i n g but i m m e d i a t e D e a t h , a n d a s they s p o k e b r o k e n E n g l i s h , were often telling m e , while c o m i n g from the S l o o p to the S h o r e , that they i n t e n d e d to r o a s t m e alive. B u t the P r o v i d e n c e of G o d order'd it o t h e r w a y s , for H e a p p e a r e d for my H e l p , in this Mount of Difficulty, a n d they w e r e better to m e then my F e a r s , a n d s o o n u n b o u n d m e , but set a G u a r d over m e every N i g h t . T h e y kept m e with t h e m a b o u t five W e e k s , d u r i n g which T i m e they us'd m e pretty well, a n d gave m e boil'd C o r n , which w a s w h a t they often eat t h e m s e l v e s . T h e W a y I m a d e my E s c a p e from these Villains w a s this; A S p a n i s h S c h o o n e r arriving there from St. Augustine,3 the M a s t e r of w h i c h , w h o s e N a m e w a s Romond, a s k e d the Indians to let m e go on b o a r d his V e s s e l , w h i c h they g r a n t e d , a n d the C a p t a i n 4 k n o w i n g m e very well, weigh'd A n c h o r a n d carry'd m e off to the Havanna, a n d after b e i n g there four D a y s the Indians c a m e after m e , a n d insisted o n h a v i n g m e a g a i n , a s I w a s their P r i s o n e r ; — T h e y m a d e A p p l i c a t i o n to the G o v e r n o r , a n d d e m a n d e d m e a g a i n from h i m ; in a n s w e r to w h i c h the G o v e r n o r told t h e m , that a s they h a d p u t the w h o l e C r e w to D e a t h , they s h o u l d not have m e a g a i n , a n d s o p a i d t h e m T e n Dollars for m e , a d d i n g , that h e w o u l d not have t h e m kill any P e r s o n hereafter, b u t take a s m a n y of t h e m a s they c o u l d , of t h o s e that s h o u l d b e c a s t away, a n d bring t h e m to h i m , for w h i c h h e would pay t h e m T e n Dollars a - h e a d . At the Havanna I lived with the G o v e r n o r in the C a s t l e a b o u t a T w e l v e - m o n t h , w h e r e I w a s walking thro' the S t r e e t , I m e t with a P r e s s - G a n g 5 w h o i m m e d i a t e l y p r e s t m e , a n d p u t m e into G o a l , a n d with a N u m b e r of others I w a s confin'd till next M o r n i n g , w h e n we were all b r o u g h t out, a n d ask'd w h o w o u l d g o o n b o a r d the King's S h i p s , four of which having b e e n lately built, were b o u n d to Old-Spain, a n d o n my refusing to serve on b o a r d , they p u t m e in a c l o s e D u n g e o n , w h e r e I w a s confin'd Four Years and seven months; d u r i n g w h i c h T i m e I often m a d e a p p l i c a t i o n to the G o v e r n o r , by P e r s o n s w h o c a m e to s e e the P r i s o n e r s , b u t they never a c q u a i n t e d him with it, nor did he k n o w all this T i m e w h a t b e c a m e of m e , w h i c h w a s the m e a n s of my b e i n g confin'd there s o long. B u t kind P r o v i d e n c e s o order'd it, that after I h a d b e e n in this P l a c e s o l o n g a s the T i m e m e n t i o n ' d a b o v e the C a p t a i n of a M e r c h a n t m a n , b e l o n g i n g to Boston, h a v i n g s p r u n g a L e a k w a s obliged to p u t into the Havanna to refit, a n d while h e w a s at D i n n e r at M r s . Betty Howard's, she told the C a p t a i n of my d e p l o r a b l e C o n d i t i o n , a n d said s h e w o u l d be g l a d , if h e c o u l d by s o m e m e a n s or other relieve m e ; T h e C a p t a i n told M r s . Howard he w o u l d u s e his b e s t E n d e a v o u r s for my Relief a n d E n l a r g e m e n t . Accordingly, after D i n n e r , c a m e to the P r i s o n , a n d ask'd the K e e p e r if h e might s e e m e ; u p o n his R e q u e s t I w a s b r o u g h t o u t of the D u n g e o n , a n d after the C a p t a i n h a d Interrogated m e , told m e , h e w o u l d i n t e r c e d e with the Governor for my Relief o u t of that m i s e r a b l e P l a c e , w h i c h h e did, a n d the next Day the G o v e r n o r sent a n O r d e r to r e l e a s e m e ; I lived with the G o v e r n o r a b o u t a Year after I w a s delivered from the D u n g e o n , in w h i c h T i m e I endeav3. Seaport on the northeast coast of Florida. 4. T h e Way I c a m e to know this Gentleman was, by his being taken last War by an English Privateer, and brought into Jamaica, while 1 was there [Ham-

mon's note]. 5. Men charged with finding able-bodied men who were forced to serve the king's navy, particularly in times of war.

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our'd three T i m e s to m a k e my E s c a p e , the last of w h i c h proved effectual; the first T i m e I got on b o a r d of C a p t a i n Marsh, a n English T w e n t y G u n S h i p , with a N u m b e r of o t h e r s , a n d lay on b o a r d c o n c e a l ' d that N i g h t ; a n d the next D a y the S h i p b e i n g u n d e r sail, I t h o u g h t myself s a f e , a n d s o m a d e my A p p e a r a n c e u p o n D e c k , but a s s o o n a s we were d i s c o v e r e d the C a p t a i n o r d e r e d the B o a t out, a n d sent u s all on S h o r e — I intreated the C a p t a i n to let m e , in particular, tarry o n b o a r d , begging, a n d crying to h i m , to c o m m i s erate my u n h a p p y C o n d i t i o n , a n d a d d e d , that I h a d b e e n confin'd a l m o s t five Years in a close D u n g e o n , b u t the C a p t a i n w o u l d not h e a r k e n to any Intreaties, for fear of having the Governor's D i s p l e a s u r e , a n d s o w a s obliged to g o on S h o r e . After b e i n g on S h o r e a n o t h e r Twelve m o n t h , I e n d e a v o u r ' d to m a k e my E s c a p e the s e c o n d T i m e , by trying to get on b o a r d of a S l o o p b o u n d to Jamaica, a n d a s I w a s g o i n g from the City to the S l o o p , w a s u n h a p p i l y t a k e n by the G u a r d , a n d o r d e r e d b a c k to the C a s t l e , a n d there c o n f i n e d . — H o w ever, in a short T i m e I w a s set at Liberty, a n d order'd with a N u m b e r of others to carry t h e 6 Bishop from the C a s t l e , thro' the C o u n t r y , to confirm the old P e o p l e , baptize C h i l d r e n , & c . for which he receives large S u m s of M o n e y . — I w a s employ'd in this S e r v i c e a b o u t S e v e n M o n t h s , d u r i n g which T i m e I lived very well, a n d then returned to the C a s t l e a g a i n , w h e r e I h a d my Liberty to walk a b o u t the City, a n d d o W o r k for my s e l f ; — T h e Beaver, a n English M a n of W a r then lay in the H a r b o u r , a n d having b e e n i n f o r m e d by s o m e of the S h i p ' s C r e w that she w a s to sail in a few D a y s , I h a d n o t h i n g now to d o , but to s e e k a n O p p o r t u n i t y how I s h o u l d m a k e my E s c a p e . Accordingly o n e S u n d a y N i g h t the L i e u t e n a n t of the S h i p with a N u m b e r of the B a r g e C r e w were in a T a v e r n , a n d M r s . Howard w h o h a d b e f o r e b e e n a F r i e n d to m e , i n t e r c e d e d with the L i e u t e n a n t to carry m e o n b o a r d : the L i e u t e n a n t said he would with all his H e a r t , a n d i m m e d i a t e l y I went o n b o a r d in the B a r g e . T h e next D a y the Spaniards c a m e a l o n g side the Beaver, a n d d e m a n d e d m e a g a i n , with a N u m b e r of others w h o h a d m a d e their E s c a p e from t h e m , a n d got on b o a r d the S h i p , but j u s t before I did; b u t the C a p t a i n , w h o w a s a true Englishman, refus'd t h e m , a n d said h e c o u l d not a n s w e r it, to deliver u p any Englishmen u n d e r English C o l o u r s . — I n a few D a y s w e set Sail for Jamaica, w h e r e we arrived s a f e , after a short a n d p l e a s a n t P a s s a g e . After b e i n g at Jamaica a short T i m e w e sail'd for London, a s convoy to a Fleet of M e r c h a n t m e n , w h o all arrived safe in the Downs,71 w a s t u r n e d over to a n o t h e r S h i p , the Arcenceil, a n d there r e m a i n e d a b o u t a M o n t h . F r o m this S h i p I went o n b o a r d the Sandwich of 9 0 G u n s ; on b o a r d the Sandwich, I tarry'd 6 W e e k s , a n d then w a s order'd on b o a r d the Hercules, C a p t . John Porter, a 7 4 G u n S h i p , we sail'd o n a C r u i z e , a n d m e t with a French 8 4 G u n S h i p , a n d h a d a very s m a r t E n g a g e m e n t , 8 in which a b o u t 7 0 of our H a n d s were kill'd a n d W o u n d e d , the C a p t a i n lost his L e g in the E n g a g e m e n t , a n d I w a s W o u n d e d in the H e a d by a small S h o t . W e s h o u l d have t a k e n this S h i p , if they h a d not c u t away the m o s t of our Rigging; however, in a b o u t three H o u r s after, a 6 4 G u n S h i p , c a m e u p with a n d took h e r . — I w a s disc h a r g e d from the Hercules the 1 2 t h D a y o f May 1 7 5 9 ( h a v i n g b e e n o n b o a r d 6. H e is carried (by Way of Respect) in a large Two-arm Chair; the Chair is lin'd with crimson Velvet, and supported by eight Persons [ H a m m o n ' s note].

7. Southeast coastal area of England, near Dover. 8. A particular Account of this Engagement, has been Publish'd in the Boston News-Papers [Hammon's note].

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of that S h i p 3 M o n t h s ) o n a c c o u n t of my b e i n g d i s a b l e d in the A r m , a n d render'd i n c a p a b l e of S e r v i c e , after b e i n g honorably paid the W a g e s d u e to m e . I w a s p u t into the Greenwich H o s p i t a l w h e r e I stay'd a n d s o o n recove r e d . — I then ship'd myself a C o o k on b o a r d C a p t a i n Martyn, a n a r m ' d S h i p in the King's S e r v i c e . I w a s on b o a r d this S h i p a l m o s t T w o M o n t h s , a n d after b e i n g paid my W a g e s , w a s discharg'd in the M o n t h of October.—After my d i s c h a r g e from C a p t a i n Martyn, I w a s t a k e n sick in London of a Fever, a n d w a s confin'd a b o u t 6 W e e k s , w h e r e I e x p e n d e d all my M o n e y , a n d left in very poor C i r c u m s t a n c e s ; a n d u n h a p p y for m e I knew n o t h i n g of my good Master's b e i n g in London at this my very difficult T i m e . After I got well of my s i c k n e s s , I ship'd myself on b o a r d of a large S h i p b o u n d to Guinea,'* a n d b e i n g in a p u b l i c k H o u s e o n e E v e n i n g , I overheard a N u m b e r of P e r s o n s talking a b o u t R i g g i n g a V e s s e l b o u n d to New-England, I ask'd t h e m to w h a t Part of New-England this V e s s e l w a s b o u n d ? they told m e , to Boston; a n d having ask'd t h e m w h o w a s C o m m a n d e r ? they told m e , C a p t . Watt; in a few M i n u t e s after this the M a t e of the S h i p c a m e in, a n d I ask'd him if C a p t a i n Watt did not want a C o o k , w h o told m e h e did, a n d that the C a p t a i n w o u l d b e in, in a few M i n u t e s ; a n d in a b o u t half a n H o u r the C a p t a i n c a m e in, a n d then I ship'd myself at o n c e , after b e g g i n g off from the S h i p b o u n d to Guinea; I work'd on b o a r d C a p t a i n Watt's S h i p a l m o s t T h r e e M o n t h s , before s h e sail'd, a n d o n e Day b e i n g at W o r k in the H o l d , 1 overheard s o m e P e r s o n s on b o a r d m e n t i o n the N a m e of Winslow, at the N a m e of w h i c h I w a s very inquisitive, a n d having ask'd what Winslow they were talking a b o u t ? T h e y told m e it w a s General Winslow; a n d that h e w a s o n e of the P a s s e n g e r s , I ask'd t h e m w h a t General Winslow? F o r 1 never knew my good Master, by that Title b e f o r e ; but after e n q u i r i n g m o r e particularly I f o u n d it m u s t b e Master, a n d in a few D a y s T i m e the T r u t h w a s joyfully verify'd by a h a p p y S i g h t of his P e r s o n , which s o o v e r c o m e m e , that I c o u l d not s p e a k to him for s o m e Time—My good Master w a s e x c e e d i n g glad to s e e m e , telling m e that I w a s like o n e a r o s e from the D e a d , for he t h o u g h t I h a d b e e n D e a d a great m a n y Y e a r s , having h e a r d n o t h i n g of m e for a l m o s t T h i r t e e n Y e a r s . I think I have not deviated from T r u t h , in any particular of this my Narrative, a n d t h o ' I have o m i t t e d a great m a n y T h i n g s , yet what is wrote may suffice to c o n v i n c e the R e a d e r , that I have b e e n m o s t grievously afflicted, a n d yet thro' the Divine G o o d n e s s , a s m i r a c u l o u s l y p r e s e r v e d , a n d delivered out of m a n y D a n g e r s ; of which I desire to retain a grateful Remembrance, as long a s I live in the W o r l d . ,. And now, That in the Providence of that GOD, who delivered his Servant David out of the Paw of the L i o n a n d out of the P a w of the B e a r , / am freed from a long and dreadful Captivity, a m o n g w o r s e S a v a g e s t h a n they; And am return d to my own Native L a n d , to S h e w how G r e a t T h i n g s the L o r d hoth d o n e for M e ; J would call upon all Men, and Say, O M a g n i f i e the L o r d with M e , a n d let u s Exalt his N a m e t o g e t h e r ! — O that M e n w o u l d P r a i s e the L o r d for His G o o d n e s s , a n d for his W o n d e r f u l W o r k s to the C h i l d r e n of M e n ! 1760

9. Country on the equatorial coast of West Africa, well known to slaving vessels.

American Literature 1820-1865 THE LITERARY HERITAGE OF THE YOUNG

REPUBLIC

E d u c a t e d A m e r i c a n s in the new R e p u b l i c were m o r e familiar with G r e e k a n d R o m a n history, a n d E u r o p e a n history a n d literature, than with A m e r i c a n writers of the colonial a n d Revolutionary e r a s . M a n y now-familiar works of early A m e r i c a n literature were not a c c e s s i b l e — s o m e still u n p u b l i s h e d ( E d w a r d Taylor's p o e m s ) , s o m e available only in i n c o m p l e t e texts ( B e n j a m i n Franklin's a u t o b i o g r a p h y ) , s o m e extremely rare ( C o t t o n M a t h e r ' s Magnalia Christi Americana, printed in L o n d o n in 1 7 0 2 , first printed in the U n i t e d S t a t e s in a s m a l l edition at Hartford in 1 8 2 0 , a n d not generally available until 1 8 5 3 ) . E d u c a t e d A m e r i c a n boys a n d s o m e girls l e a r n e d G r e e k a n d Latin literature in c h i l d h o o d — e p i c s , t r a g e d i e s , c o m e d i e s , p a s t o r a l p o e m s , histories, satires. T h e E n g l i s h - l a n g u a g e tradition that A m e r i c a n s s h a r e d , w h e t h e r N o r t h e r n e r s or S o u t h e r n e r s , w a s B r i t k k r j m s t i t i i t e d hy S p e n s e r V T j i e J ^ T i p Oweene.__Shakespeare's p l a y s ^ a n d Midori's Paradise Lost a s wglL_as eighteenth-centurv literature^includinp; e s s a y s by J o s e p h A d d i s o n , R i c h a r d Steele, S a m u e l Johnson, andtJfive?~GoTdsmith, and m u c h now-neglected poetry s u c h a s P o p e ' s The Dunciad, J a m e s T h o m s o n ' s The Seasons, a n d G o l d smith's The Deserted Village. D e s p i t e their political i n d e p e n d e n c e , A m e r i c a n s from M a i n e to G e o r g i a (the s o u t h e r n m o s t Atlantic s t a t e until Florida was a d m i t t e d to the union in 1 8 4 5 ) a c k n o w l e d g e d m u c h the s a m e literary c a n o n , a l t h o u g h the i n h a b i t a n t s ( r t t h e regions settled hv P u r i t a n s t e n d e d t n c h e r i s h the d i s s e n t e r J o h n B u n y a n ' s Pilgrim's Progress m o r e than literarym i n d e d S o u t h e r n e r s , w h o s e Colonial a n c e s t o r s r n " " » n f t p n had hplnngpd tn the C h u r c h of E n g l a n d . F u r t h e r m o r e , by the s e c o n d q u a r t e r of the n i n e t e e n t h century, after the w a r t i m e d i s r u p t i o n s to trade were over, A m e r i c a n s h a d q u i c k a c c e s s to c o n temporary British literature a n d criticism. C r o s s i n g the Atlantic o n sailing ships or s t e a m e r s , any b o o k or m a g a z i n e c o u l d be r e p u b l i s h e d , a m o n t h or less after its a p p e a r a n c e in L o n d o n , in the larger c o a s t a l c i t i e s — B o s t o n , N e w York, P h i l a d e l p h i a , a n d C h a r l e s t o n . V o l u m e s of poetry by the well-loved S c o t s poet Robert B u r n s a n d by the E n g l i s h R o m a n t i c s ( W o r d s w o r t h , C o l e ridge, Byron, M o o r e , Shelley, a n d K e a t s ) , then T e n n y s o n , a n d a little later Elizabeth Barrett a n d Robert B r o w n i n g were reprinted in the U n i t e d S t a t e s a l m o s t a s soon a s they a p p e a r e d in E n g l a n d . T h e great British quarterly reviews (which m a d e a point of j u d g i n g new literary works by fixed literary principles, thereby e x p o s i n g their readers to literary criticism written from a theoretical s t a n c e ) were reprinted even in s u c h inland cities a s Albany a n d 425

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18 2 0 - 1 865

C i n c i n n a t i in t h e 1 8 4 0 s . T h e better n e w s p a p e r s o f the s e a c o a s t cities h a d c o r r e s p o n d e n t s in E u r o p e a n c a p i t a l s s u c h a s L o n d o n a n d Paris, a n d the p o s t office initiated c h e a p m a i l i n g rates for printed m a t e r i a l . F r o m t h e 1 8 4 0 s o n w a r d , t h e network of railroads t r a n s p o r t e d b o o k s over the A p p a l a c h i a n s to the M i d w e s t . With g o o d r e a s o n , E m i l y D i c k i n s o n in her h o m e in A m h e r s t or William G i l m o r e S i m m s in h i s h o m e o u t s i d e C h a r l e s t o n c o u l d feel in t o u c h with the latest L o n d o n literary n e w s . G e n d e r differences in literary k n o w l e d g e were m o r e o b v i o u s than regional differences, for a t least into the m i d d l e o f the c e n t u r y efforts were m a d e to c e n s o r the r e a d i n g o f girls a n d y o u n g w o m e n . O n e s i m p l e way w a s to deny t h e m c l a s s i c a l e d u c a t i o n a n d thereby p r o t e c t t h e m J T o m _ s e x u a H y frank writings in G r e e k a n d L a t i n . S o m e w o m e n writers in this p e r i o d , notably C a r o l i n e KirkJand a n d M a r g a r e t Fuller, d i d receive informal c l a s s i c a l e d u c a t i o n s t h r o u g h t h e a i d o f fathers or b r o t h e r s ; s o m e m e n , i n c l u d i n g t h e workingc l a s s W a l t W h i t m a n a n d the well-born b u t i m p o v e r i s h e d H e r m a n Melville, received little formal e d u c a t i o n — F r e d e r i c k D o u g l a s s least o f all. W i t h i n e a c h social c l a s s , in g e n e r a l , however, fewer girls w e r e e d j j c ^ t e ^ t l i a r ^ b o y s , a n d c a r e w a s t a k e n to k e e p all y o u n g w o m e n away from E n g l i s h novels o f t h g j r e v i o u s c e n t u r y t h a t m i g h t p o l l u t e their m i n d s . A t thg_beginning o f the p e r i o d , fiction w a s generally held to i n f l a m e the i m a g i n a t i o n a n d p a s s i o n s of susceptihle_young r e a d e r s , especially_young w o m e n . In fact, m o v e m e n t s for w o m e n ' s e d u c a t i o n often s t r e s s e d that s e r i o u s l e a r n i n g w o u l d k e e p y o u n g girls away from novels. In h e r N e w E n g l a n d novels H a r r i e t B e e c h e r S t o w e e n u m e r a t e d t h e few b o o k s that a y o u n g w o m a n m i g h t have in her r o o m in the first d e c a d e s of the century: S a m u e l R i c h a r d s o n ' s S i r Charles Grandison, a b o u t a m o d e l g e n t l e m a n , w a s allowed, b u t not his s e d u c t i o n novel Clarissa. M a r g a r e t Fuller's conflicting feelings toward S i r W a l t e r S c o t t s p r a n g from her father's o p p o s i t i o n to her r e a d i n g novels a n d t a l e s , a n d even in the next generation E m i l y D i c k i n s o n r e a d fiction a g a i n s t h e r father's w i s h e s . Y o u n g m e n like D i c k i n s o n ' s brother were a l s o w a r n e d o f t h e evil effects novels might have o n their m o r a l s , b u t with less u r g e n c y . Still, in this p e r i o d even s u c h a n o w - s t a n d a r d British work a s J o n a t h a n Swift's Gulliver's Travels w a s available only in e x p u r g a t e d e d i t i o n s . M o r a l opposition t o fiction w a n e d r>iiei^tJw»-dwM»4^ .JWLjiAzac-nfH" dparFpyen at the o u t b r e a k of the Civil l

War. O t h e r s p e c i e s of writing were t h o u g h t to i n c u l c a t e the h i g h e s t civic virtues. F r o m the early years of the r e p u b l i c , m a n y w e l l - e d u c a t e d A m e r i c a n s believed that the n e w nation m u s t have its own national p o e m , a n d d o z e n s o f p o e m s of great length a n d s u r p a s s i n g d u l l n e s s were p u b l i s h e d . J o e l B a r l o w , o n e of the g r o u p of p o e t s k n o w n a s " t h e C o n n e c t i c u t W i t s " in p o s t - R e v o l u t i o n a r y A m e r i c a , in 1 8 0 7 p u b l i s h e d The Columhiad, m e a n t a s t h e epic p o e m of C o l u m b i a , t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , w h e r e h e might t e a c h t h e love o f national liberty a n d the d e p e n d e n c e o f g o o d m o r a l s a n d g o o d g o v e r n m e n t o n r e p u b lican p r i n c i p l e s . S i g n i n g h i s p r e f a c e in G r e a t C r o s s i n g , K e n t u c k y , in 1 8 2 7 , R i c h a r d E m m o n s n a m e d h i s f o u r - v o l u m e Fredoniad; or, Independence Preserved, an Epick Poem on the Late War of 1812 in h o n o r of h i s A m e r i c a n m u s e , t h e G o d d e s s o f F r e e d o m . T h r o u g h o u t t h e first h a l f o f the century, critics called for writers to c e l e b r a t e t h e n e w c o u n t r y in poetry or p r o s e , repeatedly g o i n g s o far a s to a d v i s e w o u l d - b e writers o n potentially fruitful s u b j e c t s s u c h a s A m e r i c a n Indian l e g e n d s , stories o f colonial b a t t l e s , a n d

INTRODUCTION

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c e l e b r a t i o n s of the A m e r i c a n Revolution ( a l t h o u g h o n e r e s p e c t e d literary theory held that writers would be better setting their works in a r e m o t e r p a s t , rather than a period s o n e a r to the p r e s e n t ) . Early calls for the e x i s t e n c e of an A m e r i c a n literature were altered by the popularity in the U n i t e d S t a t e s of Sir W a l t e r S c o t t , first a s the a u t h o r of widely read p o e m s s u c h a s The Lady of the Lake, t h e n , decisively, a s a historical novelist. After 1 8 1 4 , w h e n he p u b l i s h e d Waverley a n o n y m o u s l y , S c o t t p r o d u c e d a n e w novel a l m o s t every year. Until the secret of his a u t h o r s h i p w a s revealed in 1 8 2 6 , the novels were a s c r i b e d to " T h e a u t h o r of Waverley" or, by reviewers, to "the G r e a t U n k n o w n . " In the U n i t e d S t a t e s , w h e r e a n e w novel by the a u t h o r of Waverley w a s a l m o s t a national event, literary critics a n d aspiring novelists instantly s a w the a p p e a l of S c o t t ' s u s e of historical settings a n d his c r e a t i n g i m a g i n e d s c e n e s in which real historical p e o p l e intermingled with fictional c h a r a c t e r s . S c o t t ' s e x a m p l e not only m a d e the novel a r e s p e c t a b l e , even elevated, g e n r e , it h a d m u c h to d o with redirecting the literary efforts of a m b i t i o u s A m e r i c a n s from epic poetry toward p r o s e fiction. J a m e s F e n i m o r e C o o p e r h a d already written a novel in imitation of J a n e A u s t e n , b u t his s u c c e s s c a m e in the historical novel, after h e imitated S c o t t ' s The Pirate in The Spy ( 1 8 2 1 ) , w h e r e G e o r g e W a s h i n g t o n w a s a character. Lydia M a r i a F r a n c i s (later C h i l d ) b e g a n to write Hobomok ( 1 8 2 4 ) after r e a d i n g J . G . Palfrey's review of Yamoyden, " a metrical tale in six c a n t o s , after the m a n n e r of S c o t t " — m e a n i n g the poetry of S c o t t . B u t s h e h a d read the S c o t t novels a s they a p p e a r e d , a n d set Hobomok in s e v e n t e e n t h - c e n t u r y M a s s a c h u s e t t s , her equivalent of S c o t t ' s S c o t l a n d of a p r e v i o u s century. Following S c o t t a n d C o o p e r , C a t h a r i n e M a r i a S e d g w i c k in The Linwoods ( 1 8 3 5 ) b r o u g h t Revolutionary h e r o e s , i n c l u d i n g W a s h i n g t o n , into her plot a l o n g with fictional c h a r a c t e r s . F r o m a d o l e s c e n c e H a w t h o r n e w a s s t e e p e d in S c o t t , a n d Melville's r e a d i n g of S c o t t e m e r g e d as late a s his 1 8 7 6 epic p o e m , Clarel. In old a g e W a l t W h i t m a n lovingly d e s c r i b e d a b o o k he h a d c h e r i s h e d for fifty years, S c o t t ' s p o e m s , c o m p l e t e in o n e v o l u m e . B e f o r e the mid-century, w h e n every up-to-date A m e r i c a n read D i c k e n s , every literate A m e r i c a n read S c o t t , a n d all a p p e a l s for the creation of a great A m e r i c a n literature were infused with the k n o w l e d g e that S c o t t h a d invented a n infinitely a d a p t a b l e g e n r e of historical fiction. A n o t h e r a d a p t a b l e g e n r e w a s the p e r s o n a l travel book. T h e y o u n g American W a s h i n g t o n Irving h a d b e c o m e friends with the great W a l t e r S c o t t through his C e r v a n t e s - i n f l u e n c e d p a r o d i c History of New York ( 1 8 0 9 ) . Irving's The Sketch Book ( 1 8 1 9 - 2 0 ) w a s a p e c u l i a r intermingling of tales a n d highly p e r s o n a l e s s a y s in which the narrator, " G e o f f r e y C r a y o n , " w a s c o m p a r e d to a n idiosyncratic l a n d s c a p e p a i n t e r w h o travels E u r o p e s k e t c h i n g "in n o o k s , a n d c o r n e r s , a n d b y - p l a c e s , " but n e g l e c t i n g "to paint S t . Peter's, or the C o l i s e u m ; the c a s c a d e of T e r n i , or the bay of N a p l e s . " C a p t i v a t e d by the genial sensibility t h u s displayed, A m e r i c a n r e a d e r s a c k n o w l e d g e d Irving a s the first great writer of the U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d c h e r i s h e d The Sketch Book for d e c a d e s . H e n r y T . T u c k e r m a n ' s Italian Sketch Book ( 1 8 3 5 ) frankly imitated it, a n d N a t h a n i e l Parker Willis's Pencillings by the Way (1835—36) w a s m o d eled on it. In tone a n d s t r u c t u r e H e r m a n Melville's Redburn ( 1 8 4 9 ) w a s deeply i n d e b t e d to it. K n o w i n g that Willis h a d financed his travels in part by s e n d i n g letters h o m e to n e w s p a p e r s , the p e n n i l e s s y o u n g B a y a r d Taylor imitated his strategy in w h a t b e c a m e Views A-foot ( 1 8 4 6 ) ; a n d Willis w a s a l s o a

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1 8 2 0 - 1 8 6 5

m o d e l for C a r o l i n e Kirkland's Holidays Abroad ( 1 8 4 9 ) a n d L o u i s e C l a p p e ' s Residence in the Mines (the " D a m e S h i r l e y " letters, 1 8 5 4 ) . Melville's first two b o o k s , Typee ( 1 8 4 6 ) a n d Omoo ( 1 8 4 7 ) , p u r p o r t e d to b e a c c u r a t e a c c o u n t s of e x p e r i e n c e s in the M a r q u e s a s a n d Tahiti a n d were valued primarily a s s u c h . Similarly, C a r o l i n e Kirkland's two b o o k s on frontier M i c h i g a n , A New Home—Who'll Follow? ( 1 8 3 9 ) a n d Western Clearings (1845), were not only entertaining, but were v a l u e d a s useful s o u r c e s of general information for potential e m i g r a n t s . B a y a r d Taylor's letters h o m e from California in 1 8 4 9 a n d 1 8 5 0 , c o l l e c t e d in Eldorado ( 1 8 5 0 ) , were infused with b u o y a n t c h a r m , b u t his p u r p o s e w a s d o c u m e n t a r y : to let E a s t e r n e r s know what life w a s already like for the forty-niners a n d what they might experience if they t h e m s e l v e s s o u g h t their f o r t u n e s in C a l i f o r n i a . At W a l d e n P o n d outside C o n c o r d , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , Henry David T h o r e a u read Melville's first book, Typee, very soberly, a s a s o u r c e of a n t h r o p o l o g i c a l i n f o r m a t i o n a b o u t natives in the S o u t h S e a I s l a n d s . T h e n , in Walden, h e t u r n e d the travel g e n r e on its h e a d , a n n o u n c i n g that he w a s writing a travel b o o k himself, having traveled a g o o d deal in C o n c o r d . Exploring himself, T h o r e a u wrote the classic A m e r i c a n travel book.

THE SHIFTING

CANON

OF AMERICAN

WRITERS

A p a i n t i n g p o p u l a r d u r i n g the late n i n e t e e n t h century w a s C h r i s t i a n S c h u s sele's reverential Washington Irving and His Literary Friends at Sunnyside. W o r k i n g in 1 8 6 3 , four years after Irving's d e a t h , S c h u s s e l e portrayed a n u m b e r of elegantly clad n o t a b l e s in Irving's small study in his G o t h i c c o t t a g e - c a s t l e o n the H u d s o n River, north of N e w York City. A m o n g t h e m were several writers w h o s e works a p p e a r in this anthology: Irving himself, N a t h a n i e l H a w t h o r n e , Henry W a d s w o r t h Longfellow, R a l p h W a l d o E m e r s o n , William C u l l e n Bryant, a n d J a m e s F e n i m o r e C o o p e r . Intermingled with t h e s e m e n were p o e t s a n d novelists now s e l d o m read: William G i l m o r e S i m m s , F i t z - G r e e n e H a l l e c k , N a t h a n i e l Parker Willis, J a m e s Kirke Paulding, J o h n P e n d l e t o n K e n n e d y , a n d Henry T . T u c k e r m a n , a l o n g with the historians William H . P r e s c o t t a n d G e o r g e B a n c r o f t . T h e p a i n t i n g w a s a p i o u s hoax, for t h e s e g u e s t s never a s s e m b l e d together at o n e t i m e , at S u n nyside or a n y w h e r e e l s e ; a n d while a few of t h o s e d e p i c t e d were i n d e e d Irving's friends, he barely knew s o m e of t h e m a n d never m e t others at all. Yet the p a i n t i n g s u g g e s t s that W a s h i n g t o n Irving, beloved by ordinary readers a n d by m o s t of his fellow writers, w a s the central A m e r i c a n literary figu r e b e t w e e n 1 8 0 9 (the year of his parody History of New York) a n d his d e a t h in 1 8 5 9 , j u s t before the Civil W a r . H e h a d d e m o n s t r a t e d in The Sketch Book (1819—20) that m e m o r a b l e fiction—Rip Van Winkle a n d The Legend of Sleepy Hollow—could be set in the villages or rural a r e a s of the U n i t e d S t a t e s (thereby initiating what b e c a m e b a c k w o o d s h u m o r a n d later the local-color m o v e m e n t ) ; he a l s o s e e m e d to prove, by the book's international s u c c e s s , that a n A m e r i c a n writer c o u l d win a British a n d C o n t i n e n t a l a u d i ence. Irving's legion of imitators i n c l u d e d several of the m e n in the painting; a n d a m o n g his fellow writers, Irving's r e p u t a t i o n w a s e n h a n c e d by his generosity, as in his gallantly r e l i n q u i s h i n g the s u b j e c t of the c o n q u e s t of M e x i c o

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to Prescott or in urging the p u b l i s h e r G e o r g e P. P u t n a m to bring o u t an A m e r i c a n edition of the first b o o k by the u n k n o w n H e r m a n Melville. Although J a m e s F e n i m o r e C o o p e r ' s Leather-Stocking novels h a d a great v o g u e in E u r o p e (where they b e c a m e a m a j o r s o u r c e of i n f o r m a t i o n a n d m i s i n f o r m a t i o n a b o u t the U n i t e d S t a t e s ) , a n d his f a m e a s a fiction writer rivaled Irving's in this country, his influence on A m e r i c a n writers never a p p r o a c h e d the b r e a d t h of Irving's. Irving a n d C o o p e r both s p e n t years a b r o a d , Irving in E n g l a n d a n d S p a i n , C o o p e r in F r a n c e . A m e r i c a n s never held Irving's a b s e n c e a g a i n s t him, for his w i n n i n g the friendship of great foreigners ( s u c h a s S i r W a l t e r S c o t t ) s e e m e d to reflect glory on his country; a n d for years he w a s honorably r e p r e s e n t i n g his country, a s secretary of the legation in L o n d o n , a s minister to S p a i n . F u r t h e r m o r e , he h a d a way of d e m o n s t r a t i n g his A m e r i c a n i s m , a s in 1 8 3 2 , w h e n on r e t u r n i n g from E u r o p e he c a u g h t the public's i m a g i n a t i o n with his a r d u o u s trip to p r e s e n t - d a y O k l a h o m a . W h e n C o o p e r returned to the U n i t e d S t a t e s in 1 8 3 3 after a l m o s t a d e c a d e a b r o a d , h e w a s a p p a l l e d at the s p r e a d of excessively d e m o c r a t i c attitudes a n d lectured his fellow citizens in A Letter to His Countrymen ( 1 8 3 4 ) a n d a satirical novel, The Monikins ( 1 8 3 5 ) . C o o p e r e m b r o i l e d h i m s e l f in lawsuits, a n d public opinion t u r n e d a g a i n s t him a s p a p e r s , i n c l u d i n g Hora c e Greeley's N e w York Tribune, w a g e d a c a m p a i g n a g a i n s t him, literally d e f a m i n g him a s a would-be aristocrat. Irving's p e r s o n a l popularity w a s s u c h that late in 1 8 4 9 , w h e n h e w a s c h a r g e d with plagiarizing his biography of G o l d s m i t h from two recent British b i o g r a p h i e s , n e w s p a p e r s from M a i n e to L o u i s i a n a d e n o u n c e d his a c c u s e r without even e x a m i n i n g the e v i d e n c e . N o r did the influence of R a l p h W a l d o E m e r s o n rival Irving's, d e s p i t e his profoundly provocative effects on s u c h writers a s M a r g a r e t Fuller, Henry David T h o r e a u , W a l t W h i t m a n , H e r m a n Melville, a n d Emily D i c k i n s o n — e f f e c t s that m a k e m o d e r n literary historians s e e him a s the s e m i n a l writer of the century. T h e S c h u s s e l e p a i n t i n g tells m o r e than the artist c o u l d have i n t e n d e d a b o u t the fragile s t a t u s of literary r e p u t a t i o n s , for while i n c l u d i n g m a n y writers now all but forgotten, it e x c l u d e s m a n y o t h e r s in this anthology. T o begin with, it e x c l u d e s all w o m e n , even t h o s e w h o h a d d o n e s u b s t a n t i a l work already, s u c h a s C a t h a r i n e M a r i a S e d g w i c k , C a r o l i n e Kirkland, Lydia M a r i a C h i l d , F a n n y F e r n , M a r g a r e t Fuller, a n d m o s t f a m o u s of all, Harriet B e e c h e r S t o w e (Emily D i c k i n s o n ' s g r e a t e s t burst of poetic c r e a t i o n h a d already o c c u r r e d by 1 8 6 3 , but s h e r e m a i n e d an u n p u b l i s h e d p o e t ) . T h e p a i n t i n g a l s o e x c l u d e s several m a l e writers w h o now s e e m a m o n g the m o s t i m p o r t a n t of the century: J o h n G r e e n l e a f Whittier ( w h o s e militant a b o l i t i o n i s m ruled him out of s u c h g o o d c o m p a n y ) , E d g a r Allan P o e , Henry David T h o r e a u , W a l t W h i t m a n , a n d H e r m a n Melville. F u r t h e r m o r e , while the M a r y l a n d e r Kennedy w a s i n c l u d e d , all other S o u t h e r n e r s were e x c l u d e d , a m o n g t h e m writers s u c h a s A u g u s t u s Baldwin L o n g s t r e e t ( w h o s e i m p u l s e to record d i s a p p e a r i n g p h a s e s of G e o r g i a life parallels a recurrent i m p u l s e in S e d g w i c k ' s writing) and George Washington Harris (whose exuberant prose has drawn readers for a century a n d a half). S c h u s s e l e ' s arraying of literary n o t a b l e s offers a powerful lesson in the c o n s t a n t shifting of literary r e p u t a t i o n s . T h i s edition of the anthology d o e s not offer s e l e c t i o n s f r o m , for a few e x a m p l e s , the S o u t h e r n e r s L o n g s t r e e t a n d Harris or from a northern writer of striking psychological fiction, Elizabeth B a r s t o w S t o d d a r d . It a l s o o m i t s two of the

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m o s t f a m o u s n a m e s of the n i n e t e e n t h century: the M a s s a c h u s e t t s writers Oliver W e n d e l l H o l m e s a n d J a m e s R u s s e l l Lowell, neither of w h o m s p e a k s powerfully to m a n y r e a d e r s at the p r e s e n t m o m e n t . Yet a s taste c h a n g e s they m a y b e valued a g a i n , a n d p e r h a p s in new ways. H o l m e s , for i n s t a n c e , m a y be read for what he called his " m e d i c a t e d n o v e l s " (realistic p s y c h o l o g i c a l fictions), p e r h a p s in a n era w h e n attention a l s o shifts to S t o w e ' s N e w E n g l a n d novels, which s o m e think have never b e e n sufficiently p r a i s e d for their own merits or a c k n o w l e d g e d for their influence o n later w o m e n ' s fiction. It s e e m s s a f e to say that d e s p i t e his historical i m p o r t a n c e Lowell will not s o o n b e given ninety p a g e s , a s h e w a s in s o m e a n t h o l o g i e s of the 1 9 6 0 s , but any writers o m i t t e d n o w may b e called b a c k in later e d i t i o n s , a l o n g with others never before i n c l u d e d .

T H E S M A L L W O R L D OF A M E R I C A N

WRITERS

T h e writers in S c h u s s e l e ' s p a i n t i n g would never have fitted into Irving's s n u g r o o m ; b u t the A m e r i c a n literary world w a s very s m a l l i n d e e d , s o small that m a n y of the writers in this period knew e a c h other, often intimately, or else knew m u c h a b o u t e a c h other. At Litchfield, C o n n e c t i c u t , the y o u n g G e o r gian L o n g s t r e e t greatly a d m i r e d o n e of the minister L y m a n B e e c h e r ' s d a u g h ters (not Harriet, then a s m a l l c h i l d ) . O t h e r writers lived, if not in e a c h other's p o c k e t s , at least in e a c h other's h o u s e s , or b o a r d i n g h o u s e s : L e m u e l S h a w , from 1 8 3 0 to 1 8 6 0 chief j u s t i c e of the M a s s a c h u s e t t s S u p r e m e C o u r t a n d H e r m a n Melville's father-in-law after 1 8 4 7 , for a t i m e stayed in a B o s t o n b o a r d i n g h o u s e run by R a l p h W a l d o E m e r s o n ' s widowed m o t h e r ; the L o n g fellows s u m m e r e d in the 1 8 4 0 s at the Pittsfield b o a r d i n g h o u s e run by M e l ville's c o u s i n , a h o u s e in which Melville h a d stayed in his early t e e n s . Lydia M a r i a Child's h u s b a n d owed m o n e y to Melville's B o s t o n g r a n d f a t h e r ; a n d the e x e c u t o r of the e s t a t e , L e m u e l S h a w , called to collect the debt, m u c h to M r s . C h i l d ' s c h a g r i n . In N e w York, the S e d g w i c k family (which i n c l u d e d C a t h a r i n e M a r i a S e d g w i c k part of the year) w a s o n i n t i m a t e t e r m s with a n o t h e r native of w e s t e r n M a s s a c h u s e t t s , William C u l l e n Bryant; a n d J a m e s F e n i m o r e C o o p e r b o r r o w e d m o n e y from a S e d g w i c k . T h e g u a r d i a n of the o r p h a n e d L o u i s e A m e l i a S m i t h (later " D a m e Shirley") w a s a c l a s s m a t e of E m i l y D i c k i n s o n ' s father. In the 1 8 4 0 s the n e w s p a p e r editor Bryant s o m e times took walks with a n o t h e r editor, y o u n g W a l t W h i t m a n . In Pittsfield in the early 1 8 5 0 s Melville a n d his family e x c h a n g e d visits with C h a r l e s a n d Elizabeth S e d g w i c k of Lenox, in w h o s e h o u s e C a t h a r i n e M a r i a S e d g w i c k spent part of the year; until his d e a t h C h a r l e s w a s the clerk of c o u r t w h e n J u d g e S h a w held his s e s s i o n in L e n o x e a c h S e p t e m b e r ; a n d E l i z a b e t h S e d g wick h a d t a u g h t Melville's older sister H e l e n at her s c h o o l . In Pittsfield a n d L e n o x , H a w t h o r n e a n d Melville paid e a c h other overnight visits; in C o n c o r d the H a w t h o r n e s rented the O l d M a n s e , the E m e r s o n a n c e s t r a l h o m e , a n d later b o u g h t a h o u s e there from the e d u c a t o r B r o n s o n Alcott a n d m a d e it f a m o u s a s the W a y s i d e ; in C o n c o r d the E m e r s o n s w e l c o m e d m a n y g u e s t s , i n c l u d i n g M a r g a r e t Fuller (who a l s o visited with the H a w t h o r n e s ) ; a n d w h e n E m e r s o n w a s away, T h o r e a u , a native of C o n c o r d , s o m e t i m e s stayed in the h o u s e to help M r s . E m e r s o n . E m e r s o n r e p e a t e d l y r e s c u e d B r o n s o n Alcott

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from financial disaster, a n d B r o n s o n ' s d a u g h t e r L o u i s a M a y Alcott took less o n s in E m e r s o n ' s h o u s e (and revered her n a t u r e g u i d e , T h o r e a u ) . F a n n y Fern's brother, N a t h a n i e l Parker Willis, w h o m s h e satirically d e p i c t e d a s " H y a c i n t h " in Ruth Hall, w a s a c l o s e friend of Melville for a t i m e ; in the winter of 1 8 4 7 , Willis a n d Melville's friend, editor Evert A. D u y c k i n c k , t o o k the train u p to F o r d h a m together to a t t e n d the funeral of Virginia P o e , the wife of E d g a r P o e , w h o , like Melville a n d H a w t h o r n e , w a s o n e of D u y c k i n c k ' s a u t h o r s in his Wiley & P u t n a m series, Library of A m e r i c a n B o o k s . T h e p o p ular M a n h a t t a n h o s t e s s A n n e L y n c h a s s i g n e d the y o u n g travel writer B a y a r d Taylor to write a valentine for a slightly older travel writer, H e r m a n Melville, in 1 8 4 8 ; a n d three years later, a p p a r e n t l y with m a t c h m a k i n g in m i n d , b r o u g h t together Taylor's i n t i m a t e friend R. H. S t o d d a r d a n d Elizabeth Barstow, a d i s t a n t relative of H a w t h o r n e . Melville took C a r o l i n e Kirkland's Holidays Abroad on s h i p b o a r d with him in 1 8 4 9 , a n d the next year s h e w a s delighted with his White-Jacket; they probably were a c q u a i n t e d . E m e r s o n s h a r e d his e n t h u s i a s m for Leaves of Grass with B r o n s o n Alcott a n d H e n r y David T h o r e a u , w h o , d u r i n g a stay in N e w York, took the Brooklyn ferry to call on W h i t m a n . Lydia M a r i a C h i l d a n d J o h n G r e e n l e a f Whittier were longtime friends, v e t e r a n s in the great c a u s e of abolition. O n a visit to W a s h i n g ton after the Civil W a r h a d broken o u t , the still r e c l u s i v e , a n d ailing, H a w t h o r n e seriously c o n s i d e r e d m a k i n g the h a z a r d o u s trip to W h e e l i n g to m e e t the extraordinary n e w c o n t r i b u t o r to the Atlantic Monthly, R e b e c c a H a r d i n g ; later he w e l c o m e d her at W a y s i d e . M a n y of the m a l e writers of this period c a m e together c a s u a l l y for d i n i n g a n d drinking, the hospitality at Evert D u y c k i n c k ' s h o u s e in N e w York b e i n g f a m o u s , o p e n to S o u t h e r n e r s like William G i l m o r e S i m m s a s well a s N e w Yorkers like Melville a n d B o s t o n i a n s like the elder R i c h a r d H e n r y D a n a , the father of the a u t h o r of the p o p u l a r Two Years before the Mast. O f the c l u b s f o r m e d by m a l e writers, artists, a n d other n o t a b l e s , the two m o s t m e m o r a b l e are the B r e a d a n d C h e e s e C l u b , which C o o p e r organized in 1 8 2 4 in the b a c k r o o m of his publisher's M a n h a t t a n b o o k s t o r e , a n d the S a t u r d a y C l u b , a c o n vivial B o s t o n g r o u p f o r m e d in 1 8 5 6 a n d especially a s s o c i a t e d with the Atlantic Monthly a n d the p u b l i s h i n g h o u s e of T i c k n o r a n d F i e l d s . M e m b e r s of the B r e a d a n d C h e e s e C l u b i n c l u d e d the poet W i l l i a m C u l l e n Bryant, S a m u e l F. B . M o r s e (the painter w h o later invented the t e l e g r a p h ) , the p o e t FitzG r e e n e H a l l e c k , a n d T h o m a s C o l e (the E n g l i s h - b o r n p a i n t e r of the A m e r i c a n l a n d s c a p e ) . E m e r s o n w a s a m o n g the m e m b e r s of the S a t u r d a y C l u b , a l o n g with J a m e s R u s s e l l Lowell, H e n r y W a d s w o r t h Longfellow, Oliver W e n d e l l H o l m e s , a n d the historians J o h n L o t h r o p Motley a n d William H . P r e s c o t t ; N a t h a n i e l H a w t h o r n e a t t e n d e d s o m e m e e t i n g s . A l o n g with m o r e formal organizations, informal a s s o c i a t i o n s flourished. In 1 8 3 6 a small g r o u p of B o s t o n - b a s e d U n i t a r i a n s b e g a n to m e e t to study G e r m a n p h i l o s o p h y ; at first simply called H e d g e ' s c l u b , from the organizer, F r e d e r i c H e d g e , the g r o u p p a s s e d into literary history a s the " T r a n s c e n d e n t a l C l u b . " M a r g a r e t Fuller c o n d u c t e d a series of " c o n v e r s a t i o n s " in the late 1 8 3 0 s a n d early 1 8 4 0 s that f o r e s h a d o w e d m a n y w o m e n ' s c l u b s of the f u t u r e . In the late 1 8 5 0 s a B o h e m i a n g r o u p of n e w s p a p e r a n d theater p e o p l e a n d writers d r a n k together at P f a f f s s a l o o n on B r o a d w a y a b o v e B l e e c k e r S t r e e t ; for a time W h i t m a n w a s a fixture there.

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E X P A N D I N G — C O U N T R Y

S u c h intimacy w a s inevitable in a country that h a d only a few literary a n d p u b l i s h i n g c e n t e r s , a l m o s t all of t h e m a l o n g the Atlantic s e a b o a r d . D e s p i t e the a c q u i s i t i o n of the L o u i s i a n a Territory from F r a n c e in 1 8 0 3 a n d the vast s o u t h w e s t from M e x i c o in 1 8 4 8 , m o s t of the writers w e still read lived all their lives in the original thirteen s t a t e s , except for trips a b r o a d , a n d their practical e x p e r i e n c e w a s of a c o m p a c t country: in 1 8 4 0 the " n o r t h w e s t e r n " s t a t e s were t h o s e c o v e r e d by the N o r t h w e s t O r d i n a n c e of 1 7 8 7 ( O h i o , India n a , Illinois, a n d M i c h i g a n ; W i s c o n s i n w a s still a territory), while the " s o u t h w e s t e r n " h u m o r writers s u c h a s G e o r g e W a s h i n g t o n H a r r i s , T h o m a s B a n g s T h o r p e , a n d J o h n s o n J o n e s H o o p e r wrote in the region b o u n d e d by G e o r g i a , Louisiana, Arkansas, and Tennessee. I m p r o v e m e n t s in transportation were shrinking the c o u n t r y — e v e n while territorial g a i n s were enlarging it. W h e n Irving went from M a n h a t t a n to Albany in 1 8 0 0 , s t e a m b o a t s h a d not yet b e e n invented; the H u d s o n voyage was slow a n d d a n g e r o u s , a n d in 1 8 0 3 the w a g o n s of Irving's C a n a d a - b o u n d party barely m a d e it t h r o u g h the b o g s b e y o n d U t i c a . T h e Erie C a n a l , c o m pleted in 1 8 2 5 , c h a n g e d t h i n g s : in the 1 8 3 0 s a n d 1 8 4 0 s H a w t h o r n e , Melville, a n d Fuller took the c a n a l b o a t s in safety, suffering only from c r o w d e d a n d stuffy s l e e p i n g c o n d i t i o n s . W h e n Irving went buffalo h u n t i n g in Indian territory (now O k l a h o m a ) in 1 8 3 2 , h e left the s t e a m b o a t at S t . L o u i s a n d went on h o r s e b a c k , c a m p i n g out at night except w h e n his party r e a c h e d o n e of the line of m i s s i o n s built to a c c o m m o d a t e whites w h o were Christianizing the Plains I n d i a n s . A r o u n d the first of O c t o b e r 1 8 3 2 , L y m a n B e e c h e r of B o s t o n , having a c c e p t e d the p r e s i d e n c y of L a n e T h e o l o g i c a l S e m inary in C i n c i n n a t i , set out in at least o n e s t a g e c o a c h with several m e m b e r s of his family, i n c l u d i n g Harriet, later the a u t h o r of Uncle Tom's Cabin. T h e y s t o p p e d in N e w York City a n d P h i l a d e l p h i a (apparently l e a d i n g a milk c o w ) , then had to leave the s t a g e c o a c h for w a g o n s w h e n they r e a c h e d the Alleg h e n i e s , west of H a r r i s b u r g . I n t e n d i n g to take a s t e a m b o a t from W h e e l i n g (then in Virginia), they delayed b e c a u s e of c h o l e r a in C i n c i n n a t i a n d ultimately took a s t a g e c o a c h , arriving in m i d - N o v e m b e r . By the 1 8 4 0 s railroads h a d r e p l a c e d s t a g e c o a c h e s b e t w e e n m a n y e a s t e r n towns, a l t h o u g h to get to N e w O r l e a n s in 1 8 4 8 W h i t m a n h a d to c h a n g e from railroad to s t a g e c o a c h to s t e a m b o a t . D e s p i t e f r e q u e n t train w r e c k s , s t e a m b o a t e x p l o s i o n s , a n d Atlantic s h i p w r e c k s , by the 1 8 5 0 s travel b e t w e e n m a j o r cities h a d c e a s e d to be the h a z a r d o u s a d v e n t u r e it h a d b e e n at the b e g i n n i n g of the p e r i o d . T h e exception w a s travel to a n d from S a n F r a n c i s c o . T h a t old S p a n i s h M e x i c a n port b e c a m e an a l m o s t instant m e t r o p o l i s in the G o l d R u s h of 1 8 4 9 , w h e n t h o u s a n d s of gold s e e k e r s a n d o t h e r s p o u r e d in from all over the world. A m e r i c a n s a n d E u r o p e a n s often took the long a n d p e r i l o u s voyage a r o u n d C a p e H o r n , a s L o u i s e C l a p p e ( " D a m e Shirley") a n d her d o c t o r - h u s b a n d did in 1849—50. M u c h faster w a s the route by ship from a n e a s t e r n port to C h a g r e s , then a c r o s s the i s t h m u s by h o r s e b a c k a n d c a n o e to P a n a m a City ( t o u g h , y o u n g B a y a r d Taylor m a d e it in five days in 1 8 5 0 ) , a n d by s h i p to S a n F r a n c i s c o . T h o u s a n d s set off for California from M i s s o u r i or T e x a s in w a g o n s , on h o r s e b a c k , or simply on foot, walking b e s i d e w a g o n s , c r o s s i n g the central p l a i n s , the Rocky M o u n t a i n s , a n d w e s t e r n d e s e r t s .

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T h e e a s t e r n c i t i e s — N e w York, P h i l a d e l p h i a , a n d B o s t o n — t h o u g h the largest in the nation, were tiny in c o m p a r i s o n to their m o d e r n size. T h e site of B r o o k F a r m , now long s i n c e a b s o r b e d by B o s t o n , w a s c h o s e n b e c a u s e it w a s nine miles r e m o t e from the S t a t e H o u s e a n d two miles a w a y from the n e a r e s t farm. T h e p o p u l a t i o n of N e w York City at the start o f the 1 8 4 0 s w a s only a third of a million ( a b o u t 5 p e r c e n t of its c u r r e n t size) a n d w a s c o n c e n t r a t e d in lower M a n h a t t a n : U n i o n S q u a r e w a s the n o r t h e r n e d g e of town. H o r a c e Greeley, the editor of the N e w York Tribune, e s c a p e d the b u s t l e of the city by living on a ten-acre farm u p the E a s t River on T u r t l e Bay, w h e r e the E a s t Fifties a r e now; there he a n d his wife provided a b u c o l i c retreat for M a r g a r e t Fuller w h e n s h e w a s his literary critic a n d metropolitan reporter. In 1 8 5 3 the Crystal P a l a c e , a n exposition of arts, crafts, a n d scie n c e s c r e a t e d in imitation of the great Crystal P a l a c e at the L o n d o n World's Fair of 1 8 5 1 , failed—largely b e c a u s e it w a s too far out of town, u p west of the C r o t o n W a t e r Reservoir (which h a d m a d e p u r e r u n n i n g water available for a d e c a d e , already). T h e reservoir was on the s p o t w h e r e the N e w York Public Library now s t a n d s , at Forty-second S t r e e t a n d Fifth A v e n u e , a n d the Crystal P a l a c e w a s on the site of the m o d e r n Bryant Park (for d e c a d e s a n ironic p l a c e to be n a m e d for the n a t u r e p o e t , it has b e e n r e c l a i m e d for s a f e public e n j o y m e n t ) . T h e writers in this period t e n d e d to look east for their a u d i e n c e s — s o m e of the writers, in earlier d e c a d e s , to E n g l a n d , all of t h e m to the p u b l i s h i n g c e n t e r s on the e a s t c o a s t , even t h o s e w h o had lived in what w a s called the west (Kirkland in M i c h i g a n , S t o w e in O h i o ) . Several of the writers c o u l d r e m e m b e r clearly w h e n news c a m e in 1 8 0 3 that P r e s i d e n t J e f f e r s o n h a d b o u g h t an e n o r m o u s territory, i m p o s s i b l e to visualize; all of t h e m knew that a c q u i r i n g O r e g o n might have c o s t a third war with G r e a t Britain in the mid1 8 4 0 s ; a n d all of t h e m lived through the a c q u i s i t i o n of the S o u t h w e s t , i n c l u d i n g C a l i f o r n i a , in 1 8 4 8 . In varying ways, m a n y of the writers were affected by the e x p a n s i o n w e s t w a r d . C o o p e r propelled his a g e d h e r o L e a t h e r stocking a c r o s s the M i s s i s s i p p i in The Prairie ( 1 8 2 7 ) before Irving outdid C o o p e r by g o i n g a c r o s s the M i s s i s s i p p i himself. T h r o u g h m u c h of her childhood, Harriet Prescott's father w a s away, trying to m a k e his fortune in O r e g o n . In The Oregon Trail, a series of articles in the N e w York Knickerbocker ( 1 8 4 7 ) , F r a n c i s P a r k m a n r e c o u n t e d his j o u r n e y w e s t w a r d a s far a s W y o m i n g ; in 1 8 4 9 , he capitalized on the a c q u i s i t i o n of the S o u t h w e s t by p u b l i s h i n g it a s a b o o k with an e x p a n d e d , m i s l e a d i n g title, The California and Oregon Trail. Melville, w h o h a d traveled a s far west a s the M i s s i s s i p p i before g o i n g whaling a n d w h o h a d s e e n native p e o p l e s m i s t r e a t e d in the Pacific islands a n d a l o n g the Pacific c o a s t of S o u t h A m e r i c a , r e a c t e d hostilely to P a r k m a n ' s disdain for the A m e r i c a n Indians he e n c o u n t e r e d : " W h o c a n swear that a m o n g the n a k e d British b a r b a r i a n s sent to R o m e to b e stared at m o r e than 1 5 0 0 years a g o , the a n c e s t o r of B a c o n might not have b e e n f o u n d ? — W h y , a m o n g the very T h u g s of India, or the bloody D y a k s of Born e o , exists the g e r m of all that is intellectually elevated a n d g r a n d . W e a r e all of u s — A n g l o - S a x o n s , Dyaks a n d I n d i a n s — s p r u n g from o n e h e a d a n d m a d e in o n e i m a g e . " F r o m northern California the y o u n g B a y a r d Taylor sent h o m e reports on the G o l d R u s h to the N e w York Tribune a n d p u b l i s h e d t h e m early in 1 8 5 0 a s Eldorado. Apparently not trying to find an e a s t e r n outlet, L o u i s e C l a p p e ( " D a m e Shirley") p u b l i s h e d her letters a b o u t her

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" R e s i d e n c e in the M i n e s " ( 1 8 5 1 - 5 2 ) only belatedly, in 1 8 5 4 , in a friend's short-lived S a n F r a n c i s c o literary m a g a z i n e , The Pioneer; c o n s e q u e n t l y , her f a m e w a s never truly national in her lifetime. L o n g f e l l o w relied o n b o o k s for his d e s c r i p t i o n s of the M i s s i s s i p p i region in Evangeline ( 1 8 4 7 ) , b u t if the E a s t h a d cried o u t to b e p u t into literature early in the century, n o w the M i s s i s s i p p i cried out to b e put into literature by s o m e o n e w h o knew it. At mid-century the boy-printer S a m u e l C l e m e n s in H a n n i b a l , M i s s o u r i , on the great river, set into type m a n y stories by writers of the old S o u t h w e s t . W h e n the Civil W a r c a m e , C l e m e n s f o u n d r e a s o n for g o i n g west to N e v a d a a n d C a l i f o r n i a , then to H a w a i i ; a n d in 1 8 7 2 h e b r o u g h t a version of his adventures into print in the E a s t , in H a r t f o r d , C o n n e c t i c u t , a s Roughing It. S o o n , in 1 8 7 5 , he would write the s p l e n d i d " O l d T i m e s on the M i s s i s s i p p i " for the Atlantic Monthly a n d at least o n e great b o o k set o n the river, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn ( 1 8 8 4 ) .

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G e o g r a p h y a n d m o d e s of t r a n s p o r t a t i o n b o r e directly o n p u b l i s h i n g p r o c e d u r e s in the U n i t e d S t a t e s of this p e r i o d . F o r a l o n g time writers w h o w a n t e d to p u b l i s h a b o o k carried the m a n u s c r i p t to a local printer, p a i d j o b rates to have it printed a n d b o u n d , a n d m a d e their own a r r a n g e m e n t s for distribution a n d s a l e s . Longfellow w o r k e d in this f a s h i o n with a firm in B r u n s w i c k , M a i n e , w h e n he printed his translation of Elements of French Grammar a n d other textbooks d u r i n g his first years a s a t e a c h e r . Over the y e a r s , however, true p u b l i s h i n g c e n t e r s d e v e l o p e d in the m a j o r s e a p o r t s that c o u l d receive the latest British b o o k s by the fastest s h i p s a n d , hastily reprinting t h e m , distribute t h e m inland by river traffic a s well a s in c o a s t a l cities. After 1 8 2 0 the l e a d i n g p u b l i s h i n g towns were N e w York a n d P h i l a d e l p h i a , with the Erie C a n a l s o o n giving N e w York a n a d v a n t a g e in the O h i o t r a d e . B o s t o n r e m a i n e d only a provincial p u b l i s h i n g c e n t e r until after 1 8 5 0 , w h e n publishers realized the value of the d e c a d e - o l d railroad c o n n e c t i o n s to the W e s t . ( S h i p p e d by s e a , c o p i e s of Melville's early b o o k s r e a c h e d N e w O r l e a n s two w e e k s or so after p u b l i c a t i o n in N e w York.) D e s p i t e the a g g r e s s i v e m e r c h a n dising t e c h n i q u e s of a few firms, the c r e a t i o n of a national b o o k - b u y i n g market for literature, especially A m e r i c a n literature, w a s l o n g d e l a y e d . T h e p r o b l e m w a s that the e c o n o m i c interests of A m e r i c a n p u b l i s h e r b o o k s e l l e r s were antithetical to the interests of A m e r i c a n writers. A n a t i o n a l copyright law b e c a m e effective in the U n i t e d S t a t e s in 1 7 9 0 , b u t it w a s 1 8 9 1 before A m e r i c a n writers h a d international p r o t e c t i o n a n d foreign writers received p r o t e c t i o n in the U n i t e d S t a t e s . T h r o u g h a l m o s t all the century, A m e r i c a n printers routinely pirated E n g l i s h writers, p a y i n g n o t h i n g to Sir W a l t e r S c o t t or C h a r l e s D i c k e n s or later writers for their novels, w h i c h were r u s h e d into print a n d sold very c h e a p l y in N e w York, P h i l a d e l p h i a , a n d other cities. A m e r i c a n r e a d e r s benefited from the s i t u a t i o n , for they c o u l d b u y the b e s t British a n d C o n t i n e n t a l writings c h e a p l y ; b u t A m e r i c a n writers s u f f e r e d , b e c a u s e if they were to receive royalties, their b o o k s h a d to b e p r i c e d a b o v e the p r i c e s c h a r g e d for works of the m o s t f a m o u s British writers. A m e r i c a n p u b l i s h e r s were willing to carry a few native novelists a n d p o e t s a s p r e s t i g e i t e m s for a while, but they were b u s i n e s s p e o p l e , not p h i l a n t h r o p i s t s .

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T o c o m p o u n d the p r o b l e m , Irving's a p p a r e n t c o n q u e s t of the British p u b lishing s y s t e m , by which he received large s u m s for The S k e t c h Book a n d s u c c e e d i n g v o l u m e s , proved delusory. C o o p e r a n d o t h e r s followed in Irving's track for a time a n d were paid by m a g n a n i m o u s British p u b l i s h e r s u n d e r a system whereby works first printed in G r e a t Britain were p r e s u m e d to hold a British copyright. B u t this p r a c t i c e w a s ruled illegal by a British j u d g e in 1 8 4 9 , a n d the British m a r k e t dried u p for A m e r i c a n writers. T h r o u g h o u t this period, like our own, m a k i n g a serious A m e r i c a n contribution to the literature of the world w a s n o g u a r a n t e e at all of m o n e t a r y r e w a r d s . E x c e p t for the few a u t h o r s of best-sellers like S t o w e a n d , later, Alcott (both p u b l i s h i n g after mid-century), the U n i t e d S t a t e s w a s not a c o u n try in which o n e c o u l d m a k e a living by writing fiction a n d poetry: F a n n y Fern's financial t r i u m p h (also after 1 8 5 0 ) w a s a s a c o l u m n i s t ; a n d a l t h o u g h he p u b l i s h e d poetry a n d fiction, B a y a r d Taylor's m a i n i n c o m e c a m e from his n e w s p a p e r articles written h o m e from exotic l o c a t i o n s (then c o l l e c t e d into travel b o o k s ) a n d , later, from his very p o p u l a r l e c t u r e s . S e r i o u s a u t h o r s c o u l d not always find p u b l i s h e r s for their work. Unlike m o s t other m a l e writers, Irving c o u l d always find a p u b l i s h e r , a n d in 1 8 4 9 his c a r e e r w a s revived by P u t n a m ' s lavish p r o m o t i o n of his life of Oliver G o l d s m i t h ; C o o p e r c o u l d a l s o get his n e w b o o k s p u b l i s h e d , a n d the r e i s s u e of s o m e of his earlier s u c c e s s e s restored s o m e of his popularity before his d e a t h late in 1 8 5 1 . O t h e r writers for periods of time b e c a m e editors of m a g a z i n e s or n e w s p a p e r s (there were d o z e n s of n e w s p a p e r s in M a n h a t t a n in the 1 8 4 0 s ) , w h e r e they c o u l d p u b l i s h t h e m s e l v e s . T h e s e editors i n c l u d e d P o e , L o n g s t r e e t , H a r r i s , T h o r p e , J o h n s o n J o n e s H o o p e r of A l a b a m a , Lowell, a n d other n o t a b l e e x a m p l e s : Fuller, w h o for several years reported for the N e w York Tribune at h o m e a n d from E u r o p e ; W h i t m a n , w h o for m u c h of the 1 8 4 0 s a n d 1 8 5 0 s w a s free to editorialize in o n e Brooklyn or M a n h a t t a n n e w s p a p e r or a n o t h e r ; Whittier, w h o for m o r e t h a n two d e c a d e s before the Civil W a r w a s c o r r e s p o n d i n g editor of the W a s h i n g t o n National Era; C h i l d , w h o edited the N e w York Anti-Slavery Standard a n d wrote letters to the B o s t o n Courier; Kirkland, w h o e d i t e d the N e w York Union a n d wrote for other m a g a z i n e s ; a n d , m o s t c o n s p i c u o u s , Bryant, long-time owner of the N e w York Evening Post. F a n n y Fern's brother N a t h a n i e l Willis Parker w a s a celebrity writer of poetry, fiction, a n d travel s k e t c h e s ; but he e a r n e d his living d u r i n g this period a s the editor of the N e w York Home Journal. W h i t m a n w a s his own p u b l i s h e r for m o s t editions of Leaves of Grass a n d filled mail orders himself, a s T h o r e a u a l s o did w h e n an o c c a s i o n a l r e q u e s t c a m e for o n e of the seven h u n d r e d c o p i e s of his first book, which the p u b l i s h e r h a d returned to h i m . At crucial m o m e n t s in his career, Melville felt c o n s t r a i n e d not to write what h e w a n t e d to write, a s w h e n h e sacrificed his literary a s p i r a t i o n s after the failure of Mardi a n d wrote Redburn a n d White-Jacket, which he r e g a r d e d a s m e r e drudgery; a n d at other times h e w a s "prevented from p u b l i s h i n g " works he h a d c o m p l e t e d , i n c l u d i n g The Isle of the Cross, which he p r o b a b l y destroyed. Ironically, the writer freest to p u r s u e literary g r e a t n e s s in this period w a s probably Emily D i c k i n s o n , w h o s e "letter to the w o r l d " r e m a i n e d u n m a i l e d d u r i n g her lifetime. F a n n y F e r n broke all the rules by b e i n g paid lavishly for her c o l u m n s in the N e w York Ledger.

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CONFORMITY,

MATERIALISM, AND THE

ECONOMY

T h e eccentricity of A m e r i c a n s , especially in rural a r e a s a n d s m a l l e r towns, w a s n o t o r i o u s a m o n g visitors from a b r o a d a n d w a s r e c o r d e d in s o m e of its a s p e c t s by diverse writers. In Stowe's N e w E n g l a n d novels of the late 1 8 5 0 s a n d early 1 8 6 0 s , there is a gallery of portraits of mentally a n g u l a r or gnarled c h a r a c t e r s . In A m h e r s t , Emily D i c k i n s o n o u t - T h o r e a u e d T h o r e a u in her reso l u t e privacy, i d i o s y n c r a c i e s , a n d individuality. B u t s h e c o u l d b e u n d e r s t o o d in relation to real a n d fictional c h a r a c t e r s . T h e night her c o r r e s p o n d e n t T h o m a s W e n t w o r t h H i g g i n s o n m e t her in 1 8 7 0 , he strove to convey her chara c t e r in a letter to his wife: "if you h a d read M r s . S t o d d a r d ' s novels you c o u l d u n d e r s t a n d a h o u s e w h e r e e a c h m e m b e r runs his or h e r own s e l v e s . " D e s p i t e s u c h powerful individualists, it s e e m e d to s o m e of the writers that A m e r i c a n s , even while d e l u d i n g t h e m s e l v e s that they were the m o s t selfreliant p o p u l a c e in t h e world, were systematically selling o u t their individualities. E m e r s o n s o u n d e d the a l a r m : " S o c i e t y everywhere is in c o n s p i r a c y a g a i n s t the m a n h o o d of every o n e of its m e m b e r s . S o c i e t y is a j o i n t - s t o c k c o m p a n y which the m e m b e r s a g r e e for the better s e c u r i n g of his b r e a d to e a c h s h a r e h o l d e r , to s u r r e n d e r the liberty a n d c u l t u r e of t h e eater. T h e virtue in m o s t r e q u e s t is c o n f o r m i t y . " In Tlw Celestial Railroad H a w t h o r n e satirically d e s c r i b e d the condition at the Vanity Fair of m o d e r n A m e r i c a , w h e r e there w a s a " s p e c i e s of m a c h i n e for the w h o l e s a l e m a n u f a c t u r e of individual morality." H e went o n : " T h i s excellent result is effected by s o c i e t i e s for all m a n n e r of virtuous p u r p o s e s ; with which a m a n h a s merely to c o n n e c t himself, throwing, a s it w e r e , his q u o t a of virtue into the c o m m o n stock; a n d the p r e s i d e n t a n d directors will take c a r e that the a g g r e g a t e a m o u n t b e well a p p l i e d . " T h o r e a u repeatedly satirized A m e r i c a a s a nation of j o i n e r s that tried to force every n e w c o m e r "to b e l o n g to their d e s p e r a t e odd-fellow society": to T h o r e a u , m e m b e r s of the O d d Fellows a n d other social organizations were simply not o d d e n o u g h , not individual e n o u g h . B u t n o n e of the writers f o u n d anything c o m i c a l in the w h o l e s a l e loss of Yankee individualism a s both m e n a n d w o m e n d e s e r t e d w o r n o u t f a r m s for factories, w h e r e m a n y b e g a n to feel what E m e r s o n called " t h e disproportion b e t w e e n their faculties a n d the work offered t h e m . " F a r too often, the s e a r c h for a better life had d e g e n e r a t e d into a desire to p o s s e s s f a c t o r y - m a d e o b j e c t s . " T h i n g s are in the s a d d l e , " E m e r s o n said sweepingly, " a n d ride m a n k i n d . " In elaboration of that a c c u s a t i o n , T h o r e a u wrote Walden a s a treatise o n e x p a n d i n g the spiritual life by simplifying material w a n t s . Informing T h o reau's o u t r a g e at the m a t e r i a l i s m of his time w a s the bitter k n o w l e d g e that even t h e m o s t i m p o v e r i s h e d were b e i n g led to w a s t e their m o n e y ( a n d , therefore, their lives) o n trumpery. In a v o c a b u l a r y e c h o i n g B e n j a m i n F r a n k lin, he c o n d e m n e d the e m e r g i n g c o n s u m e r e c o n o m y that w a s d e v o t e d , even in the infancy of advertising, to the creation of "artificial w a n t s " for things that were u n n e e d e d or outright p e r n i c i o u s . A n d to c o u n t e r the loss of a n archetypal Y a n k e e virtue, he m a d e h i m s e l f into a jack-of-all-trades a n d s t r o n g m a s t e r of o n e , the art of writing. T h e difference in the social s t a t u s (and the e a r n i n g power) of m e n a n d w o m e n did not p e n e t r a t e the c o n s c i o u s n e s s of all writers, even all w o m e n writers, but C h i l d p r o d u c e d the c o m p r e h e n s i v e , p i o n e e r i n g History of the

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Condition of Women, in Various Ages and Nations, a n d after her own h a r s h e x p e r i e n c e at trying to s u p p o r t herself a n d her d a u g h t e r s by the c o n v e n t i o n a l f e m i n i n e skill of sewing, F a n n y Fern m i s s e d no c h a n c e to e x p o s e the cruel myth that any i n d u s t r i o u s w o m a n c o u l d earn a d e c e n t living. After his own failure to earn a living in A m e r i c a w a s painfully o b v i o u s to h i m , Melville m e d i t a t e d on the exploitation of f e m a l e millworkers in The Tartarus of Maids. D o u g l a s s portrayed h i m s e l f a s never b e i n g without h o p e , a l t h o u g h a slave; H a r d i n g portrayed wage-slaves in the iron mills, m a l e a n d f e m a l e , a s utterly without r e a s o n a b l e h o p e . In strangely different ways the writers to s p e a k out m o s t profoundly a b o u t the e m e r g i n g A m e r i c a n e c o n o m i c s y s t e m were C h i l d , S t o w e , F e r n , T h o r e a u , D o u g l a s s , Melville, W h i t m a n , a n d D a v i s .

ORTHODOX RELIGION AND

TRANSCENDENTALISM

All the m a j o r writers f o u n d t h e m s e l v e s at o d d s with the d o m i n a n t religion of their t i m e , a P r o t e s t a n t Christianity that exerted practical control over what c o u l d be printed in b o o k s a n d m a g a z i n e s . S e d g w i c k , a U n i t a r i a n , a s befitted her high social s t a t u s , w a s a p p a l l e d at the u n s e e m l i n e s s of backw o o d s M e t h o d i s t revivals; m o r e often, writers, even n o m i n a l U n i t a r i a n s , were a p p a l l e d at the c o l d n e s s of c h u r c h e s , not the w i l d n e s s . T h i s c h u r c h , E m e r s o n said, a c t e d " a s if G o d were d e a d . " W h i t m a n , bred a s a Quaker, w a s even m o r e bitter toward all P r o t e s t a n t c h u r c h e s : " T h e c h u r c h e s a r e o n e vast lie; the p e o p l e do not believe t h e m , a n d they do not believe t h e m s e l v e s . " Still, the writers all c a m e from P r o t e s t a n t b a c k g r o u n d s in which C a l v i n i s m w a s m o r e or less w a t e r e d d o w n (less s o in the c a s e s of Melville a n d Dicki n s o n ) , a n d they knew their theology. E m e r s o n , T h o r e a u , a n d C h i l d (who p u b l i s h e d a history of all religions in 1 8 5 1 ) , regularly tried to p l a c e P r o t e s t a n t Christianity in relation to other religions, while Melville t e n d e d to j u d g e c o n t e m p o r a r y Christianity by the a b s o l u t e s t a n d a r d s of the N e w T e s t a m e n t . In The Celestial Railroad H a w t h o r n e m e m o r a b l y satirized the A m e r i c a n urge to be progressive a n d liberal in theology as well as in politics, a n d Melville extended the satire t h r o u g h o u t an entire book, The Confidence-Man. A w a r e n e s s of the fact of religious e c s t a s y w a s not at i s s u e . E m e r s o n , for i n s t a n c e , s h o w e d in The Over-Soul a clinical s e n s e of the varieties of religious experience, the "varying f o r m s of that s h u d d e r of a w e a n d delight with which the individual soul always m i n g l e s with the universal s o u l . " Similarly, T h o reau a c k n o w l e d g e d the validity of the " s e c o n d birth a n d p e c u l i a r religious e x p e r i e n c e " available to the "solitary hired m a n on a farm in the outskirts of C o n c o r d " but felt that any religious d e n o m i n a t i o n in A m e r i c a w o u l d pervert that mystical experience into s o m e t h i n g available only u n d e r its a u s p i c e s a n d in a c c o r d a n c e with its particular d o c t r i n e s . L i k e T h o r e a u , W h i t m a n s a w all religious e c s t a s y as equally valid a n d c a m e forth in S o n g o / M y s e l / o u t b i d d i n g "the old c a u t i o u s h u c k s t e r s " like J e h o v a h , K r o n o s , Z e u s , a n d H e r c u l e s , g o d s w h o held too low a n e s t i m a t e of the value of m e n a n d w o m e n . A m o n g t h e s e writers Melville w a s a l o n e in his a n g u i s h i n g conviction that true Christianity w a s i m p r a c t i c a b l e . Melville a l s o felt the brutal power of the Calvinistic J e h o vah with special k e e n n e s s : h u m a n beings were " g o d - b u l l i e d " even a s the hull of the Pequod was in Moby-Dick, a n d the b e s t way p e o p l e h a d of d e m o n strating their own divinity lay in defying the o m n i p o t e n t tyrant. T o D i c k i n s o n

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a l s o , G o d w a s often a b u l l y — a " M a s t i f f , " w h o m s u b s e r v i e n c e might, or might not, a p p e a s e . In a series of novels Harriet B e e c h e r S t o w e compellingly d e s c r i b e d the way rigid C a l v i n i s m c o u l d cripple y o u n g m i n d s . T r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s m in the late 1 8 3 0 s a n d early 1 8 4 0 s w a s treated in m o s t m a i n s t r e a m n e w s p a p e r s a n d m a g a z i n e s a s s o m e t h i n g b e t w e e n a national l a u g h i n g s t o c k a n d a clear m e n a c e to organized religion. T h e r u n n i n g journalistic j o k e , which H a w t h o r n e e c h o e d in The Celestial Railroad, was that no o n e c o u l d define the t e r m , other than that it w a s highfalutin, foreign, a n d o b s c u r e l y d a n g e r o u s . T h e conservative C h r i s t i a n view is well r e p r e s e n t e d by a p a s s a g e that a p p e a r e d in S t o w e ' s n e w s p a p e r serialization of Uncle Tom's Cabin ( 1 8 5 1 ) but w a s o m i t t e d from the book version, a s a r c a s t i c i n d i c t m e n t of the r e a d e r w h o might find it hard to believe that T o m c o u l d b e stirred by a p a s s a g e in the Bible: "I m e n t i o n this, of c o u r s e , p h i l o s o p h i c friend, a s a psychological p h e n o m e n o n . Very likely it would d o n o s u c h a thing for y o u , b e c a u s e you are an e n l i g h t e n e d m a n , a n d have out-grown the old myths of p a s t c e n t u r i e s . B u t then you have E m e r s o n ' s E s s a y s a n d Carlyle's M i s c e l l a n i e s , a n d other p r o d u c t i o n s of the latter day, s u i t e d to your a d v a n c e d d e v e l o p m e n t . " S u c h early observers u n d e r s t o o d well e n o u g h that T r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s m w a s m o r e p a n t h e i s t i c than C h r i s t i a n . T h e "defiant P a n t h e i s m " infusing T h o r e a u ' s shorter p i e c e s helped keep t h e m out of the m a g a z i n e s , a n d J a m e s Russell Lowell for the Atlantic Monthly p u b l i c a t i o n of a section of The Maine Woods c e n s o r e d a s e n t e n c e in which T h o r e a u d e c l a r e d that a pine tree w a s a s i m m o r t a l a s he w a s a n d p e r c h a n c e would " g o to a s high a heaven." Melville a l s o w a s at least o n c e kept from p u b l i c a t i o n by the religious scruples of the m a g a z i n e s , a n d often he w a s harshly c o n d e m n e d for what he h a d m a n a g e d to p u b l i s h . F o r years he bore the wrath of reviewers s u c h as the o n e w h o d e n o u n c e d him for writing Moby-Dick a n d the H a r p e r s for p u b lishing it: " T h e J u d g m e n t day will hold him liable for not t u r n i n g his talents to better a c c o u n t , w h e n , too, both a u t h o r s a n d p u b l i s h e r s of injurious books will be cojointly a n s w e r a b l e for the influence of t h o s e b o o k s u p o n the wide circle of immortal m i n d s on which they have written their mark. T h e bookm a k e r a n d the b o o k - p u b l i s h e r h a d better d o their work with a view to the trial it m u s t u n d e r g o at the bar of G o d . " T h e ultimate result w a s that Melville w a s s i l e n c e d . T h i s w a s e x t r e m e , but E m e r s o n , T h o r e a u , a n d W h i t m a n all suffered for t r a n s g r e s s i n g the c o d e of the D o c t o r s of Divinity ( T h o r e a u s a i d he w i s h e d it were not the D . D . ' s but the c h i c k a d e e - d e e s w h o a c t e d a s c e n s o r s ) . T h o r e a u , W h i t m a n , a n d S t o d d a r d all h a d works c e n s o r e d before p u b lication in the Atlantic Monthly.

I M M I G R A T I O N

A N D

X E N O P H O B I A

H o w e v e r t h r e a t e n e d conservative P r o t e s t a n t s felt by T r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s m a n d by religious s p e c u l a t i o n s like Melville's, they felt far m o r e t h r e a t e n e d by C a t h o l i c i s m when refugees from the N a p o l e o n i c W a r s were followed by refu g e e s from o p p r e s s e d a n d f a m i n e - s t r u c k Ireland. In B o s t o n , L y m a n B e e c h e r , father of Harriet B e e c h e r S t o w e , t h u n d e r e d o u t a n t i p a p i s t s e r m o n s , then p r o f e s s e d d i s m a y when in 1 8 3 4 a m o b in C h a r l e s t o w n , a c r o s s the Charles River from B o s t o n , b u r n e d the U r s u l i n e C o n v e n t S c h o o l where d a u g h t e r s

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of m a n y wealthy families were e d u c a t e d . F o r a time L o u i s a M a y Alcott's m o t h e r devoted herself to n e e d y Irish i m m i g r a n t s in B o s t o n , in effect defining the j o b of social worker, all the time a p p a l l e d at the u n s t o p p a b l e tide of popery. T h r o u g h the 1 8 3 0 s a n d 1 8 4 0 s a n d long afterward, the U n i t e d S t a t e s was s a t u r a t e d with lurid books a n d p a m p h l e t s p u r p o r t i n g to reveal the truth a b o u t sexual p r a c t i c e s in n u n n e r i e s a n d m o n a s t e r i e s ( a c c o u n t s of how priests a n d n u n s d i s p o s e d of their b a b i e s were specially prized) a n d a b o u t the p o p e ' s s c h e m e s to take over the M i s s i s s i p p i Valley ( S a m u e l F. B. M o r s e a n d others warned that J e s u i t s were prowling the O h i o Valley, in d i s g u i s e ) . An e x t r e m e of x e n o p h o b i a w a s r e a c h e d in the s u m m e r of 1 8 4 4 , w h e n rioters in Philadelphia (the City, everyone p o i n t e d out, of Brotherly Love) b u r n e d C a t h o l i c c h u r c h e s a n d a s e m i n a r y . S c h o o l e d in cultural relativism by his S o u t h S e a e x p e r i e n c e s , Melville was r e s p o n d i n g to the c u r r e n t hostility w h e n he described the pestilent c o n d i t i o n s of s t e e r a g e p a s s e n g e r s in e m i g r a n t s h i p s and then m a d e this plea: " L e t u s waive that agitated national t o p i c , a s to whether s u c h m u l t i t u d e s of foreign p o o r s h o u l d be l a n d e d on our A m e r i c a n s h o r e s ; let u s waive it, with the o n e only t h o u g h t , that if they c a n get h e r e , they have G o d ' s right to c o m e ; t h o u g h they bring all Ireland a n d her m i s e r i e s with t h e m . F o r the whole world is the p a t r i m o n y of the w h o l e world; there is no telling w h o d o e s not own a s t o n e in the G r e a t Wall of C h i n a . " S o m e j o b s by definition were d e e m e d unfit for m o s t native-born Americ a n s . In Moiry-Dicfe ( c h a p t e r 2 7 ) Melville said that fewer than half the m e n on whaling s h i p s were A m e r i c a n - b o r n , a l t h o u g h a l m o s t all the officers were. T h e n he a d d e d : " H e r e i n it is the s a m e with the A m e r i c a n w h a l e fishery a s with the A m e r i c a n army a n d military a n d m e r c h a n t navies, a n d the engineering forces e m p l o y e d in the c o n s t r u c t i o n of the A m e r i c a n C a n a l s a n d R a i l r o a d s , " the "native A m e r i c a n " providing the brains, the "rest of the w o r l d " supplying the m u s c l e s . T h e P a n a m a Railroad w a s c o m p l e t e d in 1 8 5 5 at the cost of t h o u s a n d s of lives of c h e a p laborers from the O r i e n t , E u r o p e ( e s p e cially Ireland), a n d the C a r i b b e a n . An article on the railroad in the J a n u a r y 1 8 5 9 Harper's New MowtWy Magazine m e n t i o n e d m a n y " C o o l i e s from Hind o s t a n " a n d recalled that a t h o u s a n d C h i n a m e n had b e c o m e "affected with a m e l a n c h o l i c , suicidal t e n d e n c y , a n d s c o r e s of t h e m e n d e d their u n h a p p y existence by their own h a n d s , " while m a n y others died of d i s e a s e s . T h i s article treated workers a s d i s p o s a b l e p r o d u c t s , saying that the n u m b e r of t h o s e w h o died c o u l d b e r e p l e n i s h e d with, for i n s t a n c e , "freshly i m p o r t e d Irishmen a n d F r e n c h m e n . " F o r the first t r a n s c o n t i n e n t a l railroad in the United S t a t e s , c o m p l e t e d at P r o m o n t o r y Point, U t a h , on M a y 10, 1 8 6 9 , the Union P a c i f i c — w o r k i n g w e s t w a r d — d r e w laborers from Ireland, G e r m a n y , a n d the S c a n d i n a v i a n c o u n t r i e s , a m o n g other E u r o p e a n s o u r c e s ; the C e n t r a l Pacific—working e a s t w a r d — i m p o r t e d p e r h a p s 1 5 , 0 0 0 C h i n e s e for the m o s t h a z a r d o u s j o b s . W h a t w a s to b e c o m e of t h o s e still alive w h e n the work w a s c o m p l e t e d ? A n d , now that t h e s e A s i a n s were h e r e , what was to k e e p others from following t h e m ? T h o s e of E u r o p e a n ancestry c o u l d not i m a g i n e how the C h i n e s e might be integrated into the national public life. C o n t r a d i c t o r y efforts both to u s e i m m i g r a n t labor a n d to pretend the i m m i g r a n t s were not here c h a l l e n g e d the thinking a n d the ethics of native-born white A m e r i c a n s , p r o d u c i n g waves of anti-immigrant p r o p a g a n d a a n d violence t h r o u g h o u t the period. F o r all his h u m a n i t a r i a n e l o q u e n c e , Melville, like the other writers,

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realized that the new i m m i g r a n t s were c h a n g i n g the country from the cozy, h o m o g e n e o u s l a n d it h a d s e e m e d to b e to the m o r e fortunate whites. In fact, the country h a d never b e e n h o m o g e n e o u s ; even before the great Irish migration of the 1 8 4 0 s , p e o p l e had arrived from m a n y E u r o p e a n c o u n t r i e s , a n d the idea of s t o p p i n g i m m i g r a t i o n selectively a n d s h i p p i n g b a c k s o m e i m m i g r a n t s proved a s i m p r a c t i c a b l e a s the p r e w a r " s o l u t i o n " of colonizing black A m e r i c a n s " b a c k " to Africa. B u t the p a c e of i m m i g r a t i o n had i n c r e a s e d radically after the Civil W a r , a s did the p e r c e n t a g e of i m m i g r a n t s arriving from s o u t h e r n a n d e a s t e r n E u r o p e a n c o u n t r i e s . M a n y native-born white p e o p l e s h a r e d Harriet B e e c h e r S t o w e ' s post—Civil W a r nostalgia for the days b e f o r e railroads, C a t h o l i c s , a n d e a s t e r n E u r o p e a n i m m i g r a t i o n . In the early 1 8 8 0 s , p o g r o m s in R u s s i a drove t h o u s a n d s of J e w s into exile, m a n y to w e s t e r n E u r o p e , m a n y to the U n i t e d S t a t e s , w h e r e immigration officials d e t a i n e d a large n u m b e r of t h e m at W a r d ' s Island in the E a s t River, d e e m i n g t h e m unfit to be d i s e m b a r k e d at C a s t l e G a r d e n , on the Battery, with m o s t other i m m i g r a n t s . In r e s p o n s e , E m m a L a z a r u s in I88i founded the Society for the I m p r o v e m e n t a n d C o l o n i z a t i o n of E a s t e r n E u r o p e a n J e w s .

N A T I O N A L

SINS

S o m e of the writers of thjsj>eriod lived with the a n g u i s h i n g p a r a d o x that the rrijjsiJdjiaTistic nation in the world w a s implicated in c o n t i n u i n g national sins: the n e a r - g e n o c i d e of the A m e r i c a n I n d i a n s (whole tribes in colonial t i m e s T i a d a l r e a d y - b e c o m e T T n Melvitte^^rToneous p h r a s e for the P e q u o t s , a s extinct as the a n c i e n t M e d e s ) , the e n s l a v e m e n t of b l a c k s , a n d (partly a by-product of slavery) the s t a g e d " E x e c u t i v e ' s W a r " a g a i n s t M e x i c o , started by P r e s i d e n t Polk before b e i n g d e c l a r e d by C o n g r e s s . T h e imperialistic Mexican W a r s e e m e d s o gaudily e x o t i c — a n d s o d i s t a n t — t h a t only a s m a l l minority of A m e r i c a n writers v o i c e d m o r e than perfunctory o p p o s i t i o n ; a n exception w a s T h o r e a u , w h o s p e n t a night in the C o n c o r d jail in symbolic protest a g a i n s t b e i n g taxed to s u p p o r t the war. E m e r s o n w a s a n exception, earlier, w h e n m o s t writers were silent a b o u t the s u c c e s s i v e removal of eastern Indian tribes to less d e s i r a b l e lands west of the M i s s i s s i p p i River, a s legislated by the Indian R e m o v a l Act of 1 8 3 0 . A m e r i c a n destiny plainly required a \itt\e p r a c t i c a l c a l l o u s n e s s , m o s t whites felt, in a s e c u l a r version of the colonial notion that G o d h a d willed the extirpation of the A m e r i c a n Indian. Henry W . B e l l o w s , the very p o p u l a r U n i t a r i a n minister of the C h u r c h of All S o u l s in N e w York City (pastoral adviser of W i l l i a m C u l l e n Bryant a n d M r s . H e r m a n Melville), h a d b e e n p r e s i d e n t of the U n i t e d S t a t e s Sanitary C o m m i s s i o n , the a g e n c y c h a r g e d with the welfare of the U n i o n volunteer army. In The Old World in Its New Face ( 1 8 6 8 ) , Bellows told of m e e t i n g a C a l i f o r n i a n on s h i p b o a r d in the M e d i t e r r a n e a n w h o h a d "just e s c a p e d s c a l p ing on the p l a i n s " in 1 8 6 7 a n d w h o t h o u g h t "extermination the only h u m a n e r e m e d y for Indian t r o u b l e s . " Bellows a d d e d : "It is a s t o n i s h i n g how bloodthirsty a little p e r s o n a l e x p e r i e n c e of the I n d i a n s m a k e s m o s t A m e r i c a n s ! I have never known any body c r o s s i n g the P l a i n s w h o s e h u m a n i t y survived the p a s s a g e . " L a t e r , he c a s u a l l y a l l u d e d to the "American Indian p a s s i o n for blood a n d extinction of their e n e m i e s . " It w a s black slavery, w h a t Melville called " m a n ' s foulest c r i m e , " which m o s t stirred the c o n s c i e n c e s of the white writers, a n d in describing his own

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e n s l a v e m e n t , the fugitive F r e d e r i c k D o u g l a s s d e v e l o p e d a n o t a b l e capacity to stir readers a s well a s a u d i e n c e s in the lecture halls. W h e n the Fugitive Slave L a w w a s e n f o r c e d in B o s t o n in 1 8 5 1 (by Melville's father-in-law, C h i e f J u s t i c e S h a w ) , T h o r e a u worked his o u t r a g e into his j o u r n a l s ; then after a n o t h e r f a m o u s c a s e in 1 8 5 4 h e c o m b i n e d the e x p e r i e n c e s into his m o s t s c a t h i n g s p e e c h , Slavery in Massachusetts, for delivery at a F o u r t h of J u l y c o u n t e r c e r e m o n y at which a c o p y of the C o n s t i t u t i o n w a s b u r n e d b e c a u s e slavery w a s written into it. In that s p e e c h T h o r e a u s u m m e d u p the disillus i o n m e n t that m a n y of his g e n e r a t i o n s h a r e d . H e h a d felt a vast b u t indefinite loss after the 1 8 5 4 c a s e , h e s a i d : "I did not k n o w at first w h a t ailed m e . At last it o c c u r r e d to m e that what I h a d lost w a s a c o u n t r y . " O n the very eve of the Civil W a r , Harriet J a c o b s r e c o r d e d the a n g u i s h of a fugitive slave m o t h e r w h o s e " o w n e r s " were always on the prowl to find her a n d turn her into the hard c a s h they n e e d e d . M o r e obliquely than T h o r e a u , Melville explored b l a c k slavery in B e n i t o C e r e n o as an index to the e m e r g i n g national character. At his bitterest, h e felt in the m i d - 1 8 5 0 s that "free A m e r i k y " w a s "intrepid, u n p r i n c i p l e d , r e c k l e s s , predatory, with b o u n d l e s s a m b i t i o n , civilized in externals b u t a s a v a g e at h e a r t . " J o h n Brown's raid o n H a r p e r s Ferry in 1 8 5 9 , i m m e d i a t e l y r e p u d i a t e d by the n e w R e p u b l i c a n Party, drew from the now t u b e r c u l a r T h o r e a u a p a s sionate d e f e n s e . D u r i n g the Civil W a r itself, L i n c o l n f o u n d the g e n i u s to suit diverse o c c a s i o n s with right l a n g u a g e a n d length of u t t e r a n c e , but the major writers fell silent. W h e n the war b e g a n on April 12, 1 8 6 1 , with the firing of C o n f e d e r a t e g u n s o n Fort S u m t e r , in C h a r l e s t o n harbor, Irving, C o o p e r , P o e , a n d Fuller were d e a d (the y o u n g e r two earlier t h a n the older two), a n d before Robert E . L e e ' s s u r r e n d e r to U l y s s e s S . G r a n t at A p p o m a t tox, Virginia, on April 9, 1 8 6 5 , T h o r e a u a n d H a w t h o r n e h a d also died. S o m e writers in this anthology h a d in their way, directly a n d indirectly, h e l p e d to bring the war on: L i n c o l n w a s not wholly t e a s i n g if in fact h e c a l l e d S t o w e "the little w o m a n w h o h a d started the big war"; C h i l d a n d Whittier h a d by 1 8 6 1 devoted d e c a d e s of their lives to the struggle a g a i n s t slavery, a r o u s i n g furious r e s i s t a n c e to t h e m both in the N o r t h a n d in the S o u t h ; a n d D o u g lass's oratory h a d revealed to m a n y white N o r t h e r n e r s a s e n s e of the evils of slavery a n d the h u m a n n e s s of t h o s e of a n o t h e r r a c e (or of mixed r a c e s ) . F i r e b r a n d Y a n k e e s s u c h a s T h o r e a u a n d firebrand S o u t h e r n e r s s u c h a s G . W . Harris h a d r o u s e d the p a s s i o n s of at least s o m e m e m b e r s of their own c o m munities a n d regions. W h e n the war c a m e , m o s t northern writers were slow to have a s e n s e of its reality a n d , like S o u t h e r n e r s , e r r o n e o u s l y e x p e c t e d it to last only a few m o n t h s . Visiting B o s t o n a n d C o n c o r d in 1 8 6 2 , fresh from the newly f o r m e d W e s t Virginia (the portion of a slave s t a t e that h a d c h o s e n to stay with the U n i o n ) , R e b e c c a H a r d i n g Davis s a w that E m e r s o n h a d n o notion what suffering w a s involved. H a w t h o r n e , w h o received her with e n t h u s i a s m , h a d f a c e d the start of the war a s a s o u t h e r n sympathizer in a village that had w e l c o m e d J o h n B r o w n , then h a d s e e n W a s h i n g t o n in wartime, a n d retained, a s he always did, a practical politician's s e n s e of t h i n g s . A m o n g the a n t e b e l l u m writers the war did not evoke great fiction, but Melville's u n e v e n Battie-Pieces ( 1 8 6 6 ) i n c l u d e d s o m e r e m a r k a b l e meditative p o e m s as well a s the technically interesting Doneison, in which he conveyed vividly the anxiety of civilians awaiting news during a p r o l o n g e d a n d d u b i o u s battle a n d eagerly r e a d i n g aloud the latest bulletins p o s t e d o u t s i d e the telegraph office. W h i t m a n ' s Drum-Taps ( 1 8 6 5 ) a l s o is u n e v e n b u t c o n t a i n s

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several great p o e m s . After a few c o p i e s h a d b e e n d i s p e r s e d , W h i t m a n held b a c k the edition for a s e q u e l mainly c o n s i s t i n g of newly written poems on L i n c o l n , among them When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd, the g r e a t e s t literary work to c o m e out of the war a n d o n e of the world's great e l e g i e s . Both volumes summed u p the national e x p e r i e n c e . B o t h writers looked a h e a d a s well a s b a c k w a r d , W h i t m a n calling " r e c o n c i l i a t i o n " the "word over a l l , " a n d Melville urging in his Supplement to Battle-Pieces that the victorious N o r t h "be C h r i s t i a n s toward our fellow-whites, a s well a s p h i l a n t h r o p i s t s toward the b l a c k s , o u r f e l l o w - m e n . " L a t e r in Specimen Days Whitman m a d e a m e m o r a b l e a t t e m p t to d o the i m p o s s i b l e — t o put the real war realistically into a book. B e f o r e s h e died, Child saw how little R e c o n s t r u c t i o n h a d d o n e to a c h i e v e her h o p e s for e d u c a t i o n a n d financial uplifting of former slaves. B o t h Whitm a n a n d Melville, especially in their later years, saw A m e r i c a n politics c e a s e to be c o n c e r n e d with great national s t r u g g l e s over m o m e n t o u s i s s u e s ; rather, politics m e a n t c o r r u p t i o n , on a petty or a grand s c a l e . Melville lived out the G i l d e d A g e a s an e m p l o y e e at the notoriously c o r r u p t c u s t o m h o u s e in N e w York City. In Clarel, foreseeing a d e s c e n t from the p r e s e n t "civic b a r b a r i s m " to "the D a r k Ages of D e m o c r a c y , " h e portrayed his A m e r i c a n pilgrims to the Holy Land a s recognizing sadly that the time might c o m e to h o n o r the g o d of limitations in what h a d b e e n the land of opportunity, a time w h e n Ameri c a n s might cry: " T o T e r m i n u s build f a n e s ! / C o l u m b u s e n d e d earth's r o m a n c e : / N o N e w W o r l d to m a n k i n d r e m a i n s ! " Written self-consciously a s a c o u n t e r c e n t e n n i a l p o e m , Clarel w a s p u b l i s h e d early in J u n e 1 8 7 6 ( G e o r g e C u s t e r a n d his m e n were riding toward M o n t a n a Territory; o n e of the first reviews of Clarel ran in the N e w York World on J u n e 2 6 , the day after the battle at Little Big H o r n ) . N o o n e would have t h o u g h t to invite Melville to c o m p o s e the public C e n t e n n i a l O d e for the great celebration in P h i l a d e l p h i a on J u l y 4, but there were s o m e w h o knew that Walt Whitman, a true national poet, might well have b e e n invited i n s t e a d of B a y a r d Taylor, w h o so long before had written a valentine for Melville.

T H E

C H A N C E

FOR

G R E A T N E S S

T h e A m e r i c a n Revolution h a d h e l p e d to incite the F r e n c h Revolution a n d , a s it s e e m e d to m a n y A m e r i c a n s , its d i s a s t r o u s c o n s e q u e n c e s , a n d in the p o s t - N a p o l e o n i c era A m e r i c a n s struggled to m a k e s s e n s e of p r o f o u n d political a n d social c h a n g e s in E u r o p e a s well a s a new scientific k n o w l e d g e . In 1 7 9 9 N a p o l e o n ' s soldiers in Egypt h a d taken p o s s e s s i o n of a large p i e c e of basalt, the R o s e t t a S t o n e ; a F r e n c h civilian h a d d e c i p h e r e d its hieroglyphics, thereby initating m o d e r n Egyptology a n d influencing the study of the Bible by s u b j e c t i n g it to historical principles. Archaeological excavations in Italy a n d e l s e w h e r e were t r a n s f o r m i n g historical a n d a e s t h e t i c k n o w l e d g e of classical G r e e c e a n d R o m e . T h e G e r m a n aristocrat B a r o n Alexander von H u m boldt (1769—1859), on his voyage to C e n t r a l a n d S o u t h A m e r i c a in 1799— 1 8 0 4 , h a d m a d e s t u n n i n g d i s c o v e r i e s in botany, biology, geology, physical g e o g r a p h y , meteorology, climatology, a n d even a s t r o n o m y ; he p u b l i s h e d his discoveries in m a n y v o l u m e s , starting in 1 8 0 7 . L o n g before Darwin published his On t/ie Origin of Species ( 1 8 S 9 ) , biologists were p u b l i s h i n g evidence of

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plant a n d a n i m a l evolution, a n d geologists were c h a l l e n g i n g religious chronologies that set the creation of the world a r o u n d 5 0 0 0 B . C . E . K n o w l e d g e of the physical universe w a s i n c r e a s i n g explosively. At the s a m e t i m e , vast parts of the earth were b e i n g seized, not s t u d i e d , a s E u r o p e a n s t a t e s e m b a r k e d on a f e r o c i o u s q u e s t for n e w c o l o n i e s . O n e A m e r i c a n writer, H e r m a n Melville, h a d b e e n on the spot w h e n the F r e n c h seized the M a r q u e s a s a n d had arrived in Tahiti j u s t after the F r e n c h in their warships extended the benefits of their protection to that island. Melville w a s in H o n o l u l u w h e n E n g l a n d relinquished its brief control of the H a w a i i a n I s l a n d s . H e then sailed u n d e r the c o m m a n d of the m a n w h o h a d seized California for the U n i t e d S t a t e s in 1 8 4 3 , only to relinquish it the next day, when he received c o r r e c t e d reports of British i n t e n t i o n s . T h e R u s s i a n s h a d control of an e n o r m o u s h u n k of the N o r t h A m e r i c a n c o n t i n e n t — A l a s k a . G r e a t Britain, F r a n c e , the N e t h e r l a n d s , B u s s i a — a n y n u m b e r of E u r o p e a n powers might at any m o m e n t seize any part of the Pacific, Africa, A s i a , or even C e n t r a l or S o u t h A m e r i c a . E n g l a n d was already c h a l l e n g i n g B o s t o n a n d N e w York m e r c h a n t s for m a s t e r y of trade with C h i n a , a n d any o n e of several other c o u n t r i e s might force J a p a n to o p e n its h a r b o r s to t h e m , not the U n i t e d S t a t e s . T h e seizure of land after the M e x i c a n W a r h a d s e e m e d , to a few A m e r i c a n s , d e p l o r a b l e , but within m o n t h s gold h a d b e e n d i s c o v e r e d in C a l ifornia, clear e v i d e n c e of divine b l e s s i n g on the war. After C a l i f o r n i a , what s h o u l d the U n i t e d S t a t e s seize next? Writing Mofcy-Dicfe d u r i n g the G o l d R u s h , drawing on his p e r s o n a l experiences with i m p e r i a l i s m in the Pacific, Melville defined A m e r i c a ' s o p p o r t u n i t i e s in whaling t e r m s ( c h a p t e r 8 9 ) : " W h a t to that apostolic lancer, B r o t h e r J o n a t h a n [the U n i t e d S t a t e s ] , is T e x a s but a F a s t - F i s h ? " Melville foresaw (chapter 14) the time w h e n A m e r i c a would " a d d M e x i c o to T e x a s , a n d pile C u b a u p o n C a n a d a " in its piratical acquisitiveness. At mid-century Irving w a s a n old m a n a n d s o m e d a r e d to think a n overrated writer. Most of the writers in this period did their b e s t work a s y o u n g m e n a n d w o m e n , fiercely a m b i t i o u s , a n d in spirit "essentially w e s t e r n " (as Melville said in c h a p t e r 2 2 of Israel Potter). Literary g r e a t n e s s in A m e r i c a was u p for g r a b s , there for the seizing a s m u c h a s the M a r q u e s a s I s l a n d s a n d California had been. In his whaling book, Melville h o p e d to m a k e literary g r e a t n e s s a " F a s t - F i s h " forever. W a l t W h i t m a n a few years later m a d e the s a m e gigantic attempt to b e c o m e the poet for A m e r i c a . In the early 1 8 6 0 s , Emily D i c k i n s o n , to w h o m the gold of g e n i u s h a d b e e n given in c h i l d h o o d (poem 4 5 4 [ 4 5 5 ] ) , a n d who h a d m a d e her farewells to friends b o u n d for the G o l d e n S t a t e , knew that she w a s not only the Queen of Calvary ( p o e m 3 4 8 [ 3 4 7 ] ) , but also the Queen of California in literary g r e a t n e s s — a " S o v r e i g n on a M i n e " (poem 8 0 1 [ 8 5 6 ] ) , the " P r i n c e of M i n e s " ( p o e m 4 6 6 [ 5 9 7 ] ) . T h o r e a u , in Life without Principle, characteristically d e n o u n c e d the " r u s h to California," preferring to m i n e the " a u r i f e r o u s " regions within. T h e critic Sydney S m i t h h a d a s k e d c o n t e m p t u o u s l y in the E d i n b u r g h Review ( 1 8 2 0 ) : "In the four q u a r t e r s of the g l o b e , who r e a d s an A m e r i c a n b o o k ? " ; T h o r e a u , who had b e g u n so m o d e s t l y by a d d r e s s i n g his neighbors in C o n c o r d , at the end of Walden a d d r e s s e d the b o o k to both J o h n Bull a n d B r o t h e r J o n a t h a n — to a n y o n e in the four q u a r t e r s of the g l o b e w h o c o u l d read the E n g l i s h l a n g u a g e . T h a t was exuberant " w e s t e r n " a m b i t i o u s n e s s — w h a t Melville called the "true A m e r i c a n " spirit.

AMERICAN LITERATURE

1820-IS65 CONTEXTS

TEXTS 1820

Washington Irving, The Sketch

1821

William Cullen

Book 1821

Bryant,

Sequoyah

(George

Guess)

invents

syllabary in which Cherokee language can

"Thanatopsis"

be written 1821-22 \S2i

James

Fenimore

Cooper,

1823

The

Santa Fe Trail Monroe

Doctrine

opens warns all

European powers not to establish new

Pioneers

colonies on either American continent 1825

Erie Canal opens, connecting

Great

Lakes region with the Atlantic 1827

1827

David Cusick, Sketches of Ancient

History of the Six

Baltimore

and Ohio, nrst U . S .

railroad

Nations

1827—28

Cherokee

Nation ratifies its new

constitution • T h e newspaper the Cherokee Phoenix 182S—30

Cherokee

Council

founded

composes

Memorials 1829

William Apess. A Son of the Forest •

David Walker, Appeal

1829—37

President

Andrew

encourages

westward

movement

Jackson of white

population 1830

Congress

passes

Indian

Removal

Act, allowing J a c k s o n to relocate eastern Indians west of the Mississippi 1831

William Lloyd Garrison

Liberator, antislavery 1834

Catharine

Reminiscence 1836

Maria Sedgwick,

starts The

journal

"A

of Federalism"

Ralph Waldo Emerson,

1836

Nature

Transcendentalists

meet informally

in Boston and Concord 1838

Underground Railroad aids

escaping

north, often to

1838-39

slaves

Canada

"Trail of Tears':

Cherokees

forced from their homelands

by federal

troops \S39

Caroline

Home—Who'll 1841

Stanshury

Kirkland, A New

Follow?

T. B. Thorpe,

"The Big Bear of

Arkansas" \S4i

Margaret

Fuller, ,lThe

Great

Lawsuit"

1845

Edgar Allan Poe, " T h e R a v e n " •

Frederick Douglass, Narrative Frederick

1844

Samuel

1845

United States annexes Texas

Morse invents

telegraph

of the Life of

Douglass 1846—48

United States wages war against

Mexico; Treaty of G u a d a l u p e Hidalgo cedes entire southwest to United States

Boldface

lilies indicate works

444

in the anthology.

TEXTS 1847

CONTEXTS

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,

1847

Evangeline

Brigham Young leads Mormons from

Nauvoo, Illinois, to Salt Lake, Utah Territory 1848

S e n e c a Falls Convention

inaugurates campaign for women's rights 1848-^»9 1850

Nathaniel Hawthorne, The

Letter • Bayard Taylor,

Scarlet

1850

Eldorado

California Gold Rush

Fugitive Slave Act compromise of

1850 obliges free states to return escaped slaves to slaveholders

1851

Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

1852

Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle

Tom's

Cabin

1854

Henry David Thoreau, Walden

1854

Republican Party formed,

consolidating antislavery factions 1855

Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass •

Louise Amelia Smith Clappe, " C a l i f o r n i a , in 1 8 5 1 a n d 1 8 5 2 . R e s i d e n c e in the Mines" 1857

Fanny Fern (Sarah Willis Parton),

1857

Fresh

Leaves

denies citizenship to African Americans

1858

Abraham Lincoln, "A House

1858

Divided" 1859

Lydia Maria Child, "Letter to Mrs.

1859

First successful U.S. oil well drilled,

in Pennsylvania

Harriet Prescott Spofford,

I860

"Circumstance" 1860—65

Transatlantic cable fails after twenty-

seven days

Margaretta M a s o n " 1860

S u p r e m e Court Dred Scott decision

Short-lived Pony Express runs from

Missouri to California

Emily Dickinson writes several

hundred p o e m s 1861

Harriet J a c o b s , Incidents

in the Life

1861

South Carolina batteries fire on U . S .

of a Slave Girl • Rebecca Harding Davis,

fort, initiating the Civil War; Southern

Life in the Iron-Mills

states secede from the Union and found the Confederate States of America 1861-65 1863

Civil War

Emancipation Proclamation • Battle

of Gettysburg 1866

1866

John Greenleaf Whittier, S n o w -

Completion of two successful

transatlantic cables

Bound: A Winter Idyl

1869

First transcontinental railroad

completed; Central Pacific construction crews composed largely of C h i n e s e laborers 1873

Louisa May Alcott, "Transcendental

Wild O a t s " 1883

E m m a Lazarus, " T h e N e w C o l o s s u s "

445

WASHINGTON

IRVING

\783-\859

Washington Irving, the first American to achieve an international literary reputation, was born in New York City on April 3, \ 783, the last of eleven children of a Scottishborn father and English-born mother. Well into his thirties his brothers routinely tried to make plans for him, and his own devotion to his family was a dominant emotion throughout his life. He read widely in English literature at home, modeling his early prose on the graceful Spectator papers by Joseph Addison, but delighted by many other writers, including Shakespeare, Oliver Goldsmith, and Laurence Sterne. His brothers enjoyed writing poems and essays as pleasant, companionable recreation, and at nineteen Irving wrote a series of satirical essays on the theater and New York society for his brother Peter's newspaper, the Morning Courier. When Irving showed signs of tuberculosis in 1804, his brothers sent him abroad for a two-year tour of Europe, where in his notebooks he steadily became an acute observer and felicitous recorder of what he witnessed. On his return, he began studying law with Judge Josiah Hoffman; but more important for his career, he and his brother William (along with William's brother-in-law, James Kirke Paulding) started (the name of a spicy hash), which ran an anonymous satirical magazine, Salmagundi through 1807 with sketches and poems on politics and drama as well as familiar essays on a great range of topics. Then in 1808 Irving began work on A History of New York, at first conceiving it as a parody of Samuel Latham Mitchell's pompously titled The Picture

of New-York;

or, The Traveller's

Guide

through

the

Commercial

Metropolis of the United States, then taking on a variety of satiric targets, including President Jefferson, whom he portrayed as an early Dutch governor of New Amsterdam, William the Testy. Exuberant, broadly comic, the History spoofed historians' pedantries but was itself the result of many months of antiquarian reading in local libraries, where his researches gave Irving refuge from grief over the sudden death of Judge Hoffman's daughter Matilda, to whom he had become engaged. Then the History was launched by a charming publicity campaign. First a newspaper noted the disappearance of a "small elderly gentleman, dressed in an old black coat and cocked hat, by the name of K N I C K E R B O C K E R , " adding that there were "some reasons for believing he is not entirely in his right mind." After further "news" items the old man's fictitious landlord announced that he had found in Knickerbocker's room a "very curious kind of a written book" which he intended to dispose of to pay the bill that was owed him, and the book at last appeared, ascribed to Diedrich Knickerbocker. With its publication Irving became an American celebrity. Reprinted in England, the History reached Sir Walter Scott, who declared that it made his sides hurt from laughter. Like all but the rarest of topical satires, however, it has become increasingly inaccessible to later generations of readers, who can hardly comprehend Irving's strategies and targets without precisely the sort of antiquarian footnotes he found delight in mocking. During the War of 1812 Irving was editor of the Analectic Magazine, which he filled mainly with essays from British periodicals but in which he printed his own timely series of patriotic biographical sketches of American naval heroes. Toward the end of the war he was made a colonel in the New York State Militia. Then in May 1815, a major break occurred in his life: he left for Europe and stayed away for seventeen years. At first he worked in Liverpool with his brother Peter, an importer of English hardware. In 1818 Peter went bankrupt, shortly after their mother died in New York; profoundly grieved and shamed, Irving once again took refuge in writing. During his work on The Sketch Book he met Scott, who buoyed him by admiration for the History and helpfully directed Irving's attention to the wealth of unused literary material in German folktales; there, as scholars have shown, Irving found the source

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for "Rip Van Winkle," some passages of which are close paraphrases of the original. In 1819 Irving began sending The Sketch Book to the United States for publication in installments. When the full version was printed in England the next year, it made Irving famous and brought him the friendship of many of the leading British writers of the time. His new pseudonym, Geoffrey Crayon, became universally recognized, and over the next years selections from The Sketch Book entered the classroom as models of English prose just as selections from Addison had long been used. As Irving knew, part of his British success derived from general astonishment that a man born in the United States could write in such an English way about English scenes: Addison lay behind the sketches of English country life, just as Oliver Goldsmith's essays on the Boar's-head Tavern in Eastcheap and on Westminster Abbey lay behind Irving's on the same topics. But in among the graceful, tame tributes to English scenes and characters were two vigorous tales set in rural New York, "Rip Van Winkle" and "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Everyone who read them knew instantly that they were among the literary treasures of the language, and it very soon became hard to remember that they had not always been among the English classics. Hall (1822), a worshipful tribute to old-fashioned Irving's next book, Bracebridge English country life, was, as the author realized, a feeble follow-up, and Tales of a Traveller (1824) was widely taken as a sign that he had written himself out. At a loss to sustain his career, Irving gambled on accepting an invitation from an acquaintance, the American minister to Spain: he was to come to Spain as an attache of the legation (a device for giving him entree into manuscript collections) and translate Martin Fernandez de Navarrete's new compilation of accounts of the voyages of Columbus, including Columbus's own lost journals as copied by an earlier historian. Helped by the American consul in Madrid, Obadiah Rich, who owned a magnificent collection of books and manuscripts on Spanish and Latin American history, Irving worked intensely and in 1828 published The Life and Voyages of Christopher

Columbus,

not

a translation of Navarrete (though the Spaniard's volume supplied most of the facts) but a biography of Irving's own, shaped by his skill at evocative re-creation of history. Out of these Spanish years came also Tire Conquest of Granada (1829), Voyages and Discoveries

of the Companions

of Columbus

became known as "the Spanish Sketch

(1831), and The Alhambra

Book."

(1832), which

In 1829 Irving was appointed secretary to the American legation in London, where he became a competent, hardworking diplomat, aided by his access to the highest levels of British society. No longer the latest rage, Irving by now was a solidly established author. On his return to the United States in 1832 his reputation was in need of redemption from a different charge—that of becoming too Europeanized. As if in an effort to make amends, Irving turned to three studies of the American West: A Tour on the Prairies (1835), based on his horseback journey into what is now Oklahoma; Astoria (1836), an account of John Jacob Astor's fur-trading colony in Oregon, written in Astor's own library and based on published accounts as well as research in Astor's archives (in which task Irving was assisted by his nephew Pierre); and The Adventures

of Captain

Bonneville,

U.S.A. ( 1 8 3 7 ) , an account of a French-

man's explorations in the Bockies and the Far West.

In the late 1830s Irving bought and began refurbishing a house near Tarrytown, along the Hudson, north of New York City, just where he had dreamed of settling down in "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." At Sunnyside he made a home for several members of his family, including as many as five nieces at a time, but he wrote little. From this somewhat purposeless stage of his life he was rescued by appointment as minister to Spain in 1842; he served four years in-Madrid with great success. After his return he arranged with G. P. Putnam to publish a collected edition of his writings and took the occasion to revise some of them. Using essays he had written years before, he also prepared for the edition a derivative biography of Oliver Goldsmith (1849), after which critics more than ever compared him to the Irish prince of hackwriters. Irving's main work after 1851 was his long-contemplated life of George

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Washington. He worked in libraries, read old newspapers, studied government records, and visited battlefields, but once again he drew very heavily on published biographies, especially the recent one by Jared Sparks. He forced himself, in the most heroic effort of his career, to complete the successive five volumes, the first of which was published in 1855. Just after finishing the last he collapsed and died a few months later, on November 28, 1859. Decades before his death, Irving had achieved the status of a classic writer; in his own country he had no rival as a stylist. As schoolboys, Hawthorne and Longfellow were inspired by the success of The Sketch Book; and their prose, as well as that of a horde of now-unread writers, owed much to Irving. Although Melville, in his essay on Hawthorne's Mosses from an Old Manse, declared his preference for creative geniuses over adept imitators like Irving, he could not escape Irving's influence, which emerges both in his short stories and in a late poem, "Rip Van Winkle's Lilacs," which showed he saw Rip as an archetypal artist figure. (Melville's debt was even more tangible, for early in 1846 Irving had passed the word to Putnam that Typee was worth reprinting in New York; but then Irving had been generous to younger writers all his life, as in his supervision of the London publication of Bryant's poems in 1832.) The southwestern humorists of the 1840s, whom Irving read and enjoyed, were much more robust than Irving in his mature years, yet they learned from him that realistic details of rural life in America could be worked memorably into fiction. From the beginning, Americans identified with Rip as a counterhero, an anti-Franldinian who made a success of failure, and successive generations have responded profoundly to Irving's pervasive theme of mutability, especially as localized in his portrayal of the bewildering and destructive rapidity of change in American life.

Rip Van Winkle1 T h e following T a l e w a s f o u n d a m o n g the p a p e r s of the late D i e d r i c h K n i c k e r b o c k e r , a n old g e n t l e m a n of New-York, w h o w a s very c u r i o u s in the D u t c h history of the p r o v i n c e , a n d the m a n n e r s of the d e s c e n d a n t s from its primitive settlers. His historical r e s e a r c h e s , however, did not lay so m u c h a m o n g b o o k s , a s a m o n g m e n ; for the f o r m e r are l a m e n t a b l y s c a n t y o n his favourite t o p i c s ; w h e r e a s h e f o u n d the old b u r g h e r s , a n d still m o r e , their wives, rich in that legendary lore, s o i n v a l u a b l e to true history. W h e n e v e r , therefore, h e h a p p e n e d u p o n a g e n u i n e D u t c h family, snugly s h u t up in its low-roofed farm h o u s e , u n d e r a s p r e a d i n g s y c a m o r e , he looked u p o n it a s a little c l a s p e d v o l u m e of black-letter, 2 a n d s t u d i e d it with the zeal of a bookworm. T h e result of all t h e s e r e s e a r c h e s w a s a history of the p r o v i n c e , d u r i n g the reign of the D u t c h g o v e r n o r s , which h e p u b l i s h e d s o m e years s i n c e . T h e r e have b e e n v a r i o u s o p i n i o n s a s to the literary c h a r a c t e r of his work, a n d , to tell the truth, it is not a whit better t h a n it s h o u l d b e . Its c h i e f merit is its s c r u p u l o u s a c c u r a c y , w h i c h , i n d e e d , w a s a little q u e s t i o n e d , on its first a p p e a r a n c e , but h a s s i n c e b e e n c o m p l e t e l y e s t a b l i s h e d ; 3 a n d it is n o w a d m i t ted into all historical c o l l e c t i o n s , a s a b o o k of u n q u e s t i o n a b l e authority. 1. "Rip Van Winkle" was the last of the sketches printed in the May 1819 first installment of The Sketch Book, the source of the present text. 2. Typeface in early printed books, resembling medieval script; such books, b e c a u s e of theirvalue, were often equipped with clasps so they could be

shut tightly and even locked. 3. Irving knew that most of his first readers would remember with delight the wildly inaccurate Knickerbocker History. He is also echoing Cervantes's h u m o r o u s assurance of accuracy at the outset of Don Quixote.

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T h e old g e n t l e m a n died shortly after the p u b l i c a t i o n of his work, a n d now, that he is d e a d a n d g o n e , it c a n n o t do m u c h h a r m to his m e m o r y , to say, that his time might have b e e n m u c h better e m p l o y e d in weightier l a b o u r s . H e , however, w a s apt to ride his hobby his own way; a n d t h o u g h it did now a n d then kick u p the d u s t a little in the eyes of his n e i g h b o u r s , a n d grieve the spirit of s o m e friends, for w h o m he felt the truest d e f e r e n c e a n d affection; yet his errors a n d follies are r e m e m b e r e d " m o r e in sorrow than in a n g e r , " 4 a n d it b e g i n s to be s u s p e c t e d , that he never i n t e n d e d to injure or offend. B u t however his m e m o r y may be a p p r e c i a t e d by critics, it is still held d e a r a m o n g m a n y folk, w h o s e good opinion is well worth having; particularly certain biscuit b a k e r s , w h o have g o n e s o far as to imprint his likeness o n their n e w year c a k e s , a n d have t h u s given him a c h a n c e for immortality, a l m o s t e q u a l to b e i n g s t a m p e d on a W a t e r l o o m e d a l , or a Q u e e n A n n e ' s farthing. 5 Rip Van Winkle A P o s t h u m o u s Writing of Diedrich Knickerbocker By Woden, God of Saxons, From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday, Truth is a thing that ever I will keep Unto thylke day in which I creep into My sepulchre— —CARTWRIGHT"

W h o e v e r h a s m a d e a voyage u p the H u d s o n , m u s t r e m e m b e r the Kaatskill m o u n t a i n s . T h e y are a d i s m e m b e r e d b r a n c h of the great A p p a l a c h i a n family, a n d are s e e n away to the west of the river, swelling u p to a n o b l e height, a n d lording it over the s u r r o u n d i n g country. Every c h a n g e of s e a s o n , every c h a n g e of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, p r o d u c e s s o m e c h a n g e in the m a g i c a l h u e s a n d s h a p e s of t h e s e m o u n t a i n s , a n d they a r e r e g a r d e d by all the g o o d wives, far a n d near, a s perfect b a r o m e t e r s . W h e n the w e a t h e r is fair a n d settled, they are clothed in b l u e a n d p u r p l e , a n d print their bold outlines on the clear e v e n i n g sky; b u t s o m e t i m e s , w h e n the rest of the l a n d s c a p e is c l o u d l e s s , they will gather a h o o d of gray v a p o u r s a b o u t their s u m m i t s , w h i c h , in the last rays of the setting s u n , will glow a n d light u p like a crown of glory. At the foot of t h e s e fairy m o u n t a i n s , the voyager m a y have d e s c r i e d the light s m o k e curling u p from a village, w h o s e shingle roofs g l e a m a m o n g the trees, j u s t w h e r e the b l u e tints of the u p l a n d melt away into the fresh green of the nearer l a n d s c a p e . It is a little village of great antiquity, having b e e n f o u n d e d by s o m e of the D u t c h c o l o n i s t s , in the early times of the province, j u s t a b o u t the b e g i n n i n g of the g o v e r n m e n t of the g o o d P e t e r S t u y v e s a n t , 7 4. Shakespeare's Hamlet 1.1.231—32. T o this quotation Irving appended the following footnote: "Vide [see] the excellent discourse of G. C . Verplanck, Esq. before the New-York Historical Society." If Irving's friend Gulian C. Verplanck ever made such an address, it was in fun. 5. Irving's irony cuts in different directions: Waterloo medals were minted liberally after the defeat of Napoleon in 1815, whereas farthings (tiny coins) from the reign of Queen Anne of England (1702—14) were commonly, though

wTongly, considered rare, one story saying only three were minted. 6. In this quotation from The Ordinary, 3 . 1 . 1 0 5 0 54, a play by the English writer William Cartwright ( 1 6 1 1 — 1643), the speaker is a pedant named Moth. Woden was the Norse god of war. 7. Last governor of the Dutch province of New Netherlands ( 1 5 9 2 - 1 6 7 2 ) , in 1655 (as mentioned below) defeated Swedish colonists at Fort Christina, near what is now Wilmington, Delaware.

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(may he rest in p e a c e ! ) a n d there were s o m e of the h o u s e s of the original settlers s t a n d i n g within a few years, with lattice w i n d o w s , g a b l e fronts surm o u n t e d with w e a t h e r c o c k s , a n d built of small yellow bricks b r o u g h t from Holland. In that s a m e village, a n d in o n e of t h e s e very h o u s e s , (which, to tell the p r e c i s e truth, w a s sadly time worn a n d w e a t h e r b e a t e n , ) there lived m a n y years s i n c e , while the country w a s yet a province of G r e a t Britain, a s i m p l e g o o d natured fellow, of the n a m e of Rip V a n W i n k l e . H e w a s a d e s c e n d a n t of the V a n W i n k l e s w h o figured s o gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter S t u y v e s a n t , a n d a c c o m p a n i e d him to the siege of Fort C h r i s t i n a . H e inherited, however, but little of the martial c h a r a c t e r of his a n c e s t o r s . I have o b s e r v e d that he w a s a s i m p l e good n a t u r e d m a n ; h e w a s m o r e o v e r a kind neighbour, a n d an o b e d i e n t , h e n p e c k e d h u s b a n d . I n d e e d , to the latter circ u m s t a n c e might be owing that m e e k n e s s of spirit which g a i n e d him s u c h universal popularity; for t h o s e m e n a r e m o s t apt to be o b s e q u i o u s a n d conciliating a b r o a d , w h o are u n d e r the discipline of shrews at h o m e . T h e i r temp e r s , d o u b t l e s s , a r e r e n d e r e d pliant a n d m a l l e a b l e in the fiery f u r n a c e of d o m e s t i c tribulation, a n d a curtain l e c t u r e " is worth all the s e r m o n s in the world for t e a c h i n g the virtues of p a t i e n c e a n d long suffering. A t e r m a g a n t wife may, therefore, in s o m e r e s p e c t s , b e c o n s i d e r e d a tolerable b l e s s i n g ; a n d if s o , Rip V a n Winkle w a s thrice b l e s s e d . C e r t a i n it is, that h e w a s a great favourite a m o n g all the g o o d wives of the village, w h o , as u s u a l with the a m i a b l e sex, took his part in all family s q u a b bles, a n d never failed, whenever they talked t h o s e m a t t e r s over in their evening g o s s i p p i n g s , to lay all the b l a m e on D a m e V a n W i n k l e . T h e children of the village, too, would s h o u t with j o y w h e n e v e r h e a p p r o a c h e d . H e a s s i s t e d at their s p o r t s , m a d e their playthings, t a u g h t t h e m to fly kites a n d s h o o t m a r b l e s , a n d told t h e m long stories of g h o s t s , w i t c h e s , a n d I n d i a n s . W h e n ever he went d o d g i n g a b o u t the village, he w a s s u r r o u n d e d by a troop of t h e m , h a n g i n g o n his skirts, c l a m b e r i n g on his b a c k , a n d playing a t h o u s a n d tricks on him with impunity; a n d not a d o g would bark at him t h r o u g h o u t the n e i g h b o u r h o o d . T h e great error in Rip's c o m p o s i t i o n w a s a n i n s u p e r a b l e aversion to all kinds of profitable labour. It c o u l d not be for the want of a s s i d u i t y or pers e v e r a n c e ; for h e w o u l d sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long a n d heavy a s a Tartar's l a n c e , a n d fish all day without a m u r m u r , even t h o u g h he s h o u l d not be e n c o u r a g e d by a single nibble. H e w o u l d carry a fowling p i e c e on his s h o u l d e r , for h o u r s together, trudging t h r o u g h w o o d s a n d s w a m p s , a n d up hill a n d d o w n d a l e , to s h o o t a few squirrels or wild p i g e o n s . H e would never even refuse to a s s i s t a n e i g h b o u r in the r o u g h e s t toil, a n d w a s a f o r e m o s t m a n at all country frolicks for h u s k i n g Indian c o r n , or b u i l d i n g s t o n e f e n c e s ; the w o m e n of the village, too, u s e d to e m p l o y him to run their e r r a n d s , a n d to do s u c h little o d d j o b s a s their less obliging h u s b a n d s w o u l d not do for t h e m ; — i n a word, Rip w a s ready to a t t e n d to any body's b u s i n e s s but his o w n ; but a s to d o i n g family duty, a n d k e e p i n g his farm in order, it w a s impossible. In fact, he d e c l a r e d it w a s no u s e to work o n his f a r m ; it w a s the m o s t pestilent little p i e c e of g r o u n d in the w h o l e country; every t h i n g a b o u t it 8. Tirade delivered by a wife after the curtains around the four-poster bed have been drawn for the night.

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went wrong, a n d would go wrong, in spite of h i m . His f e n c e s were continually falling to p i e c e s ; his cow would either go astray, or get a m o n g the c a b b a g e s ; w e e d s were s u r e to grow quicker in his fields t h a n any w h e r e e l s e ; the rain always m a d e a point of setting in j u s t a s he h a d s o m e o u t - d o o r work to d o . S o that t h o u g h his patrimonial e s t a t e had dwindled away u n d e r his m a n a g e m e n t , a c r e by a c r e , until there w a s little m o r e left than a m e r e p a t c h of I n d i a n corn a n d p o t a t o e s , yet it w a s the worst c o n d i t i o n e d farm in the neighbourhood. ... ; q ; His children, too, were a s ragged a n d wild a s if they b e l o n g e d to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin b e g o t t e n in his own l i k e n e s s , p r o m i s e d to inherit the h a b i t s , with the old c l o t h e s of his father. H e w a s generally s e e n t r o o p i n g like a colt at his mother's h e e l s , e q u i p p e d in a pair of his father's cast-off gallig a s k i n s , 9 which he h a d m u c h a d o to hold u p with o n e h a n d , as a fine lady does her train in b a d weather. Rip V a n W i n k l e , however, w a s o n e of t h o s e happy m o r t a l s , of foolish, welloiled d i s p o s i t i o n s , w h o take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, which ever c a n be got with least t h o u g h t or t r o u b l e , a n d would rather starve on a penny than work for a p o u n d . If left to himself, h e would have whistled life away, in perfect c o n t e n t m e n t ; but his wife kept continually d i n n i n g in his e a r s a b o u t his i d l e n e s s , his c a r e l e s s n e s s , a n d the ruin he was bringing on his family. M o r n i n g , n o o n , a n d night, her t o n g u e w a s i n c e s s a n t l y going, a n d every thing he said or did was s u r e to p r o d u c e a torrent of h o u s e h o l d eloq u e n c e . Rip h a d but o n e way of replying to all l e c t u r e s of the kind, a n d that, by f r e q u e n t u s e , h a d grown into a habit. H e s h r u g g e d his s h o u l d e r s , s h o o k his h e a d , c a s t u p his eyes, but said n o t h i n g . T h i s , however, always provoked a fresh volley from his wife, so that he w a s fain to draw off his f o r c e s , a n d take to the o u t s i d e of the h o u s e — t h e only side w h i c h , in truth, b e l o n g s to a henpecked husband. Rip's sole d o m e s t i c a d h e r e n t was his d o g Wolf, w h o w a s a s m u c h henp e c k e d as his m a s t e r ; for D a m e Van Winkle regarded t h e m a s c o m p a n i o n s in i d l e n e s s , a n d even looked u p o n W o l f with an evil eye, a s the c a u s e of his m a s t e r ' s so often g o i n g astray. T r u e it is, in all points of spirit befitting an h o n o u r a b l e d o g , h e was as c o u r a g e o u s a n a n i m a l a s ever s c o u r e d the w o o d s — b u t what c o u r a g e c a n withstand the ever-during a n d all-besetting terrors of a w o m a n ' s t o n g u e ? T h e m o m e n t Wolf entered the h o u s e , his crest fell, his tail d r o o p e d to the g r o u n d , or c u r l e d b e t w e e n his legs, he s n e a k e d a b o u t with a gallows air, c a s t i n g m a n y a s i d e l o n g g l a n c e at D a m e V a n Winkle, a n d at the least flourish of a b r o o m s t i c k or ladle, would fly to the door with yelping precipitation. T i m e s grew w o r s e a n d worse with Rip V a n Winkle a s years of m a t r i m o n y rolled o n ; a tart t e m p e r never mellows with a g e , a n d a s h a r p t o n g u e is the onlv e d g e tool that grows k e e n e r by c o n s t a n t u s e . F o r a long while he u s e d to c o n s o l e himself, when driven from h o m e , by f r e q u e n t i n g a kind of perpetual c l u b of the s a g e s , p h i l o s o p h e r s , a n d other idle p e r s o n a g e s of the village, that held its s e s s i o n s on a b e n c h before a small inn, d e s i g n a t e d by a r u b i c u n d portrait of his majesty G e o r g e the T h i r d . H e r e they u s e d to sit in the s h a d e , of a long lazy s u m m e r ' s day, talk listlessly over village g o s s i p , or tell e n d l e s s sleepy stories a b o u t nothing. B u t it would have b e e n worth any 9. Loose, wide breeches.

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s t a t e s m a n ' s m o n e y to have h e a r d the p r o f o u n d d i s c u s s i o n s that s o m e t i m e s took p l a c e , w h e n by c h a n c e a n old n e w s p a p e r fell into their h a n d s , from s o m e p a s s i n g traveller. H o w s o l e m n l y they would listen to the c o n t e n t s , a s drawled o u t by Derrick V a n B u m m e l , the s c h o o l m a s t e r , a d a p p e r learned little m a n , w h o w a s not to b e d a u n t e d by the m o s t gigantic word in the dictionary; a n d how sagely they would deliberate u p o n p u b l i c events s o m e m o n t h s after they h a d t a k e n p l a c e . T h e o p i n i o n s of this j u n t o ' were c o m p l e t e l y controlled by N i c h o l a s V e d d e r , a patriarch of the village, a n d landlord of the inn, at the d o o r of which h e took his seat from m o r n i n g till night, j u s t m o v i n g sufficiently to avoid the s u n , a n d keep in the s h a d e of a large t r e e ; s o that the n e i g h b o u r s c o u l d tell the h o u r by his m o v e m e n t s a s a c c u r a t e l y a s by a s u n dial. It is true, he w a s rarely h e a r d to s p e a k , b u t s m o k e d his p i p e incessantly. H i s a d h e r e n t s , however, (for every great m a n h a s his a d h e r e n t s , ) perfectly u n d e r s t o o d him, a n d knew how to gather his o p i n i o n s . W h e n any thing that w a s r e a d or related d i s p l e a s e d h i m , he w a s observed to s m o k e his p i p e v e h e m e n t l y , a n d s e n d forth short, f r e q u e n t , a n d angry p u f f s ; b u t w h e n p l e a s e d , h e w o u l d inhale the s m o k e slowly a n d tranquilly, a n d emit it in light a n d placid c l o u d s , a n d s o m e t i m e s taking the p i p e from his m o u t h , a n d letting the fragrant v a p o u r curl a b o u t his n o s e , would gravely n o d his h e a d in token of perfect a p p r o bation. • F r o m even this s t r o n g hold the unlucky Rip w a s at length r o u t e d by his t e r m a g a n t wife, w h o would s u d d e n l y b r e a k in u p o n the tranquillity of the a s s e m b l a g e , call the m e m b e r s all to n o u g h t , nor w a s that a u g u s t p e r s o n a g e , N i c h o l a s V e d d e r himself, s a c r e d from the d a r i n g t o n g u e of this terrible virago, w h o c h a r g e d him outright with e n c o u r a g i n g her h u s b a n d in habits of idleness. P o o r Rip w a s at last r e d u c e d a l m o s t to d e s p a i r ; a n d his only alternative to e s c a p e from the l a b o u r of the farm a n d the c l a m o u r of his wife, w a s to take g u n in h a n d , a n d stroll away into the w o o d s . H e r e h e w o u l d s o m e t i m e s s e a t h i m s e l f at the foot of a tree, a n d s h a r e the c o n t e n t s of his w a l l e t 2 with Wolf, with w h o m he s y m p a t h i s e d a s a fellow sufferer in p e r s e c u t i o n . " P o o r W o l f , " he w o u l d say, "thy m i s t r e s s l e a d s t h e e a d o g s ' life of it; b u t never m i n d , my lad, while I live thou shalt never w a n t a friend to s t a n d by t h e e ! " W o l f would w a g his tail, look wistfully in his m a s t e r ' s f a c e , a n d if d o g s c a n feel pity, I verily believe he r e c i p r o c a t e d the s e n t i m e n t with all his heart. In a long r a m b l e of the kind on a fine a u t u m n a l day, Rip h a d u n c o n s c i o u s l y s c r a m b l e d to o n e of the h i g h e s t p a r t s of the Kaatskill m o u n t a i n s . H e w a s after his favourite sport of squirrel s h o o t i n g , a n d the still s o l i t u d e s h a d e c h o e d a n d r e - e c h o e d with the reports of his g u n . P a n t i n g a n d f a t i g u e d , h e threw himself, late in the a f t e r n o o n , on a g r e e n knoll, c o v e r e d with m o u n t a i n herba g e , that c r o w n e d the brow of a p r e c i p i c e . F r o m a n o p e n i n g b e t w e e n the t r e e s , h e c o u l d overlook all the lower c o u n t r y for m a n y a mile of rich woodland. H e s a w at a d i s t a n c e the lordly H u d s o n , far, far b e l o w h i m , m o v i n g o n its silent but m a j e s t i c c o u r s e , the reflection of a p u r p l e c l o u d , or the sail of a l a g g i n g bark, here a n d there s l e e p i n g o n its glassy b o s o m , a n d at last l o s i n g itself in the b l u e h i g h l a n d s . O n the other side h e looked d o w n into a d e e p m o u n t a i n glen, wild, lonely, 1. Ruling committee (Spanish).

2.

Knapsack.

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a n d s h a g g e d , the b o t t o m filled with f r a g m e n t s from the i m p e n d i n g cliffs, a n d scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting s u n . F o r s o m e time Rip lay m u s i n g on this s c e n e , evening w a s gradually a d v a n c i n g , the m o u n t a i n s b e g a n to throw their long blue s h a d o w s over the valleys, h e saw that it would be dark long before he c o u l d r e a c h the village, a n d he h e a v e d a heavy sigh when h e thought of e n c o u n t e r i n g the terrors of D a m e V a n W i n k l e . As he w a s a b o u t to d e s c e n d , he heard a voice from a d i s t a n c e , hallooing, " R i p Van W i n k l e ! Rip V a n W i n k l e ! " H e looked a r o u n d , but c o u l d s e e n o t h i n g but a c r o w winging its solitary flight a c r o s s the m o u n t a i n . H e t h o u g h t his fancy m u s t have d e c e i v e d him, a n d turned again to d e s c e n d , w h e n he h e a r d the s a m e cry ring through the still e v e n i n g air; " R i p V a n W i n k l e ! Rip V a n W i n k l e ! " — a t the s a m e time W o l f bristled u p his back, a n d giving a low growl, skulked to his m a s t e r ' s s i d e , looking fearfully d o w n into the glen. Rip now felt a v a g u e a p p r e h e n s i o n stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the s a m e direction, a n d perceived a s t r a n g e figure slowly tojling u p the r o c k s , a n d b e n d i n g u n d e r the weight of s o m e t h i n g he carried on his b a c k . H e w a s surprised to s e e any h u m a n b e i n g in this lonely a n d u n f r e q u e n t e d p l a c e , but s u p p o s i n g it to be s o m e o n e of the n e i g h b o u r h o o d in n e e d of his a s s i s t a n c e , he h a s t e n e d down to yield it. O n nearer a p p r o a c h , h e w a s still m o r e s u r p r i s e d at the singularity of the stranger's a p p e a r a n c e . H e w a s a short s q u a r e built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, a n d a grizzled b e a r d . H i s d r e s s w a s of the a n t i q u e D u t c h fashi o n — a cloth jerkin* s t r a p p e d r o u n d the w a i s t — s e v e r a l pair of b r e e c h e s , the outer o n e of a m p l e v o l u m e , d e c o r a t e d with rows of b u t t o n s d o w n the s i d e s , a n d b u n c h e s at the k n e e s . H e b o r e on his s h o u l d e r a stout keg, that s e e m e d full of liquor, a n d m a d e signs for Rip to a p p r o a c h a n d a s s i s t him with the load. T h o u g h rather shy a n d distrustful of this new a c q u a i n t a n c e , Rip c o m plied with his u s u a l alacrity, a n d mutually relieving e a c h other, they c l a m b e r e d u p a narrow gully, apparently the dry b e d of a m o u n t a i n torrent. As they a s c e n d e d , Rip every now a n d then heard long rolling p e a l s , like distant thunder, that s e e m e d to i s s u e out of a d e e p ravine, or rather cleft b e t w e e n lofty rocks, toward which their r u g g e d p a t h c o n d u c t e d . H e p a u s e d for an instant, but s u p p o s i n g it to b e the m u t t e r i n g of o n e of t h o s e transient t h u n d e r s h o w e r s which often take p l a c e in m o u n t a i n heights, h e p r o c e e d e d . P a s s i n g t h r o u g h the ravine, they c a m e to a hollow, like a s m a l l a m p h i t h e a t r e , surr o u n d e d by p e r p e n d i c u l a r p r e c i p i c e s , over the brinks of which i m p e n d i n g trees shot their b r a n c h e s , so that you only c a u g h t g l i m p s e s of the azure sky, a n d the bright e v e n i n g c l o u d . D u r i n g the whole t i m e , Rip a n d his c o m p a n i o n h a d l a b o u r e d on in s i l e n c e ; for t h o u g h the former marvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor u p this wild m o u n t a i n , yet there w a s s o m e t h i n g s t r a n g e a n d i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e a b o u t the u n k n o w n , that inspired a w e , a n d c h e c k e d familiarity. O n e n t e r i n g the a m p h i t h e a t r e , new o b j e c t s of w o n d e r p r e s e n t e d t h e m selves. O n a level spot in the c e n t r e w a s a c o m p a n y of odd-looking p e r s o n a g e s playing at nine-pins. T h e y were d r e s s e d in a q u a i n t , o u t l a n d i s h f a s h i o n : s o m e wore short doublets," 1 others j e r k i n s , with long knives in their belts, a n d m o s t h a d e n o r m o u s b r e e c h e s , of similar style with that of the g u i d e ' s . T h e i r vis3. Jacket fitted tightly at the waist. 4 . Male garment covering from neck to upper

thighs, where it hooked to hose.

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a g e s , too, were p e c u l i a r : o n e h a d a large h e a d , b r o a d f a c e , a n d s m a l l piggish eyes; the f a c e of a n o t h e r s e e m e d to c o n s i s t entirely of n o s e , a n d w a s surm o u n t e d by a white s u g a r l o a f hat, set off with a little red c o c k s t a i l . T h e y all h a d b e a r d s , of various s h a p e s a n d c o l o u r s . T h e r e w a s o n e w h o s e e m e d to b e the c o m m a n d e r . H e w a s a stout old g e n t l e m a n , with a w e a t h e r - b e a t e n c o u n t e n a n c e ; h e w o r e a l a c e d d o u b l e t , b r o a d belt a n d h a n g e r , 5 high c r o w n e d hat a n d feather, red s t o c k i n g s , a n d high h e e l e d s h o e s , with r o s e s in t h e m . T h e w h o l e g r o u p r e m i n d e d Rip of the figures in an old F l e m i s h p a i n t i n g , in the p a r l o u r of D o m i n i e 6 V a n S c h a i c k , the village p a r s o n , a n d w h i c h h a d b e e n b r o u g h t over from H o l l a n d at the t i m e of the s e t t l e m e n t . W h a t s e e m e d particularly o d d to R i p , w a s , that t h o u g h t h e s e folks were evidently a m u s i n g t h e m s e l v e s , yet they m a i n t a i n e d the gravest f a c e s , the m o s t m y s t e r i o u s s i l e n c e , a n d w e r e , withal, the m o s t m e l a n c h o l y party of p l e a s u r e he h a d ever w i t n e s s e d . N o t h i n g i n t e r r u p t e d the stillness of the s c e n e , b u t the n o i s e of the balls, w h i c h , whenever they were rolled, e c h o e d a l o n g the m o u n t a i n s like r u m b l i n g p e a l s of t h u n d e r . A s Rip a n d his c o m p a n i o n a p p r o a c h e d t h e m , they s u d d e n l y d e s i s t e d from their play, a n d stared at h i m with s u c h fixed statue-like g a z e , a n d s u c h s t r a n g e , u n c o u t h , lack lustre c o u n t e n a n c e s , that his heart t u r n e d within h i m , a n d his k n e e s s m o t e together. H i s c o m p a n i o n now e m p t i e d the c o n t e n t s of the k e g into large flagons, a n d m a d e signs to him to wait u p o n the c o m p a n y . H e o b e y e d with fear a n d t r e m b l i n g ; they q u a f f e d the liquor in p r o f o u n d s i l e n c e , a n d then r e t u r n e d to their g a m e . By d e g r e e s , Rip's a w e a n d a p p r e h e n s i o n s u b s i d e d . H e even v e n t u r e d , w h e n n o eye w a s fixed u p o n h i m , to t a s t e the b e v e r a g e , w h i c h h e f o u n d h a d m u c h of the flavour of excellent H o l l a n d s . 7 H e w a s naturally a thirsty s o u l , a n d w a s s o o n t e m p t e d to repeat the d r a u g h t . O n e t a s t e p r o v o k e d a n o t h e r , a n d h e reiterated his visits to the flagon s o often, that at length his s e n s e s were overpowered, his eyes s w a m in his h e a d , his h e a d gradually d e c l i n e d , a n d he fell into a d e e p s l e e p . O n a w a k i n g , h e f o u n d h i m s e l f o n the g r e e n knoll f r o m w h e n c e he h a d first s e e n the old m a n of the glen. H e r u b b e d his e y e s — i t w a s a bright s u n n y m o r n i n g . T h e birds were h o p p i n g a n d twittering a m o n g the b u s h e s , a n d the eagle w a s w h e e l i n g aloft, a n d b r e a s t i n g the p u r e m o u n t a i n b r e e z e . " S u r e l y , " t h o u g h t Rip, "I have not slept h e r e all n i g h t . " H e r e c a l l e d the o c c u r r e n c e s before h e fell a s l e e p . T h e s t r a n g e m a n with the k e g of l i q u o r — t h e m o u n t a i n r a v i n e — t h e wild retreat a m o n g the r o c k s — t h e w o - b e g o n e party at ninep i n s — t h e f l a g o n — " O h ! that flagon! that wicked f l a g o n ! " t h o u g h t R i p — "what e x c u s e shall I m a k e to D a m e V a n W i n k l e ? " •>

H e looked r o u n d for his g u n , but in p l a c e of the c l e a n well-oiled fowlingp i e c e , h e f o u n d a n old firelock lying by h i m , the barrel e n c r u s t e d with r u s t , the lock falling off, a n d the s t o c k w o r m - e a t e n . H e n o w s u s p e c t e d that the grave roysters of the m o u n t a i n h a d p u t a trick u p o n h i m , a n d h a v i n g d o s e d him with liquor, h a d r o b b e d him of his g u n . Wolf, too, h a d d i s a p p e a r e d , b u t h e might have strayed away after a squirrel or p a r t r i d g e . H e whistled after h i m , s h o u t e d his n a m e , but all in vain; the e c h o e s r e p e a t e d his whistle a n d s h o u t , but n o d o g w a s to b e s e e n . 5. Short, curved sword. 6.

Minister.

7. Kind of gin.

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H e d e t e r m i n e d to revisit the s c e n e of the last evening's g a m b o l , a n d if he m e t with any of t h e party, to d e m a n d his d o g a n d g u n . A s he a r o s e to walk he f o u n d h i m s e l f stiff in the j o i n t s , a n d w a n t i n g in his u s u a l activity. " T h e s e m o u n t a i n b e d s d o not a g r e e with m e , " t h o u g h t R i p , " a n d if this frolick s h o u l d lay m e u p with a fit of the r h e u m a t i s m , I shall have a b l e s s e d t i m e with D a m e V a n W i n k l e . " W i t h s o m e difficulty he got d o w n into the g l e n : h e f o u n d the gully u p w h i c h h e a n d his c o m p a n i o n h a d a s c e n d e d t h e p r e c e d i n g evening, b u t to his a s t o n i s h m e n t a m o u n t a i n s t r e a m w a s n o w f o a m i n g d o w n it, l e a p i n g from rock to rock, a n d filling the glen with b a b b l i n g m u r m u r s . H e , however, m a d e shift to s c r a m b l e u p its s i d e s , working his t o i l s o m e way t h r o u g h thickets of birch, s a s s a f r a s , a n d witch hazle, a n d s o m e t i m e s tripped u p or e n t a n gled by the wild g r a p e vines that twisted their coils a n d tendrils from tree to tree, a n d s p r e a d a kind of network in his p a t h . At length he r e a c h e d to w h e r e the ravine h a d o p e n e d t h r o u g h t h e cliffs, to t h e a m p h i t h e a t r e ; b u t n o t r a c e s of s u c h o p e n i n g r e m a i n e d . T h e r o c k s pres e n t e d a high i m p e n e t r a b l e wall, over w h i c h the torrent c a m e t u m b l i n g in a s h e e t of feathery f o a m , a n d fell into a b r o a d d e e p b a s i n , b l a c k f r o m the s h a d ows of the s u r r o u n d i n g forest. H e r e , t h e n , p o o r Rip w a s b r o u g h t to a s t a n d . H e a g a i n c a l l e d a n d w h i s t l e d after his d o g ; h e w a s only a n s w e r e d by t h e c a w ing of a flock of idle c r o w s , s p o r t i n g high in air a b o u t a dry tree that o v e r h u n g a s u n n y p r e c i p i c e ; a n d w h o , s e c u r e in their elevation, s e e m e d to look d o w n a n d scoff at the p o o r m a n ' s perplexities. W h a t w a s to b e d o n e ? the m o r n i n g w a s p a s s i n g away, a n d Rip felt f a m i s h e d for his b r e a k f a s t . H e grieved to give u p his d o g a n d g u n : h e d r e a d e d to m e e t his wife; b u t it w o u l d not d o to starve a m o n g t h e r n 0 l i n f a ; " c H p s b " n l / his h e a d , s h o u l d e r e d the rusty firelock, a n d , w i t n a heart full of t r o u b l e a n d anxiety, t u r n e d his s t e p s h o m e w a r d . As he a p p r o a c h e d the village, h e m e t a n u m b e r of p e o p l e , b u t n o n e that he knew, w h i c h s o m e w h a t s u r p r i s e d h i m , for h e h a d t h o u g h t h i m s e l f a c q u a i n t e d with every o n e in the c o u n t r y r o u n d . T h e i r d r e s s , too, w a s of a different f a s h i o n from that to w h i c h he w a s a c c u s t o m e d . T h e y all s t a r e d at him w i t l i e g u a l m a r k s of s u r p r i s e , a n d w h e n e v e r they c a s t eyes u p o n h i m , tnvariabTy stroked their c h i n s , t h e c o n s t a n t r e c u r r e n c e of this g e s t u r e , i n d u c e d R i p , involuntarily, to d o the s a m e , w h e n , to his a s t o n i s h m e n t , he f o u n d his b e a r d h a d g r o w n a foot long! H e h a d now e n t e r e d the skirts of t h e village. A troop of s t r a n g e c h i l d r e n ran at his h e e l s , h o o t i n g after h i m , a n d p o i n t i n g at his gray b e a r d . T h e d o g s , too, not o n e of w h i c h h e r e c o g n i z e d for his old a c q u a i n t a n c e s , b a r k e d at h i m a s he p a s s e d . T h e very village s e e m e d altered: it w a s larger a n d m o r e p o p u l o u s . T h e r e w e r e rows of h o u s e s w h i c h h e h a d never s e e n h e t o r e T a n d t h o s e which h a d b e e n his familiar h a u n t s h a d d i s a p p e a r e j - S t r a n g e n a m e s w e r e 'ttvefme d o o r s — s t r a n g e f a c e s at the w i n d o w s — e v e r y thing w a s s t r a n g e . H i s m i n d now b e g a n to m i s g i v e h i m , that both h e a n d the world a r o u n d him were b e w i t c h e d . S u r e l y this w a s his native village, w h i c h he h a d left b u t the day b e f o r e . T h e r e s t o o d the Kaatskill m o u n t a i n s — t h e r e r a n t h e silver H u d s o n at a d i s t a n c e — t h e r e w a s every hill a n d d a l e p r e c i s e l y a s it h a d always b e e n — R i p w a s sorely p e r p l e x e d — " T h a t flagon last n i g h t , " t h o u g h t h e , " h a s a d d l e d my p o o r h e a d s a d l y ! " It w a s with s o m e difficulty h e f o u n d the way to his own h o u s e , w h i c h h e a p p r o a c h e d with silent a w e , e x p e c t i n g every m o m e n t to h e a r the shrill voice of D a m e V a n W i n k l e . H e fgjind t h " hnnsff g o n e to d e c a y — t h e r o o f f a l l e n in,

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and the doors off the h i n g e s . A half starved d o g , that looked like Wolf, w a s skulking a b o u t it. Rip called h i m by n a m e , b u t t h e c u r s n a r l e d , s h o w e d his teeth, a n d p a s s e d o n . T h i s w a s a n u n k i n d c u t i n d e e d — " M y very d o g , " s i g h e d p o o r R i p , " h a s forgotten m e ! " ' H e e n t e r e d the h o u s e , w h i c h , to tell the truth, D a m e V a n W i n k l e h a d always kept in neat order. Itjyjrs_empty, forlorn, and_apparently a b a n d o n e d . T h i s d e s o l a t e n e s s o v e r c a m e all his c o n n u b i a l f e a r s — h e c a l l e d loudly for his wife a n d c h i l d r e n — t h e lonely c h a m b e r s r u n g for a m o m e n t with his v o i c e , a n d then all a g a i n w a s s i l e n c e .

jh^vinfjiTw^_shnttPrpfl,

H e now hurried forth, a n d h a s t e n e d to his old resort, the little village i n n — but it too w a s g o n e . A large rickety w o o d e n b u i l d i n g s t o o d in its p l a c e , with great g a p i n g w i n d o w s , s o m e of t h e m b r o k e n , a n d m e n d e d with old h a t s a n d p e t t i c o a t s , a n d over the d o o r w a s p a i n t e d , " T h e U n i o n H o t e l , by J o n a t h a n D o o l i t t l e . " I n s t e a d of the great tree that u s e d to s h e l t e r the q u i e t little D u t c h inn of yore, there now w a s r e a r e d a tall n a k e d p o l e , with s o m e t h i n g on top that looked like a red night c a p , s a n d from it w a s fluttering a flag, o n which w a s a s i n g u l a r a s s e m b l a g e of s t a r s a n d s t r i p e s — a l l this w a s s t r a n g e a n d i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e . H e r e c o g n i s e d on the sign, however, t h e ruby f a c e o f K i n g G e o r g e , u n d e r w h i c h he h a d s m o k e d s o m a n y a p e a c e f u l p i p e , b u t even this " w a s s l n g u j ^ r j ^ r n ^ a m o r p h o s e j j n i e _ r e d c o a t w a s T h a n g e a for o n e o f Blue" "aTTcTrjuTrV' a s w o r d w a s stuck~TrTthe_h^n31nst^^ th!Thelid~was ;

^ec^oratetTwith a c o c k e d hat, a n a u n d e r n e a t h was p a i n t e d in large c h a r a c t e r s ? * * GENERAL

WASHINGTON

T h e r e w a s , as u s u a l , a c r o w d of folk a b o u t the d o o r , b u t n o n e that Rip r e c o l l e c t e d . T h e very c h a r a c t e r of the p e o p l e s e e m e d c h a n g e d . T h e r e w a s a busy, b u s t l i n g , d i s p u t a t i o u s t o n e a b o u t it, i n s t e a d of the a c c u s t o m e d p h l e g m a n d drowsy tranquillity. H e l o o k e d in vain for the s a g e N i c h o l a s V e d d e r , with his b r o a d f a c e , d o u b l e c h i n , a n d fair l o n g p i p e , u t t e r i n g c l o u d s of t o b a c c o s m o k e i n s t e a d of idle s p e e c h e s ; or V a n B u m m e l , the s c h o o l m a s t e r , doling forth the c o n t e n t s of a n a n c i e n t n e w s p a p e r . In p l a c e of t h e s e , a lean bilious looking fellow, with his p o c k e t s full of h a n d b i l l s , w a s h a r a n g u i n g v e h e m e n t l y a b o u t rights of c i t i z e n s — e l e c t i o n — m e m b e r s of c o n g r e s s — l i b e r t y — B u n k e r ' s h i l l — h e r p e s of s e v e n t y - s i x — a n d other w o r d s , that were a p e r f e c t B a b y l o n i s h j a r g o n 1 to the b e w i l d e r e d V a n W i n k l e . T h e a p p e a r a n c e of R i p , with his l o n g grizzled b e a r d , his rusty fowling p i e c e , his u n c o u t h d r e s s , a n d the a r m y of w o m e n a n d c h i l d r e n that h a d g a t h e r e d at his h e e l s , s o o n a t t r a c t e d the a t t e n t i o n of the t a v e r n j s o l i t i c i a n s . T h e y c r o w d e d a r o u n d h i m , eyeing him from h e a d to foot, witk«great curiosity. T h e orator b u s t l e d u p to h i m , a n d d r a w i n g him partly a s i d e , inquired " w h i c h s i d e h e v o t e d ? " Rip stared in y a c a n t stupidity. A n o t h e r short b u t b u s y little fellow p u l l e d him by t h e a r m , a n d r a i s i n g on tiptoe, i n q u i r e d in his ear, " w h e t h e r he was F e d e r a l or D e m o c r a t . " 2 Rip w a s equally at a loss to c o m p r e h e n d t h e q u e s t i o n ; w h e n a k n o w i n g , s e l f - i m p o r t a n t old g e n t l e m a n , in a 8 . Limp, close-fitting cap adopted during the French Revolution as a symbol of liberty. The pole is a "liberty pole"—i.e., a tall flagstaff topped by a liberty cap. 9. Colors of the Revolutionary uniform. Irving's joke is that the new proprietor, being a Yankee, is so parsimonious that he will only touch up the sign, not replace it with a true portrait of Wash-

ington. 1. Cf. G e n e s i s 11.1 —9, Babel being confused w ith Babylon. 2 . Political parties that developed in the Washington administrations, Alexander Hamilton leading the Federalists and T h o m a s Jefferson, the D e m o crats.

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s h a r p c o c k e d hat, m a d e his way through the c r o w d , p u t t i n g t h e m to the right a n d left with his elbows a s he p a s s e d , a n d p l a n t i n g h i m s e l f before V a n Winkle, with o n e a r m a k i m b o , the other resting on his c a n e , his keen eyes a n d s h a r p hat p e n e t r a t i n g , as it were, into his very soul, d e m a n d e d , in a n a u s t e r e t o n e , "what brought him to the election with a g u n on his s h o u l d e r , a n d a m o b at his h e e l s , a n d w h e t h e r he m e a n t to b r e e d a riot in the v i l l a g e ? " "Alas! g e n t l e m e n , " cried Rip, s o m e w h a t d i s m a y e d , "I a m a p o o r q u i e t m a n , a native of the p l a c e , a n d a loyal s u b j e c t of the King, G o d b l e s s h i m ! " H e r e a general s h o u t b u r s t from the b y s t a n d e r s — " A tory! a tory! a spy! a refugee! h u s t l e him! away with h i m ! " It was with great difficulty that the selfimportant m a n in the c o c k e d hat restored order; a n d having a s s u m e d a tenfold austerity of brow, d e m a n d e d again of the u n k n o w n culprit, w h a t he c a m e there for, a n d w h o m he w a s seeking. T h e p o o r m a n h u m b l y a s s u r e d t h e m that h e m e a n t no h a r m ; but merely c a m e there in s e a r c h of s o m e of his n e i g h b o u r s , w h o u s e d to keep a b o u t the tavern. "Well—who are they?—name them." Rip b e t h o u g h t h i m s e l f a m o m e n t , a n d i n q u i r e d , "where's N i c h o l a s Vedder?" T h e r e w a s a s i l e n c e for a little while, w h e n a n old m a n replied, in a thin piping voice, " N i c h o l a s V e d d e r ? why h e is d e a d a n d g o n e t h e s e eighteen y e a r s ! , T h e r e w a s a w o o d e n t o m b s t o n e in the c h u r c h yard that u s e d to tell all a b o u t him, but that's rotted a n d g o n e t o o . " "Where's Brom Dutcher?" " O h he went o f f t n ' b e army in the b e g i n n i n g n f the war: s o m e say h e w a s killed at the battle of S t o n e y - P o i n f — o t h e r s say he w a s d r o w n e d in a s q u a l l , aTTJTefoot of Antony's N o s e . ' I don't k n o w — h e never c a m e b a c k a g a i n . " " W h e r e s V a n B u m m e l , the s c h o o l m a s t e r ? " " H e went off to the wars too, w a s a great militia g e n e r a l , a n d is now in Congress." * " Bip's heart died away, at h e a r i n g of t h e s e s a d c h a n g e s in his h o m e a n d friends, a n d finding himself t h u s a l o n e in the world. Every a n s w e r puzzled him, too, by treating of s u c h e n o r m o u s l a p s e s of t i m e , a n d of m a t t e r s which he c o u l d not-Onderstand: w a r — c o n g r e s s — S t o n e y - P o i n t ; — h e h a d n o coura g e to a s k after any m o r e friends, but cried out in d e s p a i r , " d o e s nobody here know Rip Van W i n k l e ? " " O h , Rip V a n W i n k l e ! " e x c l a i m e d two or three, " O h , to be s u r e ! that's Rip Van Winkle,yonder, l e a n i n g a g a i n s t the t r e e . " Rip looked, •arid b e h e l d a p r e c i s e c o u n t e r p a r t of himself, a s he went u p the m o u n t a i n : apparently a s lazy, a n d certainly a s r a g g e d . T h e p o o r fellow w a s now c o m p l e t e l y c o n f o u n d e d . H e d o u b t e d his own identity, a n d w h e t h e r he was h i m s e l f or a n o t h e r m a n . In the midst of his b e w i l d e r m e n t , the m a n in the c o c k e d hat d e m a n d e d w h o he w a s , a n d what w a s his n a m e ? " G o d k n o w s , " e x c l a i m e d h e , at his wit's e n d ; "I'm not m y s e l f — I ' m s o m e body e l s e — t h a t ' s m e y o n d e r — n o — t h a t ' s s o m e b o d y e l s e , got into my s h o e s — I w a s myself last night, but I fell a s l e e p on the m o u n t a i n , a n d they've c h a n g e d my g u n , a n d every thing's c h a n g e d , a n d I'm c h a n g e d , a n d I can't tell what's my n a m e , or w h o I a m ! " 3. A mountain near West Point. Stoney Point, on the west hank of the H u d s o n south of West Point, was captured by General Anthony Wayne ( 1 7 4 5 - 1 7 9 6 ) during the Revolution.

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T h e b y s t a n d e r s b e g a n now to look at e a c h other, n o d , wink significantly, a n d tap their fingers a g a i n s t their f o r e h e a d s . T h e r e w a s a w h i s p e r , a l s o , a b o u t s e c u r i n g the g u n , a n d k e e p i n g the old fellow from d o i n g m i s c h i e f . At the very s u g g e s t i o n of w h i c h , t h e s e l f - i m p o r t a n t m a n in t h e c o c k e d hat retired with s o m e p r e c i p i t a t i o n . At this critical m o m e n t a fresh likely w o m a n p r e s s e d t h r o u g h the t h r o n g to get a p e e p at the g r a y b e a r d e d m a n . S h e h a d a c h u b b y child in h e r a r m s , w h i c h , frightened at his l o o k s , b e g a n to cry. " H u s h , R i p , " cried s h e , " h u s h , you little fool, the old m a n wont hurt y o u . " T h e n a m e of t h e child, the air of the m o t h e r , the t o n e of her v o i c e , all a w a k e n e d a train of r e c o l l e c t i o n s in his m i n d . " W h a t is your n a m e , m y g o o d w o m a n ? " a s k e d h e . "ludith Gardenier," "And your father's n a m e ? " " A h , p o o r m a n , his n a m e w a s Rip V a n W i n k l e ; it's twenty years s i n c e h e went away from h o m e with his g u n , a n d never h a s b e e n h e a r d of s i n c e — h i s d o g c a m e h o m e w i t h o u t h i m ; b u t w h e t h e r h e s h o t himself, or w a s c a r r i e d away by the I n d i a n s , n o b o d y c a n tell. I w a s t h e n b u t a little girl." Rip h a d b u t o n e q u e s t i o n m o r e to a s k ; b u t h e p u t it with a faltering voice: " W h e r e ' s your m o t h e r ? " O h , s h e t o o h a d died b u t a short t i m e s i n c e ; s h e b r o k e a b l o o d v e s s e l in a fir_.nf p n r r i < - » r | a N e w - E n g l a n d pedlar. T h e r e w a s a d r o p of c o m f o r t , at l e a s t , in this i n t e l l i g e n c e . T h e h o n e s t m a n c o u l d c o n t a i n h i m s e l f no l o n g e r . — H e c a u g h t his d a u g h t e r a n d her child in his a r m s . — " I a m your f a t h e r ! " cried h e — " Y o u n g Rip V a n W i n k l e once—-old Rip V a n W i n k l e n o w ! — D o e s n o b o d y k n o w p o o r Rip V a n W i n k l e ! " All s t o o d a m a z e d , until a n old w o m a n , tottering o u t from a m o n g t h e crowd, p u t her h a n d to her brow, a n d p e e r i n g u n d e r it in his f a c e for a m o m e n t , e x c l a i m e d , " S u r e e n o u g h ! it is Rip V a n W i n k l e — i t is himself. W e l c o m e h o m e a g a i n , old n e i g h b o u r — W h y , w h e r e h a v e you b e e n t h e s e twenty l o n g y e a r s ? " Rip's story w a s s o o n told, for the w h o l e twenty y e a r s h a d b e e n to him b u t a s o n e night. T h e n e i g h b o u r s s t a r e d w h e n they h e a r d it; s o m e w e r e s e e n to wink at e a c h other, a n d p u t their t o n g u e s in their c h e e k s ; a n d the selfi m p o r t a n t m a n in the c o c k e d h a t , w h o , w h e n t h e a l a r m w a s over, h a d r e t u r n e d to the field, s c r e w e d d o w n the c o r n e r s of his m o u t h , a n d s h o o k his h e a d — u p o n w h i c h there w a s a g e n e r a l s h a k i n g of the h e a d t h r o u g h o u t the assemblage. It w a s d e t e r m i n e d , however, to take the o p i n i o n of old P e t e r V a n d e r d o n k , w h o w a s s e e n slowly a d v a n c i n g u p the r o a d . H e w a s a d e s c e n d a n t of the historian of that name," 1 w h o wrote o n e of the earliest a c c o u n t s of t h e provi n c e . P e t e r w a s the m o s t a n c i e n t i n h a b i t a n t of the village, a n d well v e r s e d in all the wonderful e v e n t s a n d traditions of t h e n e i g h b o u r h o o d . H e recollected Rip at o n c e , a n d c o r r o b o r a t e d his story in t h e m o s t s a t i s f a c t o r y m a n ner. H e a s s u r e d the c o m p a n y that it w a s a fact, h a n d e d d o w n from his a n c e s t o r the historian, that t h e Kaatskill m o u n t a i n s h a d always b e e n h a u n t e d by s t r a n g e b e i n g s . T h a t it w a s affirmed that t h e g r e a t H e n d r i c k H u d s o n , t h e first d i s c o v e r e r of the river a n d c o u n t r y , kept a kind of vigil there every twenty y e a r s , with his c r e w of the H a l f - m o o n , b e i n g p e r m i t t e d in this way to revisit 4. Adriaen Van der Donck ( 1 6 2 0 - 1 6 5 5 ? ) wrote a history of New Netherlands ( 1 6 5 5 ) .

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the s c e n e s of his enterprize, a n d keep a g u a r d i a n eye u p o n the river, a n d the great city 5 called by his n a m e . T h a t his father h a d o n c e s e e n t h e m in their old D u t c h d r e s s e s playing at nine pins in a hollow of the m o u n t a i n ; a n d that he himself h a d h e a r d , o n e s u m m e r a f t e r n o o n , the s o u n d of their b a l l s , like long p e a l s of t h u n d e r . T o m a k e a long story short, the c o m p a n y broke u p , a n d r e t u r n e d to the m o r e i m p o r t a n t c o n c e r n s of the election. Rip's d a u g h t e r took h i m h o m e to live with her; she h a d a s n u g , well-furnished h o u s e , a n d a stout cheery f a r m e r for a h u s b a n d , w h o m Rip recollected for o n e of the u r c h i n s that u s e d to c l i m b u p o n his b a c k . As to Rip's son a n d heir, w h o w a s the ditto of himself, s e e n l e a n i n g a g a i n s t the tree, he w a s e m p l o y e d to work o n the f a r m ; but evinced a n hereditary disposition to a t t e n d to a n y thing else b u t his b u s i n e s s . Rip now r e s u m e d his old walks a n d h a b i t s ; h e s o o n f o u n d m a n y of his former c r o n i e s , t h o u g h all rather the w o r s e for the wear a n d tear of t i m e ; a n d preferred m a k i n g friends a m o n g the rising g e n e r a t i o n , with w h o m he s o o n grew into great favour. H a v i n g n o t h i n g to do at h o m e , a n d b e i n g arrived at that h a p p y a g e w h e n a m a n c a n do n o t h i n g with impunity, h e took his p l a c e o n c e m o r e on the b e n c h , at the inn door, a n d w a s r e v e r e n c e d a s o n e of the p a t r i a r c h s of the village, a n d a c h r o n i c l e of the old t i m e s " b e f o r e the w a r . " It w a s s o m e time before he c o u l d get into the regular track of g o s s i p , or c o u l d b e m a d e to c o m p r e h e n d the s t r a n g e events that h a d taken p l a c e d u r i n g his torpor. H o w that there h a d b e e n a revolutionary w a r — t h a t the country h a d thrown off U j e j o k e of old E n g l a n d — a n d t h a t 7 i n s t e a d nf hpinpj a s u b j e c t of his M a j e s t y G e o r g e the T h i r d , h e w a s n o w a free citizen of the U n i t e d S t a t e s . Rip, in fact, w a s n o politician; the c h a n g e s of s t a t e s a n d e m p i r e s m a d e b u t little i m p r e s s i o n on h i m . B u t there w a s o n e s p e c i e s of d e s p o t i s m u n d e r w h i c h he h a d long g r o a n e d , a n d that w a s — p e t t i c o a t g o v e r n m e n t . Happily, that wag.at an e n d ; he had got his neck nut nf t h f yoke of m a t r i m o n y , a n d c o u l d go in a n d ouL-wJienever bp p l e a s e d , without Hrradinp; the tyranny of D a m e V a n . \Vjnkle. W h e n e v e r her n a m e w a s m e n t i o n e d , however, he s h o o k his h e a d , s h r u g g e d his s h o u l d e r s , a n d c a s t u p his eyes; w h i c h might p a s s either for a n expression of resignation to his fate, or j o y at his d e l i v e r a n c e . H e u s e d to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at M r . Doolittle's hotel. H e w a s o b s e r v e d , at first, to vary on s o m e points every t i m e h e told it, which w a s , d o u b t l e s s , owing to his having s o recently a w a k e d . It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, a n d not a m a n , w o m a n , or child in the n e i g h b o u r h o o d , b u t knew it by heart. S o m e always p r e t e n d e d to d o u b t the reality of it, a n d insisted that Rip h a d b e e n o u t of his h e a d , a n d that this w a s o n e point on which he always r e m a i n e d flighty. T h e old D u t c h i n h a b i t a n t s , however, a l m o s t universally gave it full credit. E v e n to this day they never h e a r a t h u n d e r storm of a s u m m e r a f t e r n o o n , a b o u t the Kaatskill, but they say H e n d r i c k H u d s o n a n d his crew are at their g a m e of n i n e p i n s ; a n d it is a c o m m o n wish of all h e n p e c k e d h u s b a n d s in the n e i g h b o u r h o o d , w h e n life h a n g s heavy o n their h a n d s , that they m i g h t have a q u i e t i n g d r a u g h t out of Rip V a n Winkle's flagon. 5. Henry H u d s o n (d. 1611). English navigator in the service of the Dutch. "Great city" is ironic, for the town named for him on the east bank of the H u d s o n River was flourishing but not a metropolis.

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NOTE

T h e foregoing tale, o n e would s u s p e c t , h a d b e e n s u g g e s t e d to M r . Knicke r b o c k e r by a little G e r m a n superstition a b o u t C h a r l e s V . 6 a n d the Kypp h a u s e r m o u n t a i n ; the s u b j o i n e d n o t e , however, which h e h a d a p p e n d e d to the tale, s h o w s that it is an a b s o l u t e fact, narrated with his u s u a l fidelity: " T h e story of Rip V a n Winkle may s e e m incredible to m a n y , but nevert h e l e s s I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity of o u r old D u t c h s e t t l e m e n t s to have b e e n very s u b j e c t to marvellous events a n d a p p e a r a n c e s . I n d e e d , I have h e a r d m a n y s t r a n g e r stories than this, in the villages a l o n g the H u d s o n ; all of which were too well a u t h e n t i c a t e d to a d m i t of a d o u b t . I have even talked with Rip V a n W i n k l e myself, w h o , w h e n last I saw h i m , was a very v e n e r a b l e old m a n , a n d s o perfectly rational a n d c o n s i s t e n t on every other point, that I think no c o n s c i e n t i o u s p e r s o n c o u l d refuse to take this into the b a r g a i n ; nay, I have s e e n a certificate on the s u b j e c t taken before a country j u s t i c e , a n d signed with a c r o s s , in the j u s t i c e ' s own h a n d writing. T h e story, therefore, is beyond the possibility of d o u b t . D.K." 6. Later Irving changed "Charles V." (Holy Roman emperor, 1519—56) t o ' T h e Emperor Fredericktfer Rothbart" (i.e.. Frederick Barbarossa: Holy Roman emperor. 1 1 5 2 - 9 0 ) . ("Rothbart" and " B a r b a r o s s a " both mean "redbeard.") In either form, the allusion

JAMES

is a red herring, a disarming way of suggesting indebtedness to a G e r m a n source w hile concealing the most specific source, the story of Peter Klaus in the folktales of J . C . C . N . Otmar.

FENIMORE

COOPER

1789-1851 i

James Fenimore Cooper, the first successful American novelist, was born on September 15, 1789, in Burlington, New Jersey, but taken in infancy to Cooperstown, on Otsego Lake in central New York, where his wealthy father owned great tracts of land. A few years before, the region had been wilderness; but during Cooper's boyhood, there were few of the early backwoods settlers left, and fewer American Indians. In his novels the information about Indian tribes came from older people and from books. In 1801 his father sent him to study in Albany in preparation for Yale, where he spent two years in his midteens before being expelled for pranks, thereby acquiring a lifelong distaste for New Englanders. He became a sailor in 1806, then two years later a midshipman in the navy. At twenty he inherited a fortune from his father and married Susan De Lancey, whose family had lost possessions by siding with the British in the Revolution but still owned lands in Westchester County. For several years Cooper and his wife wavered between Scarsdale and Otsego as a permanent home. Wherever they settled, Cooper seemed certain to live as a landed gentleman. His first book, Precaution (1820), a novel dealing with English high society, was the result of his casual bet with his wife that he could write a better book than the one he had been reading to her. Following that insignificant start, he wrote The Spy (1821), the first important historical romance of the Revolution; and on its success he moved to New York City to take up his new career. From the first his faults (such as syntactical awkwardness, arbitrary plotting, and heavy-handed attempts at humor) were obvious enough, but so were his genuine achievements in opening up new American scenes and themes for fiction. Founding the Bread and Cheese Club, he became the center

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of a circle that included notable painters of the Hudson River School as well as writers (William Cullen Bryant among them) and professionals. In 1823 he published The Pioneers, the first of what eventually consisted of five books about Natty Bumppo, known collectively as the Leather-Stocking

Tales; the second, The Last of the Mohi-

cans, followed in 1826. Cooper has other claims to fame—the virtual creation of the sea novel (starting with The Pilot, 1824), authorship of the first serious American novels of manners and the first American sociopolitical novels—but with Natty Bumppo, the aged hunter, he had created one of the most popular characters in world literature. In 1826, at the height of his fame, Cooper sailed for Europe. In Paris, where he became intimate with the aged Lafayette, he wrote The Prairie (1827) and Notions of the Americans (1828), a defense of the United States against the attacks of European travelers. Smarting under the half-complimentary, half-patronizing epithet of "The American Scott," he wrote three historical novels set in medieval Europe as a realistic corrective to Sir Walter Scott's glorifications of the past. On his return to the United States in 1833, Cooper was so stung by a review of one of these novels that he renounced novel writing in the angry Letter to His Countrymen (1834). Then at Cooperstown he gave notice that a point of land on Otsego Lake where the townspeople had been picnicking was private property and not to be used without permission. Newspapers began attacking him as a would-be aristocrat poisoned by his residence abroad, and for years Cooper embroiled himself in lawsuits designed not to gain damages for the journalistic libels but to tame the irresponsible press. Legally in the right, Cooper sacrificed his peace of mind to establish the principle that reviewers must work within the bounds of truth when they deal with the author rather than the book. Even as he was becoming the great national scold of his time, Cooper managed to write book after book—social and political satires growing out of his experiences with the press, a reactionary primer, The American Democrat (1838), and despite his avowal in 1834, a series of sociopolitical novels and two more Leather-Stocking Tales: The Pathfinder (1840), and The Deerslayer (1841). His monumental History of the Naxy of the United States of America (1839) became the focus of new quarrels and a new lawsuit. When Cooper died on September 14, 185 1, a day before his sixty-second birthday, he was a byword for litigiousness and social pretentiousness. A lifelong defender of American democracy as he knew it in his youth against European aristocracy and then against what American democracy had become, he was out of step with his countrypeople. Yet throughout the century and into the next his Leather-Stocking Tales had an incalculable vogue in the United States and abroad. In his own time and shortly afterward, major European writers as diverse as Honore de Balzac and Leo Tolstoy were profoundly moved by The Pioneers and the subsequent Natty Bumppo novels, but gradually the Leather-Stocking Tales became something only schoolchildren read. Not until the 1920s did scholars begin to see Cooper's value as the country's first great social critic. It now seems clear that no revolution in taste will lead to widespread admiration of Cooper as a literary artist, but he will always be a major source for the student of ideas in America. Some of his opinions now seem hopelessly reactionary, as when he defends American slavery as legal and, after all, mild ("physical suffering cannot properly be enumerated among its evils") or when he deplores the dangers of universal manhood suffrage and argues for restricting voting on certain issues to property owners, who have the greater stake in society. What most appeals to modern readers are his profoundly ambivalent dramatizations of such enduring American conflicts as natural right versus legal right, order versus change, primeval wilderness versus civilization. And new readers will always encounter the Leather-Stocking Tales with a sense of something long known and loved, for if Cooper is no longer read even by children, everyone has read books—and seen films—that are directly and indirectly influenced by his grand conception of Natty Bumppo.

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The Pioneers The Pioneers; or, The Sources of the Susquehanna; A Descriptive Tale ( 1 8 2 3 ) , is the first of five Cooper novels in which Natty Bumppo is the major character. The Pioneers begins in December 1 7 9 3 at the settlement of Templeton (modeled on Cooperstown, founded by Cooper's father) at Otsego Lake in central New York, some fifty miles west of Albany. A detailed (and unpartisan) history of the real Cooperstown (including the questions of "extinguished" Indian title, patents of royal governors, and acts of the state legislature, all referred to defensively in the first episode) is in Alan Taylor's William Cooper's Town: Power and Persuasion on the Frontier of the Early American Republic ( 1 9 9 5 ) . The episode reprinted here occurs in the spring of 1 7 9 4 . Natty Bumppo is in his early seventies; six feet tall (then a great height); gray eyed, with lank, sandy hair; sunburned; robust, but thin almost to emaciation. One yellow tooth survives in his enormous mouth, and he gives forth a remarkable kind of inward laugh. He wears a foxskin hat and is clad in deerskin—coat, moccasins, and even the leggings, which fasten over the knees of his buckskin breeches and give him the nickname of "Leatherstocking." For his old and unusually long rifle he carries gunpowder in a large ox horn slung over his shoulder by a strap of deerskin. This was the unprepossessing figure who captured the imagination of readers in the United States and Europe. Besides Natty Bumppo, the other characters in the episodes reprinted here are Judge Marmaduke Temple, a retired Quaker-born merchant and the leading landowner of Otsego County, New York (where the town of Templeton is named for him), and his daughter and only child, Elizabeth Temple. Richard (Dickon) Jones, the sheriff, is an officious cousin of Marmaduke Temple who superintends "all the minor concerns of Temple's business" and familiarly calls his cousin " 'duke." Benjamin Penquillan (called Ben Pump) is a Cornishman, a former steward (body servant and food server to a captain) on shipboard, and now majordomo or steward under Jones. Monsieur Le Quoi, once a West Indian planter, is now a refugee, displaced by the French Revolution. Oliver Edwards is a mysterious young stranger; and Billy Kirby is a woodchopper, previously beaten by Bumppo in a turkey-shooting contest. The text is from the first edition, volume 2 , chapter 3 (chapter 2 2 in later, onevolume editions).

From

T h e Pioneers Chapter

[THE

SLAUGHTER

III

OF THE

PIGEONS]

"Men, boys, and girls. Desert th' unpeopled village; and wild crowds Spread o'er the plain, by the sweet frenzy driven.' —SoMERVILLE

F r o m this time to the c l o s e o f April, the w e a t h e r c o n t i n u e d to b e a s u c c e s s i o n of great a n d rapid c h a n g e s . O n e day, the soft airs of s p r i n g w o u l d s e e m to b e s t e a l i n g a l o n g the valley, a n d , in u n i s o n with a n invigorating s u n , a t t e m p t i n g , covertly, to r o u s e the d o r m a n t p o w e r s of t h e v e g e t a b l e world; while on the next, the surly blasts from the north w o u l d s w e e p a c r o s s the lake, a n d e r a s e every i m p r e s s i o n left by their g e n t l e a d v e r s a r i e s . T h e s n o w , however, finally d i s a p p e a r e d , a n d the g r e e n w h e a t fields were s e e n in every 1. From "The C h a c e " 2 . 1 9 7 - 9 9 , by the English poet William Somerville ( 1 6 7 5 - 1 7 4 2 ) . T h e last word should be seized, not "driven."

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direction, s p o t t e d with the dark a n d c h a r r e d s t u m p s that h a d , the p r e c e d i n g s e a s o n , s u p p o r t e d s o m e of the p r o u d e s t trees of the f o r e s t . 2 P l o u g h s were in m o t i o n , wherever t h o s e useful i m p l e m e n t s c o u l d be u s e d , a n d the s m o k e s of the s u g a r - c a m p s 3 were n o longer s e e n i s s u i n g from the s u m m i t s of the w o o d s of m a p l e . T h e lake h a d lost all the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c b e a u t y of a field of ice, but still a dark a n d g l o o m y covering c o n c e a l e d its w a t e r s , for the a b s e n c e of c u r r e n t s left t h e m yet hid u n d e r a p o r o u s c r u s t , w h i c h , s a t u r a t e d with the fluid, barely retained e n o u g h of its strength to preserve the contiguity of its p a r t s . L a r g e flocks of wild g e e s e were s e e n p a s s i n g over the country, w h i c h would hover, for a t i m e , a r o u n d the h i d d e n sheet of water, a p p a r e n t l y s e a r c h ing for a n o p e n i n g , w h e r e they might obtain a r e s t i n g - p l a c e ; a n d t h e n , o n finding t h e m s e l v e s e x c l u d e d by the chill covering, would s o a r away to the north, filling the air with their d i s c o r d a n t s c r e a m s , a s if v e n t i n g their c o m plaints at the tardy o p e r a t i o n s of n a t u r e . F o r a week, the dark covering of the O t s e g o w a s left to the u n d i s t u r b e d p o s s e s s i o n of two e a g l e s , w h o alighted on the c e n t r e of its field, a n d sat proudly eyeing the extent of their u n d i s p u t e d territory. D u r i n g the p r e s e n c e of t h e s e m o n a r c h s of the air, the flocks of m i g r a t i n g birds a v o i d e d c r o s s i n g the plain of i c e , by t u r n i n g into the hills, a n d a p p a r e n t l y s e e k i n g the p r o t e c tion of the forests, while the white a n d bald h e a d s of the t e n a n t s of the lake were t u r n e d u p w a r d , with a look of m a j e s t i c c o n t e m p t , a s if p e n e t r a t i n g to the very h e a v e n s , with the a c u t e n e s s of their vision. B u t the t i m e h a d c o m e , w h e n even t h e s e kings of birds were to be d i s p o s s e s s e d . An o p e n i n g h a d b e e n gradually i n c r e a s i n g , at the lower extremity of the lake, a n d a r o u n d the dark spot w h e r e the c u r r e n t of the river h a d prevented the f o r m a t i o n of i c e , d u r i n g even the c o l d e s t w e a t h e r ; a n d the fresh southerly w i n d s , that n o w b r e a t h e d freely u p the valley, o b t a i n e d a n i m p r e s s i o n o n the w a t e r s . M i m i c waves b e g u n to curl over the m a r g i n of the frozen field, which exhibited an outline of crystallizations, that slowly r e c e d e d t o w a r d s the north. At e a c h step the p o w e r of the w i n d s a n d the w a v e s i n c r e a s e d , until, after a struggle of a few h o u r s , the t u r b u l e n t little billows s u c c e e d e d in setting the w h o l e field in a n u n d u l a t i n g m o t i o n , w h e n it w a s driven beyond the r e a c h of the eye, with a rapidity, that w a s a s m a g i c a l a s the c h a n g e p r o d u c e d in the s c e n e by this expulsion of the lingering r e m n a n t of winter. J u s t a s the last s h e e t of agitated ice w a s d i s a p p e a r i n g in the d i s t a n c e , the e a g l e s rose over the b o r d e r of crystals, a n d s o a r e d with a wide s w e e p far a b o v e the c l o u d s , while the waves t o s s e d their little c a p s of s n o w into the air, a s if rioting in their r e l e a s e from a t h r a l d o m of five m o n t h s d u r a t i o n . T h e following m o r n i n g Elizabeth w a s a w a k e n e d by the exhilarating s o u n d s of the m a r t i n s , w h o were quarrelling a n d c h a t t e r i n g a r o u n d the little b o x e s which were s u s p e n d e d a b o v e her w i n d o w s , a n d the cries of R i c h a r d , w h o w a s calling, in tones a s a n i m a t i n g a s the signs of the s e a s o n itself— "Awake! a w a k e ! my lady fair! the gulls are hovering over the lake already, a n d the h e a v e n s are alive with the p i g e o n s . You m a y look a n h o u r b e f o r e you c a n find a hole, through w h i c h , to get a p e e p at the s u n . A w a k e ! a w a k e ! lazy o n e s ! B e n j a m i n is overhauling the a m m u n i t i o n , a n d we only wait for our b r e a k f a s t s , a n d away for the m o u n t a i n s a n d p i g e o n - s h o o t i n g . " 2. The practice was to chop timber down in the spring, let it dry through the summer, then burn the cleared area so that only blackened logs and

stumps remained. Nothing was salvaged except some ashes used as the basis for potash, 3. Where sugar was m a d e from maple sap.

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F E N I M O R E

C O O P E R

T h e r e w a s no resisting this a n i m a t e d a p p e a l , a n d in a few m i n u t e s M i s s T e m p l e a n d her friend d e s c e n d e d to the parlour. T h e d o o r s of the hall were thrown o p e n , a n d the mild, balmy air of a clear s p r i n g m o r n i n g w a s ventilating the a p a r t m e n t , where the vigilance of the ex-steward h a d b e e n s o long m a i n t a i n i n g an artificial h e a t , with s u c h u n r e m i t t e d d i l i g e n c e . All of the g e n t l e m e n , we d o not i n c l u d e M o n s i e u r L e Quoi, were impatiently waiting their m o r n i n g ' s r e p a s t , e a c h b e i n g e q u i p t in the g a r b of a s p o r t s m a n . M r . J o n e s m a d e m a n y visits to the s o u t h e r n door, a n d w o u l d c r y — " S e e , c o u s i n B e s s ! s e e , 'duke! the p i g e o n - r o o s t s of the s o u t h have b r o k e n up! T h e y a r e growing m o r e thick every instant. H e r e is a flock that the eye c a n n o t s e e the e n d of. T h e r e is food e n o u g h in it to k e e p the army of X e r x e s 4 for a m o n t h , a n d feathers e n o u g h to m a k e b e d s for the w h o l e county. X e r x e s , M r . E d w a r d s , w a s a G r e c i a n king, w h o — n o , h e w a s a T u r k , or a P e r s i a n , w h o w a n t e d to c o n q u e r G r e e c e , j u s t the s a m e a s t h e s e r a s c a l s will overrun our wheat-fields, w h e n they c o m e b a c k in the fall.—Away! away! B e s s ; I long to p e p p e r t h e m from the m o u n t a i n . " In this wish both M a r m a d u k e a n d y o u n g E d w a r d s s e e m e d equally to participate, for really the sight w a s m o s t exhilarating to a s p o r t s m a n ; a n d the ladies s o o n d i s m i s s e d the party, after a hasty b r e a k f a s t . If the h e a v e n s were alive with p i g e o n s , the w h o l e village s e e m e d equally in m o t i o n , with m e n , w o m e n , a n d children. Every s p e c i e s of fire-arms, from the F r e n c h d u c k i n g - g u n , with its barrel of n e a r six feet in l e n g t h , to the c o m m o n h o r s e m a n ' s pistol, w a s to be s e e n in the h a n d s of the m e n a n d boys; while b o w s a n d arrows, s o m e m a d e of the s i m p l e stick of a w a l n u t sapling, a n d others in a r u d e imitation of the a n c i e n t c r o s s - b o w s , were carried by m a n y of the latter. T h e h o u s e s , a n d the signs of life a p p a r e n t in the village, drove the a l a r m e d birds from the direct line of their flight, towards the m o u n t a i n s , a l o n g the sides a n d near the b a s e s of which they were g l a n c i n g in d e n s e m a s s e s , that were equally wonderful by the rapidity of their m o t i o n , a s by their incredible numbers. W e have already said, that a c r o s s the inclined p l a n e which fell from the s t e e p a s c e n t of the m o u n t a i n to the b a n k s of the S u s q u e h a n n a , ran the highway, on either side of which a c l e a r i n g of m a n y a c r e s h a d b e e n m a d e , at a very early day. O v e r t h o s e c l e a r i n g s , a n d up the e a s t e r n m o u n t a i n , a n d a l o n g the d a n g e r o u s p a t h that w a s c u t into its s i d e , the different individuals p o s t e d t h e m s e l v e s , a s suited their i n c l i n a t i o n s ; a n d in a few m o m e n t s the attack commenced. A m o n g s t the s p o r t s m e n w a s to be s e e n the tall, g a u n t form of L e a t h e r s t o c k i n g , w h o w a s walking over the field, with his rifle h a n g i n g o n his a r m , his d o g s following c l o s e at his h e e l s , n o w s c e n t i n g the d e a d or w o u n d e d birds, that were b e g i n n i n g to t u m b l e from the flocks, a n d then c r o u c h i n g u n d e r the legs of their m a s t e r , a s if they p a r t i c i p a t e d in his feelings, at this wasteful and unsportsmanlike execution. T h e reports of the fire-arms b e c a m e rapid, w h o l e volleys rising from the plain, a s flocks of m o r e t h a n ordinary n u m b e r s d a r t e d over the o p e n i n g , covering the field with d a r k n e s s , like an i n t e r p o s i n g c l o u d ; a n d then the light s m o k e of a single p i e c e would i s s u e from a m o n g the leafless b u s h e s o n the 4. Xerxes the Great ( 5 1 9 ? - 4 6 5 B . c . E . ) was king of Persia ( 4 8 6 - 4 6 5 B . C . E . ) .

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m o u n t a i n , a s d e a t h w a s h u r l e d on the retreat of the affrighted birds, w h o would rise from a volley, for m a n y feet into the air, in a vain effort to e s c a p e the a t t a c k s of m a n . Arrows, a n d missiles of every kind, were s e e n in the m i d s t of the flocks; a n d so n u m e r o u s were the birds, a n d s o low did they take their flight, that even long p o l e s , in the h a n d s of t h o s e o n the sides of the m o u n tain, were u s e d to strike t h e m to the e a r t h . D u r i n g all this t i m e , M r . J o n e s , who d i s d a i n e d the h u m b l e a n d ordinary m e a n s of destruction u s e d by his c o m p a n i o n s , w a s busily o c c u p i e d , aided by B e n j a m i n , in m a k i n g a r r a n g e m e n t s for a n a s s a u l t of a m o r e than ordinarily fatal c h a r a c t e r . A m o n g the relics of the old military e x c u r s i o n s , that o c c a sionally are discovered t h r o u g h o u t the different districts of the w e s t e r n part of New-York, there h a d b e e n f o u n d in T e m p l e t o n , at its s e t t l e m e n t , a small swivel, 5 which would carry a ball of a p o u n d weight. It w a s t h o u g h t to have b e e n d e s e r t e d by a war-party of the whites, in o n e of their i n r o a d s into the Indian s e t t l e m e n t s , w h e n , p e r h a p s , their c o n v e n i e n c e or their n e c e s s i t i e s i n d u c e d them to leave s u c h an e n c u m b r a n c e to the rapidity of their m a r c h , behind t h e m in the w o o d s . T h i s m i n i a t u r e c a n n o n h a d b e e n r e l e a s e d from the rust, a n d m o u n t e d on little w h e e l s , in a state for a c t u a l service. F o r several years, it w a s the sole organ for extraordinary rejoicings that w a s u s e d in t h o s e m o u n t a i n s . O n the m o r n i n g s of the F o u r t h of J u l y , it would be h e a r d , with its e c h o e s ringing a m o n g the hills, a n d telling forth its s o u n d s , for thirteen t i m e s , with all the dignity of a two-and-thirty p o u n d e r ; a n d even C a p t a i n Hollister, 6 w h o w a s the highest authority in that part of the country on all s u c h o c c a s i o n s , affirmed that, c o n s i d e r i n g its d i m e n s i o n s , it w a s no d e s p i c a b l e g u n for a s a l u t e . It w a s s o m e w h a t the worse for the service it h a d p e r f o r m e d , it is true, there b e i n g b u t a trifling difference in size b e t w e e n the touch-hole a n d the m u z z l e . 7 Still, the grand c o n c e p t i o n s of R i c h a r d h a d s u g g e s t e d the i m p o r t a n c e of s u c h an i n s t r u m e n t , in h u r l i n g d e a t h at his n i m b l e e n e m i e s . T h e swivel w a s d r a g g e d by a h o r s e into a part of the o p e n s p a c e , that the sheriff t h o u g h t m o s t eligible for p l a n t i n g a battery of the kind, a n d Mr. P u m p p r o c e e d e d to load it. Several h a n d f u l s of d u c k - s h o t were p l a c e d on top of the p o w d e r , a n d the M a j o r - d o m o s o o n a n n o u n c e d that his p i e c e w a s ready for service. T h e sight of s u c h a n i m p l e m e n t c o l l e c t e d all the idle s p e c t a t o r s to the spot, w h o , b e i n g mostly boys, filled the air with their cries of exultation a n d delight. T h e g u n w a s p o i n t e d on high, a n d R i c h a r d , holding a coal of fire in a pair of tongs, patiently took his seat on a s t u m p , awaiting the a p p e a r a n c e of a flock that w a s worthy of his notice. S o p r o d i g i o u s w a s the n u m b e r of the birds, that the s c a t t e r i n g fire of the g u n s , with the hurling of m i s s i l e s , a n d the cries of the b o y s , h a d no other 7ffect than to b r e a k off small flocks from the i m m e n s e m a s s e s that c o n t i n u e d to dart a l o n g the valley, as if the whole creation of the f e a t h e r e d tribe were p o u r i n g t h r o u g h that o n e p a s s f ' N o n e p r e t e n d e d to collect the g a m e , which lay s c a t t e r e d over the fields in s u c h p r o f u s i o n , a s to cover the very g r o u n d with the fluttering victims. L e a t h e r - s t o c k i n g w a s a silent, but u n e a s y s p e c t a t o r of all t h e s e p r o c e e d 5. Small cannon capable of being swung higher or lower. 6. T h e landlord of the major village inn. T h e Bold Dragoon; his rank comes from his having been an

early c o m m a n d e r of local militia. 7. Ordinarily the muzzle (or mouth) would be considerably larger than the touchhole, the vent by which fire is communicated to the powder.

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ings, b u t w a s able to k e e p his s e n t i m e n t s to h i m s e l f until h e s a w the introd u c t i o n of the swivel into the s p o r t s . " T h i s c o m e s of settling a c o u n t r y " he s a i d — " h e r e have I k n o w n the p i g e o n s to fly for forty long y e a r s , a n d , till you m a d e your c l e a r i n g s , there w a s nobody to s c a r e or to hurt t h e m . I loved to s e e t h e m c o m e into the w o o d s , for they were c o m p a n y to a body; hurting n o t h i n g ; being, a s it w a s , a s h a r m l e s s a s a g a r t e r - s n a k e . B u t n o w it gives m e s o r e t h o u g h t s w h e n I hear the frighty things whizzing t h r o u g h the air, for I know it's only a m o t i o n to b r i n g o u t all the brats in the village at t h e m . Well! the L o r d won't s e e the w a s t e of his c r e a t e r s for nothing, a n d right will b e d o n e to the p i g e o n s , a s well a s o t h e r s , by-andb y . — T h e r e ' s M r . Oliver, a s b a d a s the rest of t h e m , firing into the flocks as if he w a s s h o o t i n g d o w n n o t h i n g but the M i n g o 8 w a r r i o r s . " A m o n g the s p o r t s m e n w a s Billy Kirby, w h o , a r m e d with a n old m u s k e t , w a s loading, a n d , without even looking into the air, w a s firing, a n d s h o u t i n g a s his victims fell even on his own p e r s o n . H e h e a r d the s p e e c h of Natty, a n d took u p o n h i m s e l f to r e p l y — " W h a t ' s that, old L e a t h e r - s t o c k i n g ! " he cried; " g r u m b l i n g at the loss of a few p i g e o n s ! If you h a d to sow your w h e a t twice, a n d t h r e e t i m e s , a s I have d o n e , you wouldn't b e so massyfully 9 feeling'd to'ards the d i v i l s . — H u r r a h , boys! scatter the f e a t h e r s . T h i s is better t h a n s h o o t i n g at a turkey's h e a d a n d neck, old fellow." "It's better for you, m a y b e , Billy Kirby," r e t u r n e d the i n d i g n a n t old h u n t e r , " a n d all t h e m a s don't k n o w h o w to p u t a ball d o w n a rifle-barrel, or how to bring it u p ag'in with a true a i m ; but it's wicked to b e s h o o t i n g into flocks in this wastey m a n n e r ; a n d n o n e do it, w h o know h o w to k n o c k over a single bird. If a body h a s a craving for p i g e o n ' s flesh, why! it's m a d e the s a m e a s all other c r e a t e r s , for m a n ' s e a t i n g , but not to kill twenty a n d e a t o n e . W h e n I want s u c h a thing, I go into the w o o d s till I find o n e to my liking, a n d then I s h o o t him off the b r a n c h e s without t o u c h i n g a f e a t h e r of a n o t h e r , t h o u g h there might b e a h u n d r e d on the s a m e tree. B u t you c o u l d n ' t do s u c h a thing, Billy Kirby—you couldn't do it if you tried." " W h a t ' s that you say, you old, dried cornstalk! you s a p l e s s s t u b ! " cried the w o o d - c h o p p e r . "You've grown mighty b o a s t i n g , s i n 1 you killed the turkey; b u t if you're for a single s h o t , h e r e g o e s at that bird which c o m e s o n by himself." T h e fire from the d i s t a n t part of the field h a d driven a single p i g e o n below the flock to which it h a d b e l o n g e d , a n d , frightened with the c o n s t a n t reports of the m u s k e t s , it w a s a p p r o a c h i n g the s p o t w h e r e the d i s p u t a n t s s t o o d , darting first from o n e s i d e , a n d then to the other, c u t t i n g the air with the swiftness of lightning, a n d m a k i n g a n o i s e with its w i n g s , not unlike the r u s h i n g of a bullet. U n f o r t u n a t e l y for the w o o d - c h o p p e r , n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g his v a u n t , h e did not s e e his bird until it w a s too late for him to fire a s it a p p r o a c h e d , a n d he pulled his trigger at the u n l u c k y m o m e n t w h e n it w a s darting i m m e d i a t e l y over his h e a d . T h e bird c o n t i n u e d its c o u r s e with incredible velocity. N a t t y h a d d r o p p e d his p i e c e from his a r m , w h e n the c h a l l e n g e w a s m a d e , a n d , waiting a m o m e n t , until the terrified victim h a d got in a line with his e y e s , a n d h a d d r o p p e d n e a r the b a n k of the l a k e , h e r a i s e d his rifle with 8. In the Leather-Stocking novels set in New York, the Mingos (Iroquois) are made out to be the "bad Indians," whereas the Delawares are the "good

Indians." 9. Mercifully. 1. Since.

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u n c o m m o n rapidity, a n d fired. It might have b e e n c h a n c e , or it m i g h t have b e e n skill, that p r o d u c e d the result; it w a s probably a u n i o n of b o t h ; b u t the p i g e o n whirled over in the air, a n d fell into the lake, with a b r o k e n wing. At the s o u n d of his rifle, both his d o g s started from his feet, a n d in a few m i n u t e s the " s l u t " 2 b r o u g h t o u t the bird, still alive. T h e wonderful exploit of L e a t h e r - s t o c k i n g w a s n o i s e d t h r o u g h the field with great rapidity, a n d the s p o r t s m e n g a t h e r e d in to learn the truth of the report. " W h a t , " said y o u n g E d w a r d s , "have you really killed a p i g e o n on the wing, Natty, with a single b a l l ? " " H a v e n ' t I killed loons before now, lad, that dive at the f l a s h ? " r e t u r n e d the hunter. "It's m u c h better to kill only s u c h a s you want, without w a s t i n g your p o w d e r a n d l e a d , t h a n to b e firing into G o d ' s c r e a t e r s in s u c h a w i c k e d m a n n e r . B u t I c o m e o u t for a bird, a n d you know the r e a s o n why I like s m a l l g a m e , M r . Oliver, a n d now I have got o n e I will g o h o m e , for I don't like to s e e t h e s e wasty ways that you are all practysing, a s if the least thing w a s not m a d e for u s e , a n d not to d e s t r o y . " " T h o u sayest well, L e a t h e r - s t o c k i n g , " cried M a r m a d u k e , " a n d I begin to think it time to put a n e n d to this work of d e s t r u c t i o n . " " P u t a n ind, J u d g e , to your clearings._An't the w o o d s his work a s well a s ^ the p i g e o n s ? U s e , b u t d o n ' t w a s t e . W a s n ' t the w o o d s m a d e for the b e a s t s a n d birds to h a r b o u r in? a n d w h e n m a n w a n t e d their flesh, their s k i n s , or their f e a t h e r s , there's the p l a c e to s e e k t h e m . B u t I'll go to the hut with my own g a m e , for I wouldn't t o u c h o n e of the h a r m l e s s things that kiver the g r o u n d here, looking u p with their eyes at m e , a s if they only w a n t e d t o n g u e s to s a y their t h o u g h t s . " W i t h this s e n t i m e n t in his m o u t h , L e a t h e r - s t o c k i n g threw his rifle over his a r m , a n d , followed by his d o g s , s t e p p e d a c r o s s the c l e a r i n g with great c a u t i o n , taking c a r e not to tread on o n e , of the h u n d r e d s of the w o u n d e d birds that lay in his p a t h . H e s o o n e n t e r e d the b u s h e s on the m a r g i n of the lake, a n d was hid from view. W h a t e v e r might b e the i m p r e s s i o n the morality of N a t t y m a d e on the J u d g e , it w a s utterly lost on R i c h a r d . H e availed h i m s e l f of the g a t h e r i n g of the s p o r t s m e n , to lay a p l a n for o n e "fell s w o o p " ' of d e s t r u c t i o n . T h e m u s k e t m e n were d r a w n u p in battle array, in a line e x t e n d i n g on e a c h s i d e o f his artillery, with orders to await the signal of firing from himself. " S t a n d by, my l a d s , " said B e n j a m i n , w h o a c t e d a s a n a i d - d e - c a m p o n this m o m e n t o u s o c c a s i o n , " s t a n d by, my h e a r t i e s , a n d w h e n S q u i r e D i c k e n s h e a v e s out the signal for to begin the firing, d'ye s e e , you m a y o p e n u p o n t h e m in a b r o a d s i d e . T a k e c a r e a n d fire low, boys, a n d you'll b e s u r e to hull the flock." " F i r e low!" s h o u t e d K i r b y — " h e a r the old fool! If w e fire low, w e m a y hit the s t u m p s , b u t not ruffle a p i g e o n . " " H o w s h o u l d you know, you l u b b e r ? " 4 cried B e n j a m i n , with a very u n b e c o m i n g h e a t , for a n officer o n the eve of b a t t l e — " h o w s h o u l d you know, you g r a m p u s ? Havn't I sailed a b o a r d of the B o a d i s h y 5 for five y e a r s ? a n d wasn't 2. Bitch, female dog. 3. Shakespeare's Macbeth 4 . 3 . 2 1 9 , in M a c d u f f s lament for his dead wife and children. 4. Landlubber, clumsy fellow.

5. T h e Boadicea, a ship named for the British queen who led a rebellion against the Roman rulers in 62 C.E. " G r a m p u s " : variety of small whale, used here as a term of contempt.

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it a s t a n d i n g order to fire low, a n d to hull your e n e m y ? K e e p silence at your g u n s , b o y s , a n d mind the order that is p a s s e d . " T h e loud l a u g h s of the m u s k e t m e n were silenced by the authoritative voice of R i c h a r d , w h o called to t h e m for attention a n d o b e d i e n c e to his signals. S o m e millions of p i g e o n s were s u p p o s e d to have already p a s s e d , that m o r n i n g , over the valley of T e m p l e t o n ; but nothing like the flock that w a s now a p p r o a c h i n g h a d b e e n s e e n before. It extended from m o u n t a i n to m o u n tain in o n e solid b l u e m a s s , a n d the eye looked in vain over the s o u t h e r n hills to find its t e r m i n a t i o n . T h e front of this living c o l u m n w a s distinctly m a r k e d by a line, but very slightly i n d e n t e d , s o r e g u l a r a n d even w a s the flight. E v e n M a r m a d u k e forgot the morality of L e a t h e r - s t o c k i n g a s it a p p r o a c h e d , a n d , in c o m m o n with the rest, brought his m u s k e t to his shoulder. " F i r e ! " cried the Sheriff, c l a p p i n g his coal to the p r i m i n g of the c a n n o n . As half of B e n j a m i n ' s c h a r g e e s c a p e d t h r o u g h the t o u c h - h o l e , the whole volley of the m u s k e t r y p r e c e d e d the report of the swivel. O n receiving this u n i t e d d i s c h a r g e of s m a l l - a r m s , the front of the flock d a r t e d u p w a r d , while, at the s a m e i n s t a n t , m y r i a d s of t h o s e in their rear r u s h e d with a m a z i n g rapidity into their p l a c e s , s o that w h e n the c o l u m n of white s m o k e g u s h e d from the m o u t h of the little c a n n o n , a n a c c u m u l a t e d m a s s of o b j e c t s w a s gliding over its point of direction. T h e roar of the g u n e c h o e d a l o n g the m o u n t a i n s , a n d died away to the north, like d i s t a n t t h u n d e r , while the w h o l e flock of a l a r m e d birds s e e m e d , for a m o m e n t , thrown into o n e disorderly a n d agitated m a s s . T h e air w a s filled with their irregular flights, layer rising over layer, far a b o v e the tops of the highest p i n e s , n o n e d a r i n g to a d v a n c e b e y o n d the d a n g e r o u s p a s s ; w h e n , s u d d e n l y , s o m e of the l e a d e r s of the f e a t h e r e d tribe shot a c r o s s the valley, taking their flight directly over the village, a n d the h u n d r e d s of t h o u s a n d s in their rear followed their e x a m p l e , d e s e r t i n g the e a s t e r n side of the plain to their p e r s e c u t o r s a n d the fallen. "Victory!" s h o u t e d R i c h a r d , "victory! we have driven the e n e m y from the field." " N o t s o , D i c k o n , " s a i d M a r m a d u k e ; "the field is covered with t h e m ; a n d , like the L e a t h e r - s t o c k i n g , I s e e n o t h i n g but eyes, in every direction, a s the i n n o c e n t sufferers turn their h e a d s in terror, to e x a m i n e my m o v e m e n t s . Full o n e half of t h o s e that have fallen are yet alive: a n d I think it is time to e n d the sport; if sport it b e . " " S p o r t ! " cried the Sheriff; "it is princely sport. T h e r e are s o m e t h o u s a n d s of the b l u e - c o a t e d boys on the g r o u n d , s o that every old w o m a n in the village may have a pot-pie for the a s k i n g . " "Well, we have happily frightened the birds from this p a s s , " s a i d M a r m a d u k e , " a n d our c a r n a g e m u s t of n e c e s s i t y e n d , for the p r e s e n t . — B o y s , I will give t h e e s i x p e n c e a h u n d r e d for the p i g e o n s ' h e a d s only; s o go to work, a n d bring t h e m into the village, w h e n I will pay t h e e . " T h i s expedient p r o d u c e d the desired effect, for every u r c h i n o n the g r o u n d went industriously to work to wring the n e c k s of the w o u n d e d b i r d s . J u d g e T e m p l e retired towards his dwelling with that kind of feeling, that m a n y a m a n h a s e x p e r i e n c e d before h i m , w h o d i s c o v e r s , after the e x c i t e m e n t of the m o m e n t has p a s s e d , that he h a s p u r c h a s e d p l e a s u r e at the price of misery to o t h e r s . H o r s e s were l o a d e d with the d e a d ; a n d , after this first burst of sporting, the s h o o t i n g of p i g e o n s b e c a m e a b u s i n e s s , for the r e m a i n d e r of

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the s e a s o n , m o r e in proportion to the w a n t s of the p e o p l e . 6 R i c h a r d , however, b o a s t e d for m a n y a year, of his shot with the " c r i c k e t ; " 7 a n d B e n j a m i n gravely a s s e r t e d , that he t h o u g h t that they killed nearly a s m a n y p i g e o n s on that day, a s there were F r e n c h m e n destroyed on the m e m o r a b l e o c c a s i o n of Rodney's victory. 8 6. T h e pigeons described in this chapter—the passenger pigeons—are extinct, the last known specimen dying in 1914 at the Cincinnati Zoological Garden. 7. I.e., the little cannon. 8. T h e British admiral George Brydges, Baron

WILLIAM

Rodney ( 1 7 1 9 - 1 7 9 2 ) , defeated the French off Dominica, in the West Indies, in April 1782. Penguillan's nickname " P u m p " c o m e s from his tall tale about manning the p u m p s to keep the ship from sinking after Rodney's victory.

CULLEN

BRYANT

1794-1878 William Cullen Bryant was born in the backwoods of Massachusetts, at Cummington, but his father was a physician who loved the classics, and Cullen, as the boy was called, was trained early in Greek and Latin. For religion he was taught a harsh Calvinism that held that the Fall of Adam and Eve had brought about the Fall of Nature as well. But Bryant's first published poem was political, not about nature and religion: when he wrote an anti-Jefferson lampoon, "The Embargo," his Federalist father printed it as a pamphlet (1808). Bryant entered Williams College in 1810 but dropped out after a few months with the expectation of entering Yale. His father could not afford that expense, and instead Bryant read for the law, being admitted to practice in 1815. Meanwhile, in 1813 or 1814, Bryant wrote the first, shorter version of "Thanatopsis," the poem by which he is best remembered. Since his early teens Bryant had been reading the melancholy and sometimes scarifying meditations of the British "graveyard poets" of the previous decades, especially Bobert Blair ("The Grave"), Thomas Gray ("Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard"), Bishop Beilby Porteus ("Death"), and various poems by Henry Kirke White. In 1810 or soon afterward Bryant read Lyrical Ballads and responded strongly to Wordsworth's nearpantheistic view of nature. "Thanatopsis" as published in the North American Review in 1817 is nondoctrinally meditative. The fuller version of 1821 concludes with a fervent injunction to trust in something or someone who remains unspecified: Bryant's Calvinistic earnestness was outliving his commitment to particular doctrines. (Symptomatically, a reference to the Fall of Nature in the first version of "The Prairies," 1834, was later removed.) "Thanatopsis" won Bryant immediate acknowledgment in 1817, but a full-time career as a poet was economically impossible. In 1820, the year his father died, Bryant was appointed justice of the peace in Berkshire County. Early in 1821 he married Frances Fairchild in Great Barrington, Massachusetts, and later that year published the very slim volume Poems. Stirred by the conflict between his literary ambition and his need to support his family, Bryant in 1825 chanced a move to New York City as an editor of the NewYork Review and Atheneum Magazine. He was welcomed as a literary celebrity and quickly fitted into metropolitan life, becoming an early member of James Fenimore Cooper's Bread and Cheese Club. His magazine failed, as almost all periodicals did at that time, but Bryant stayed on in New York as editorial assistant on the Evening Post (1826), then soon became part owner and editor-in-chief. Bryant was not immune to the pettier temptations of the then-brawling occupation of journalism,

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but over the decades he made the Evening Post one of the most respected newspapers in the country, mainly through editorials in which he argued out his position on many momentous issues. A deeply committed Jacksonian Democrat, despite his youthful Federalism, Bryant rarely let party loyalty interfere with principle. He led the antislavery Free-Soil movement within the Democratic Party as long as this seemed a feasible way of achieving his ends, then helped to form the Republican Party. In 1 8 6 0 he was an influential advocate of Abraham Lincoln. As he prospered with his newspaper, Bryant became a great traveler, at home and abroad, and through his letters to the Evening Post he helped to shape a sense of the world for his countrypeople. Letters of a Traveller appeared in 1 8 5 0 ; Letters of a Traveller,

Second

Series,

in 1 8 5 9 ; and Letters from

the East

(that is, the Mideast) in

1 8 6 9 . His community service took many forms, most tangibly in his campaign for the creation of Central Park. His private life was happy. In 1 8 4 4 he moved his family to a fine old farmhouse on the Sound in then-rural Long Island, and for many years he relieved his strenuous urban activity with peaceful respites at his estate, Cedarmere. Left a widower in 1 8 6 6 , Bryant continued to work at the Evening Post. Blessed with patriarchal fame and great wealth as well as astonishing health, which owed much to a daily set of vigorous exercises, Bryant in his seventies undertook the remarkably ambitious task of translating Homer. His version of the Iliad was published in 1 8 7 0 , and that of the Odyssey two years later. Together with the 1 8 7 6 printing of his Poems (a new accumulation of many old and a few new verses), these translations crowned his career. Bryant died of the consequences of a fall suffered after he gave a speech at the unveiling of a statue of the Italian patriot Joseph Mazzini in Central Park. In New York city flags were lowered to half mast, and he was mourned throughout the country as a great poet and editor.

Thanatopsis

Sr-

?

T o h i m w h o in t h e love o f N a t u r e holds C o m m u n i o n with her visible f o r m s , s h e s p e a k s A various l a n g u a g e ; for his gayer h o u r s S h e h a s a voice of g l a d n e s s , a n d a s m i l e And e l o q u e n c e o f b e a u t y , a n d s h e glides Into his darker m u s i n g s , with a mild A n d gentle sympathy, that s t e a l s away T h e i r s h a r p n e s s , e r e h e is a w a r e . W h e n t h o u g h t s O f the last bitter h o u r c o m e like a blight O v e r thy spirit, a n d s a d i m a g e s O f the stern agony, a n d s h r o u d , a n d pall, A n d b r e a t h l e s s d a r k n e s s , a n d t h e narrow h o u s e , M a k e t h e e to s h u d d e r , a n d grow sick at h e a r t ; — G o forth u n d e r j h e o p e n sky, a n d list T o Nature's t e a c h i n g s , while from all a r o u n d E a r t h a n d her w a t e r s , a n d t h e d e p t h s of a i r , — C o m e s a still v o i c e — Y e t a few d a y s , a n d t h e e T h e all-beholding s u n shall s e e n o m o r e In all his c o u r s e ; n o r yet in t h e cold g r o u n d ,

1. T h e text is that of the first full printing, in Bryant's Poems ( 1 8 2 1 ) . T h e title ("Meditation on death") was supplied by an editor for the central

5

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is

section of the poem (lines 1 7—73) when that section was printed in the North American Review (September 1817).

THANATOPSIS

W h e r e thy pale form w a s laid, with m a n y tears, N o r in the e m b r a c e of o c e a n shall exist T h y i m a g e . Fiarth, that n o u r i s h e d t h e e , shall claim T h y growth, to b e resolv'd to earth a g a i n ; A n d , lost e a c h h u m a n trace, surrend'ring u p T h i n e individual being, shalt thou go T o mix forever with the e l e m e n t s , T o be a brother to th' insensible rock A n d to the s l u g g i s h clod, which the r u d e swain T u r n s with his s h a r e , 2 a n d treads u p o n . T h e o a k Shall s e n d his roots a b r o a d , a n d p i e r c e thy m o u l d . ' Yet not to thy eternal resting p l a c e S h a l t thou retire a l o n e — n o r c o u l d s t thou wish C o u c h m o r e magnificent. T h o u shalt lie d o w n With p a t r i a r c h s of the infant w o r l d — w i t h kings T h e powerful of the e a r t h — t h e w i s e , the g o o d , Fair f o r m s , a n d hoary seers of a g e s p a s t , All in o n e mighty s e p u l c h r e . — T h e hills Rock-ribb'd a n d a n c i e n t as the s u n , — t h e vales S t r e t c h i n g in pensive q u i e t n e s s b e t w e e n ; T h e v e n e r a b l e w o o d s — r i v e r s that m o v e In majesty, a n d the c o m p l a i n i n g brooks T h a t m a k e the m e a d o w s g r e e n ; a n d pour'd r o u n d all, O l d o c e a n ' s grey a n d m e l a n c h o l y w a s t e , — Are but the s o l e m n d e c o r a t i o n s all O f the great t o m b of m a n . T h e g o l d e n s u n , T h e p l a n e t s , all the infinite host of h e a v e n , Are s h i n i n g on the s a d a b o d e s of d e a t h , T h r o u g h the still l a p s e of a g e s . All that tread T h e globe are but a handful to the tribes T h a t s l u m b e r in its b o s o m . — T a k e the wings O f m o r n i n g — a n d the B a r c a n d e s e r t * p i e r c e , O r lose thyself in the c o n t i n u o u s w o o d s W h e r e rolls the O r e g a n , 4 a n d h e a r s n o s o u n d , S a v e his own d a s h i n g s — y e t — t h e d e a d a r e there, A n d millions in t h o s e s o l i t u d e s , s i n c e first T h e flight of years b e g a n , have laid t h e m d o w n In their last s l e e p — t h e d e a d reign there a l o n e . — S o shalt thou r e s t — a n d what if t h o u shalt fall U n n o t i c e d by the l i v i n g — a n d n o friend T a k e note of thy d e p a r t u r e ? All that b r e a t h e Will s h a r e thy destiny. T h e gay will laugh W h e n thou art g o n e , the s o l e m n brood of c a r e Plod on, a n d e a c h o n e a s before will c h a s e His favourite p h a n t o m ; yet all t h e s e shall leave T h e i r mirth a n d their e m p l o y m e n t s , a n d shall c o m e , A n d m a k e their b e d with t h e e . As the long train O f a g e s glide away, the s o n s of m e n , T h e youth in life's green spring, a n d he w h o g o e s 2. Plowshare. "Swain": farmer. 3 . In Barca {northeast Libya). 4. An early variant spelling of Oregon; now the

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60

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Columbia River. (For his distant examples Bryant ranges across the Atlantic and then westward across the North American continent.)

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W I L L I A M C U L L E N BRYANT

In the full strength of y e a r s , m a t r o n , a n d m a i d , T h e bow'd with a g e , the infant in the smiles A n d b e a u t y of its i n n o c e n t a g e c u t off,— Shall o n e by o n e b e g a t h e r e d to thy s i d e , By t h o s e , w h o in their turn shall follow t h e m . S o live, that w h e n thy s u m m o n s c o m e s to j o i n T h e i n n u m e r a b l e c a r a v a n , that m o v e s T o the pale r e a l m s of s h a d e , w h e r e e a c h shall t a k e H i s c h a m b e r in the silent halls of d e a t h , T h o u g o not, like the quarry-slave at night, S c o u r g e d to his d u n g e o n , but s u s t a i n ' d a n d sooth'd By a n u n f a l t e r i n g trust, a p p r o a c h thy grave, L i k e o n e w h o w r a p s the drapery of his c o u c h A b o u t h i m , a n d lies d o w n to p l e a s a n t d r e a m s . 1814

•

To a Waterfowl1 W h i t h e r , 'midst falling dew, W h i l e glow the h e a v e n s with the last s t e p s of day, F a r , t h r o u g h their rosy d e p t h s , d o s t t h o u p u r s u e T h y solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye M i g h t m a r k thy distant flight to do thee w r o n g , A s , darkly p a i n t e d on the c r i m s o n sky, T h y figure floats a l o n g . S e e k ' s t thou the p l a s h y 2 brink O f weedy l a k e , or m a r g e of river w i d e , O r w h e r e the rocking billows rise a n d sink O n the c h a f e d o c e a n side? T h e r e is a Power w h o s e c a r e T e a c h e s thy way a l o n g that p a t h l e s s c o a s t , — T h e d e s e r t a n d illimitable a i r , — L o n e w a n d e r i n g , b u t not lost. All day thy w i n g s have fann'd At that far height, the c o l d thin a t m o s p h e r e : Yet s t o o p not, weary, to the w e l c o m e l a n d , T h o u g h the d a r k night is near. A n d s o o n that toil shall e n d , S o o n shalt thou find a s u m m e r h o m e , a n d rest, A n d s c r e a m a m o n g thy fellows; r e e d s shall b e n d S o o n o'er thy s h e l t e r e d n e s t . T h e text is that of the printing in Poems ( 1 8 2 1 ) ; poem was drafted in Bridgewater, M a s s a c h u -

setts, during July 1 8 1 5 . 2. Marshy; a plash is a pool.

THE PRAIRIES

T h o u ' r t g o n e , the abyss of h e a v e n H a t h s w a l l o w e d u p thy f o r m ; yet, o n m y heart D e e p l y h a t h s u n k the l e s s o n thou hast given, A n d shall not s o o n d e p a r t . H e , w h o , from z o n e to z o n e , G u i d e s t h r o u g h the b o u n d l e s s sky thy certain flight, In the l o n g way that I m u s t tread a l o n e , jjfWill lead m y s t e p s aright. j' i, 1^

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T h e Prairies1 T h e s e a r e the G a r d e n s of the D e s e r t , t h e s e T h e u n s h o r n fields, b o u n d l e s s a n d b e a u t i f u l , A n d fresh a s the y o u n g e a r t h , ere m a n h a d s i n n e d — T h e Prairies. I b e h o l d t h e m for the first, A n d my heart swells, while the dilated sight T a k e s in the e n c i r c l i n g v a s t n e s s . L o ! they s t r e t c h In airy u n d u l a t i o n s , far away, As if the o c e a n , in his gentlest swell, S t o o d still, with all his r o u n d e d billows fixed, A n d m o t i o n l e s s for e v e r . — M o t i o n l e s s ? — N o — t h e y a r e all u n c h a i n e d a g a i n . T h e c l o u d s S w e e p over with their s h a d o w s , a n d b e n e a t h T h e s u r f a c e rolls a n d f l u c t u a t e s to the eye; D a r k hollows s e e m to glide a l o n g a n d c h a s e T h e s u n n y ridges. B r e e z e s of the S o u t h ! W h o t o s s the g o l d e n a n d the flame-like flowers, A n d p a s s the prairie-hawk that, p o i s e d o n h i g h , F l a p s his b r o a d w i n g s , yet m o v e s n o t — y e have played A m o n g the p a l m s of M e x i c o a n d vines O f T e x a s , a n d have c r i s p e d the l i m p i d b r o o k s T h a t from the f o u n t a i n s of S o n o r a 2 glide Into the c a l m P a c i f i c — h a v e ye f a n n e d A nobler or a lovelier s c e n e t h a n this? M a n h a t h n o part in all this g l o r i o u s work: T h e h a n d that built the firmament h a t h h e a v e d A n d s m o o t h e d t h e s e verdant swells, a n d s o w n their s l o p e s W i t h h e r b a g e , p l a n t e d t h e m with i s l a n d g r o v e s , A n d h e d g e d t h e m r o u n d with f o r e s t s . F i t t i n g floor F o r this m a g n i f i c e n t t e m p l e of the s k y — With flowers w h o s e glory a n d w h o s e m u l t i t u d e Rival the c o n s t e l l a t i o n s ! T h e great h e a v e n s S e e m to s t o o p d o w n u p o n the s c e n e in l o v e , — 1. From the first printing in Poems ( 1 8 3 4 ) . Bryant wrote the poem over a year after visiting his brothers in Illinois during 1832. Later he removed the reference to the Fall of Adam and Eve by substituting this as the third line: " F o r which the speech

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of England has no n a m e — " (alluding to the fact that the word prairies was adopted from French explorers and trappers). 2. River in northwest Mexico.

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A n e a r e r vault, a n d of a tenderer b l u e , T h a n that which b e n d s a b o v e the e a s t e r n hills. As o'er the verdant w a s t e I g u i d e my s t e e d , A m o n g the high rank g r a s s that s w e e p s his s i d e s , T h e hollow b e a t i n g of his footstep s e e m s A s a c r i l e g i o u s s o u n d . I think of t h o s e U p o n w h o s e rest he t r a m p l e s . Are they h e r e — T h e d e a d of other d a y s ! — a n d did the d u s t O f t h e s e fair s o l i t u d e s o n c e stir with life A n d burn with p a s s i o n ? L e t the mighty m o u n d s ' T h a t overlook the rivers, or that rise In the d i m forest c r o w d e d with old o a k s , Answer. A r a c e , that long has p a s s e d away, Built t h e m ; — a disciplined a n d p o p u l o u s r a c e H e a p e d , with long toil, the earth, while yet the G r e e k W a s hewing the P e n t e l i c u s 4 to f o r m s O f symmetry, a n d rearing o n its rock T h e glittering P a r t h e n o n . T h e s e a m p l e fields N o u r i s h e d their harvests, here their herds were fed, W h e n haply by their stalls the bison lowed, A n d b o w e d his m a n e d s h o u l d e r to the yoke. All day this d e s e r t m u r m u r e d with their toils, Till twilight b l u s h e d a n d lovers w a l k e d , a n d w o o e d In a forgotten l a n g u a g e , a n d old t u n e s , F r o m i n s t r u m e n t s of u n r e m e m b e r e d form, G a v e the soft winds a voice. T h e red m a n c a m e — T h e r o a m i n g h u n t e r tribes, warlike a n d fierce, And the m o u n d - b u i l d e r s v a n i s h e d from the e a r t h . T h e solitude of c e n t u r i e s untold H a s settled w h e r e they dwelt. T h e prairie wolf H u n t s in their m e a d o w s , a n d his fresh d u g d e n Yawns by my p a t h . T h e g o p h e r m i n e s the g r o u n d W h e r e s t o o d their s w a r m i n g cities. All is g o n e — A l l — s a v e the piles of earth that hold their b o n e s — T h e p l a t f o r m s w h e r e they w o r s h i p p e d u n k n o w n g o d s — T h e barriers which they builded from the soil T o keep the foe at bay—till o'er the walls T h e wild b e l e a g u e r e r s broke, a n d , o n e by o n e , T h e s t r o n g holds of the plain were forced, a n d h e a p e d With c o r p s e s . T h e brown vultures of the wood F l o c k e d to t h o s e vast u n c o v e r e d s e p u l c h r e s , A n d sat, u n s c a r e d a n d silent, at their feast. Haply s o m e solitary fugitive, L u r k i n g in m a r s h a n d forest, till the s e n s e O f desolation a n d of fear b e c a m e Bitterer than d e a t h , yielded himself to die. M a n ' s better n a t u r e t r i u m p h e d . Kindly words W e l c o m e d a n d s o o t h e d him; the r u d e c o n q u e r o r s 3. The burial mounds c o m m o n in Illinois. Bryant follows a contemporary theory that they were built by a culture older than the American Indians. 4. Greek mountain from which a fine white mar-

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ble was quarried, including that used in building the Parthenon, the temple of Athena on the Acropolis in Athens.

T H E

P R A I R I E S

S e a t e d the captive with their chiefs. H e c h o s e A bride a m o n g their m a i d e n s . And at length S e e m e d to forget,—yet ne'er f o r g o t , — t h e wife O f his first love, a n d her sweet little o n e s B u t c h e r e d , a m i d their shrieks, with all his r a c e . T h u s c h a n g e the f o r m s of being. T h u s arise R a c e s of living things, glorious in strength, And p e r i s h , a s the q u i c k e n i n g breath of G o d Fills t h e m , or is withdrawn. T h e red m a n t o o — H a s left the b l o o m i n g wilds he r a n g e d so long, And, nearer to the Rocky M o u n t a i n s , s o u g h t A wider h u n t i n g g r o u n d . T h e beaver builds N o longer by t h e s e s t r e a m s , b u t far away, O n waters w h o s e b l u e s u r f a c e ne'er gave b a c k T h e white m a n ' s f a c e — a m o n g M i s s o u r i ' s s p r i n g s , A n d p o o l s w h o s e i s s u e s swell the O r e g a n , s H e rears his little V e n i c e . 6 In t h e s e plains T h e bison feeds no m o r e . T w i c e twenty l e a g u e s B e y o n d r e m o t e s t s m o k e of hunter's c a m p , R o a m s the m a j e s t i c b r u t e , in h e r d s that s h a k e T h e earth with t h u n d e r i n g s t e p s — y e t here I m e e t His a n c i e n t footprints s t a m p e d b e s i d e the pool. Still this great solitude is q u i c k with life. Myriads of i n s e c t s , g a u d y a s the flowers T h e y flutter over, gentle q u a d r u p e d s , And birds, that s c a r c e have learned the fear of m a n Are here, a n d sliding reptiles of the g r o u n d , Startlingly beautiful. T h e graceful d e e r B o u n d s to the w o o d at my a p p r o a c h . T h e b e e , A m o r e a d v e n t u r o u s colonist t h a n m a n , With w h o m he c a m e a c r o s s the e a s t e r n d e e p , Fills the s a v a n n a s with his m u r m u r i n g s , And hides his s w e e t s , as in the g o l d e n a g e , Within the hollow oak. I listen long T o his d o m e s t i c h u m , a n d think I hear T h e s o u n d of that a d v a n c i n g m u l t i t u d e W h i c h s o o n shall fill t h e s e d e s e r t s . F r o m the g r o u n d C o m e s u p the l a u g h of children, the soft voice O f m a i d e n s , a n d the sweet a n d s o l e m n hymn O f S a b b a t h w o r s h i p p e r s . T h e low of herds B l e n d s with the rustling of the heavy grain O v e r the dark-brown furrows. All at o n c e A fresher wind s w e e p s by, a n d b r e a k s my d r e a m , A n d I a m in the wilderness a l o n e . 1833

5. T h e Columbia River.

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6. I.e., builds a city in the water.

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WILLIAM

APESS

1798-1839 Little is known of William Apess's life other than what he tells us in A Son of the Forest (1829), the first extensive autobiography published by a Native American. His grandfather, says Apess, was a white man who married the granddaughter of the Wampanoag leader King Philip, or Metacom, the loser, in 1678, of "King Philip's War." Philip increasingly occupied Apess's thoughts during his lifetime, serving as the subject of his last published work. Apess's father, although of mixed blood, joined the Pequot tribe and married an Indian woman. Born in Colrain, Massachusetts, Apess drops from public record after 1838. Only recently have obituaries in the New York Sun and the New York Observer been found recording his death, from alcoholism, in New York, in the spring of 1839. In A Son of the Forest, Apess details the pains of his early life: at three he was taken into the home of his poor, alcoholic maternal grandparents; he was severely beaten and, at four or five, sold as an indentured laborer. His first master allowed him to attend school for six years, which constituted his entire formal education; he also introduced Apess to Christianity. Apess served as a soldier in the abortive American attack on Montreal in the War of 1812 and converted to evangelical Methodism after leaving the army. At the conclusion of A Son of the Forest, Apess writes that he achieved an "exhorter's" license from his church, enabling him to earn a living as an itinerant preacher; only later would he realize his goal of ordination as a Methodist minister. A fervent Christian, Apess early understood Christianity as incompatible with any form of race prejudice, sounding a note that presages Christian abolitionists later in the nineteenth century. In 1833, Apess went to preach at Mashpee, the only remaining Indian town in Massachusetts. There he became involved in the Mashpees' struggle to preserve their resources and rights, which were threatened by the overseers imposed on them by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The Mashpee eventually drew up petitions, probably composed by Apess, requiring that no whites cut wood or hay on Mashpee lands without the Indians' consent for "we, as a tribe, will rule ourselves, and have the right to do so; for all men are born free and equal, says the Constitution of the Country." Such unprecedented assertiveness on the part of the Indians alarmed the governor of Massachusetts, who announced his readiness to put down the unrest with troops. Apess's version of the controversy appears in his Indian Nullification

of the Unconstitutional

Laws of Massachusetts,

Relative

to the

Marshpee

[sic] Tribe; or, The Pretended Riot Explained (1835). A year before the book appeared, its case was won when the state legislature granted the Mashpee the same rights of self-governance that other Massachusetts townships possessed.

Apess's career as a preacher and an author comes to a close with his "Eulogy on King Philip," delivered in 1836 at the Odeon in Boston, one of the city's largest public lecture halls, and published that same year. In the "Eulogy" Apess meditates on his distant relation, naming Philip the foremost man that America had thus far produced. He reminds his audience, descendants of the Pilgrims, of the crimes of their ancestors, although "you and I have to rejoice that we have not to answer for our fathers' crimes; neither shall we do right to charge them one to another." Nonetheless, he notes, "in vain have I looked for the Christian to take me by the hand and bid me welcome to his cabin, as my fathers did them [the Christians], before we were born." Apess concludes that a "different course must be pursued. . . . And while you ask yourselves, 'What do they, the Indians, want?' you have only to look at the unjust laws made for them and say, 'They want what I want' ": justice and Christian fellowship. Our selection comes from The Experiences

of Five Christian

Indians

of the

Pequo'd

Tribe, published in 1833, the year Apess came to Mashpee. The first of these "expe-

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riences" is Apess's own, an account of his life and conversion that repeats some of the material in A Son of the Forest but intensifies considerably the condemnation of Euro-American treatment of native peoples. Apess concludes this book with the text anthologized here, "An Indian's Looking-Glass for the White Man," a searing indictment of race prejudice against people of color generally and Native Americans particularly. The forceful beginning of "Indian's Looking-Glass" is marked by the hortatory style of the practiced preacher as well as by a sense of the power of the spoken word in native cultures. Although his punctuation and syntax do not conform to the conventions of standard written English, Apess writes in a style that powerfully imitates oral performance. His provocative, ironic voice calls to mind that of the later moralist and orator for justice, Henry David Thoreau. The text is from The Experiences of Five Christian Indians of the Pequo'd Tribe (1833), reprinted in On Our Own Ground: The Complete Writings of William Apess, a Pequot, edited by Barry O'Connell (1992).

A n I n d i a n ' s L o o k i n g - G l a s s for t h e W h i t e M a n H a v i n g a desire to p l a c e a few things before my fellow c r e a t u r e s w h o are traveling with m e to the grave, a n d to that G o d w h o is the m a k e r a n d p r e server both of the white m a n a n d the I n d i a n , w h o s e abilities are the s a m e a n d w h o are to b e j u d g e d by o n e G o d , w h o will s h o w no favor to o u t w a r d a p p e a r a n c e s but will j u d g e r i g h t e o u s n e s s . N o w I a s k if d e g r a d a t i o n h a s not b e e n h e a p e d long e n o u g h u p o n the I n d i a n s ? A n d if s o , c a n there not b e a c o m p r o m i s e ? Is it right to hold a n d p r o m o t e p r e j u d i c e s ? If not, why not p u t t h e m all away? I m e a n h e r e , a m o n g t h o s e w h o are civilized. It may b e that m a n y are ignorant of the situation of m a n y of my b r e t h r e n within the limits of N e w E n g l a n d . L e t m e for a few m o m e n t s turn your attention to the reservations in the different s t a t e s of N e w E n g l a n d , a n d , with b u t few e x c e p tions, we shall find t h e m as follows: the^most m e a n , a b j e c t j i i s e r a b l e race^ nf hpirtftsJn tpp_nmrld n r o r n p W p p l a c e of prodigality a n d j j r o s t i t u t i o n . L e t a g e n t l e m a n a n d lady of integrity a n d respectability visit t h e s e p l a c e s , a n d they would be s u r p r i s e d ; a s they w a n d e r e d from o n e h u t to the other they would view, with the f e m a l e s w h o are left a l o n e , c h i l d r e n half-starvpd a n d s o m e a l m o s t a s nakpd .aTrriey c a m e into t h e l v o r l d . Alid'lt'is a fact that rfTave s e e n t h e m a s m u c h so—vjjiile the f e m a l e s a r e left without p r o t e c t i o n , a n d a r e s e d u c e d by white m e n , a n d are fimuly left to b e c o m m o n p r o s t i t u t e s for t h e m a n c l t o b e d e s t r o y e d ' b y that b u r n i n g , fiery c u r s e , that h a s s w e p t millions, both of red a n d white m e n , into the grave with sorrow a n d disg r a c e — r u m . O n e r e a s o n why they are left s o is b e c a u s e their m o s t s e n s i b l e a n d active m e n are a b s e n t at s e a . A n o t h e r r e a s o n is b e c a u s e they are m a d e to believe they are m i n o r s a n d have not the abilities given t h e m from G o d to take c a r e of t h e m s e l v e s , without it is to s e e to a few little articles, s u c h a s b a s k e t s a n d b r o o m s . T h e i r land is in c o m m o n stock, a n d they have n o t h i n g to m a k e t h e m enterprising. A n o t h e r r e a s o n is b e c a u s e t h o s e m e n w h o a r e A g e n t s , 1 m a n y of t h e m are unfaithful a n d c a r e not w h e t h e r the I n d i a n s live or die; they are m u c h i m p o s e d u p o n by their n e i g h b o r s , w h o have no principle. T h e y w o u l d think 1. T h o s e appointed by the Commonwealth of M a s s a c h u s e t t s to oversee Indian affairs in such towns as Mashpee.

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it n o c r i m e to go u p o n Indian lands a n d c u t and carry off their m o s t v a l u a b l e timber, or anything else they c h o s e ; a n d I d o u b t not but they think it clear gain. A n o t h e r r e a s o n is b e c a u s e they have no e d u c a t i o n to take c a r e of t h e m selves; if they h a d , I would risk t h e m to take c a r e of their own property. N o w I will a s k if the I n d i a n s are not called the most i n g e n i o u s p e o p l e a m o n g u s . A n d are they not said to b e m e n of talents? A n d I would ask: C o u l d there b e a m o r e efficient way to distress a n d m u r d e r t h e m by i n c h e s than the way they have t a k e n ? A n d there is no p e o p l e in the world but w h o m a y be destroyed in the s a m e way. N o w , if these p e o p l e are w h a t they a r e held up in our view to b e , I would take the liberty to a s k why they are not b r o u g h t forward a n d p a i n s taken to e d u c a t e t h e m , to give t h e m all a c o m m o n e d u c a t i o n , a n d t h o s e of the brightest a n d first-rate talents put forward a n d held up to office. P e r h a p s s o m e unholy, u n p r i n c i p l e d m e n would cry o u t , " T h e skin w a s not g o o d e n o u g h " ; but s t o p , f r i e n d s — I a m not talking a b o u t the skin but a b o u t principles. I would a s k if there c a n n o t b e a s g o o d feelings a n d principles u n d e r a red skin a s there c a n be u n d e r a white. A n d let m e ask: Is it not on the a c c o u n t of a b a d principle that we w h o are red children have h a d to suffer s o m u c h a s we have? And let m e ask: Did not this b a d principle p r o c e e d from the whites or their forefathers? A n d I w o u l d ask: Is it worthwhile to nourish it any longer? If not, then let u s have a c h a n g e , a l t h o u g h s o m e m e n no d o u b t will s p o u t their corrupt principles a g a i n s t it, that are in the halls of legislation a n d e l s e w h e r e . B u t I p r e s u m e this kind of talk will s e e m s u r p r i s i n g a n d horrible. I d o not s e e why it s h o u l d s o long a s they (the whites) say that they think a s m u c h of us a s they d o of t h e m s e l v e s . T h i s I have h e a r d repeatedly, from the m o s t r e s p e c t a b l e g e n t l e m e n a n d l a d i e s — a n d having h e a r d so m u c h p r e c e p t , I s h o u l d now wish to s e e the e x a m p l e . A n d I would a s k w h o has a better right to look for t h e s e things than the n a t u r a l i s t 2 h i m s e l f — t h e c a n d i d m a n would say n o n e . I know that m a n y say that they a r e willing, p e r h a p s the majority of the p e o p l e , that we s h o u l d enjoy our rights a n d privileges as they d o . If s o , I would ask, W h y are not we p r o t e c t e d in our p e r s o n s a n d property t h r o u g h o u t the U n i o n ? Is it not b e c a u s e there reigns in the b r e a s t of m a n y w h o are l e a d e r s a m o s t u n r i g h t e o u s , u n b e c o m i n g , a n d i m p u r e b l a c k principle, a n d a s corrupt a n d unholy a s it c a n b e — w h i l e t h e s e very s a m e u n f e e l i n g , selfe s t e e m e d c h a r a c t e r s p r e t e n d to take the skin as a pretext to k e e p u s from our u n a l i e n a b l e a n d lawful rights? I would a s k you if you would like to b e d i s f r a n c h i s e d from all your rights, merely b e c a u s e your skin is white, a n d for no other c r i m e . I'll venture to say, t h e s e very c h a r a c t e r s w h o hold the skin to be s u c h a barrier in the way would b e the first to cry o u t , " I n j u s t i c e ! awful injustice!" B u t , reader, I a c k n o w l e d g e that this is a c o n f u s e d world, a n d I a m not s e e k i n g for office, but merely p l a c i n g b e f o r e y o u the b l a c k i n c q n s i s t e a c y that r vojx4?lacaJjefore m e — w h i c h is fpp tim^s findin the u m v e r s e ^ A n d now let m e exhort you to do a w a y that principle, a s it a p p e a r s ten times w o r s e in the sight of G o d a n d c a n d i d m e n than skins of c o l o r — m o r e disgraceful than all the skins that J e h o v a h ever m a d e . If black or red skins or any other skin of color is disgraceful to G o d , it a p p e a r s that

\[^ ^?^4ri^ry3X^3^-thatwill

2. I.e., the American Indian; a play on the view of Indians as children of nature (or "sons of the forest").

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he h a s d i s ^ r ^ e d l n ^ s e j j l a _ g r e a t d e a l — f o r he h a s m a d e j i f t e e n coloredrjeorjle. Xo-one-whiteancTptaxed t h e m here u p o n this earth, N o w let m e a s k y o u , white m a n , if it is a d i s g r a c e for to eat, drink, a n d s l e e p with the i m a g e of G o d , or sit, or walk a n d talk with t h e m . O r have you the folly to think that t h e white m a n , b e i n g o n e in fifteen or sixteen, a r e the only beloved i m a g e s of G o d ? A s s e m b l e all n a t i o n s t o g e t h e r in your imagination, a n d then let the whites b e s e a t e d a m o n g t h e m , a n d t h e n let u s look for the w h i t e s , a n d I d o u b t not it would be hard finding t h e m ; for to the rest of the n a t i o n s , they a r e still but a handful. N o w s u p p o s e t h e s e skins were p u t together, a n d e a c h skin h a d its national c r i m e s written u p o n i t — w h i c h skin do you think w o u l d have the g r e a t e s t ? I will a s k o n e q u e s t i o n m o r e . C a n you c h a r g e the I n d i a n s with r o b b i n g a n a t i o n a l m o s t of their whole c o n t i n e n t , a n d m u r d e r i n g their w o m e n a n d children, a n d then depriving the r e m a i n d e r of their lawful rights, that n a t u r e a n d G o d require t h e m to h a v e ? A n d to c a p the climax, rob a n o t h e r nation to till their g r o u n d s a n d welter out their days u n d e r the lash with h u n g e r a n d fatigue u n d e r the s c o r c h i n g rays of a b u r n i n g s u n ? * I s h o u l d look at all the s k i n s , a n d I know that w h e n I c a s t my eye u p o n that white skin, a n d if I saw t h o s e c r i m e s written u p o n it, I s h o u l d e n t e r my protest a g a i n s t it i m m e d i a t e l y a n d cleave to that w h i c h is m o r e h o n o r a b l e . A n d I c a n tell you that I a m satisfied with the m a n n e r of m y c r e a t i o n , fully— whether o t h e r s are or not. B u t we will strive to p e n e t r a t e m o r e fully into the c o n d u c t of t h o s e w h o profess to have p u r e p r i n c i p l e s a n d w h o tell u s to follow J e s u s C h r i s t a n d imitate him a n d have his Spirit. L e t u s s e e if they c o m e a n y w h e r e n e a r him a n d his a n c i e n t d i s c i p l e s . T h e first thing we are to look at a r e j i i s nrerepts^. of w h i c h we w i l ] _ g i £ n > i r > " ^fp^yThmi shalt love t h e J - X H g L L b ^ ^ j ^ c L w i t h all thy h e a r t J j m t J 3 j r t j j h 3 ! _ s j ^ l , j > v ^ all thy sjr^rjgtfi^l'he s e c o n d is like u n t o it. T h o u shalt love thy n e i g f i ^ r a s j h y s e l F r O n t h e s e two p r e c e p t s h a n g all the l a ^ a n c T the p r o p h e t s " ( I V l a t t h e w 2 2 3 7 , 3 8 , 3 9 , 4 0 ) . " B y this shall all m e n know that they are my d i s c i p l e s , if ye h a v e love o n e to a n o t h e r " (John 1 3 . 3 5 ) . O u r L o r d left this s p e c i a l c o m m a n d with his followers, that they s h o u l d love o n e another. A g a i n , J o h n in his E p i s t l e s says, " H e w h o loveth G o d loveth his b r o t h e r a l s o " (1 J o h n 4 . 2 1 ) . " L e t u s not love in word b u t in d e e d " (1 J o h n 3 . 1 8 ) . " L e t your love b e without d i s s i m u l a t i o n . S e e that ye love o n e a n o t h e r with a p u r e heart fervently" (1 P e t e r 1.22). "If any m a n say, I love G o d , a n d h a t e t h his brother, he is a liar" (1 J o h n 4 . 2 0 ) . " W h o s o e v e r h a t e t h his b r o t h e r is a murderer, a n d no m u r d e r e r hath eternal life a b i d i n g in h i m " (1 J o h n 3 . 1 5 ) . T h e first thing that takes o u r attention is the saying of J e s u s , " T h o u shalt love," etc. T h e first q u e s t i o n I w o u l d a s k my brethren in the ministry, as well a s that of the m e m b e r s h i p : W h a t is love, or its effects? N o w , if they w h o t e a c h are not essentially affected with p u r e love, the love of G o d , how c a n they t e a c h a s they o u g h t ? A g a i n , the holy t e a c h e r s of old s a i d , " N o w if any m a n have not t h e spirit of C h r i s t , he is n o n e of h i s " ( B o m a n s 8 . 9 ) . N o w , my brethren in the ministry, let m e a s k you a few s i n c e r e q u e s t i o n s . Did you ever hear or r e a d of C h r i s t t e a c h i n g his d i s c i p l e s that they o u g h t to d e s p i s e 3. T h e reference is to the "nation" of Africa, many of whose people were brought to the United States as slaves.

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o n e b e c a u s e his skin w a s different from theirs? J e s u s C h r i s t b e i n g a J e w , a n d t h o s e of his A p o s t l e s certainly were not w h i t e s — a n d did not h e w h o c o m p l e t e d the p l a n of salvation c o m p l e t e it for t h e whites a s well a s for t h e J e w s , a n d o t h e r s ? A n d were not t h e whites the m o s t d e g r a d e d p e o p l e o n the e a r t h at that t i m e ? A n d n o n e were m o r e s o , for they sacrificed their children to d u m b i d o l s ! 4 A n d did not S t . P a u l labor m o r e a b u n d a n t l y for b u i l d i n g u p a C h r i s t i a n n a t i o n a m o n g you t h a n any of t h e A p o s t l e s ? A n d you know a s well a s I that you are not i n d e b t e d to a principle b e n e a t h a white skin for your religious services b u t to a c o l o r e d o n e . W h a t t h e n is the m a t t e r now? Is not religion the s a m e n o w u n d e r a c o l o r e d skin a s it ever w a s ? If s o , I w o u l d ask, why is not a m a n of c o l o r r e s p e c t e d ? You m a y say, a s m a n y say, w e have white m e n e n o u g h . B u t w a s this the spirit of C h r i s t a n d his A p o s t l e s ? If it h a d b e e n , there w o u l d not h av e b e e n o n e white p r e a c h e r in t h e w o r l d — f o r J e s u s C h r i s t never w o u l d h av e i m p a r t e d his g r a c e or word to t h e m , for h e c o u l d forever h av e withheld it from t h e m . B u t we find that J e s u s C h r i s t a n d his A p o s t l e s never looked at t h e outward a p p e a r a n c e s . J e s u s in p a r t i c u l a r looked at the h e a r t s , a n d his A p o s t l e s t h r o u g h h i m , b e i n g d i s c e r n e r s of the spirit, looked at their fruit without any regard to the skin, color, or nation; a s S t . P a u l h i m s e l f s p e a k s , " W h e r e there is neither G r e e k nor J e w , c i r c u m c i s i o n nor u n c i r c u m c i s i o n , B a r b a r i a n n o r S c y t h i a n , b o n d nor f r e e — b u t C h r i s t is all, a n d in a l l " ( C o l o s s i a n s 3 . 1 1 ) . If you c a n find a spirit like J e s u s C h r i s t a n d his A p o s t l e s prevailing n o w in any of the white c o n g r e g a t i o n s , I s h o u l d like to k n o w it. I a s k : Is it not t h e c a s e that everybody that is not white is treated with c o n t e m p t a n d c o u n t e d a s b a r b a r i a n s ? A n d I a s k if the word of G o d jus tif ie s the white m a n in s o doing. W h e n the p r o p h e t s p r o p h e s i e d , of w h o m did they s p e a k ? W h e n they s p o k e of h e a t h e n s , w a s it not the whites a n d o t h e r s w h o were c o u n t e d G e n t i l e s ? A n d I a s k if all n a t i o n s with the e x c e p t i o n of the J e w s were not c o u n t e d h e a t h e n s . A n d a c c o r d i n g to the writings of s o m e , it c o u l d not m e a n the I n d i a n s , for they are c o u n t e d J e w s . 5 A n d now I w o u l d ask: W h y is all this distinction m a d e a m o n g t h e s e C h r i s t i a n s o c i e t i e s ? I w o u l d a s k : W h a t is all this a d o a b o u t m i s s i o n a r y s o c i e t i e s , if it b e not to C h r i s t i a n i z e t h o s e w h o are not C h r i s t i a n s ? A n d what is it for? T o d e g r a d e t h e m w o r s e , to b r i n g t h e m into society w h e r e they m u s t welter o u t their days in d i s g r a c e merely b e c a u s e their skin is of a different c o m p l e x i o n . W h a t folly it is to try to m a k e the state of h u m a n society w o r s e t h a n it is. H o w a s t o n i s h e d s o m e m a y b e at t h i s — b u t let m e a s k : Is it not s o ? L e t m e refer you to the c h u r c h e s only. A n d , my b r e t h r e n , is there any a g r e e m e n t ? D o b r e t h r e n a n d sisters love o n e a n o t h e r ? D o they not rather h a t e o n e a n o t h e r ? O u t w a r d f o r m s a n d c e r e m o n i e s , the lusts of the flesh, t h e lusts of the e y e , a n d p r i d e of life is of m o r e v a l u e to m a n y p r o f e s s o r s 6 than t h e love of G o d s h e d a b r o a d in their h e a r t s , or a n a t t a c h m e n t to his altar, to his o r d i n a n c e s , or to his c h i l d r e n . B u t you m a y ask: W h o are t h e children of G o d ? P e r h a p s you m a y say, n o n e b u t w h i t e . If s o , the word of the L o r d is not t r u e . I will refer you to S t . Peter's p r e c e p t s (Acts 1 0 ) : " G o d is no r e s p e c t e r of p e r s o n s , " e t c . N o w if this is the c a s e , my white b r o t h e r , w h a t b e t t e r are you 4. T h e ancient Hebrews considered various Mideastern peoples idolators whose practices presumably included child sacrifice. 5. A reference to the (mistaken) notion that

Native Americans were d e s c e n d e d from the ten lost tribes of Israel. 6. I.e., those who profess the Christian faith.

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than G o d ? A n d if no better, why d o you, w h o p r o f e s s his G o s p e l a n d to have his spirit, act s o contrary to it? Let m e ask why the m e n of a different skin are so d e s p i s e d . W h y are not they e d u c a t e d a n d p l a c e d in your p u l p i t s ? I a s k if his services well p e r f o r m e d are not as g o o d a s if a white m a n p e r f o r m e d t h e m . I a s k if a m a r r i a g e or a funeral c e r e m o n y or the o r d i n a n c e of the Lord's h o u s e w o u l d not b e a s a c c e p t a b l e in the sight of G o d a s t h o u g h he w a s white. And if s o , why is it not to you? I a s k a g a i n : W h y is it not a s a c c e p t a b l e to have m e n to exercise their office in o n e p l a c e a s well a s in a n o t h e r ? P e r h a p s you will say that if we a d m i t you to all of t h e s e privileges you will w a n t m o r e . I expect that I c a n g u e s s what that i s — W h y , say y o u , there w o u l d b e interm a r r i a g e s . H o w that would b e I a m not a b l e to s a y — a n d if it s h o u l d b e , it would b e n o t h i n g s t r a n g e or new to m e ; for I c a n a s s u r e you that I know a great m a n y that have intermarried, both of the whites a n d the I n d i a n s — a n d m a n y are their s o n s a n d d a u g h t e r s a n d p e o p l e , t o o , of the first respectability. And I c o u l d point to s o m e in the f a m o u s city of B o s t o n a n d e l s e w h e r e . You m a y look now at the disgraceful act in the s t a t u t e law p a s s e d by the legislature of M a s s a c h u s e t t s , a n d b e h o l d the fifty-pound fine levied u p o n any c l e r g y m a n or j u s t i c e of the p e a c e that d a r e to e n c o u r a g e t h e laws of G o d a n d n a t u r e by a legitimate u n i o n in holy w e d l o c k b e t w e e n the I n d i a n s a n d whites. I would a s k how this looks to your l a w m a k e r s . I w o u l d a s k if this c o r r e s p o n d s with your s a y i n g s — t h a t you think as m u c h of t h e I n d i a n s a s you d o of the w h i t e s . I d o not w o n d e r that you b l u s h , m a n y of y o u , while you r e a d ; for m a n y have b r o k e n the ill-fated laws m a d e by m a n to h e d g e u p the laws of G o d a n d n a t u r e . I w o u l d a s k if they w h o have m a d e the law have not broken i t — b u t there is no other s t a t e in N e w E n g l a n d that h a s this law b u t M a s s a c h u s e t t s ; a n d I think, a s m a n y of you d o not, that you have d o n e yourselves no credit. B u t as I a m not looking for a wife, having o n e of the finest c a s t , a s you no d o u b t w o u l d u n d e r s t a n d while you r e a d her e x p e r i e n c e a n d travail of soul in the way to h e a v e n , you will s e e that it is not my o b j e c t . A n d if I h a d n o n e , I s h o u l d not w a n t a n y o n e to take my right from m e a n d c h o o s e a wife for m e ; for I think that I or any of my brethren have a right to c h o o s e a wife for t h e m s e l v e s a s well as the w h i t e s — a n d a s the whites have taken t h e liberty to c h o o s e my b r e t h r e n , the I n d i a n s , h u n d r e d s a n d t h o u s a n d s o f t h e m , a s p a r t n e r s i n life, I believe the I n d i a n s have a m u c h right to c h o o s e their p a r t n e r s a m o n g the whites i f they wish. I w o u l d a s k you i f you c a n s e e anything i n c o n s i s t e n t i n your c o n d u c t a n d talk a b o u t the I n d i a n s . A n d i f you d o , I h o p e you will try to b e c o m e m o r e c o n s i s t e n t . Nnw^ j f t h e I ord J e s u s C h r i s t , wJxt i s c o u n t e d by a l l to foe a j e w — a n d it i s well k n o w n that the Jews^ a r e a c o l o r e i l ^ e e p t e T ^ - e s p e c i a l l v t h o s e living i n t h e E a s t , w h e r e C h r i s t w a s b o r r L = a a d if h e s h o u l d a p p e a r a m o n g u s , w o u l d h e not b e s h u t o u t o f d o o r s by m a n y ^ j e f y - - q t H € k l y ? A n d J a y - t h a ^ - t o o - w i i Q p r p f e s s - j e l i g i « 0 ? By what you read, you m a y learn how d e e p your p r i n c i p l e s a r e . I s h o u l d say they were skin-deep. I s h o u l d not w o n d e r i f s o m e of the m o s t selfish a n d ignorant would s p o u t a c h a r g e o f their p r i n c i p l e s now a n d then at m e . B u t I would ask: H o w are you to love your n e i g h b o r s a s yourself? Is it to c h e a t t h e m ? Is it to w r o n g t h e m i n anything? N o w , t o c h e a t t h e m o u t of any of their rights is robbery. A n d I ask: C a n you d e n y that you are not r o b b i n g the 7. Referring to the belief that Moses and the biblical Hebrews, including J e s u s , were people of color.

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I n d i a n s daily, a n d m a n y o t h e r s ? B u t at last you m a y think I a m w h a t is called a hard a n d u n c h a r i t a b l e m a n . B u t not s o . I believe there a r e m a n y w h o would not h e s i t a t e to a d v o c a t e o u r c a u s e ; a n d t h o s e t o o w h o a r e m e n of f a m e a n d r e s p e c t a b i l i t y — a s well a s ladies of h o n o r a n d virtue. T h e r e is a W e b s t e r , a n Everett, a n d a Wirt, K a n d m a n y others w h o a r e d i s t i n g u i s h e d c h a r a c t e r s — b e s i d e s a host of my fellow citizens, w h o a d v o c a t e o u r c a u s e daily. A n d how I c o n g r a t u l a t e s u c h noble s p i r i t s — h o w they a r e to b e prized a n d v a l u e d ; for they a r e well c a l c u l a t e d to p r o m o t e t h e h a p p i n e s s of m a n k i n d . T h e y well know that m a n w a s m a d e for society, a n d not for h i s s i n g - s t o c k s 9 a n d outc a s t s . A n d w h e n s u c h a principle a s this lies within t h e hearts of m e n , h o w m u c h it is like its , G o d — a n d h o w it h o n o r s its M a k e r — a n d how it imitates the feelings of the G o o d S a m a r i t a n , that h a d his w o u n d s b o u n d u p , w h o h a d b e e n a m o n g thieves a n d r o b b e r s . D o not g e t tired, ye n o b l e - h e a r t e d — o n l y think h o w m a n y p o o r Indians w a n t their w o u n d s d o n e u p daily; t h e L o r d will reward you, a n d pray you s t o p n o t till this tree of distinction shall b e leveled to t h e e a r t h , a n d the m a n t l e of p r e j u d i c e torn from every A m e r i c a n h e a r t — t h e n shall p e a c e pervade the Union. 1833 President William Henrv Harrison. Edward Everett ( 1 7 9 4 - 1 8 6 5 ) , the first Eliot Professor of G r e e k at Harvard and the editor of the prestigious North American Review; he served in C o n g r e s s and as governor of M a s s a c h u s e t t s .

8. William Wirt ( 1 7 7 2 - 1 8 3 4 ) , lawyer, politician, orator, and writer; he served as attorney general under President J a m e s M o n r o e and was nominated by the W h i g Party for president. Daniel Webster ( 1 7 8 2 - 1 8 5 2 ) , orator, legislator, statesman, a n d interpreter of the Constitution; he served as c o n g r e s s m a n from New H a m p s h i r e , senator from M a s s a c h u s e t t s , and secretary of state under

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from the lower-class "rough boys" in his early years and sent at nine to the Boston Public Latin School. So poorly clothed that two brothers had to make do at times with one coat, the boys were encouraged by a brilliant eccentric aunt, Mary Moody Emerson, to regard deprivation as ecstatic self-denial. Emerson showed no remarkable literary promise either in his early prose exercises or in his adolescent satires in imitation of Alexander Pope. His Harvard years, 1 8 1 7 - 2 1 , were frugal, industrious, and undistinguished. After graduation hp_served, he said, as "a hopeless Schoolmaster," unabje t " irppnsp h j ^ a i i t h n r i t y nn hin pnpiU Escaping into the study of theology in 1825, he began preaching in October 1826 and early in 1829 was ortlained as junior pastor of Boston's Second Church, where Increase Mather and Cotton Mather had preached a century and more before. Emerson's dedication to the ministry at the age of twenty-one was to a life of public service through eloquence, not to a life of preserving and disseminating religious dogma. In any case, Boston was no longer a Puritan stronghold. Boston Unitarianism, led in the 1820s by William Ellery Channing, still accepted the Bible as the revelation of God's intentions for humankind, but no longer held that human beings were innately depraved or that Jesus was more than the highest type of mortal individual. Emerson's skepticism toward Christianity was strengthened by his exposure to the German "higher criticism," which heretically interpreted biblical miracles in the light of comparable stories in other cultures. Emerson was gradually developing a faith greater in individual moral sentiment than in revealed religion. Around 1830-31 his reading of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Aids to Reflection provided him with a basic terminology in his postulation of an intuitive "Reason," which is superior to the mere "Understanding," or ordinary rationality operating on the materials of sense experience. Undogmatic about Christianity as he became, Emerson nevertheless seems to have undergone an intense religious experience around these same years, 1830 or 1831, something comparable with the sweet inward burning that the Calvinist Jonathan Edwards had delighted in describing. Emerson's knowledge of this emotion is clear from his later essay "Thp__Oypr- \niil " h u t he felt no impulse to account for it according to the tenets of a particular church. In the year of his ordination, Emerson married a young woman from New Hampshire, Ellen Tucker. She died sixteen months later of tuberculosis, the disease that had already infected Emerson and others in his family. Early in 1832 Emerson notified his church that he had become so skeptical of the validity of the Lord's Supper that he could no longer administer it. A few months later he resigned, keeping the sober goodwill of many in his flock, and embarked on a leisurely European tour, which constituted a postgraduate education in art and natural science. In the custom of that time, he called on well-known writers, meeting Walter Savage Landor in Italy, listening to Coleridge converse with such cogent volubility that he seemed to be reading aloud, and hearing William Wordsworth recite his poetry. Most important for his intellectual growth and for his reputation was his visit to Thomas Carlyle at Craigenputtock in Scotland, beginning a lifelong alliance in which each helped to publish and create an audience for the other. In 1834 Emerson drifted into a quiet retreat at Concord, Massachusetts, where generations of his ancestors had been ministers. That year he received the first installment of his wife's legacy. Soon he was assured of more than a thousand dollars annually, at a time when five thousand would buy a good but not ostentatious house in Boston or New York City. Not needing to hold a steady job again, he continued to preach occasionally and began lecturing at New England lyceums, the public halls that brought a variety of speakers and performers both to the cities and to smaller towns. In 1835, after a prudent courtship, he married Lydia Jackson of Plymouth, having explained to her his work and the conditions under which he must pursue it. One condition was that he must live in rural Concord rather than move into the bustle of Plymouth. Emerson's first little book. Nature (1836), did not establish him as an important American writer (for one thing, it was anonymous, and not every s .,

Life is b u t a n e m p t y d r e a m F o r t h e s o u l is d e a d t h a t s l u m b e r s , A n d t h i n g s a r e not w h a t they s e e m . II L i f e is r e a l — l i f e is e a r n e s t —

s

A n d t h e g r a v e is not its g o a l : D u s t t h o u art, to d u s t r e t u r n e s t , W a s not s p o k e n o f t h e s o u l . in Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is o u r d e s t i n ' d e n d or w a y ; B u t to act,

io

that e a c h to-morrow

F i n d u s f a r t h e r t h a n to-day. 1. T h e t e x t i s t h a t o f t h e first p u b l i c a t i o n , i n t h e Knickerbocker or New-York Monthly Magazine ( S e p t e m b e r 1 8 3 8 ) . T h e p o e m w a s c o l l e c t e d in Voices of the Night (1839). 2.

Slightly m i s q u o t e d from " W i s h e s to H i s S u p -

posed Mistress" by the English poet Richard C r a s h a w (c. 1 6 1 3 - 1 6 4 9 ) . Longfellow included the C r a s h a w p o e m i n a v o l u m e h e e d i t e d , The Waif: A Collection of Poems (1845). 3. M e t e r s , rhythms.

THE SLAVE'S DREAM

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669

IV

Art is long, a n d time is fleeting, 4 A n d o u r h e a r t s , t h o u g h stout a n d brave, Still, like muffled d r u m s , are b e a t i n g F u n e r a l m a r c h e s to the grave.

15

v

In the world's b r o a d field of b a t t l e , In the bivouac of Life, B e not like d u m b , driven cattle! B e a hero in the strife!

20

VI

T r u s t n o F u t u r e , howe'er p l e a s a n t ! L e t the d e a d P a s t bury its d e a d ! A c t — a c t in the glorious P r e s e n t ! H e a r t within, a n d G o d o'er h e a d ! VII

Lives of great m e n all remind u s W e c a n m a k e our lives s u b l i m e , A n d , d e p a r t i n g , leave b e h i n d u s F o o t s t e p s on the s a n d s of time.

25

VIII

F o o t s t e p s , that, p e r h a p s a n o t h e r , S a i l i n g o'er life's s o l e m n m a i n , A forlorn a n d shipwreck'd brother, S e e i n g , shall take heart a g a i n .

30

IX

L e t u s then be up a n d d o i n g , W i t h a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still p u r s u i n g , L e a r n to labor a n d to wait.

35 1838,1839

T h e

S l a v e ' s

D r e a m

1

B e s i d e the u n g a t h e r e d rice he lay, H i s sickle in his h a n d ; His breast w a s b a r e , his m a t t e d hair 4. A p a r a p h r a s e of S e n e c a ' s c o m p l a i n t , "Vita brevis est, ars longa" (De Brevitate vitae 1 . 1 ) . T h e m e a n i n g o f ars o r art is c l e a r e r in C h a u c e r ' s The Parliament of Fowls, l i n e 1: " T h e lyf s o s h o r t , t h e craft s o l o n g to l e r n e . " 1. F r o m t h e first p r i n t i n g , i n Poems on Slavery ( 1 8 4 2 ) , a little v o l u m e t h a t m a r k e d t h e h i g h p o i n t o f L o n g f e l l o w ' s p u b l i c c o n c e r n o v e r slavery in t h e

United States. Longfellow's contemporaries reacted variously. Whittier thought the p o e m s had been "of important service" to the c a u s e of abolitionism, while a more objective observer found t h e m "perfect dish water" c o m p a r e d with Whittier's o w n p o e m s a g a i n s t slavery. T h e majority, North and S o u t h , deplored the publication of the poems.

70

/

HENRY WADSWORTH

LONGFELLOW

W a s buried in the s a n d . A g a i n , in the mist a n d s h a d o w of s l e e p , H e saw his Native L a n d . W i d e t h r o u g h the l a n d s c a p e of his d r e a m s T h e lordly N i g e r 2 flowed; B e n e a t h the p a l m - t r e e s on the plain O n c e m o r e a king he s t r o d e ; A n d h e a r d the tinkling c a r a v a n s D e s c e n d the m o u n t a i n - r o a d . H e s a w o n c e m o r e his dark-eyed q u e e n A m o n g her children s t a n d ; T h e y c l a s p e d his neck, they k i s s e d his c h e e k s , T h e y held him by the h a n d ! — A tear burst from the sleeper's lids A n d fell into the s a n d . A n d then at furious s p e e d he r o d e A l o n g the Niger's b a n k ; His bridle-reins were g o l d e n c h a i n s , A n d , with a martial clank, At e a c h leap he c o u l d feel his s c a b b a r d of steel S m i t i n g his stallion's flank. B e f o r e him, like a blood-red flag, T h e bright f l a m i n g o e s flew; F r o m m o r n till night he followed their flight, O'er plains w h e r e the t a m a r i n d grew, Till he s a w the roofs of C a f f r e 3 h u t s , A n d the o c e a n rose to view. At night he h e a r d the lion roar, A n d the hyena s c r e a m , A n d the river-horse, 4 a s he c r u s h e d the r e e d s Beside some hidden stream; And it p a s s e d , like a glorious roll of d r u m s , T h r o u g h the t r i u m p h of his d r e a m . T h e forests, with their myriad t o n g u e s , S h o u t e d of liberty; A n d the Blast of the D e s e r t cried a l o u d , W i t h a voice s o wild a n d free, T h a t h e started in his s l e e p a n d s m i l e d At their t e m p e s t u o u s g l e e . H e did not feel the driver's whip, N o r the b u r n i n g heat of day; F o r D e a t h h a d illumined the L a n d of S l e e p ,

G r e a t A f r i c a n river. Kaffir, u s e d h e r e to m e a n

non-Muslim

Afri-

cans. 4. H i p p o p o t a m u s .

T H E J E W I S H C E M E T E R Y AT N E W P O R T

/

671

A n d his lifeless body lay A worn-out fetter, that the soul H a d broken a n d thrown away! 1842

T h e J e w i s h C e m e t e r y at

Newport1

H o w s t r a n g e it s e e m s ! T h e s e H e b r e w s in their graves. C l o s e by the street of this fair sea-port town; Silent b e s i d e the never-silent waves, At rest in all this moving up a n d d o w n ! T h e trees are white with d u s t , that o'er their s l e e p W a v e their b r o a d c u r t a i n s in the south-wind's b r e a t h , While u n d e r n e a t h s u c h leafy tents they keep T h e long, m y s t e r i o u s E x o d u s of D e a t h . And t h e s e s e p u l c h r a l s t o n e s , so old a n d brown, T h a t pave with level flags 2 their b u r i a l - p l a c e , Are like the tablets of the L a w , thrown d o w n A n d broken by M o s e s at the m o u n t a i n ' s b a s e . ' T h e very n a m e s r e c o r d e d here are s t r a n g e , O f foreign a c c e n t , a n d of different c l i m e s ; Alvares a n d R i v e r a 4 i n t e r c h a n g e With A b r a h a m a n d J a c o b of old t i m e s . " B l e s s e d be G o d ! for he c r e a t e d D e a t h ! " T h e m o u r n e r s s a i d : " a n d D e a t h is rest a n d p e a c e . " T h e n a d d e d , in the certainty of faith: "And giveth Life, that never m o r e shall c e a s e . "

s

10

15

20

C l o s e d are the portals of their S y n a g o g u e , N o P s a l m s of David now the silence break, N o R a b b i r e a d s the a n c i e n t Decalogue" 1 In the g r a n d dialect the P r o p h e t s s p a k e . I . F i r s t p u b l i s h e d in Putnam's Monthly (July 1 8 5 4 ) . t h e s o u r c e o f t h e p r e s e n t text. In h i s diary L o n g f e l l o w d e s c r i b e d h i s visit t o t h e J e w i s h C e m e t e r y in N e w p o r t . R h o d e I s l a n d , o n J u l y 9 , 1 8 5 2 : W e n t this m o r n i n g into the J e w i s h buryingg r o u n d , with a polite old g e n t l e m a n w h o k e e p s t h e k e y . T h e r e a r e f e w g r a v e s ; n e a r l y all a r e low : t o m b s t o n e s of marble, with H e b r e w inscript i o n s , a n d a f e w w o r d s a d d e d in E n g l i s h o r P o r t u g u e s e . At t h e foot o f e a c h , t h e letters S . A. G . D . G . [ S u Alma Goce Dhnnia Gloria: " M a y his s o u l e n j o y d i v i n e g l o r y " ( P o r t u g u e s e ) . ] It is a s h a d y n o o k , at t h e c o r n e r o f t w o d u s t y , freq u e n t e d streets, with a n iron f e n c e a n d a granite g a t e w a y , e r e c t e d at t h e e x p e n s e of M r . T o u r o . o f New Orleans.

T h e first J e w i s h s e t t l e r s a r r i v e d in N e w p o r t in 1 6 5 8 , e n c o u r a g e d by t h e relatively t o l e r a n t religious attitudes of local leaders. D u r i n g the colonial period, Newport had the s e c o n d largest J e w i s h c o m m u n i t y in N o r t h A m e r i c a . T h e T o u r o S y n a g o g u e , t h e o l d e s t still s t a n d i n g in t h e U n i t e d States, dates from I 763. 2. Flagstones. 3. " M o s e s " a n g e r w a x e d hot, a n d h e c a s t t h e t a b l e s out of his h a n d s , a n d b r a k e t h e m b e n e a t h the mount" (Exodus 32.19). 4. T h e Newport Jews were Sephardims, immigrants from Spain and Portugal, where they had a c q u i r e d local n a m e s . 5. T h e T e n C o m m a n d m e n t s .

672

/

HENRY WADSWORTH

LONGFELLOW

G o n e are the living, b u t the d e a d r e m a i n , A n d not n e g l e c t e d , for a h a n d u n s e e n , S c a t t e r i n g its b o u n t y , like a s u m m e r rain, Still k e e p s their graves a n d their r e m e m b r a n c e g r e e n . H o w c a m e they here? W h a t b u r s t of C h r i s t i a n h a t e ; W h a t p e r s e c u t i o n , m e r c i l e s s , a n d blind, D r o v e o'er the s e a , — t h a t d e s e r t , d e s o l a t e — T h e s e I s h m a e l s a n d H a g a r s 6 of m a n k i n d ?

25

so

T h e y lived in narrow streets a n d l a n e s o b s c u r e , G h e t t o or J u d e n s t r a s s , 7 in mirk a n d m i r e ; T a u g h t in the s c h o o l of p a t i e n c e to e n d u r e T h e life of a n g u i s h a n d the d e a t h of fire. All their lives long, with the u n l e a v e n e d b r e a d A n d bitter h e r b s " of exile a n d its fears, T h e w a s t i n g f a m i n e of the heart they fed, A n d slaked its thirst with m a r a h 9 of their t e a r s .

40

A n a t h e m a m a r a n a t h a ! 1 w a s the cry T h a t r a n g from town to town, from street to street; At every g a t e the a c c u r s e d M o r d e c a i 2 W a s m o c k e d , a n d j e e r e d , a n d s p u r n e d by C h r i s t i a n feet. Pride a n d humiliation h a n d in h a n d W a l k e d with t h e m t h r o u g h the world, where'er they w e n t ; T r a m p l e d a n d b e a t e n were they a s the s a n d , A n d yet u n s h a k e n a s the c o n t i n e n t . F o r in the b a c k - g r o u n d , figures v a g u e a n d vast, O f p a t r i a r c h s a n d of p r o p h e t s rose s u b l i m e , A n d all the great traditions of the P a s t T h e y s a w reflected in the c o m i n g t i m e .

so

A n d t h u s for ever with reverted look, T h e mystic v o l u m e of the world they r e a d , S p e l l i n g it b a c k w a r d like a H e b r e w b o o k , 3 Till Life b e c a m e a L e g e n d of the D e a d . B u t a h ! w h a t o n c e has b e e n shall b e no m o r e ! T h e g r o a n i n g earth in travail a n d in p a i n 6. O u t c a s t s . F r o m G e n e s i s 2 1 , w h e r e H a g a r , the c o n c u b i n e of A b r a h a m , a n d their s o n , I s h m a e l , are driven f r o m his h o u s e h o l d at the instigation o f his wife, S a r a h , after the birth of their son. I s a a c .

S e a t h e H e b r e w s w a n d e r e d in t h e w i l d e r n e s s f o r three days without water, then c a m e to M a r a h , w h e r e they f o u n d water too bitter to drink (as the name meant).

7. S t r e e t of t h e J e w s ( G e r m a n ) . " G h e t t o " : a s e c tion of a E u r o p e a n city to w h i c h J e w s a r e r e s t r i c t e d (Italian). 8 . F o o d s e a t e n a t P a s s o v e r in r e m e m b r a n c e o f t h e e x o d u s f r o m s l a v e r y in E g y p t . 9. F r o m E x o d u s 1 5 . 2 2 - 2 5 : after c r o s s i n g the R e d

1. " I f a n y m a n l o v e n o t t h e L o r d J e s u s C h r i s t , l e t h i m b e A n a t h e m a M a r a n a t h a " (1 C o r i n t h i a n s 16.22). 2. A J e w i s h l e a d e r a b u s e d by t h e P e r s i a n s ( E s t h e r 2.5-6). 3 . H e b r e w is r e a d f r o m r i g h t t o l e f t .

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

/

673

B r i n g s forth its r a c e s , b u t d o e s not restore. a n d t h e d e a d n a t i o n s never rise a g a i n .

60 1854

J O H N

G R E E N L E A F

W H I T T I E R

1807-1892 J o h n G r e e n l e a f W h i t t i e r w a s b o r n o n D e c e m b e r 17, 1 8 0 7 , o n a f a r m n e a r H a v e r h i l l , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , o f a Q u a k e r family. N o l o n g e r p e r s e c u t e d in N e w E n g l a n d , Q u a k e r s w e r e still a p e o p l e a p a r t , a n d W h i t t i e r g r e w u p with a s e n s e of b e i n g different f r o m m o s t of his n e i g h b o r s . L a b o r o n t h e d e b t - r i d d e n f a r m o v e r s t r a i n e d his h e a l t h in a d o l e s c e n c e , a n d t h e r e a f t e r t h r o u g h o u t his l o n g life he s u f f e r e d f r o m i n t e r m i t t e n t physical c o l l a p s e s . At f o u r t e e n , h a v i n g h a d only m e a g e r e d u c a t i o n in a h o u s e h o l d s u s p i c i o u s of n o n - Q u a k e r l i t e r a t u r e , h e f o u n d in t h e S c o t t i s h p o e t R o b e r t B u r n s a m o d e l for i m i t a t i o n , o n e u s i n g a regional d i a l e c t , d e a l i n g with h o m e l y s u b j e c t s , a n d d i s p l a y i n g a s t r o n g s o c i a l c o n s c i e n c e . H i s first p o e m w a s p u b l i s h e d in 1 8 2 6 in a local n e w s p a p e r r u n by a n o t h e r y o u n g m a n , W i l l i a m Lloyd G a r r i s o n , w h o s e d e d i c a t i o n to the antislavery m o v e m e n t w a s to affect W h i t t i e r ' s life p r o f o u n d l y . In 1 8 2 7 G a r r i s o n h e l p e d p e r s u a d e Whittier's f a t h e r that t h e y o u n g p o e t d e s e r v e d m o r e e d u c a t i o n , a n d W h i t t i e r s u p p o r t e d h i m s e l f t h r o u g h two t e r m s at Haverhill A c a d e m y . D u r i n g this t i m e a n d later W h i t t i e r w a s n e a r s e r i o u s c o u r t s h i p s , b u t like m a n y o f his r e l a t i v e s , h e never m a r r i e d ; a m o n g t h e o b s t a c l e s w e r e his Q u a k e r i s m , his poverty, a n d his c o m m i t m e n t to a b o l i t i o n i s m . In 1 8 3 6 , six years after his father's d e a t h , W h i t t i e r a n d his m o t h e r a n d s i s t e r s m o v e d f r o m t h e f a r m to t h e h o u s e in n e a r b y A m e s b u r y , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , w h i c h he o w n e d until his d e a t h . In his t w e n t i e s W h i t t i e r b e c a m e editor o f v a r i o u s n e w s p a p e r s , s o m e o f r e g i o n a l i m p o r t a n c e . H e w a s e l e c t e d for a t e r m to t h e M a s s a c h u s e t t s l e g i s l a t u r e ( 1 8 3 5 ) a n d b e c a m e a b e h i n d - t h e - s c e n e s force in t h e W h i g Party a n d , later, in t h e a n t i s l a v e r y Liberty Party, w h i c h h e h e l p e d to f o u n d in 1 8 3 9 . T h e t u r n i n g p o i n t in his c a r e e r c a m e in 1 8 3 3 with t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f his a b o l i t i o n i s t m a n i f e s t o " J u s t i c e a n d E x p e d i e n c y , " in w h i c h W h i t t i e r c o n c l u d e d that t h e r e w a s only o n e p r a c t i c a b l e a n d j u s t s c h e m e of e m a n c i p a t i o n : " I m m e d i a t e a b o l i t i o n o f slavery; a n i m m e d i a t e a c k n o w l e d g m e n t of t h e g r e a t truth, that m a n c a n n o t h o l d p r o p e r t y in m a n ; a n i m m e d i a t e s u r r e n d e r o f b a n e f u l p r e j u d i c e to C h r i s t i a n love; a n i m m e d i a t e p r a c t i c a l o b e d i e n c e to t h e c o m m a n d o f J e s u s C h r i s t : ' W h a t s o e v e r ye w o u l d that m e n s h o u l d d o u n t o you, d o ye e v e n s o to t h e m . ' " O v e r t h e next t h r e e d e c a d e s W h i t t i e r p a i d for his p r i n c i p l e s in m a n y ways, s o m e s u b t l e , s o m e a s overt a s b e i n g m o b b e d a n d s t o n e d in 1 8 3 5 . T h e c l i m a c t i c d a n g e r c a m e in 1 8 3 8 w h e n W h i t t i e r , in d i s g u i s e , j o i n e d a m o b to s a v e s o m e o f his p a p e r s a s his office w a s r a n s a c k e d a n d b u r n e d . F r o m t h e 1 8 3 0 s t h r o u g h t h e 1 8 5 0 s W h i t t i e r w a s a w o r k i n g e d i t o r a s s o c i a t e d with a b o l i t i o n i s t p a p e r s , b e c o m i n g t h e sort o f m a n h e w a s to d e s c r i b e in " T h e T e n t o n the B e a c h " ( 1 8 6 7 ) : A " d r e a m e r b o r n , / W h o , with a m i s s i o n to fulfil, / H a d left t h e M u s e s ' h a u n t s to turn / T h e c r a n k o f a n o p i n i o n - m i l l , / M a k i n g his r u s t i c r e e d o f s o n g / A w e a p o n in t h e war with w r o n g . " Yet h e c o n t i n u e d to write a b o u t his o w n r e g i o n , o n e legacy from his family b e i n g a rich oral history. H i s first b o o k , Legends of New England ( 1 8 3 1 ) , h a d i n c l u d e d s t o r i e s in b o t h p r o s e a n d poetry. H i s first b o o k o f poetry w a s Lays of My Home ( 1 8 4 3 ) , a n d t h e p r o s e Supernaturalism of New England

f o l l o w e d in

1 8 4 7 . Leaves

from

Margaret

Smith's

Journal

( 1 8 4 9 ) is a

fic-

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tional r e - c r e a t i o n o f c o l o n i a l life in t h e f o r m of t h e diary of a y o u n g w o m a n . T h r o u g h his fictional a n d h i s t o r i c a l p r o s e a n d t h r o u g h h i s p o e t r y W h i t t i e r w a s setting a very early e x a m p l e o f faithful t r e a t m e n t o f A m e r i c a n village a n d rural life that later local c o l o r i s t s a n d r e g i o n a l i s t s w e r e to follow: t h e elderly W h i t t i e r ' s p a t e r n a l interest in t h e c a r e e r o f S a r a h O r n e J e w e t t e p i t o m i z e s this i n f l u e n c e . B u t f r o m t h e b e g i n n i n g a c r u c i a l p r o b l e m for W h i t t i e r h a d b e e n h o w t o b e true t o t h e o c c a s i o n a l b e a u t y o f rural life w i t h o u t p o r t r a y i n g it in t h e s e n t i m e n t a l m a n n e r that p r e v a i l e d a t the t i m e . W h i t t i e r s u c c e e d e d b e s t in s o m e late p o e m s , e s p e c i a l l y " S n o w - B o u n d " ( 1 8 6 6 ) a n d t h e P r e l u d e to " A m o n g t h e H i l l s " ( 1 8 6 8 ) . W h i t t i e r ' s r e p u t a t i o n b e g a n u n d e r g o i n g a c h a n g e in t h e late 1 8 5 0 s , w h e n a b o l i t i o n i s m h a d c e a s e d t o b e a l m o s t a s m u c h a b h o r r e d in t h e N o r t h a s in t h e S o u t h ; partly t h e n e w favor h e r e c e i v e d w a s a result o f t h e f o u n d i n g in 1 8 5 7 o f t h e Atlantic

Monthly,

which w a s always

h o s p i t a b l e to h i s p o e m s , h u m o r o u s folk l e g e n d s , a s well a s m i l i t a n t o d e s . " S n o w B o u n d " brought Whittier extraordinary acclaim a n d immediate

financial

security;

a l t h o u g h o n e o f t h e t h e m e s of t h e p o e m w a s h i s s e n s e o f his o w n a p p r o a c h i n g d e a t h , W h i t t i e r ironically lived a n o t h e r q u a r t e r c e n t u r y , d u r i n g w h i c h h e w a s revered a s a g r e a t A m e r i c a n p o e t . H e d i e d o n S e p t e m b e r 7, 1 8 9 2 .

Ichabod!' S o fallen! s o lost! t h e light w i t h d r a w n W h i c h o n c e he wore! T h e glory f r o m his g r a y h a i r s g o n e Forevermore! Revile h i m n o t — t h e T e m p t e r h a t h

5

A s n a r e for all; A n d pitying t e a r s , not s c o r n a n d w r a t h , Refit his fall! Oh! d u m b be passion's stormy rage, W h e n he who might H a v e l i g h t e d u p a n d led his a g e , F a l l s b a c k in n i g h t . S c o r n ! w o u l d t h e a n g e l s l a u g h , to m a r k A bright s o u l d r i v e n , Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark, From hope and heaven! L e t not t h e l a n d , o n c e p r o u d of h i m , Insult h i m n o w , N o r b r a n d with d e e p e r s h a m e his d i m , Dishonored brow. R u t let its h u m b l e d s o n s , i n s t e a d , F r o m s e a to l a k e , I. " I c h a b o d ! " i s a n a t t a c k o n D a n i e l W e b s t e r , w h o s e c h a m p i o n i n g o f t h e F u g i t i v e S l a v e Bill ( t h e part of the C o m p r o m i s e of 1 8 5 0 w h i c h provided that Northern states m u s t return r u n a w a y slaves caught within their borders) m a d e him a n a t h e m a

to t h e abolitionists. T h e title is f r o m I S a m u e l 4 . 2 1 : " A n d s h e n a m e d the child Ichabod. saying, T h e g l o r y is d e p a r t e d f r o m I s r a e l . " T h e text is t h a t o f t h e first p r i n t i n g in Songs of Labor, and Other Poems (1850).

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A long l a m e n t , a s for the d e a d , In s a d n e s s m a k e . O f all we loved a n d h o n o r e d , n o u g h t S a v e power r e m a i n s — A fallen angel's pride of t h o u g h t , Still strong in c h a i n s . All else is g o n e ; from t h o s e great eyes T h e soul has fled: W h e n faith is lost, w h e n honor d i e s , T h e m a n is d e a d ! T h e n , pay the reverence of old days T o his d e a d f a m e ; W a l k b a c k w a r d , with averted g a z e , A n d hide the s h a m e ! 2

25

30

35 1850

Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl1 To the memory of the household it describes, this poem is dedicated by the author.

T h e i n m a t e s of the family at the Whittier h o m e s t e a d w h o are referred to in the p o e m were my father, mother, my brother a n d two sisters, a n d my u n c l e a n d a u n t , both u n m a r r i e d . In addition, there w a s the district schoolm a s t e r who b o a r d e d with u s . T h e "not u n f e a r e d , h a l f - w e l c o m e g u e s t " w a s Harriet L i v e r m o r e , d a u g h t e r of J u d g e L i v e r m o r e , of N e w H a m p s h i r e , a y o u n g w o m a n of fine natural ability, e n t h u s i a s t i c , e c c e n t r i c , with slight control over her violent t e m p e r , which s o m e t i m e s m a d e her religious profession doubtful. S h e was equally ready to exhort in s c h o o l - h o u s e prayerm e e t i n g s a n d d a n c e in a W a s h i n g t o n ball-room, while her father w a s a m e m b e r of C o n g r e s s . S h e early e m b r a c e d the d o c t r i n e of the S e c o n d A d v e n t , 2 a n d felt it her duty to p r o c l a i m the Lord's s p e e d y c o m i n g . W i t h this m e s s a g e s h e c r o s s e d the Atlantic a n d s p e n t the greater part of a long life in travelling over E u r o p e a n d Asia. S h e lived s o m e time with L a d y H e s ter S t a n h o p e , 1 a w o m a n as fantastic a n d mentally strained as herself, o n the slope of M t . L e b a n o n , but finally quarrelled with her in regard to two white h o r s e s with red m a r k s on their b a c k s which s u g g e s t e d the idea of s a d d l e s , o n which her titled h o s t e s s e x p e c t e d to ride into J e r u s a l e m with 2. By this a l l u s i o n to G e n e s i s 9 . 2 0 - 2 5 W h i t t i e r e q u a t e s W e b s t e r ' s s h a m e with that of N o a h after t h e F l o o d , w h o in d r u n k e n n e s s s p r a w l e d n a k e d in his c a v e . 1. T h i s p o e m w a s b e g u n in 1 8 6 4 a n d c o m p l e t e d in O c t o b e r 1 8 6 5 . T h e text f o l l o w e d h e r e is t h a t o f t h e 1st e d i t i o n ( 1 8 6 6 ) , a l t h o u g h t h e p r e f a t o r y n o t e o n t h e " i n m a t e s o f t h e f a m i l y " is t a k e n f r o m its first p r i n t i n g in t h e 1 8 9 2 ( p u b l i s h e d 1 8 9 1 ) e d i t i o n o f Snow-Btmnd. 2. S e c o n d C o m i n g . D u r i n g the early 19th century m a n y individual C h r i s t i a n s as well a s certain

C h r i s t i a n s e c t s b e l i e v e d that J e s u s w o u l d return to e a r t h in t h e i r l i f e t i m e s . i. N o t a b l e E n g l i s h e c c e n t r i c ( 1 7 7 6 - 1 8 3 9 ) , l e d a b r i l l i a n t l i f e in L o n d o n a s c o m p a n i o n o f h e r u n c l e W i l l i a m P i t t t h e Y o u n g e r b e f o r e h i s d e a t h in 1 8 0 6 . In 1 8 1 0 s h e s e t t l e d in L e b a n o n , w h e r e s h e b e c a m e d e s p o t over a s m a l l a r e a ( u s i n g a m a c e to p u n i s h her m a n y local retainers). S h e held court to f a m o u s travelers w h o s o u g h t her o u t a n d i n d u l g e d h e r b e l i e f s in t r a n s m i g r a t i o n o f t h e s o u l and astrology.

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the L o r d . A friend of m i n e f o u n d her, w h e n quite an old w o m a n , w a n d e r ing in Syria with a tribe of A r a b s , w h o with the Oriental notion that m a d n e s s is inspiration, a c c e p t e d her a s their p r o p h e t e s s a n d leader. At the time referred to in Snow-Bound s h e w a s b o a r d i n g at the R o c k s Village a b o u t two miles from u s . In my b o y h o o d , in our lonely f a r m - h o u s e , we h a d s c a n t y s o u r c e s of inform a t i o n ; few b o o k s a n d only a s m a l l weekly n e w s p a p e r . O u r only a n n u a l w a s the A l m a n a c . U n d e r s u c h c i r c u m s t a n c e s story-telling w a s a n e c e s s a r y r e s o u r c e in the long winter e v e n i n g s . M y father w h e n a y o u n g m a n h a d traversed the w i l d e r n e s s to C a n a d a , a n d c o u l d tell u s of his a d v e n t u r e s with Indians a n d wild b e a s t s , a n d of his s o j o u r n in the F r e n c h villages. M y u n c l e w a s ready with his record of h u n t i n g a n d fishing a n d , it m u s t b e c o n f e s s e d , with stories w h i c h he at least half believed, of witchcraft a n d a p p a r i t i o n s . M y m o t h e r , w h o w a s b o r n in the I n d i a n - h a u n t e d region of S o m e r s w o r t h , N e w H a m p s h i r e , b e t w e e n Dover a n d P o r t s m o u t h , told u s of the i n r o a d s of the s a v a g e s , a n d the narrow e s c a p e of her a n c e s t o r s . S h e d e s c r i b e d s t r a n g e p e o p l e w h o lived o n the P i s c a t a q u a a n d C o c h e c o , 4 a m o n g w h o m w a s B a n t a m the sorcerer. I have in my p o s s e s s i o n the wizard's " c o n j u r i n g b o o k , " which h e solemnly o p e n e d w h e n c o n s u l t e d . It is a c o p y of C o r n e l i u s Agrippa's Magic printed in 1 6 5 1 , d e d i c a t e d to Dr. R o b e r t C h i l d , w h o , like M i c h a e l S c o t t , 5 h a d learned "the art of g l a m m o r i e In P a d u a b e y o n d the s e a , " 6 a n d w h o is f a m o u s in the a n n a l s of M a s s a c h u s e t t s , w h e r e h e w a s at o n e time a resident, a s the first m a n w h o d a r e d petition the G e n e r a l C o u r t for liberty of c o n s c i e n c e . T h e full title of the b o o k is Three Books of Occult Philosophy, by Henry Cornelius Agrippa, Knight, Doctor of both Laws, Counsellor to Caesar's Sacred Majesty and Judge of the Prerogative Court. "As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the Divine light of the Sun, but also by our common Wood Fire: and as the celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth the same." — C O R . AGRIPPA, Occult Philosophy, Book I. chap. v. "Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow; and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven, And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet 4 . T h e C o c h e c o R i v e r flows t h r o u g h D o v e r , N e w H a m p s h i r e , t h e n j o i n s t h e P i s c a t a q u a a n d flows b y P o r t s m o u t h , N e w H a m p s h i r e , into the Atlantic. 5. A S c o t t i s h s c h o l a r a n d linguist ( 1 1 7 5 - 1 2 3 4 ) , c o u r t a s t r o l o g e r t o F r e d e r i c k II o f G e r m a n y . L e g e n d t r a n s f o r m e d h i m into a m a g i c i a n a s well a s an astrologer. Agrippa (1486—1535) was a G e r m a n physician a n d student of the occult. Child was an Englishman (called "doctor" b e c a u s e h e h a d s t u d i e d p h y s i c in P a d u a ) . H e m o v e d to M a s s a c h u s e t t s a n d in 1 6 4 6 p e t i t i o n e d the general court that the colony was failing to acknowledge the s u p r e m a c y of the laws of E n g l a n d w h e n it d e n i e d c i v i l a n d r e l i g i o u s r i g h t s

to m e m b e r s of c h u r c h e s not recognized as orthodox. H e a n d a f e w allies s i g n e d a p e t i t i o n to t h e c o m m i s s i o n e r s o f p l a n t a t i o n s in L o n d o n , b u t t h e M a s s a c h u s e t t s authorities s e a r c h e d Child's bagg a g e , s e i z e d t h e p e t i t i o n , a n d fined h i m a n d h i s F r i e n d s s e v e r e l y . C h i l d t r i e d t o g e t r e d r e s s in England, but the dictator, Oliver Cromwell, was s t a u n c h l y in f a v o r o f t h e P u r i t a n s . 6 . W h i t t i e r is a d a p t i n g S i r W a l t e r S c o t t ' s The Lay of the Last Minstrel 1.11: " H e l e a r n e d the art, that n o n e m a y n a m e , / In P a d u a , far b e y o n d t h e s e a . " ( T h e lines are not a b o u t M i c h a e l Scott.) " G l a m morie": m a g i c . P a d u a w a s t h o u g h t of as a seat of necromancy.

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Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm." —Emerson7

T h e s u n that brief D e c e m b e r day R o s e c h e e r l e s s over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at n o o n A s a d d e r light than w a n i n g m o o n . Slow tracing d o w n the thickening sky Its m u t e a n d o m i n o u s p r o p h e c y , A portent s e e m i n g less than threat, It s a n k from sight before it set. A chill n o c o a t , however stout, O f h o m e s p u n stuff c o u l d quite s h u t out, A hard, dull bitterness of cold, T h a t c h e c k e d , mid-vein, the circling r a c e O f life-blood in the s h a r p e n e d f a c e , T h e c o m i n g of the snow-storm told. T h e wind blew e a s t : " we heard the roar O f O c e a n on his wintry s h o r e , And felt the s t r o n g p u l s e t h r o b b i n g there Reat with low rhythm our inland air. M e a n w h i l e we did our nightly c h o r e s , — B r o u g h t in the wood from out of d o o r s , Littered the stalls, a n d from the m o w s R a k e d d o w n the herd's-grass for the c o w s ; H e a r d the h o r s e whinnying for his c o r n ; A n d , sharply c l a s h i n g horn o n horn, I m p a t i e n t d o w n the s t a n c h i o n rows T h e cattle s h a k e their walnut b o w s ; 9 W h i l e , p e e r i n g from his early p e r c h U p o n the scaffold's pole of birch, T h e c o c k his c r e s t e d h e l m e t bent A n d down his q u e r u l o u s c h a l l e n g e s e n t . U n w a r m e d by any s u n s e t light T h e gray day d a r k e n e d into night, A night m a d e hoary with the s w a r m A n d whirl-dance of the blinding s t o r m , As zigzag wavering to a n d fro C r o s s e d a n d r e c r o s s e d the winged snow: A n d ere the early b e d - t i m e c a m e T h e white drift piled the w i n d o w - f r a m e ,

7. T h e o p e n i n g of E m e r s o n ' s " T h e (1847).

Snow-Storm"

8. F r o m t h e e a s t , b r i n g i n g t h e s o u n d of the Atlantic. 9. S t a n c h i o n s ( h e r e m a d e o f w a l n u t a n d s h a p e d

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like a b o w ) a r e a d j u s t a b l e b r a c e s s e t a few i n c h e s from stationary posts; they are pulled aside at the t o p t o l e t a c o w ' s h e a d p a s s , t h e n fixed a g a i n s t t h e n e c k so the c o w c a n n o t back out while being m i l k e d or fed.

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WHITTIER

A n d t h r o u g h the g l a s s the clothes-line p o s t s L o o k e d in like tall a n d s h e e t e d g h o s t s .

40

S o all night long the s t o r m r o a r e d on: T h e m o r n i n g broke without a s u n ; In tiny s p h e r u l e t r a c e d with lines O f Nature's geometric signs, In starry flake, a n d p e l l i c l e , ' All day the hoary m e t e o r fell; A n d , w h e n the s e c o n d m o r n i n g s h o n e , W e looked u p o n a world u n k n o w n , O n n o t h i n g we c o u l d call our o w n . A r o u n d the glistening w o n d e r b e n t T h e b l u e walls of the f i r m a m e n t , N o c l o u d a b o v e , no earth b e l o w , — A universe of sky a n d snow! T h e old familiar sights of o u r s T o o k marvellous s h a p e s ; s t r a n g e d o m e s a n d towers R o s e u p w h e r e sty or corn-crib s t o o d , O r g a r d e n wall, or belt of w o o d ; A s m o o t h white m o u n d the brush-pile s h o w e d , A f e n c e l e s s drift w h a t o n c e w a s r o a d ; T h e bridle-post a n old m a n sat W i t h loose-flung c o a t a n d high c o c k e d hat; T h e well-curb h a d a C h i n e s e roof; And even the long s w e e p , 2 high aloof, In its slant splendor, s e e m e d to tell O f Pisa's l e a n i n g m i r a c l e . A p r o m p t , decisive m a n , n o b r e a t h O u r father w a s t e d : " B o y s , a p a t h ! " Well p l e a s e d , (for w h e n did farmer boy C o u n t s u c h a s u m m o n s less t h a n j o y ? ) O u r b u s k i n s ' on our feet we drew; W i t h m i t t e n e d h a n d s , a n d c a p s d r a w n low, T o g u a r d our n e c k s a n d e a r s from s n o w , W e c u t the solid w h i t e n e s s t h r o u g h . A n d , w h e r e the drift w a s d e e p e s t , m a d e A t u n n e l walled a n d overlaid With dazzling crystal: we h a d r e a d O f rare Aladdin's w o n d r o u s c a v e , A n d to our own his n a m e we g a v e , W i t h m a n y a wish the l u c k were o u r s T o test his l a m p ' s s u p e r n a l p o w e r s . W e r e a c h e d the barn with merry din, And r o u s e d the p r i s o n e d b r u t e s within. T h e old h o r s e thrust his long h e a d o u t , A n d grave with w o n d e r g a z e d a b o u t ; 1. In a l e t t e r t o h i s p u b l i s h e r , J a m e s T . F i e l d s , d u r ing the preparation of the p o e m , Whittier revised this p a s s a g e slightly a n d explained o n e revision: " T h e w o r d ' p e l l i c l e ' — a thin film or c r u s t or crys-

tallization—exactly expresses 2 . I.e., a well s w e e p ; a p o l e with a b u c k e t at o n e e n d for 3. H e r e , h i g h - c u t s h o e s , like

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the thing." a t t a c h e d to a pivot, raising water. a half boot.

S N O W - B O U N D : A W I N T E R IDYL

T h e c o c k his lusty greeting said, A n d forth his s p e c k l e d h a r e m led; T h e oxen l a s h e d their tails, a n d h o o k e d , A n d mild r e p r o a c h of h u n g e r looked; T h e h o r n e d patriarch of the s h e e p , L i k e Egypt's A m u n 4 r o u s e d from s l e e p , S h o o k his s a g e h e a d with g e s t u r e m u t e , A n d e m p h a s i z e d with s t a m p of foot. All day the g u s t y north-wind b o r e T h e l o o s e n i n g drift its breath b e f o r e ; L o w circling r o u n d its s o u t h e r n z o n e , T h e s u n t h r o u g h dazzling s n o w - m i s t s h o n e . N o bell the h u s h of s i l e n c e b r o k e , N o n e i g h b o r i n g c h i m n e y ' s social s m o k e C u r l e d over w o o d s of s n o w - h u n g oak. A solitude m a d e m o r e i n t e n s e By dreary voiced e l e m e n t s , T h e shrieking of the m i n d l e s s wind, T h e m o a n i n g t r e e - b o u g h s swaying blind, A n d on the glass the u n m e a n i n g b e a t O f ghostly finger-tips of sleet. B e y o n d the circle of our hearth N o w e l c o m e s o u n d of toil or mirth U n b o u n d the spell, a n d testified O f h u m a n life a n d thought o u t s i d e . W e m i n d e d that the s h a r p e s t ear T h e buried brooklet c o u l d not hear, T h e m u s i c of w h o s e liquid lip H a d b e e n to u s c o m p a n i o n s h i p , A n d , in o u r lonely life, h a d grown T o have a n a l m o s t h u m a n t o n e . As night drew o n , a n d , from the crest O f w o o d e d knolls that ridged the w e s t , T h e s u n , a snow-blown traveller, s a n k F r o m sight b e n e a t h the s m o t h e r i n g b a n k , W e piled, with c a r e , our nightly s t a c k O f wood a g a i n s t the c h i m n e y - b a c k , — T h e o a k e n log, g r e e n , h u g e , a n d thick, A n d on its top the stout back-stick; T h e knotty forestick laid a p a r t , And filled b e t w e e n with c u r i o u s art T h e r a g g e d b r u s h ; t h e n , hovering near, W e w a t c h e d the first red blaze a p p e a r , H e a r d the s h a r p c r a c k l e , c a u g h t the g l e a m O n w h i t e w a s h e d wall a n d s a g g i n g b e a m , Until the old, r u d e - f u r n i s h e d r o o m B u r s t , flower-like, into rosy b l o o m ; W h i l e radiant with a m i m i c flame Egyptian g o d with a ram's h e a d .

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WHITTIER

O u t s i d e the sparkling drift b e c a m e , A n d through the b a r e - b o u g h e d lilac-tree O u r own w a r m hearth s e e m e d blazing free. T h e crane and pendent trammels showed, T h e T u r k s ' h e a d s 5 o n the a n d i r o n s glowed; W h i l e childish fancy, p r o m p t to tell T h e m e a n i n g of the m i r a c l e , W h i s p e r e d the old rhyme: "Under the tree, When fire outdoors burns merrily, There the witches are making tea." T h e m o o n a b o v e the e a s t e r n w o o d S h o n e at its full; the hill-range s t o o d T r a n s f i g u r e d in the silver flood, Its blown s n o w s flashing c o l d a n d k e e n , D e a d white, save w h e r e s o m e s h a r p ravine T o o k s h a d o w , or the s o m b r e g r e e n O f h e m l o c k s turned to pitchy b l a c k Against the w h i t e n e s s at their b a c k . F o r s u c h a world a n d s u c h a night M o s t fitting that u n w a r m i n g light, W h i c h only s e e m e d where'er it fell T o m a k e the c o l d n e s s visible. S h u t in from all the world without, W e sat the c l e a n - w i n g e d h e a r t h a b o u t . C o n t e n t to let the north-wind roar In baffled rage at p a n e a n d door, W h i l e the red logs before u s b e a t T h e frost-line b a c k with tropic heat; A n d ever, w h e n a l o u d e r blast S h o o k b e a m a n d rafter a s it p a s s e d , T h e merrier u p its roaring d r a u g h t T h e great throat of the c h i m n e y l a u g h e d . T h e h o u s e - d o g on his p a w s o u t s p r e a d L a i d to the fire his drowsy h e a d , T h e cat's dark s i l h o u e t t e o n the wall A c o u c h a n t 6 tiger's s e e m e d to fall; A n d , for the winter fireside m e e t , B e t w e e n the a n d i r o n s ' s t r a d d l i n g feet, T h e m u g of cider s i m m e r e d slow, T h e a p p l e s s p u t t e r e d in a row, A n d , c l o s e at h a n d , the b a s k e t s t o o d With n u t s from brown O c t o b e r ' s w o o d . W h a t m a t t e r how the night b e h a v e d ? W h a t m a t t e r how the north-wind raved? Blow high, blow low, not all its s n o w C o u l d q u e n c h our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. 5. A f a v o r i t e o r n a m e n t a t i o n , t u r b a n l i k e k n o t s in wrought iron. " T r a m m e l s " : pot hooks h a n g i n g from the c r a n e , or m o v a b l e a r m .

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6. T e r m from heraldry: lying d o w n with the h e a d raised.

SNOW-BOUND:A

W I N T E R IDYL

O T i m e a n d C h a n g e ! — w i t h hair a s gray A s w a s my sire's that winter day, H o w s t r a n g e it s e e m s , with s o m u c h g o n e O f life a n d love, to still live on! A h , brother! only I a n d thou Are left of all that circle n o w , — T h e dear h o m e f a c e s w h e r e u p o n T h a t fitful firelight p a l e d a n d s h o n e . H e n c e f o r w a r d , listen a s we will, T h e voices of that hearth are still; L o o k w h e r e we may, the wide earth o'er, T h o s e lighted f a c e s smile no m o r e . W e tread the p a t h s their feet have worn, W e sit b e n e a t h their o r c h a r d - t r e e s , W e hear, like t h e m , the h u m of b e e s A n d rustle of the b l a d e d c o r n ; W e turn the p a g e s that they r e a d , T h e i r written w o r d s we linger o'er, B u t in the s u n they c a s t no s h a d e , N o voice is h e a r d , n o sign is m a d e , N o step is o n the c o n s c i o u s floor! Yet L o v e will d r e a m , a n d Faith will trust, ( S i n c e H e w h o knows our n e e d is j u s t , ) T h a t s o m e h o w , s o m e w h e r e , m e e t we m u s t . Alas for him w h o never s e e s T h e stars shine t h r o u g h his cypress-trees! W h o , h o p e l e s s , lays his d e a d away, N o r looks to s e e the b r e a k i n g day A c r o s s the mournful m a r b l e s 7 play! W h o hath not l e a r n e d , in h o u r s of faith, T h e truth to flesh a n d s e n s e u n k n o w n , T h a t Life is ever lord of D e a t h , A n d L o v e c a n never lose its own! W e s p e d the time with stories old, W r o u g h t puzzles out, a n d riddles told, O r s t a m m e r e d from our s c h o o l - b o o k lore " T h e C h i e f of G a m b i a ' s g o l d e n s h o r e . " 8 H o w often s i n c e , w h e n all the land W a s clay in Slavery's s h a p i n g h a n d , As if a t r u m p e t c a l l e d , I've h e a r d D a m e M e r c y W a r r e n ' s r o u s i n g word: "Does not the voice of reason cry, Claim the first right which Nature gave, From the red scourge of bondage fly, Nor deign to live a burdened slave\" O u r father rode again his ride 7. I.e., t h e g r a v e s t o n e s . 8. F r o m " T h e A f r i c a n C h i e f , " a widely r e p r i n t e d early antislavery p o e m by the B o s t o n i a n S a r a h W e n t w o r t h M o r t o n ( 1 7 5 9 - 1 8 4 6 ) . In lines 2 2 0 - 2 3

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Whittier quotes the p o e m but m i s r e m e m b e r s the author as Mercy Otis Warren ( 1 7 2 8 - 1 8 1 4 ) , M a s s a c h u s e t t s h i s t o r i a n , a u t h o r o f a t h r e e - v o l u m e History of* * * the American Revolution (1805).

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WHITTIER

On Memphremagog's wooded side; S a t d o w n a g a i n to m o o s e a n d s a m p 9 In trapper's h u t a n d Indian c a m p ; Lived o'er the old idyllic e a s e Beneath St. Francois'1 hemlock-trees; Again for him the m o o n l i g h t s h o n e On Norman cap and bodiced zone;2 Again he h e a r d the violin play W h i c h led the village d a n c e away, A n d m i n g l e d in its merry whirl T h e g r a n d a m a n d the l a u g h i n g girl. O r , nearer h o m e , our s t e p s h e led W h e r e S a l i s b u r y ' s ' level m a r s h e s s p r e a d Mile-wide a s flies the laden b e e ; W h e r e merry m o w e r s , h a l e a n d s t r o n g , S w e p t , scythe on s c y t h e , their s w a t h s a l o n g T h e low green prairies of the s e a . W e s h a r e d the fishing off B o a r ' s H e a d , And r o u n d the rocky Isles of S h o a l s 4 T h e hake-broil on the drift-wood c o a l s ; T h e c h o w d e r on the s a n d - b e a c h m a d e , D i p p e d by the hungry, s t e a m i n g hot, W i t h s p o o n s of clam-shell from the p o t . W e h e a r d the tales of witchcraft old, A n d d r e a m a n d sign a n d marvel told T o sleepy listeners a s they lay S t r e t c h e d idly on the s a l t e d hay, Adrift a l o n g the winding s h o r e s , W h e n favoring breezes d e i g n e d to b l o w T h e s q u a r e sail of the g u n d a l o w 5 A n d idle lay the u s e l e s s o a r s .

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O u r m o t h e r , while s h e t u r n e d her wheel O r run the new-knit stocking-heel, T o l d how the I n d i a n h o r d e s c a m e d o w n At m i d n i g h t on C o c h e c h o 6 town, A n d how her own g r e a t - u n c l e b o r e H i s cruel s c a l p - m a r k to f o u r s c o r e . R e c a l l i n g , in her fitting p h r a s e , S o rich a n d p i c t u r e s q u e a n d free, ( T h e c o m m o n u n r h y m e d poetry O f s i m p l e life a n d country ways,) T h e story of her early d a y s , — S h e m a d e for u s the s u n s e t s h i n e A s l a n t the tall c o l u m n a r p i n e ; T h e river at her father's door Its rippled m o a n i n g s w h i s p e r e d o'er; 9. C o r n m e a l m u s h . M e m p h r e m a g o g between Vermont and Quebec.

is

a

lake

1. N o r t h o f L a k e M e m p h r e m a g o g . 2 . W h i t t i e r ' s f a t h e r is r e c a l l i n g t h e d r e s s o f w o m e n in F r e n c h - C a n a d i a n s e t t l e m e n t s , t h e c a p like t h o s e w o r n by w o m e n in N o r m a n d y a n d b o d i c e s t h a t

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e m p h a s i z e d the waist. 3 . N e a r b y t o w n in n o r t h e a s t e r n M a s s a c h u s e t t s . 4. Off the N e w H a m p s h i r e coast. 5. F l a t - b o t t o m e d boat. 6. S e t t l e m e n t n e a r Dover, the C o c h e c o River.

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S N O W - B O U N D : A W I N T E R IDYL

/

W e h e a r d the hawks at twilight play, T h e boat-horn on P i s c a t a q u a , 7 T h e loon's weird laughter far away. S o well s h e g l e a n e d from earth a n d sky T h a t harvest of the ear a n d eye, W e a l m o s t felt the gusty air T h a t swept her native w o o d - p a t h s b a r e , H e a r d the far thresher's rhythmic flail, T h e flapping of the fisher's sail, O r saw, in sheltered cove a n d bay, T h e d u c k s ' b l a c k s q u a d r o n a n c h o r e d lay, O r h e a r d the wild g e e s e calling loud B e n e a t h the gray N o v e m b e r c l o u d . T h e n , haply, with a look m o r e grave, A n d s o b e r e r t o n e , s o m e tale s h e gave F r o m painful S e w e l l ' s 8 a n c i e n t t o m e , B e l o v e d in every Quaker h o m e , O f faith fire-winged by m a r t y r d o m , O r Chalkley's J o u r n a l , old a n d q u a i n t , — G e n t l e s t of s k i p p e r s , rare s e a - s a i n t ! — W h o , w h e n the dreary c a l m s prevailed, A n d water-butt a n d b r e a d - c a s k failed, A n d cruel, hungry eyes p u r s u e d H i s portly p r e s e n c e m a d for food, With dark hints m u t t e r e d u n d e r breath O f c a s t i n g lots for life or d e a t h , Offered, if H e a v e n withheld s u p p l i e s , T o be h i m s e l f the sacrifice. T h e n , s u d d e n l y , a s if to save T h e g o o d m a n from his living grave, A ripple o n the water grew, A school of p o r p o i s e flashed in view. 9 " T a k e , e a t , " h e s a i d , " a n d be c o n t e n t ; ' T h e s e fishes in my s t e a d a r e sent By H i m w h o gave the tangled r a m

7. I.e., f o g h o r n o n t h e P i s c a t a q u a River. 8. W i l l i a m S e w e l l or S e w e l ( 1 6 5 0 - 1 7 2 5 ) , a u t h o r o f a h i s t o r y o f t h e Q u a k e r s p u b l i s h e d in t h e y e a r of his death; Whittier had an A m e r i c a n edition of 1 8 2 3 . T h e history m a d e painful reading b e c a u s e of the severe persecution a n d outright martyrdoms many Quakers had suffered; see Hawthorne's "The Gentle Boy." 9 . T h e Journal of T h o m a s Chalkley ( 1 6 7 5 - 1 7 4 1 ) w a s p u b l i s h e d in 1 7 4 7 . T h e p a s s a g e r e f e r r e d t o runs: " T o stop their m u r m u r i n g , I told t h e m they s h o u l d n o t n e e d to c a s t l o t s , w h i c h w a s u s u a l in s u c h c a s e s , w h i c h o f u s s h o u l d d i e first, for I w o u l d freely o f f e r u p m y life to d o t h e m g o o d . O n e s a i d , ' G o d b l e s s y o u ! I will n o t e a t a n y o f y o u . ' A n o t h e r said, 'He would die before he would eat any of m e ; ' a n d s o s a i d several. I c a n truly say, o n that o c c a s i o n , a t t h a t t i m e , m y life w a s n o t d e a r t o m e , a n d t h a t I w a s s e r i o u s a n d i n g e n u o u s in m y p r o p -

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osition: a n d as I w a s leaning over the side of the vessel, thoughtfully c o n s i d e r i n g my proposal to the c o m p a n y , a n d l o o k i n g in m y m i n d t o H i m t h a t m a d e m e , a very large d o l p h i n c a m e u p t o w a r d s t h e t o p or s u r f a c e o f t h e w a t e r , a n d l o o k e d m e in the face; a n d I called the p e o p l e to put a b o o k into t h e s e a , a n d t a k e h i m , f o r h e r e is o n e c o m e t o r e d e e m m e (I s a i d t o t h e m ) . A n d t h e y p u t a h o o k i n t o t h e s e a , a n d t h e fish r e a d i l y t o o k it, a n d t h e y c a u g h t him. H e w a s longer than myself. I think he w a s a b o u t six feet long, a n d the largest that ever I s a w . T h i s plainly s h o w e d u s t h a t w e o u g h t not to distrust the providence of the Almighty. T h e people w e r e q u i e t e d by this act of P r o v i d e n c e , a n d m u r m u r e d no m o r e . W e c a u g h t e n o u g h to eat p l e n t i f u l l y of, till w e g o t i n t o t h e c a p e s o f D e l a ware." I. M a t t h e w 2 6 . 2 6 : " T a k e , e a t : t h i s is m y (Jesus' w o r d s at P a s s o v e r ) .

body"

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JOHN GREENLEAF

WHITTIER

T o s p a r e the child of A b r a h a m . " 2 O u r u n c l e , i n n o c e n t of b o o k s , B u t rich in lore of fields a n d b r o o k s , T h e a n c i e n t t e a c h e r s never d u m b Of Nature's unhoused lyceum,' In m o o n s a n d tides a n d w e a t h e r w i s e , H e read the c l o u d s a s p r o p h e c i e s , A n d foul or fair c o u l d well divine, By m a n y a n o c c u l t hint a n d sign, H o l d i n g the c u n n i n g - w a r d e d k e y s 4 T o all the woodcraft m y s t e r i e s ; H i m s e l f to N a t u r e ' s heart s o n e a r T h a t all her voices in his e a r O f b e a s t or bird h a d m e a n i n g s clear, L i k e Apollonius of old, W h o knew the tales the s p a r r o w s told, O r H e r m e s , 5 w h o interpreted W h a t the s a g e c r a n e s o f N i l u s 6 s a i d ; A s i m p l e , g u i l e l e s s , childlike m a n , C o n t e n t to live w h e r e life b e g a n ; S t r o n g only o n h i s native g r o u n d s , T h e little world of sights a n d s o u n d s W h o s e girdle w a s the p a r i s h b o u n d s , W h e r e o f his fondly partial pride T h e c o m m o n f e a t u r e s magnified, As Surrey hills to m o u n t a i n s grew In W h i t e of S e l b o r n e ' s 7 loving v i e w , — H e told how teal a n d loon h e s h o t , A n d how the eagle's e g g s h e got, T h e feats o n p o n d a n d river d o n e , T h e prodigies o f rod a n d g u n ; Till, w a r m i n g with the tales h e told, F o r g o t t e n w a s the o u t s i d e cold, T h e bitter wind u n h e e d e d blew, F r o m ripening corn the p i g e o n s flew, T h e partridge d r u m m e d i' the w o o d , the m i n k W e n t fishing d o w n the river-brink. In fields with b e a n or clover gay, T h e w o o d c h u c k , like a hermit gray, P e e r e d from the doorway of his cell; T h e m u s k r a t plied the m a s o n ' s t r a d e , A n d tier by tier his m u d - w a l l s laid; And from the s h a g b a r k o v e r h e a d T h e grizzled squirrel d r o p p e d his shell. 2. T h e story o f A b r a h a m ' s willingness to obey G o d e v e n i f it m e a n t s a c r i f i c i n g h i s s o n I s a a c i s i n G e n esis 2 2 . 1 3 . 3. L e c t u r e h a l l . 4. Carefully g u a r d e d (i.e., g u a r d e d by N a t u r e from superficial observers). 5 . H e r m e s T r i s m e g i s t u s ( 3 r d c e n t u r y C.E.), l e g endary author of Egyptian books of magic. Apol-

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l o n i u s ( 1 s t c e n t u r y C.E.), G r e e k m y s t i c . 6. N i l e River. 7. G i l b e r t W h i t e ( 1 7 2 0 - 1 7 9 3 ) , E n g l i s h n a t u r a l i s t w h o lived in t h e c o u n t y o f S u r r e y , in s o u t h e r n E n g l a n d , a n d w r o t e The Natural Histoiy and Antiquities of Selborne (1789), a book to which Thoreau's reviewers often c o m p a r e d WaUlen.

S N O W - B O U N D : A W I N T E R IDYL

Next, the d e a r a u n t , w h o s e smile of c h e e r A n d voice in d r e a m s I s e e a n d h e a r , — T h e sweetest w o m a n ever F a t e Perverse d e n i e d a h o u s e h o l d m a t e , W h o , lonely, h o m e l e s s , not the less F o u n d p e a c e in love's u n s e l f i s h n e s s , And welcome wheresoe'er she went, A calm and gracious element, W h o s e p r e s e n c e s e e m e d the sweet i n c o m e A n d w o m a n l y a t m o s p h e r e of h o m e , — C a l l e d u p her girlhood m e m o r i e s , T h e h u s k i n g s a n d the a p p l e - b e e s , T h e sleigh-rides a n d the s u m m e r sails, W e a v i n g t h r o u g h all the poor details A n d h o m e s p u n warp of c i r c u m s t a n c e A golden woof-thread of r o m a n c e . For well s h e kept her genial m o o d A n d s i m p l e faith of m a i d e n h o o d ; B e f o r e her still a c l o u d - l a n d lay, T h e m i r a g e l o o m e d a c r o s s her way; T h e m o r n i n g dew, that dries s o s o o n With o t h e r s , glistened at her n o o n ; T h r o u g h years of toil a n d soil a n d c a r e F r o m glossy tress to thin gray hair, All u n p r o f a n e d s h e held a p a r t T h e virgin f a n c i e s of the heart. B e s h a m e to him of w o m a n born W h o hath for s u c h but t h o u g h t of s c o r n . T h e r e , too, our elder sister plied H e r e v e n i n g t a s k the s t a n d b e s i d e ; A full, rich n a t u r e , free to trust, Truthful a n d a l m o s t sternly j u s t , I m p u l s i v e , e a r n e s t , p r o m p t to act, And m a k e her g e n e r o u s t h o u g h t a fact, K e e p i n g with m a n y a light d i s g u i s e T h e secret of self-sacrifice. O heart sore-tried! thou hast the b e s t T h a t H e a v e n itself c o u l d give t h e e , — r e s t , — Rest from all bitter t h o u g h t s a n d things! H o w m a n y a p o o r one's b l e s s i n g went With thee b e n e a t h the low green tent W h o s e curtain never o u t w a r d swings! As o n e w h o held herself a part O f all s h e saw, a n d let her heart A g a i n s t the h o u s e h o l d b o s o m l e a n , U p o n the motley-braided m a t O u r y o u n g e s t a n d our d e a r e s t sat, Lifting her large, sweet, a s k i n g eyes, N o w b a t h e d within the f a d e l e s s g r e e n And holy p e a c e of P a r a d i s e .

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O , looking from s o m e heavenly hill, O r from the s h a d e of saintly p a l m s , O r silver r e a c h of river c a l m s , D o t h o s e large eyes b e h o l d m e still? With m e o n e little year a g o : — T h e chill weight of the winter s n o w F o r m o n t h s u p o n her grave has lain; A n d now, w h e n s u m m e r s o u t h - w i n d s b l o w A n d brier a n d harebell b l o o m a g a i n , I tread the p l e a s a n t p a t h s we trod, I s e e the violet-sprinkled sod W h e r e o n s h e l e a n e d , too frail a n d w e a k T h e hillside flowers s h e loved to s e e k , Yet following m e where'er I went W i t h dark eyes full of love's c o n t e n t . T h e birds a r e g l a d ; the brier-rose fills T h e air with s w e e t n e s s ; all the hills S t r e t c h green to J u n e ' s u n c l o u d e d sky; B u t still I wait with ear a n d eye F o r s o m e t h i n g g o n e which s h o u l d b e nigh, A loss in all familiar things, In flower that b l o o m s , a n d bird that s i n g s . A n d yet, dear heart! r e m e m b e r i n g t h e e , A m I not richer t h a n of old? S a f e in thy immortality, W h a t c h a n g e c a n r e a c h the wealth I hold? W h a t c h a n c e c a n m a r the pearl a n d gold Thy love h a t h left in trust with m e ? A n d while in life's late a f t e r n o o n , W h e r e cool a n d long the s h a d o w s grow, I walk to m e e t the night that s o o n S h a l l s h a p e a n d s h a d o w overflow, I c a n n o t feel that thou art far, S i n c e near at n e e d the a n g e l s a r e ; A n d w h e n the s u n s e t g a t e s u n b a r , Shall I not s e e thee waiting s t a n d , A n d , white a g a i n s t the e v e n i n g star, T h e w e l c o m e of thy b e c k o n i n g h a n d ? Brisk wielder of the birch a n d rule, T h e m a s t e r of the district school H e l d at the fire his favored p l a c e , Its w a r m glow lit a l a u g h i n g f a c e F r e s h - h u e d a n d fair, w h e r e s c a r c e a p p e a r e d T h e u n c e r t a i n p r o p h e c y of b e a r d . H e played the old a n d s i m p l e g a m e s O u r m o d e r n b o y h o o d scarcely n a m e s , S a n g s o n g s , a n d told u s what befalls In c l a s s i c D a r t m o u t h ' s c o l l e g e halls. B o r n the wild N o r t h e r n hills a m o n g , F r o m w h e n c e his y e o m a n father w r u n g

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S N O W - B O U N D : A W I N T E R IDYL

By patient toil s u b s i s t e n c e s c a n t , N o t c o m p e t e n c e a n d yet not want, H e early g a i n e d the power to pay H i s cheerful, self-reliant way; C o u l d doff at e a s e his scholar's gown T o p e d d l e w a r e s from town to town; O r t h r o u g h the long vacation's r e a c h In lonely lowland districts t e a c h , W h e r e all the droll experience f o u n d At stranger h e a r t h s in b o a r d i n g r o u n d , T h e moonlit skater's keen delight, T h e sleigh-drive t h r o u g h the frosty night, T h e rustic party, with its r o u g h A c c o m p a n i m e n t of blind-man's-buff, A n d whirling p l a t e , 8 a n d forfeits p a i d , H i s winter t a s k a p a s t i m e m a d e . H a p p y the snow-locked h o m e s wherein H e t u n e d his merry violin, O r played the athlete in the b a r n , O r held the g o o d d a m e ' s winding yarn, O r mirth-provoking versions told O f c l a s s i c l e g e n d s rare a n d old, W h e r e i n the s c e n e s of G r e e c e a n d R o m e H a d all the c o m m o n p l a c e of h o m e , A n d little s e e m e d at b e s t the o d d s 'Twixt Y a n k e e pedlers a n d old g o d s ; W h e r e P i n d u s - b o r n Araxes took T h e g u i s e of any grist-mill brook, And d r e a d O l y m p u s 9 at his will B e c a m e a huckleberry hill. A c a r e l e s s boy that night he s e e m e d ; B u t at his d e s k h e h a d the look And air of o n e w h o wisely s c h e m e d , A n d h o s t a g e from the future took In trained thought a n d lore of book. L a r g e - b r a i n e d , c l e a r - e y e d , — o f s u c h a s he Shall F r e e d o m ' s y o u n g a p o s t l e s b e , W h o , following in W a r ' s bloody trail, Shall every lingering wrong a s s a i l ; All c h a i n s from limb a n d spirit strike, Uplift the b l a c k a n d white alike; S c a t t e r before their swift a d v a n c e T h e d a r k n e s s a n d the i g n o r a n c e , T h e p r i d e , the lust, the s q u a l i d sloth, W h i c h n u r t u r e d T r e a s o n ' s m o n s t r o u s growth, M a d e m u r d e r p a s t i m e , a n d the hell O f prison-torture p o s s i b l e ; 8. S i m p l e g a m e t h e o b j e c t o f w h i c h is to k e e p a pewter plate spinning on edge longer than others can do.

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9 . M o u n t O l y m p u s : h o m e o f t h e g o d s in G r e e k m y t h o l o g y . A r a x e s is a G r e e k r i v e r , " b o r n " i n t h e Pindus Mountains.

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WHITTIER

T h e cruel lie of c a s t e refute, Old forms recast, and substitute F o r Slavery's lash the f r e e m a n ' s will, F o r blind routine, w i s e - h a n d e d skill; A s c h o o l - h o u s e plant o n every hill, S t r e t c h i n g in radiate nerve-lines t h e n c e T h e q u i c k wires of i n t e l l i g e n c e ; 1 Till N o r t h a n d S o u t h together b r o u g h t S h a l l own the s a m e electric t h o u g h t , In p e a c e a c o m m o n flag s a l u t e , A n d , side by side in labor's free A n d unresentful rivalry, H a r v e s t the fields wherein they f o u g h t . A n o t h e r g u e s t 2 that winter night F l a s h e d b a c k from l u s t r o u s eyes the light. U n m a r k e d by t i m e , a n d yet not y o u n g , T h e honeyed m u s i c of her t o n g u e And words of m e e k n e s s scarcely told A nature passionate and bold, Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide, Its milder f e a t u r e s dwarfed b e s i d e H e r u n b e n t will's m a j e s t i c p r i d e . S h e sat a m o n g u s , at the b e s t , A not u n f e a r e d , h a l f - w e l c o m e g u e s t , R e b u k i n g with her c u l t u r e d p h r a s e O u r h o m e l i n e s s of w o r d s a n d w a y s . A certain p a r d - l i k e , 3 t r e a c h e r o u s g r a c e S w a y e d the lithe l i m b s a n d d r o o p e d the l a s h , L e n t the white teeth their dazzling flash; A n d u n d e r low brows, b l a c k with night, R a y e d o u t at t i m e s a d a n g e r o u s light; T h e s h a r p heat-lightnings of her f a c e P r e s a g i n g ill to him w h o m F a t e C o n d e m n e d to s h a r e her love or h a t e . A w o m a n tropical, i n t e n s e In thought a n d a c t , in soul a n d s e n s e , S h e b l e n d e d in a like d e g r e e T h e vixen a n d the d e v o t e e , R e v e a l i n g with e a c h freak or feint T h e t e m p e r of P e t r u c h i o ' s K a t e , T h e r a p t u r e s of S i e n a ' s saint." 1 H e r t a p e r i n g h a n d a n d r o u n d e d wrist H a d facile power to form a fist; T h e w a r m , dark l a n g u i s h of her eyes W a s never s a f e from wrath's s u r p r i s e . B r o w s saintly c a l m a n d lips devout

1. I n f o r m a t i o n , c o m m u n i c a t i o n ( t h e i m a g e r y is f r o m t h e t e l e g r a p h , t h e n still a r e c e n t d e v e l o p ment). 2. A s W h i t t i e r ' s p r e f a t o r y n o t e s a y s , H a r r i e t Livermore.

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3. L e o p a r d l i k e . 4. St. C a t h a r i n e ( 1 3 4 7 - 1 3 8 0 ) o f S i e n a , in T u s c a n y , Italy. " P e t r u c h i o ' s K a t e " is t h e h e r o i n e of S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Taming of the Shrew.

SNOW-BOUND:A

WINTER

K n e w every c h a n g e of scowl a n d p o u t ; A n d the sweet voice h a d notes m o r e high A n d shrill for social battle-cry. S i n c e then w h a t old c a t h e d r a l town H a s m i s s e d her pilgrim staff a n d g o w n , W h a t convent-gate h a s held its lock A g a i n s t the c h a l l e n g e of her knock! Through Smyrna's plague-husked thoroughfares, U p sea-set M a l t a ' s rocky stairs, G r a y olive s l o p e s of hills that h e m Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, O r startling on her desert t h r o n e T h e crazy Queen of L e b a n o n 5 With c l a i m s fantastic a s her o w n , H e r tireless feet have held their way; A n d still, unrestful, b o w e d , a n d gray, She watches under Eastern skies, With h o p e e a c h day r e n e w e d a n d fresh, T h e L o r d ' s q u i c k c o m i n g in the flesh, Whereof she dreams and prophesies! W h e r e ' e r her troubled p a t h may b e , T h e Lord's sweet pity with her go! T h e o u t w a r d wayward life we s e e , T h e hidden springs we m a y not know. N o r is it given us to d i s c e r n W h a t t h r e a d s the fatal s i s t e r s 6 s p u n , T h r o u g h what a n c e s t r a l years h a s run T h e sorrow with the w o m a n b o r n , W h a t forged her cruel c h a i n of m o o d s , W h a t set her feet in s o l i t u d e s , A n d held the love within her m u t e , W h a t m i n g l e d m a d n e s s in the blood, A life-long discord a n d annoy, W a t e r of tears with oil of joy, And hid within the folded b u d Perversities of flower a n d fruit. It is not o u r s to s e p a r a t e T h e t a n g l e d skein of will a n d fate, T o s h o w what m e t e s a n d b o u n d s s h o u l d s t a n d U p o n the soul's d e b a t a b l e land, And b e t w e e n c h o i c e a n d P r o v i d e n c e Divide the circle of events; B u t H e w h o knows our f r a m e is j u s t , 7 Merciful, a n d c o m p a s s i o n a t e , A n d full of sweet a s s u r a n c e s A n d h o p e for all the l a n g u a g e is, T h a t H e r e m e m b e r e t h we are d u s t !

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L a d y H e s t e r S t a n h o p e ( s e e n. 3, p. 1 4 8 9 ) . In G r e e k m y t h o l o g y t h e g o d d e s s e s of destiny, Fates.

7. P s a l m 1 0 3 . 1 4 : " F o r h e k n o w e t h o u r f r a m e ; h e r e m e m b e r e t h that w e are dust."

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At last the great logs, c r u m b l i n g low, S e n t o u t a dull a n d duller glow, T h e bull's-eye w a t c h 8 that h u n g in view, T i c k i n g its weary circuit t h r o u g h , P o i n t e d with mutely-warning sign Its b l a c k h a n d to the h o u r of n i n e . T h a t sign the p l e a s a n t circle b r o k e : M y u n c l e c e a s e d his p i p e to s m o k e , K n o c k e d from its bowl the r e f u s e gray A n d laid it tenderly away, T h e n r o u s e d h i m s e l f to safely cover T h e dull red b r a n d s with a s h e s over. A n d while, with c a r e , our m o t h e r laid T h e work a s i d e , her s t e p s s h e stayed O n e m o m e n t , s e e k i n g to e x p r e s s H e r grateful s e n s e of h a p p i n e s s F o r food a n d shelter, w a r m t h a n d h e a l t h , A n d love's c o n t e n t m e n t m o r e t h a n wealth, W i t h s i m p l e w i s h e s (not the w e a k , Vain prayers w h i c h n o fulfilment seek, B u t s u c h a s w a r m the g e n e r o u s heart, O'er-prompt to d o with H e a v e n its part) T h a t n o n e might lack, that bitter night, F o r b r e a d a n d clothing, w a r m t h a n d light. Within our b e d s awhile we h e a r d T h e wind that r o u n d the g a b l e s r o a r e d , W i t h n o w a n d then a r u d e r s h o c k , W h i c h m a d e o u r very b e d s t e a d s rock. W e h e a r d the l o o s e n e d c l a p b o a r d s tost, T h e board-nails s n a p p i n g in the frost; A n d o n u s , t h r o u g h the u n p l a s t e r e d wall, Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall. B u t sleep stole o n , a s s l e e p will d o W h e n hearts are light a n d life is new; F a i n t a n d m o r e faint the m u r m u r s grew, Till in the s u m m e r - l a n d of d r e a m s T h e y s o f t e n e d to the s o u n d of s t r e a m s , L o w stir of leaves, a n d dip of o a r s , A n d l a p s i n g waves o n q u i e t s h o r e s . N e x t m o r n we w a k e n e d with the s h o u t O f merry voices high a n d clear; A n d saw the t e a m s t e r s d r a w i n g n e a r T o b r e a k the drifted highways out. D o w n the long hillside t r e a d i n g slow W e s a w the half-buried oxen g o , S h a k i n g the s n o w from h e a d s u p t o s t , T h e i r straining nostrils white with frost. B e f o r e our d o o r the straggling train 8.

Nearly globular w a t c h with a thick glass face.

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S N O W - B O U N D : A W I N T E R IDYL

D r e w u p , an a d d e d t e a m to gain. T h e elders t h r e s h e d their h a n d s a-cold, P a s s e d , with the c i d e r - m u g , their j o k e s F r o m lip to lip; the y o u n g e r folks D o w n the l o o s e s n o w - b a n k s , wrestling, rolled, T h e n toiled a g a i n the c a v a l c a d e O'er windy hill, t h r o u g h c l o g g e d ravine, A n d w o o d l a n d p a t h s that w o u n d b e t w e e n L o w d r o o p i n g p i n e - b o u g h s winter-weighed. F r o m every b a r n a t e a m afoot, At every h o u s e a n e w recruit, W h e r e , drawn by N a t u r e ' s s u b t l e s t law, Haply the watchful y o u n g m e n s a w S w e e t doorway p i c t u r e s of the curls A n d c u r i o u s eyes of merry girls, Lifting their h a n d s in m o c k d e f e n c e A g a i n s t the snow-ball's c o m p l i m e n t s , A n d r e a d i n g in e a c h missive tost T h e c h a r m with E d e n never lost. W e h e a r d o n c e m o r e the sleigh-bells' s o u n d ; A n d , following w h e r e the t e a m s t e r s led, T h e wise old D o c t o r went his r o u n d , J u s t p a u s i n g at our d o o r to say, In the brief a u t o c r a t i c way O f o n e w h o , p r o m p t at Duty's call, W a s free to urge her claim on all, T h a t s o m e p o o r n e i g h b o r sick a b e d At night our mother's aid would n e e d . For, o n e in g e n e r o u s thought a n d d e e d , W h a t m a t t e r e d in the sufferer's sight T h e Quaker m a t r o n ' s inward light, T h e Doctor's m a i l 9 of Calvin's c r e e d ? All hearts c o n f e s s the saints elect W h o , twain in faith, in love a g r e e , A n d melt not in an acid sect T h e C h r i s t i a n pearl of charity! S o days went o n : a w e e k h a d p a s s e d S i n c e the great world w a s heard from last. T h e A l m a n a c we studied o'er, R e a d a n d reread o u r little store, O f books a n d p a m p h l e t s , s c a r c e a s c o r e ; O n e h a r m l e s s novel, mostly hid F r o m y o u n g e r e y e s , a b o o k forbid, A n d poetry, (or g o o d or b a d , A single b o o k w a s all we h a d , ) W h e r e Ellwood's m e e k , drab-skirted M u s e , A stranger to the h e a t h e n N i n e , ' 9. Armor. J o h n Calvin's doctrines of predestination. Original Sin, a n d so o n being impenetrable and less h u m a n e than the "whole a r m o r of G o d " w h i c h P a u l e n j o i n s C h r i s t i a n s t o p u t o n in E p h e -

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s i a n s 6.1 1 — 17. 1. T h o m a s Ellwood (1639-1714), English Q u a k e r , w r o t e t h e Davideis (1712). Whittier has a n e s s a y o n h i m in Old Portraits and Modern

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JOHN GREENLEAF

WHITTIER

S a n g , with a s o m e w h a t nasal whine, T h e wars of David a n d the J e w s . At last the floundering carrier bore T h e village p a p e r to our door. L o ! b r o a d e n i n g o u t w a r d a s we read, T o w a r m e r z o n e s the horizon s p r e a d ; In p a n o r a m i c length unrolled W e saw the marvels that it told. B e f o r e u s p a s s e d the p a i n t e d C r e e k s , 2 A n d daft M c G r e g o r o n his raids In dim Floridian e v e r g l a d e s . * A n d u p T a y g e t o s winding slow R o d e Ypsilanti's M a i n o t e G r e e k s , A Turk's h e a d at e a c h s a d d l e - b o w ! 4 W e l c o m e to u s its week-old news, Its c o r n e r for the rustic M u s e , Its monthly g a u g e of s n o w a n d rain, Its record, m i n g l i n g in a b r e a t h T h e w e d d i n g knell a n d dirge of d e a t h ; J e s t , a n e c d o t e , a n d love-lorn t a l e , T h e latest culprit sent to jail; Its h u e a n d cry of stolen a n d lost, Its v e n d u e 5 s a l e s a n d g o o d s at c o s t , A n d traffic calling loud for gain. W e felt the stir of hall a n d street, T h e p u l s e of life that r o u n d u s b e a t ; T h e chill e m b a r g o of the s n o w W a s m e l t e d in the genial glow; W i d e s w u n g again our ice-locked door, And all the world w a s o u r s o n c e m o r e ! C l a s p , Angel of the b a c k w a r d look And folded wings of a s h e n gray A n d voice of e c h o e s far away, T h e b r a z e n covers of thy book; T h e weird p a l i m p s e s t 6 old a n d vast, W h e r e i n thou hid'st the spectral p a s t ; W h e r e , closely mingling, p a l e a n d glow T h e c h a r a c t e r s of joy a n d w o e ; T h e m o n o g r a p h s of outlived y e a r s , O r smile-illumed or d i m with t e a r s , G r e e n hills of life that s l o p e to d e a t h , Sketches ( 1 8 5 0 ) . H e r e , Ellwood's s o u r c e of inspir a t i o n w e a r s Q u a k e r d r a b , b r o w n i s h yellow h o m e spun, and knows nothing of the nine Greek g o d d e s s e s w h o traditionally inspire artists a n d scientists. 2. Tribe of A m e r i c a n Indians from present-day A l a b a m a , w h o w e r e s u b d u e d by A n d r e w J a c k s o n and driven onto a reservation. 3. T h e S c o t t i s h a d v e n t u r e r G r e g o r McGregor f o u g h t with S i m o n Bolivar for the l i b e r a t i o n of V e n e z u e l a f r o m S p a i n , t h e n in 1 8 1 7 t o o k p o s s e s -

sion of the S p a n i s h - o w n e d A m e l i a Island, off the Florida coast. 4. T h e G r e e k Revolutionary patriot Alexander Ypsilanti ( 1 7 9 2 - 1 8 2 8 ) defeated the Turks at M o u n t T a y g e t o s in 1 8 2 0 ; h i s s a d d l e o r n a m e n t s a r e h e a d s of Turkish soldiers, not the fanciful knots i m i t a t e d in t h e a n d i r o n s r e f e r r e d t o e a r l i e r . 5. A u c t i o n . 6. P a r c h m e n t with earlier writing visible b e n e a t h later writing.

S N O W - B O U N D : A W I N T E R IDYL

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693

A n d h a u n t s of h o m e , w h o s e vistaed trees S h a d e off to m o u r n f u l cypresses With the white a m a r a n t h s 7 u n d e r n e a t h . E v e n while I look, I c a n but h e e d T h e restless s a n d s ' i n c e s s a n t fall, I m p o r t u n a t e h o u r s that h o u r s s u c c e e d , E a c h c l a m o r o u s with its own s h a r p n e e d , A n d duty k e e p i n g p a c e with all. S h u t d o w n a n d c l a s p the heavy lids; I h e a r again the voice that bids T h e d r e a m e r leave his d r e a m midway F o r larger h o p e s a n d graver fears: Life g r e a t e n s in t h e s e later years, T h e century's a l o e 8 flowers to-day! Yet, haply, in s o m e lull of life, S o m e T r u c e of G o d which b r e a k s its strife, T h e worldling's eyes shall gather dew, D r e a m i n g in throngful city ways O f winter joys his b o y h o o d knew; A n d dear a n d early f r i e n d s — t h e few W h o yet r e m a i n — s h a l l p a u s e to view T h e s e F l e m i s h p i c t u r e s 9 of old d a y s ; Sit with m e by the h o m e s t e a d h e a r t h , And stretch the h a n d s of m e m o r y forth T o w a r m t h e m at the wood-fire's blaze! A n d t h a n k s u n t r a c e d to lips u n k n o w n S h a l l greet m e like the odors blown F r o m u n s e e n m e a d o w s newly m o w n , O r lilies floating in s o m e p o n d , W o o d - f r i n g e d , the wayside gaze b e y o n d ; T h e traveller owns the grateful s e n s e O f s w e e t n e s s near, h e knows not w h e n c e , A n d , p a u s i n g , takes with f o r e h e a d b a r e T h e b e n e d i c t i o n of the air. 1866

7 . A s s o c i a t e d w i t h i m m o r t a l i t y in flower s y m b o l ism. fidelity" 8. T h e c e n t u r y p l a n t , f a b l e d to b l o o m only o n c e every h u n d r e d years.

1 9 t h - c e n t u r y t e r m of literary criticism, " D u t c h or " D u t c h r e a l i s m " m e a n t t h e m i n u t e p h o tographic realism of many 17th-century painters such as David Teniers (both the Elder and the

9.

Younger of that n a m e ) .

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homely scenes. As a c o m m o n p l a c e

694

EDGAR ALLAN POE 1809-1849 T h e life of E d g a r Allan P o e is the m o s t m e l o d r a m a t i c of a n y of t h e m a j o r A m e r i c a n writers of his g e n e r a t i o n . D e t e r m i n i n g the facts h a s p r o v e d difficult, a s lurid l e g e n d b e c a m e e n t w i n e d with fact even before he d i e d . S o m e l e g e n d s w e r e s p r e a d by P o e himself. G i v e n to c l a i m i n g that h e w a s born in 1 8 1 1 or 1 8 1 3 a n d h a d written c e r t a i n p o e m s far earlier t h a n he h a d , P o e a l s o e x a g g e r a t e d t h e l e n g t h of his a t t e n d a n c e a t t h e University of Virginia a n d , in i m i t a t i o n of L o r d B y r o n , f a b r i c a t e d a " q u i x o t i c e x p e d i t i o n to j o i n the G r e e k s , t h e n s t r u g g l i n g for liberty." T w o d a y s after P o e ' s d e a t h his s u p p o s e d friend R u f u s G r i s w o l d , a p r o m i n e n t a n t h o l o g i z e r of A m e r i c a n l i t e r a t u r e , b e g a n a c a m p a i g n of c h a r a c t e r a s s a s s i n a t i o n in which h e ultimately rewrote P o e ' s c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s o a s to a l i e n a t e m a n y of his friends w h o c o u l d only a s s u m e t h a t P o e h a d t r e a c h e r o u s l y m a l i g n e d t h e m b e h i n d their b a c k s . G r i s w o l d ' s forgeries w e n t unexp o s e d for m a n y y e a r s , p o i s o n i n g every b i o g r a p h e r ' s i m a g e of P o e , a n d l e g e n d still f e e d s on half-truth in m u c h writing o n h i m . Yet b i o g r a p h e r s n o w p o s s e s s a g r e a t d e a l of f a c t u a l e v i d e n c e a b o u t m o s t p e r i o d s of P o e ' s life. H i s m o t h e r , E l i z a b e t h A r n o l d , h a d b e e n a n a c t r e s s , p r o m i n e n t a m o n g the w a n d e r i n g s e a p o r t players in a p r o f e s s i o n that w a s t h e n c o n s i d e r e d d i s r e p u t a b l e . S h e w a s a t e e n a g e w i d o w w h e n s h e m a r r i e d D a v i d P o e Jr. in 1 8 0 6 . P o e , a l s o an a c t o r , worked u p to c h o i c e s u p p o r t i n g roles b e f o r e l i q u o r d e s t r o y e d his c a r e e r . E d g a r , the P o e s ' s e c o n d child, was born in B o s t o n on J a n u a r y 19, 1 8 0 9 ; a y e a r later D a v i d P o e d e s e r t e d the family. In D e c e m b e r 1 8 1 1 , E l i z a b e t h P o e died at twenty-four while a c t i n g in R i c h m o n d , Virginia; a n d h e r h u s b a n d d i s a p p e a r e d c o m p l e t e l y , p r o b a b l y dying s o o n afterward at the a g e of twenty-seven. T h e d i s r u p t i o n s of P o e ' s first two y e a r s w e r e followed by a p p a r e n t security, for J o h n Allan, a y o u n g R i c h m o n d m e r c h a n t , t o o k h i m in a s t h e c h i l d r e n w e r e p a r c e l e d out. A s " M a s t e r A l l a n , " P o e a c c o m p a n i e d the family to E n g l a n d in 1 8 1 5 , w h e r e h e a t t e n d e d g o o d s c h o o l s . O n their return in 1 8 2 0 t h e boy c o n t i n u e d in s c h o o l , b u t u n d e r his own last n a m e . P o e s p e n t m o s t of 1 8 2 6 at the n e w University of Virginia, d o i n g well in his s t u d i e s , a l t h o u g h he w a s a l r e a d y drinking. After a q u a r r e l with Allan in M a r c h 1 8 2 7 , P o e l o o k e d u p his father's relatives in B a l t i m o r e a n d t h e n went o n and Other Poems, "By to his b i r t h p l a c e , w h e r e he paid for the p r i n t i n g of Tamerlane a B o s t o n i a n . " B e f o r e its p u b l i c a t i o n , " E d g a r A. P e r r y " h a d j o i n e d t h e a r m y . P o e w a s partially r e c o n c i l e d with Allan in M a r c h 1 8 2 9 , j u s t after M r s . Allan d i e d . R e l e a s e d from t h e a r m y with t h e r a n k of s e r g e a n t m a j o r , P o e s o u g h t Allan's i n f l u e n c e to g a i n him an a p p o i n t m e n t to W e s t P o i n t , a l t h o u g h he w a s p a s t t h e a g e limit for a d m i s s i o n . W h i l e he w a s w a i t i n g for t h e a p p o i n t m e n t , P o e s h o r t e n e d Tamerlane, revised other p o e m s , a n d a d d e d new o n e s to m a k e u p a s e c o n d v o l u m e , Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems, p u b l i s h e d in B a l t i m o r e in D e c e m b e r 1 8 2 9 . H e e n t e r e d W e s t Point in J u n e 1 8 3 0 , but l o s i n g a n y r e m a i n i n g h o p e that if he dutifully p u r s u e d a military c a r e e r he m i g h t b e c o m e Allan's heir, P o e got h i m s e l f e x p e l l e d by m i s s i n g c l a s s e s a n d roll c a l l s . S u p p o r t i v e friends a m o n g the c a d e t s m a d e u p a s u b s c r i p t i o n for his Poems, p u b l i s h e d in M a y 1 8 3 1 . In this third v o l u m e P o e revised s o m e earlier p o e m s a n d for t h e first time i n c l u d e d v e r s i o n s of b o t h " T o H e l e n " (the f a m o u s " H e l e n , thy b e a u t y is to m e " ) a n d " I s r a f e l . " P o e ' s m a t u r e c a r e e r — f r o m his twenty-first year to his d e a t h in his fortieth y e a r — w a s s p e n t in four literary c e n t e r s : B a l t i m o r e , R i c h m o n d , P h i l a d e l p h i a , a n d N e w York. T h e B a l t i m o r e y e a r s — m i d - 1 8 3 1 to late 1 8 3 5 — w e r e m a r k e d by g r e a t i n d u s t r y a n d c o m p a r a t i v e sobriety. P o e lived in s o r d i d poverty a m o n g his o n c e - p r o s p e r o u s relatives, i n c l u d i n g his a u n t M a r i a P o e C l e m m a n d her d a u g h t e r V i r g i n i a , w h o m P o e s e c r e t l y m a r r i e d in 1 8 3 5 , w h e n s h e w a s t h i r t e e n . P o e ' s first story, " M e t z e n g e r s t e i n " (later Saturday s u b t i t l e d " I n I m i t a t i o n of the G e r m a n " ) , w a s p u b l i s h e d in t h e P h i l a d e l p h i a Courier, a n o n y m o u s l y , in J a n u a r y 1 8 3 2 , a n d other s t o r i e s a p p e a r e d in t h e s a m e p a p e r

EDGAR ALLAN POE

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t h r o u g h the year. P o e r e t u r n e d to R i c h m o n d in 1 8 3 5 , twenty-six years o l d , a s a s s i s t a n t editor of T . L. W h i t e ' s n e w Southern Literary Messenger, at a salary o f $ 5 4 0 a year, s u b s i s t e n c e w a g e s even in the 1 8 3 0 s . T h e Messenger p u b l i s h e d s t o r i e s by P o e , hut it w a s t h r o u g h his critical p i e c e s that h e g a i n e d a n a t i o n a l r e p u t a t i o n a s a reviewer in t h e virulently s a r c a s t i c B r i t i s h m a n n e r — a literary h a t c h e t m a n . F i r e d from t h e Messenger early in 1 8 3 7 , P o e took his a u n t a n d his wife ( w h o m h e h a d publicly r e m a r r i e d in M a y 1 8 3 6 ) to N e w York City, w h e r e for two years h e lived h a n d to m o u t h o n the fringes of the p u b l i s h i n g world, s e l l i n g a few s t o r i e s a n d reviews. H e h a d written a short novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, in R i c h m o n d , w h e r e W h i t e ran two i n s t a l l m e n t s in the Messenger early in 1 8 3 7 . Harper's finally b r o u g h t it o u t in J u l y 1 8 3 8 , b u t it e a r n e d him n o m o n e y a n d , b e c a u s e it p u r p o r t e d only to b e e d i t e d by P o e , not m u c h r e p u t a t i o n either. In 1 8 3 8 P o e m o v e d to Philad e l p h i a , w h e r e for w e e k s t h e family survived o n b r e a d a n d m o l a s s e s . B u t h e c o n t i n u e d writing, a n d " L i g e i a " a p p e a r e d in the B a l t i m o r e American Museum in S e p t e m b e r 1 8 3 8 , w h e r e o t h e r s t o r i e s a n d p o e m s followed. In M a y 1 8 3 9 h e got his first s t e a d y j o b in m o r e t h a n two y e a r s , a s c o e d i t o r of Burton's Gentleman's Magazine. T h e r e he p u b l i s h e d b o o k reviews a n d s t o r i e s , a m o n g t h e m " T h e Fall of t h e H o u s e of U s h e r " a n d " W i l l i a m W i l s o n . " L a t e in 1 8 3 9 , a P h i l a d e l p h i a firm p u b l i s h e d Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, b u t it s o l d badly. P o e w a s n o w at t h e h e i g h t of his p o w e r s a s a writer of t a l e s , t h o u g h his p e r s o n a l life c o n t i n u e d u n s t a b l e , a s d i d his c a r e e r a s a n editor. W i l l i a m B u r t o n fired h i m for d r i n k i n g in M a y 1 8 4 0 b u t r e c o m m e n d e d h i m to G e o r g e G r a h a m , w h o c a r r i e d o n B u r t o n ' s m a g a z i n e a s Graham's. Throughout 1841, P o e w a s with Graham's a s c o e d i t o r , c o u r t i n g s u b s c r i b e r s by a r t i c l e s o n c r y p t o g r a p h y a n d on c h a r a c t e r a s revealed in h a n d w r i t i n g . In J a n u a r y 1 8 4 2 , Virginia P o e , n o t yet twenty, b u r s t a b l o o d v e s s e l in her throat ( s h e lived only five m o r e y e a r s ) . L e a v i n g Graham's in s o m e u n h a p p i n e s s , P o e revived a p r o j e c t for his o w n m a g a z i n e , n o w to b e c a l l e d The Stylus. In April 1 8 4 4 P o e m o v e d his family to N e w York City, w h e r e h e w r o t e for n e w s p a p e r s a n d w o r k e d a s s u b e d i t o r o n the Sunday Times. P o e ' s m o s t s u c c e s s f u l year w a s 1 8 4 5 . T h e F e b r u a r y i s s u e of Graham's c o n t a i n e d J a m e s R u s s e l l Lowell's c o m p l i m e n tary article on P o e , a n d " T h e R a v e n " a p p e a r e d in t h e F e b r u a r y American Beview after a d v a n c e p u b l i c a t i o n in the N e w York Evening Mirror. Capitalizing on the sensation t h e p o e m c r e a t e d , P o e l e c t u r e d on p o e t s of A m e r i c a a n d b e c a m e a p r i n c i p a l reviewer for the n e w weekly, the Broadway Journal. " T h e R a v e n " w o n h i m e n t r e e into the literary life of N e w York. O n e new literary a c q u a i n t a n c e , E v e r t A. D u y c k i n c k , s o o n to b e Melville's friend a l s o , s e l e c t e d a d o z e n of P o e ' s s t o r i e s for a c o l l e c t i o n b r o u g h t o u t by Wiley & P u t n a m in J u n e a n d a r r a n g e d for the s a m e firm to p u b l i s h The Baven and Other Poems in N o v e m b e r . H a v i n g a c q u i r e d critical c l o u t d e s p i t e a g r o w i n g n u m ber of e n e m i e s , P o e h a d g r e a t h o p e s for the Broadway Journal, of w h i c h h e b e c a m e s o l e o w n e r ; b u t it failed early in 1 8 4 6 . M e a n w h i l e P o e w a s m a r r i n g his n e w o p p o r t u n i t i e s by drinking. W i t h f a m e , the t e m p o of P o e ' s life s p u n into a blur of literary f e u d s , flirtations with literary l a d i e s , a n d d r i n k i n g b o u t s that e n d e d in q u a r r e l s . Virginia's d e a t h in J a n u a r y 1 8 4 7 s l o w e d the t e m p o : d u r i n g m u c h of that year P o e w a s s e r i o u s l y ill h i m s e l f — p e r h a p s with a brain l e s i o n — a n d d r i n k i n g steadily. H e w o r k e d a w a y at " E u r e k a , " a p r o s e s t a t e m e n t of a theory of t h e u n i v e r s e , a n d s o o n after Virginia's d e a t h h e w r o t e " U l a l u m e . " W h i l e visiting R i c h m o n d in 1 8 4 9 h e w a s offered a h u n d r e d d o l l a r s to edit the p o e m s of a P h i l a d e l p h i a w o m a n . S t o p p i n g off in B a l t i m o r e , P o e b r o k e his t e m p e r a n c e p l e d g e a n d w a s f o u n d s e n s e l e s s n e a r a p o l l i n g p l a c e on E l e c t i o n D a y ( O c t o b e r 3 ) . T a k e n to a h o s p i t a l , h e d i e d on O c t o b e r 7, 1 8 4 9 , " o f c o n g e s t i o n of t h e b r a i n . " T h e h a n d f u l of p o e m s that P o e w r o t e in t h e 1 8 4 0 s m a d e h i m f a m o u s a s a p o e t . " T h e R a v e n " b r o u g h t h i m i n t e r n a t i o n a l celebrity, a n d p o e m s like " U l a l u m e " a n d " T h e B e l l s " s o o n e n h a n c e d that f a m e a m o n g P o e ' s c o n s t a n t l y e n l a r g i n g p o s t h u m o u s a u d i e n c e . T h e bulk of P o e ' s c o l l e c t e d writings c o n s i s t s of his c r i t i c i s m , a n d his m o s t a b i d i n g a m b i t i o n w a s to b e c o m e a powerful critic. J u s t a s h e h a d m o d e l e d his p o e m s

696

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EDGAR ALLAN P O E

a n d first t a l e s on B r i t i s h e x a m p l e s (or B r i t i s h i m i t a t i o n s of t h e G e r m a n ) , h e t o o k h i s critical c o n c e p t s f r o m t r e a t i s e s o n a e s t h e t i c s by l a t e - e i g h t e e n t h - c e n t u r y

Scottish

C o m m o n S e n s e p h i l o s o p h e r s (later m o d i f i e d by h i s b o r r o w i n g s f r o m A . W . S c h l e g e l a n d C o l e r i d g e ) a n d t o o k his s t a n c e a s a reviewer f r o m t h e s l a s h i n g c r i t i c s o f t h e B r i t i s h q u a r t e r l i e s . P o e ' s e m p l o y e r s w e r e often u n e a s y a b o u t their reviewer, b o t h b e c a u s e h i s v i r u l e n c e b r o u g h t r e p r o a c h e s ( t h o u g h it w a s g o o d for b u s i n e s s ) a n d b e c a u s e they s u s p e c t e d that for all his s t r e s s o n a e s t h e t i c p r i n c i p l e s , P o e ' s r e v i e w s w e r e a p t to b e u n j u s t to writers h e w a s j e a l o u s o f a n d l a u d a t o r y t o w a r d o t h e r s h e w i s h e d to curry favor with. B u t P o e ' s b a s i c critical p r i n c i p l e s w e r e c o n s i s t e n t e n o u g h . H e t h o u g h t poetry s h o u l d a p p e a l only t o t h e s e n s e o f b e a u t y , n o t t r u t h ; i n f o r m a t i o n a l poetry, poetry o f i d e a s , or a n y sort o f d i d a c t i c poetry w a s i l l e g i t i m a t e . H o l d i n g that t h e true p o e t i c e m o t i o n w a s a v a g u e s e n s o r y s t a t e , h e s e t h i m s e l f a g a i n s t realistic d e t a i l s in poetry, a l t h o u g h t h e p r o s e t a l e , with truth a s o n e o b j e c t , c o u l d profit from t h e d i s c r e e t u s e o f s p e c i f i c s . B o t h p o e m s a n d t a l e s s h o u l d b e short e n o u g h to b e r e a d in o n e sitting; o t h e r w i s e t h e unity o f effect w o u l d b e d i s s i p a t e d . P o e ' s first t a l e s h a v e p r o v e d h a r d t o c l a s s i f y — a r e they b u r l e s q u e s o f p o p u l a r k i n d s of fiction or s e r i o u s a t t e m p t s a t c o n t r i b u t i n g to o r s o m e h o w a l t e r i n g t h o s e g e n r e s ? P o e ' s o w n c o m m e n t s t e n d to b e c l o u d h i s i n t e n t i o n s r a t h e r t h a n t o clarify t h e m . In 1 8 3 6 his b e n e f a c t o r J o h n P. K e n n e d y w r o t e h i m : " S o m e o f y o u r bizarreries m i s t a k e n for s a t i r e — a n d a d m i r e d t o o in that c h a r a c t e r . They

have been

d e s e r v e d it, b u t you d i d

not, for y o u did n o t i n t e n d t h e m s o . I like y o u r g r o t e s q u e — i t is o f t h e very best s t a m p ; a n d I a m s u r e you will d o w o n d e r s for y o u r s e l f in t h e c o m i c — I m e a n t h e seriotragic o m i c . " P o e ' s reply is t a n t a l i z i n g : " Y o u a r e nearly, b u t n o t a l t o g e t h e r right in r e l a t i o n to t h e s a t i r e o f s o m e o f m y T a l e s . M o s t o f t h e m w e r e intended

for half b a n t e r , half

s a t i r e — a l t h o u g h I m i g h t n o t h a v e fully a c k n o w l e d g e d this t o b e their a i m even to myself." T h e p r o b l e m o f d e t e r m i n i n g t h e n a t u r e o f a given w o r k — i m i t a t i o n ? s a t i r e ? s p o o f ? h o a x ? — i s c r u c i a l in P o e c r i t i c i s m . At t h e c o r e of P o e ' s d e f e n s e s o f his s t o r i e s is t h e h a r d h e a d e d n e s s o f a p r o f e s s i o n a l writer w h o w a n t e d t o c r a c k t h e p o p u l a r m a r k e t . H e w o r k e d h a r d a t s t r u c t u r i n g h i s tales of aristocratic m a d m e n , self-tormented murderers, n e u r a s t h e n i c necrophiliacs, a n d o t h e r d e v i a n t types s o a s to p r o d u c e t h e g r e a t e s t p o s s i b l e horrific e f f e c t s o n t h e r e a d e r . In t h e d e t e c t i v e story, w h i c h P o e c r e a t e d w h e n h e w a s thirty-two, with all its major conventions complete, the structuring w a s equally contrived, although the effect d e s i r e d w a s o n e o f a w e a t t h e b r i l l i a n c e of h i s p r e t e r n a t u r a l l o g i c i a n - h e r o . S e r i o u s l y a s h e t o o k t h e writing of h i s t a l e s , P o e n e v e r c l a i m e d t h a t p r o s e writing w a s for h i m , a s h e s a i d poetry w a s , a " p a s s i o n , " n o t m e r e l y a " p u r p o s e . "

Sonnet—To Science 1 S C I E N C E ! m e e t d a u g h t e r o f old T i m e t h o u a r t

W h o alterest all things with thy p e e r i n g eyes! Why prey'st t h o u t h u s u p o n the p o e t ' s h e a r t , Vulture! w h o s e wings a r e dull realities! H o w s h o u l d h e love t h e e — o r how d e e m t h e e wise W h o woulds't not leave h i m , in his w a n d e r i n g , T o s e e k for t r e a s u r e in t h e jewell'd skies Albeit, h e s o a r with a n u n d a u n t e d wing? 1. T h e t e x t i s f r o m The Raven ami Other Poems ( 1 8 4 5 ) . B o t h in 1 8 2 9 a n d in 1 8 3 1 t h e s o n n e t , untit l e d , w a s p r i n t e d a s a p r o e m t o Al Aaraaf; i n 1 8 4 5 t h e p o e m r e t a i n e d i t s p l a c e b u t c a r r i e d t h e t i t l e first u s e d in a n 1 8 4 3 reprinting. " S o n n e t — T o S c i e n c e " is b u i l t o n t h e R o m a n t i c c o m m o n p l a c e t h a t t h e scientific spirit destroys beauty, a notion well

5

exemplified by W o r d s w o r t h ' s "The T a b l e s T u r n e d " ( " S w e e t is t h e lore w h i c h N a t u r e brings; / O u r medling intellect / M i s s h a p e s the b e a u t e o u s forms of t h i n g s ; — / W e m u r d e r to d i s s e c t " ) a n d by K e a t s ' s " L a m i a " ( " P h i l o s o p h y will c l i p a n a n g e l ' s wings").

THE

RAVEN

H a s t thou not dragg'd D i a n a from h e r c a r , A n d driv'n t h e H a m a d r y a d from the w o o d T o s e e k a shelter in s o m e h a p p i e r star? T h e gentle N a i a d 2 from h e r fountain-flood? T h e elfin from t h e green g r a s s ? a n d from m e T h e s u m m e r dream beneath the shrubbery?

/

697

10

1829,1845

To Helen 1 H e l e n , thy b e a u t y is to m e Like t h o s e N i c e a n b a r k s 2 of yore, T h a t gently, o'er a p e r f u m e d s e a , T h e weary, way-worn w a n d e r e r b o r e T o his own native s h o r e .

5

O n d e s p e r a t e s e a s long wont to r o a m , T h y hyacinth hair, thy classic f a c e , T h y N a i a d 3 airs have b r o u g h t m e h o m e T o t h e glory that was G r e e c e , A n d t h e g r a n d e u r that w a s R o m e .

10

L o ! in yon brilliant window-niche H o w statue-like I s e e thee s t a n d , T h e a g a t e l a m p within thy h a n d ! A h , Psyche,' 1 from t h e regions which Are H o l y - L a n d !

15 1831, 1845

The Raven1 By [The quaint

following strain

lines

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from

of the sentiment,

ludicrous

touches

amidst

intended

by

author—appear

specimens sound,

the

of unique

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studied,

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the curious and to

which

rhythm

corresponding much

correspondent—besides

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rhyming

of English

producing

thoroughly

a

more

2. N y m p h l i v i n g i n b r o o k s o r f o u n t a i n s . " D i a n a " : Roman goddess of the moon (imaged as a chariot or c a r that s h e drives through t h e sky). " H a m a dryad": w o o d n y m p h in G r e e k a n d R o m a n mythology, often t h o u g h t o f a s living within a tree a n d p e r i s h i n g w i t h it. 1. T h e t e x t i s t h a t o f 1 8 4 5 , w i t h t w o e r r o r s o f i n d e n t a t i o n c o r r e c t e d . T h e p o e m w a s first p u b lished in 1 8 3 1 , w h e r e , a m o n g o t h e r d i f f e r e n c e s , lines 9 a n d 1 0 read: " T o t h e b e a u t y o f fair Greece,/And the grandeur of old Rome." 2. Variously annotated by P o e scholars, t h e N i c e a n boats a r e m o r e important for their musicality a n d v a g u e l y c l a s s i c a l s u g g e s t i v e n e s s t h a n for

for

impressive,

us

one

has for varieties diversities

perceived,

the

introduction of

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as was

the

of melody, of

effect,

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time

deep

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have poets

eye. been

in

the

their vaguely M e d i t e r r a n e a n reference. 3. N y m p h l i k e , fairylike. 4. G o d d e s s of t h e soul. 1. T h i s p r i n t i n g o f P o e ' s m o s t f a m o u s p o e m i s t a k e n f r o m t h e American Review: A Whig Journal of Politics, Literature, Art and Science I (February 1 8 4 5 ) , w h e r e it w a s first s e t i n t y p e ; t h e N e w Y o r k Evening Mirror printed the p o e m , on J a n u a r y 2 9 , 1 8 4 5 , f r o m t h e p a g e s o f t h e American Review. T h e p r e f a t o r y p a r a g r a p h , s i g n e d a s i f it w e r e b y t h e e d i t o r o f t h e American Review, is retained here b e c a u s e P o e m o s t l i k e l y h a d a h a n d i n i t , if h e d i d n o t w r i t e it a l l . M a n y m i n o r v a r i a t i o n s a p p e a r in later texts.

698

/

EDGAR ALLAN

POE

language. While the classic tongues, especially the Greek, possess, by power of accent, several advantages for versification over our own, chiefly through greater abundance of spondaic feet,2 we have other and very great advantages of sound by the modern usage of rhyme. Alliteration is nearly the only effect of that kind which the ancients had in common with us. It will be seen that much of the melody of "Tlie Raven" arises from alliteration, and the studious use of similar sounds in unusual places. In regard to its measure, it may be noted that if all the verses were like the second, they might properly be placed merely in short lines, producing a not uncommon form; but the presence in all the others of one line—mostly the second in the verse—which flows continuously, with only an aspirate pause in the middle, like that before the short line in the Sapphic Adonic,' while the fifth has at the middle pause no similarity of sound with any part besides, gives the versification an entirely different effect. We could wish the capacities of our noble language, in prosody, were better understood.—Ed. Am. Rev.]

O n c e upon a midnight dreary, while I p o n d e r e d , w e a k a n d weary, Over m a n y a q u a i n t a n d c u r i o u s v o l u m e of forgotten lore, While 1 n o d d e d , nearly n a p p i n g , s u d d e n l y there c a m e a t a p p i n g , As of s o m e o n e gently r a p p i n g , r a p p i n g at my c h a m b e r door. " 'Tis s o m e visiter," I m u t t e r e d , " t a p p i n g at my c h a m b e r d o o r — 5 Only this, a n d n o t h i n g m o r e . " Ah, distinctly I r e m e m b e r it w a s in the bleak D e c e m b e r , And e a c h s e p a r a t e dying e m b e r wrought its g h o s t u p o n the floor. Eagerly 1 wished the morrow;—vainly I h a d tried to borrow F r o m my books s u r c e a s e of s o r r o w — s o r r o w for the lost L e n o r e — 10 For the rare a n d radiant m a i d e n w h o m the a n g e l s n a m e L e n o r e — N a m e l e s s here for e v e r m o r e . And the silken s a d u n c e r t a i n rustling of e a c h p u r p l e c u r t a i n Thrilled me—filled m e with fantastic terrors never felt b e f o r e ; S o that now, to still the b e a t i n g of my heart, I s t o o d r e p e a t i n g is " 'Tis s o m e visiter e n t r e a t i n g e n t r a n c e at my c h a m b e r d o o r — S o m e late visiter e n t r e a t i n g e n t r a n c e at my c h a m b e r d o o r ; — T h i s it is, a n d n o t h i n g m o r e . " Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, " S i r , " said I, "or M a d a m , truly your forgiveness I i m p l o r e ; 20 B u t the fact is I w a s n a p p i n g , a n d s o gently you c a m e r a p p i n g , A n d so faintly you c a m e t a p p i n g , t a p p i n g at my c h a m b e r d o o r , T h a t I s c a r c e w a s s u r e I heard y o u " — h e r e I o p e n e d wide the d o o r ; — D a r k n e s s t h e r e , a n d nothing m o r e . D e e p into that d a r k n e s s peering, long I s t o o d there w o n d e r i n g , fearing, D o u b t i n g , d r e a m i n g d r e a m s no mortal ever d a r e d to d r e a m b e f o r e ; B u t the s i l e n c e w a s u n b r o k e n , a n d the d a r k n e s s g a v e n o t o k e n , And the only word there s p o k e n w a s the w h i s p e r e d word, " L e n o r e ! " T h i s I w h i s p e r e d , a n d a n e c h o m u r m u r e d b a c k the word, " L e n o r e ! " M e r e l y this, a n d n o t h i n g m o r e . 2 . A s p o n d e e is a m e t r i c a l f o o t c o n s i s t i n g o f t w o stressed syllables. 3. A G r e e k l y r i c f o r m . In p r o s o d y a n a d o n i c is a

25

30

dactyl (a foot with o n e l o n g syllable a n d t w o s h o r t ones) followed by a s p o n d e e .

T H E RAVEN

/

699

T h e n into the c h a m b e r turning, all my soul within m e b u r n i n g , S o o n I heard again a t a p p i n g s o m e w h a t louder than before. " S u r e l y , " said I, "surely that is s o m e t h i n g at my window lattice; Let m e s e e , t h e n , what thereat is, a n d this mystery e x p l o r e — L e t my heart be still a m o m e n t a n d this mystery e x p l o r e ; — 35 'Tis the wind, a n d n o t h i n g m o r e ! " O p e n here I flung the shutter, w h e n , with m a n y a flirt a n d flutter, In there s t e p p e d a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; N o t the least o b e i s a n c e m a d e h e ; not a n instant s t o p p e d or stayed h e ; Rut, with mien of lord or lady, p e r c h e d above my c h a m b e r d o o r — 40 P e r c h e d u p o n a b u s t of P a l l a s 4 j u s t a b o v e my c h a m b e r d o o r — P e r c h e d , a n d sat, a n d n o t h i n g m o r e . T h e n this ebony bird beguiling my s a d fancy into smiling, By the grave a n d stern d e c o r u m of the c o u n t e n a n c e it wore, " T h o u g h thy crest be shorn a n d shaven, t h o u , " I said, "art s u r e no craven, 4 5 G h a s t l y grim a n d ancient raven w a n d e r i n g from the Nightly s h o r e — Tell m e what thy lordly n a m e is on the Night's P l u t o n i a n 5 s h o r e ! " Quoth the raven, " N e v e r m o r e . " M u c h I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear d i s c o u r s e so plainly, T h o u g h its a n s w e r little m e a n i n g — l i t t l e relevancy b o r e ; 50 For we c a n n o t help a g r e e i n g that no s u b l u n a r y * being Ever yet w a s b l e s s e d with s e e i n g bird a b o v e his c h a m b e r d o o r — Bird or beast u p o n the s c u l p t u r e d b u s t a b o v e his c h a m b e r door, With such n a m e as "Nevermore." B u t the raven, sitting lonely o n the placid b u s t , s p o k e only 55 T h a t o n e word, as if his soul in that o n e word h e did o u t p o u r . N o t h i n g farther then h e u t t e r e d — n o t a feather then he f l u t t e r e d — Till I scarcely m o r e than m u t t e r e d , " O t h e r friends have flown b e f o r e — O n the morrow he will leave m e , as my h o p e s have flown b e f o r e . " Quoth the raven, " N e v e r m o r e . " 60 W o n d e r i n g at the stillness broken by reply s o aptly s p o k e n , " D o u b t l e s s , " said I, "what it utters is its only s t o c k a n d s t o r e , C a u g h t from s o m e u n h a p p y m a s t e r w h o m u n m e r c i f u l D i s a s t e r Followed fast a n d followed f a s t e r — s o , w h e n H o p e he would a d j u r e , Stern D e s p a i r r e t u r n e d , i n s t e a d of the sweet H o p e he d a r e d a d j u r e — 65 That sad answer, "Nevermore!"7 B u t the raven still beguiling all my s a d soul into smiling, Straight I w h e e l e d a c u s h i o n e d seat in front of bird, a n d b u s t , a n d door; T h e n u p o n the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking F a n c y u n t o fancy, thinking what this o m i n o u s bird of y o r e — 70 W h a t this grim, ungainly, ghastly, g a u n t , a n d o m i n o u s bird of yore M e a n t in c r o a k i n g " N e v e r m o r e . " 4. A t h e n a , t h e G r e e k g o d d e s s of w i s d o m a n d t h e arts. 5.

B l a c k , a s in t h e u n d e r w o r l d o f G r e e k m y t h o l -

ogy6. Earthly, b e n e a t h the m o o n .

7. T h i s s t a n z a c o n c l u d e d in t h e 1 8 4 5 v o l u m e t h e s e l i n e s : " F o l l o w e d f a s t e r till h i s s o n g s o n e d e n b o r e — / Till t h e d i r g e s of his H o p e that ancholy b u r d e n bore of ' N e v e r — n e v e r m o r e . '

with burmel"

700

/

EDGAR ALLAN

POE

T h i s I sat e n g a g e d in g u e s s i n g , but no syllable e x p r e s s i n g T o the fowl w h o s e fiery eyes now b u r n e d into my b o s o m ' s c o r e ; T h i s a n d m o r e I sat divining, with my h e a d at e a s e reclining 75 O n the c u s h i o n ' s velvet lining that the lamplight g l o a t e d o'er, B u t w h o s e velvet violet lining with the lamplight g l o a t i n g o'er, She shall p r e s s , a h , n e v e r m o r e !

T h e n , m e t h o u g h t , the air grew d e n s e r , p e r f u m e d from an u n s e e n c e n s e r S w u n g by a n g e l s w h o s e faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. so " W r e t c h , " I cried, "thy G o d h a t h lent t h e e — b y t h e s e a n g e l s h e h a t h s e n t thee R e s p i t e — r e s p i t e a n d N e p e n t h e 8 from thy m e m o r i e s of L e n o r e ! L e t m e q u a f f this kind N e p e n t h e a n d forget this lost L e n o r e ! " Quoth the raven, " N e v e r m o r e . "

" P r o p h e t ! " said I, "thing of e v i l ! — p r o p h e t still, if bird or d e v i l ! — W h e t h e r T e m p t e r s e n t , or w h e t h e r t e m p e s t t o s s e d thee here a s h o r e , D e s o l a t e , yet all u n d a u n t e d , on this d e s e r t l a n d e n c h a n t e d — O n this h o m e by H o r r o r h a u n t e d — t e l l m e truly, I i m p l o r e — Is there—is there b a l m in G i l e a d ? 9 — t e l l m e — t e l l m e , I i m p l o r e ! " Quoth the raven, " N e v e r m o r e . "

85

90

" P r o p h e t ! " s a i d I, " t h i n g of e v i l ! — p r o p h e t still, if bird or devil! By that H e a v e n that b e n d s a b o v e u s — b y that G o d we both a d o r e — Tell this s o u l with sorrow laden if, within the d i s t a n t A i d e n n , 1 It shall c l a s p a sainted m a i d e n w h o m the a n g e l s n a m e L e n o r e — C l a s p a rare a n d radiant m a i d e n w h o m the a n g e l s n a m e L e n o r e . " 95 Quoth the raven, " N e v e r m o r e . " " B e that w o r d our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I s h r i e k e d , u p s t a r t i n g — " G e t t h e e b a c k into the t e m p e s t a n d the Night's P l u t o n i a n s h o r e ! L e a v e n o b l a c k p l u m e a s a token of that lie thy soul h a t h s p o k e n ! L e a v e my l o n e l i n e s s u n b r o k e n — q u i t the b u s t a b o v e my door! 100 T a k e thy b e a k from out my heart, a n d take thy form from off my d o o r ! " Quoth the raven, " N e v e r m o r e . " A n d the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting O n the pallid b u s t of P a l l a s j u s t a b o v e my c h a m b e r door; A n d his eyes have all the s e e m i n g of a d e m o n that is d r e a m i n g , 105 A n d the lamp-light o'er h i m s t r e a m i n g throws his s h a d o w o n the floor; A n d my soul from out that s h a d o w that lies floating o n the floor Shall be lifted—nevermore! 1845

8. D r u g that i n d u c e s oblivion. 9 . A n e c h o o f t h e i r o n i c w o r d s in J e r e m i a h 8 . 2 2 : " I s t h e r e n o b a l m i n G i l e a d ; is t h e r e n o p h y s i c i a n t h e r e ? " G i l e a d is a m o u n t a i n o u s a r e a e a s t o f t h e J o r d a n River between the S e a of Galilee and the

Dead Sea; evergreens growing there were an ample source of medicinal resins. 1. O n e o f P o e ' s v a g u e l y e v o c a t i v e p l a c e n a m e s , d e s i g n e d to suggest E d e n .

ULALUME: A BALLAD

To

/

701

.' Ulalume: A Ballad

T h e skies they were a s h e n a n d sober; T h e leaves they were crisped a n d s e r e — T h e leaves they were withering a n d s e r e ; It w a s night in the l o n e s o m e O c t o b e r O f my m o s t i m m e m o r i a l year; It w a s hard by the d i m lake of Auber, In the misty mid region of W e i r 2 — It w a s d o w n by the d a n k t a r n 3 of Auber. In the g h o u l - h a u n t e d w o o d l a n d of Weir.

5

H e r e o n c e , through an alley T i t a n i c , 4 O f c y p r e s s , I r o a m e d with my S o u l — O f c y p r e s s , with P s y c h e , my S o u l . T h e s e were days when my heart was volcanic As the s c o r i a e rivers 5 that roll— As the lavas that restlessly roll T h e i r s u l p h u r o u s c u r r e n t s down Y a a n e k In the ultimate c l i m e s of the p o l e — T h a t g r o a n a s they roll down M o u n t Y a a n e k In the r e a l m s of the boreal p o l e . 6

10

O u r talk had b e e n serious a n d sober, B u t our t h o u g h t s they were palsied a n d s e r e — O u r m e m o r i e s were t r e a c h e r o u s a n d s e r e — F o r we k n e w not the m o n t h w a s O c t o b e r , And we m a r k e d not the night of the y e a r — (Ah, night of all nights in the year!) W e n o t e d not the d i m lake of A u b e r — ( T h o u g h o n c e we h a d j o u r n e y e d down h e r e ) — W e r e m e m b e r e d not the d a n k tarn of A u b e r , N o r the g h o u l - h a u n t e d w o o d l a n d of Weir.

20

And now, a s the night w a s s e n e s c e n t A n d star-dials pointed to m o r n — As the star-dials hinted of m o r n — At the end of our p a t h a l i q u e s c e n t A n d n e b u l o u s lustre w a s b o r n , O u t of which a m i r a c u l o u s c r e s c e n t A r o s e with a d u p l i c a t e h o r n — Astarte's7 bediamonded crescent Distinct with its d u p l i c a t e horn.

30

1. T h i s is t h e l o n g e r v e r s i o n o f t h e p o e m ; P o e s o m e t i m e s d r o p p e d t h e t e n t h s t a n z a . T h e s o u r c e is t h e American Rexnew 6 ( D e c e m b e r 1 8 4 7 ) , t h e first printing. 2. " A u b e r " a n d "Weir" are s u r n a m e s P o e probably k n e w ; a s p l a c e n a m e s they a r e c h o s e n for their rhyme value and connotative suggestions ("Weir," for i n s t a n c e , s u g g e s t i n g " w e i r d " ) . 3. A s m a l l m o u n t a i n lake. 4. T h e a l l e y — t h e p a t h w a y — i s titanic b e c a u s e the

15

25

35

cypress trees on either side are e n o r m o u s , on a s c a l e to m a t c h that o f t h e p r e - O l y m p i a n G r e e k gods. 5. Rivers of lava. 6. N o r t h p o l e . 7. P h o e n i c i a n fertility g o d d e s s , c o n f l a t e d h e r e w i t h t h e p l a n e t V e n u s — w h i c h is a l s o t h e m o r n i n g star and s o m e t i m e s has a moonlike crescent shape; in s h o r t , a f a l s e m o o n .

702

/

EDGAR ALLAN

POE

A n d I s a i d — " S h e is w a r m e r than D i a n : " S h e rolls through an ether of s i g h s — S h e revels in a region of s i g h s : S h e h a s s e e n that the tears are not dry on T h e s e c h e e k s , where the w o r m never d i e s , A n d h a s c o m e past the stars of the L i o n 9 T o point u s the p a t h to the s k i e s — T o the L e t h e a n 1 p e a c e of the s k i e s — C o m e u p , in despite of the Lion, T o s h i n e on u s with her bright e y e s — C o m e u p through the lair of the L i o n With Love in her l u m i n o u s e y e s . " B u t P s y c h e , 2 uplifting her finger, S a i d — " S a d l y this star I m i s t r u s t — H e r pallor I strangely m i s t r u s t : — O h , h a s t e n ! — o h , let u s not linger! O h , fly!—let us fly!—for we m u s t . " In terror s h e s p o k e , letting sink her W i n g s till they trailed in the d u s t — In agony s o b b e d , letting sink her P l u m e s till they trailed in the d u s t — Till they sorrowfully trailed in the d u s t . I r e p l i e d — " T h i s is n o t h i n g b u t d r e a m i n g : L e t u s o n by this t r e m u l o u s light! L e t u s b a t h e in this crystalline light! Its Sybillic* s p l e n d o r is b e a m i n g With H o p e a n d in B e a u t y t o - n i g h t : — S e e ! — i t flickers u p the sky through the night! A h , we safely may trust to its g l e a m i n g , A n d be s u r e it will lead u s a r i g h t — W e safely may trust to a g l e a m i n g T h a t c a n n o t but g u i d e u s aright, S i n c e it flickers u p to H e a v e n t h r o u g h the n i g h t . " T h u s I pacified P s y c h e a n d kissed her, A n d t e m p t e d her out of her g l o o m — And c o n q u e r e d her s c r u p l e s a n d g l o o m : And we p a s s e d to the end of the vista, A n d were s t o p p e d by the d o o r of a t o m b — By the d o o r of a l e g e n d e d t o m b ; A n d I s a i d — " W h a t is written, sweet sister, O n the d o o r of this l e g e n d e d t o m b ? " She replied—"Ulalume—Ulalume— 'Tis the vault of thy lost U l a l u m e ! " T h e n my heart it grew a s h e n a n d s o b e r As the leaves that were c r i s p e d a n d s e r e — 8. T h e c h a s t e R o m a n g o d d e s s of the m o o n .

giving waters of L e t h e .

9. T h e constellation Leo. 1. A b s o l u t e p e a c e , a s if b a t h e d

2. 3.

in t h e

oblivion-

T h e soul, i m a g e d as a butterfly. Mysteriously p r o p h e t i c — n o w spelled "

ANNABEL L E E

/

As the leaves that were withering a n d s e r e , And I c r i e d — " I t w a s surely O c t o b e r O n this very night of last year That I journeyed—I journeyed down h e r e — T h a t I b r o u g h t a dread b u r d e n d o w n h e r e — O n this night of all nights in the year, O h , what d e m o n h a s t e m p t e d m e here? Well I know, now, this d i m lake o f A u b e r — T h i s misty m i d region of W e i r — Well I know, now, this d a n k tarn of A u b e r , In the g h o u l - h a u n t e d w o o d l a n d of W e i r . " S a i d we, t h e n — t h e t w o , t h e n — " A h , c a n it H a v e b e e n that the w o o d l a n d i s h g h o u l s — T h e pitiful, the merciful g h o u l s — T o bar u p o u r way a n d to b a n it F r o m the secret that lies in t h e s e w o l d s — F r o m the thing that lies hidden in t h e s e w o l d s — H a d d r a w n u p the s p e c t r e o f a p l a n e t F r o m the limbo of lunary s o u l s — T h i s sinfully scintillant 4 planet F r o m the Hell of the planetary s o u l s ? "

703

85

90

95

100

1847

Annabel Lee 1 It w a s m a n y a n d m a n y a year a g o , In a k i n g d o m by the s e a T h a t a m a i d e n there lived w h o m you m a y know. By the n a m e of A N N A B E L L E E ;

And this m a i d e n s h e lived with n o other thought T h a n to love a n d b e loved by m e .

5

J w a s a child a n d she w a s a child, In this k i n g d o m by the s e a ; B u t we loved with a love that w a s m o r e t h a n l o v e — I a n d my A N N A B E L L E E —

10

With a love that the winged s e r a p h s of heaven C o v e t e d her a n d m e . And this w a s the r e a s o n that, long a g o , In this k i n g d o m by the s e a , A wind blew o u t of a c l o u d , chilling

15

M y beautiful A N N A B E L L E E ;

S o that her highborn k i n s m e n c a m e A n d bore her away from m e , Sparkling, shining. T h e t e x t i s t h a t o f t h e f i r s t p r i n t i n g , in R u f u s

G r i s w o l d ' s a r t i c l e in t h e N e w Y o r k Tribune ber 9, 1849), signed "Ludwig."

(Octo-

704

/

EDGAR

ALLAN

POE

T o s h u t h e r u p in a s e p u l c h r e In this k i n g d o m by t h e s e a .

20

T h e a n g e l s , n o t half s o h a p p y in h e a v e n , W e n t envying her a n d m e — Y e s ! — t h a t w a s t h e r e a s o n ( a s all m e n know, In this k i n g d o m by t h e s e a ) T h a t t h e wind c a m e o u t o f the c l o u d by night, C h i l l i n g a n d killing my A N N A B E L L E E . B u t o u r love it w a s stronger by far than t h e love O f t h o s e w h o were older t h a n w e — O f m a n y far wiser than w e — A n d neither t h e a n g e l s in h e a v e n a b o v e , N o r t h e d e m o n s d o w n u n d e r the s e a , C a n ever dissever my soul from t h e soul

30

Of the beautiful A N N A B E L L E E :

F o r t h e m o o n never b e a m s , without bringing m e d r e a m s Of the beautiful A N N A B E L L E E ;

35

A n d t h e stars never rise, b u t I feel t h e bright eyes Of the beautiful A N N A B E L L E E :

A n d s o , all t h e night tide, I lie d o w n by t h e side O f my d a r l i n g — m y d a r l i n g — m y life a n d m y bride, In h e r s e p u l c h r e there by t h e s e a — In h e r t o m b by t h e s o u n d i n g s e a .

40

Ligeia 1 And

the will

mysteries pervading himself weakness

therein

of the will, all things to the angels, of his feeble

lieth, with

which its vigour?

by nature

dieth For

not.

Who

knoweth

the

God

is but a great

will

of its intentness.

nor unto

death

utterly,

Man doth save

only

not

yield

through

the

will. — J o s e p h Glanvill 2

I c a n n o t , for my soul, r e m e m b e r how, w h e n , or even precisely w h e r e I first b e c a m e a c q u a i n t e d with t h e lady L i g e i a . L o n g years have s i n c e e l a p s e d , a n d my m e m o r y is feeble t h r o u g h m u c h suffering: or, p e r h a p s , I c a n n o t now bring t h e s e p o i n t s to m i n d , b e c a u s e , in truth, t h e c h a r a c t e r of m y b e l o v e d , h e r rare learning, her singular yet placid c a s t o f b e a u t y , a n d the thrilling a n d enthralling e l o q u e n c e o f h e r low, m u s i c a l l a n g u a g e , m a d e their w a y into m y heart by p a c e s , s o steadily a n d stealthily p r o g r e s s i v e , that they have b e e n u n n o t i c e d a n d u n k n o w n . Yet I know that I m e t h e r m o s t frequently in s o m e large, old, 1. " L i g e i a " w a s first p u b l i s h e d i n t h e American Museum 1 (September 1838), the source ofthe p r e s e n t text. P o e later r e v i s e d t h e tale slightly a n d a d d e d t o it t h e p o e m " T h e C o n q u e r o r W o r m . " 2. Like others o f Poe's epigraphs (often a d d e d

a f t e r first p u b l i c a t i o n ) , t h i s o n e i s f a b r i c a t e d t o fit the desired effect. J o s e p h Glanvill ( 1 6 3 6 - 1 6 8 0 ) was o n eof the Cambridge Platonists, 17th-century English religious philosophers w h o tried t o reconcile Christianity a n d R e n a i s s a n c e s c i e n c e .

LIGEIA

/

705

d e c a y i n g city n e a r the R h i n e . O f her family—I have surely h e a r d her s p e a k — that they are of a remotely a n c i e n t d a t e c a n n o t be d o u b t e d . Ligeia! B u r i e d in studies of a n a t u r e , m o r e than all e l s e , a d a p t e d to d e a d e n i m p r e s s i o n s of the o u t w a r d world, it is by that sweet word a l o n e — b y L i g e i a , that I bring before m i n e eyes in fancy the i m a g e of her w h o is no m o r e . A n d now, while I write, a recollection flashes u p o n m e that I have never known the p a t e r n a l n a m e of her w h o w a s my friend a n d my b e t r o t h e d , a n d w h o b e c a m e the partner of my s t u d i e s , a n d eventually the wife of my b o s o m . W a s it a playful c h a r g e on the part of my L i g e i a ? or w a s it a test of my strength of affection that I s h o u l d institute no inquiries u p o n this point? or w a s it rather a c a p r i c e of my o w n — a wildly r o m a n t i c offering o n the shrine of the m o s t p a s s i o n a t e devotion? 1 but indistinctly recall the fact itself—what w o n d e r that I have utterly forgotten the c i r c u m s t a n c e s which originated or a t t e n d e d it? A n d i n d e e d , if ever that spirit which is entitled Romance—if ever s h e , the w a n , a n d the misty-winged Ashtophet* of idolatrous Egypt, p r e s i d e d , a s they tell, over m a r r i a g e s ill-omened, then m o s t surely s h e p r e s i d e d over m i n e . T h e r e is o n e d e a r t o p i c , however, on which my m e m o r y faileth m e not. It is the p e r s o n of L i g e i a . In stature s h e w a s tall, s o m e w h a t s l e n d e r , a n d in her latter days even e m a c i a t e d . I would in vain a t t e m p t to p o u r t r a y the majesty, the quiet e a s e of her d e m e a n o u r , or the i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e lightness a n d elasticity of her footfall. S h e c a m e a n d d e p a r t e d like a s h a d o w . I w a s never m a d e a w a r e of her e n t r a n c e into my c l o s e d study save by the d e a r m u s i c of her low sweet voice, a s s h e p l a c e d her delicate h a n d u p o n my s h o u l d e r . In b e a u t y of f a c e n o m a i d e n ever e q u a l l e d her. It w a s the r a d i a n c e of a n o p i u m d r e a m — a n airy a n d spirit-lifting vision m o r e wildly divine t h a n the p h a n t a sies which hovered a b o u t the s l u m b e r i n g s o u l s of the d a u g h t e r s of Delos." 1 Yet her f e a t u r e s were not of that regular m o u l d which we have b e e n falsely t a u g h t to worship in the c l a s s i c a l labors of the H e a t h e n . " T h e r e is n o exquis i t e 5 b e a u t y , " saith V e r u l a m , L o r d B a c o n , s p e a k i n g truly of all the f o r m s a n d genera of beauty, "without s o m e strangeness in the p r o p o r t i o n s . " Yet, a l t h o u g h I s a w that the f e a t u r e s of L i g e i a were not of c l a s s i c regularity, a l t h o u g h I perceived that her loveliness w a s i n d e e d " e x q u i s i t e , " a n d felt that there w a s m u c h of " s t r a n g e n e s s " p e r v a d i n g it, yet I have tried in vain to d e t e c t the irregularity, a n d to trace h o m e my own p e r c e p t i o n of "the s t r a n g e . " I e x a m i n e d the c o n t o u r of the lofty a n d pale f o r e h e a d — i t w a s f a u l t l e s s — h o w cold i n d e e d that word w h e n a p p l i e d to a majesty s o divine! T h e skin rivaling the p u r e s t ivory, the c o m m a n d i n g b r e a d t h a n d r e p o s e , the gentle p r o m i n e n c e of the regions a b o v e the t e m p l e s , a n d then the raven-black, the glossy, the luxuriant a n d naturally-curling t r e s s e s , setting forth the full force of the H o m e r i c epithet, " h y a c i n t h i n e ; " I looked at the d e l i c a t e outlines of the n o s e — a n d nowhere but in the graceful m e d a l l i o n s of the H e b r e w s h a d I beheld a similar perfection. T h e r e w a s the s a m e luxurious s m o o t h n e s s of s u r f a c e , the s a m e scarcely p e r c e p t i b l e t e n d e n c y to the a q u i l i n e , the s a m e h a r m o n i o u s l y curved nostril s p e a k i n g the free spirit. I r e g a r d e d the sweet m o u t h . H e r e w a s i n d e e d the t r i u m p h of all things h e a v e n l y — t h e m a g n i f i c e n t turn of the short u p p e r l i p — t h e soft, v o l u p t u o u s r e p o s e of the u n d e r — t h e 3. V a r i a n t o f A s h t o r e t h , P h o e n i c i a n g o d d e s s o f fertility. 4. Probably the m a i d e n s attending Artemis, goddess of wild n a t u r e a n d the hunt; she w a s born on

D e l o s , a m o n g t h e C y c l a d e s in t h e A e g e a n S e a . 5. In his e s s a y " O f B e a u t y " F r a n c i s B a c o n , B a r o n V e r u l a m ( 1 5 6 1 — 1 6 2 6 ) , wrote "excellent," not "exquisite."

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d i m p l e s which s p o r t e d , a n d the c o l o u r which s p o k e — t h e teeth g l a n c i n g b a c k , with a brilliancy a l m o s t startling, every ray of the holy light which fell upon t h e m in her s e r e n e , a n d p l a c i d , yet m o s t exultingly radiant of all s m i l e s . I scrutinized the formation of the c h i n — a n d h e r e , too, I f o u n d the g e n t l e n e s s of b r e a d t h , the s o f t n e s s a n d the majesty, the fulness a n d the spirituality, of the G r e e k , the c o n t o u r which the G o d Apollo revealed but in a d r e a m to C l e o m e n e s , the son of the A t h e n i a n . 6 A n d then I p e e r e d into the large eyes of Ligeia. F o r eyes we have no m o d e l s in the remotely a n t i q u e . It might have b e e n , too, that in t h e s e eyes of my beloved lay the secret to which L o r d Veriilam a l l u d e s . T h e y w e r e , I m u s t believe, far larger than the ordinary eyes of o u r r a c e . T h e y were even far fuller than the fullest of the G a z e l l e eyes of the tribe of the valley of N o u r j a h a d . 7 Yet it w a s only at intervals—in m o m e n t s of intense e x c i t e m e n t — t h a t this peculiarity b e c a m e m o r e t h a n slightly n o t i c e a b l e in L i g e i a . And at s u c h m o m e n t s w a s her b e a u t y — i n my h e a t e d fancy t h u s it a p p e a r e d p e r h a p s — t h e b e a u t y of b e i n g s either a b o v e or apart from the e a r t h — t h e b e a u t y of the f a b u l o u s H o u r i 8 of the T u r k . T h e c o l o u r of the orbs w a s the m o s t brilliant of b l a c k , a n d far over t h e m h u n g jetty l a s h e s of great length. T h e b r o w s , slightly irregular in o u t l i n e , h a d the s a m e h u e . T h e " s t r a n g e n e s s , " however, which I have f o u n d in the eyes of my Ligeia w a s of a n a t u r e distinct from the f o r m a t i o n , or the colour, or the brilliancy of the f e a t u r e , a n d m u s t , after all, b e referred to the expression. Ah, word of no m e a n i n g ! b e h i n d w h o s e vast latitude of m e r e s o u n d we intrench o u r ignorance of s o m u c h of the spiritual. T h e e x p r e s s i o n of the eyes of Ligeia! H o w , for long hours have I p o n d e r e d u p o n it! H o w have I, t h r o u g h the w h o l e of a m i d - s u m m e r night, struggled to f a t h o m it! W h a t w a s i t — t h a t s o m e t h i n g m o r e p r o f o u n d than the well of D e m o c r i t u s 1 ' — w h i c h lay far within the p u p i l s of my beloved? W h a t w a s it? I w a s p o s s e s s e d with a p a s s i o n to discover. T h o s e eyes! t h o s e large, t h o s e shining, t h o s e divine orbs! they b e c a m e to m e twin stars of L e d a , 1 a n d I to t h e m devoutest of a s t r o l o g e r s . N o t for a m o m e n t w a s the u n f a t h o m a b l e m e a n i n g of their g l a n c e , by day or by night, a b s e n t from my soul. T h e r e is no point, a m o n g the m a n y i n c o m p r e h e n s i b l e a n o m a l i e s of the s c i e n c e of m i n d , m o r e thrillingly exciting than the f a c t — n e v e r , I believe noticed in the s c h o o l s — t h a t in our e n d e a v o u r s to recall to m e m o r y s o m e thing long forgotten we often find ourselves upon the very verge of r e m e m b r a n c e without b e i n g a b l e , in the e n d , to r e m e m b e r . A n d t h u s , h o w frequently, in my intense scrutiny of Ligeia's eyes, have I felt a p p r o a c h i n g the full k n o w l e d g e of the secret of their e x p r e s s i o n — f e l t it a p p r o a c h i n g — yet not q u i t e be m i n e — a n d so at length utterly d e p a r t . A n d ( s t r a n g e , oh s t r a n g e s t mystery of all!) I f o u n d , in the c o m m o n e s t o b j e c t s of the u n i v e r s e , a circle of a n a l o g i e s to that e x p r e s s i o n . I m e a n to say that, s u b s e q u e n t l y to the period when Ligeia's b e a u t y p a s s e d into my spirit, t h e r e dwelling a s in a 6. C l a s s i c a l G r e e k s c u l p t o r w h o s e n a m e ( p o s s i b l y f o r g e d ) is s i g n e d t o t h e V e n u s d e ' M e d i c i . T h e g o d Apollo was the patron of artists. 7 . F r a n c e s S h e r i d a n ( 1 7 2 4 - 1 7 6 6 ) w r o t e The History of Noitrjahad, an Oriental romance. 8 . B e a u t i f u l v i r g i n w a i t i n g in p a r a d i s e f o r t h e devout Muslim. 9. T h e G r e e k "laughing philosopher" (Sth century

B.C.E.); o n e o f h i s p r o v e r b s is " T r u t h l i e s at t h e bottom of a well." I. Q u e e n o f S p a r t a w h o m Z e u s , i n t h e f o r m o f a swan, raped, thereby begetting Helen of Troy and ( a c c o r d i n g to s o m e v e r s i o n s ) t h e twin s o n s C a s t o r a n d Pollux, w h o m their father t r a n s f o r m e d into the constellation Gemini.

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shrine, I derived from m a n y e x i s t e n c e s in the material world, a s e n t i m e n t , s u c h a s I felt always a r o u s e d within m e by her large a n d l u m i n o u s o r b s . Yet not the m o r e c o u l d I define that s e n t i m e n t , or analyze, or even steadily view it. I recognized it, let m e r e p e a t , s o m e t i m e s in the c o m m o n e s t o b j e c t s of the universe. It has flashed u p o n m e in the survey of a rapidly-growing v i n e — i n the c o n t e m p l a t i o n of a m o t h , a butterfly, a chrysalis, a s t r e a m of r u n n i n g water. I have felt it in the o c e a n , in the falling of a m e t e o r . I have felt it in the g l a n c e s of u n u s u a l l y a g e d p e o p l e . A n d there are o n e or two stars in h e a v e n — ( o n e especially, a star of the sixth m a g n i t u d e , d o u b l e a n d c h a n g e a b l e , to b e f o u n d n e a r the large star in L y r a ) 2 in a t e l e s c o p i c scrutiny of which I have b e e n m a d e a w a r e of the feeling. I have b e e n filled with it by certain s o u n d s from stringed i n s t r u m e n t s , a n d not unfrequently by p a s s a g e s from b o o k s . A m o n g i n n u m e r a b l e other i n s t a n c e s , I well r e m e m b e r s o m e thing in a v o l u m e of J o s e p h Glanvill, w h i c h , p e r h a p s merely from its q u a i n t n e s s — w h o shall say? never failed to inspire m e with the s e n t i m e n t . — " A n d the will therein lieth, which dieth not. W h o knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? F o r G o d is but a great will p e r v a d i n g all things by n a t u r e of its i n t e n t n e s s . M a n doth not yield him to the a n g e l s , nor unto d e a t h utterly, but only t h r o u g h the w e a k n e s s of his feeble will." L e n g t h of years, a n d s u b s e q u e n t reflection, have e n a b l e d m e to t r a c e , i n d e e d , s o m e r e m o t e connexion b e t w e e n this p a s s a g e in the old E n g l i s h moralist a n d a portion of the c h a r a c t e r of L i g e i a . An intensity in t h o u g h t , action, or s p e e c h was possibly, in her, a result, or at least a n index, of that gigantic volition which, d u r i n g our long i n t e r c o u r s e , failed to give other a n d more i m m e d i a t e e v i d e n c e of its e x i s t e n c e . O f all w o m e n w h o m I have ever k n o w n , s h e , the outwardly c a l m , the ever placid Ligeia, w a s the most violently a prey to the t u m u l t u o u s vultures of stern p a s s i o n . A n d of s u c h p a s s i o n I could form no e s t i m a t e , save by the m i r a c u l o u s e x p a n s i o n of t h o s e eyes which at o n c e s o delighted a n d a p p a l l e d m e , by the a l m o s t m a g i c a l melody, m o d u l a t i o n , d i s t i n c t n e s s a n d placidity of her very low voice, a n d by the fierce energy, (rendered doubly effective by c o n t r a s t with her m a n n e r of u t t e r a n c e ) of the words which s h e uttered. -

I have s p o k e n of the learning of Ligeia: it w a s i m m e n s e — s u c h a s I have never known in w o m a n . In all the c l a s s i c a l t o n g u e s w a s s h e deeply proficient, a n d a s far a s my own a c q u a i n t a n c e extended in regard to the m o d e r n dialects of E u r o p e , I have never known her at fault. Indeed u p o n any t h e m e of the m o s t a d m i r e d , b e c a u s e simply the m o s t a b s t r u s e , of the b o a s t e d erudition of the a c a d e m y , have I ever f o u n d Ligeia at fault? H o w singularly, how thrillingly, this o n e point in the n a t u r e of my wife has forced itself, at this late period, only, u p o n my attention! I said her k n o w l e d g e w a s s u c h a s I had never known in w o m a n . W h e r e b r e a t h e s the m a n who, like her, has traversed, a n d successfully, all the wide a r e a s of m o r a l , n a t u r a l , a n d m a t h e matical s c i e n c e ? I saw not then what I now clearly p e r c e i v e , that the a c q u i s i t i o n s of Ligeia were gigantic, were a s t o u n d i n g — y e t I w a s sufficiently a w a r e of her infinite s u p r e m a c y to resign myself, with a childlike c o n f i d e n c e , to her g u i d a n c e t h r o u g h the c h a o t i c world of m e t a p h y s i c a l investigation at which I w a s most busily o c c u p i e d d u r i n g the earlier years of o u r m a r r i a g e . With how vast a t r i u m p h — w i t h how vivid a d e l i g h t — w i t h how m u c h of all 2 . T h e l e s s e r s t a r is e p s i l o n L y r a e , t h e l a r g e o n e V e g a o r a l p h a L y r a e .

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that is ethereal in h o p e — d i d I feel, a s s h e b e n t over m e , in s t u d i e s but little s o u g h t f o r — b u t less known that d e l i c i o u s vista by slow but very p e r c e p t i b l e d e g r e e s e x p a n d i n g b e f o r e m e , d o w n w h o s e long, g o r g e o u s , a n d all u n t r o d d e n p a t h I might at length p a s s o n w a r d to the goal of a w i s d o m too divinely p r e c i o u s not to be forbidden! H o w p o i g n a n t , then, m u s t have b e e n the grief with w h i c h , after s o m e years, I b e h e l d my well-grounded e x p e c t a t i o n s take w i n g s to t h e m s e l v e s a n d flee away! W i t h o u t Ligeia I w a s b u t a s a child g r o p i n g b e n i g h t e d . H e r prese n c e , her r e a d i n g s a l o n e , r e n d e r e d vividly l u m i n o u s the m a n y m y s t e r i e s of the t r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s m in w h i c h we w e r e i m m e r s e d . L e t t e r s , l a m b e n t a n d g o l d e n , grew duller than S a t u r n i a n 3 lead w a n t i n g the radiant lustre of her eyes. A n d now t h o s e eyes s h o n e less a n d less frequently u p o n the p a g e s over which I p o u r e d . Ligeia grew ill. T h e wild eye blazed with a t o o — t o o glorious e f f u l g e n c e ; the p a l e fingers b e c a m e of the t r a n s p a r e n t waxen h u e of the g r a v e — a n d the b l u e veins u p o n the lofty f o r e h e a d swelled a n d s u n k impetuously with the tides of the m o s t g e n t l e e m o t i o n . I saw that s h e m u s t d i e — a n d I s t r u g g l e d desperately in spirit with the grim A z r a e l . 4 A n d the struggles of the p a s s i o n a t e Ligeia w e r e , to my a s t o n i s h m e n t , even m o r e energetic than my own. T h e r e h a d b e e n m u c h in her stern n a t u r e to i m p r e s s m e with the belief that, to her, d e a t h w o u l d have c o m e without its t e r r o r s — b u t not s o . W o r d s a r e i m p o t e n t to convey any j u s t idea of the f i e r c e n e s s of r e s i s t a n c e with w h i c h L i g e i a wrestled with the d a r k s h a d o w . I g r o a n e d in a n g u i s h at the pitiable s p e c t a c l e . I would have s o o t h e d — I would have r e a s o n e d ; b u t in the intensity of her wild d e s i r e for life—for life—but for life, s o l a c e a n d r e a s o n were alike the u t t e r m o s t of folly. Yet not for an i n s t a n t , a m i d the m o s t convulsive writhings of her fierce spirit, w a s s h a k e n the external placidity of her d e m e a n o r . H e r voice grew m o r e g e n t l e — g r e w m o r e low—yet I w o u l d not wish to dwell u p o n the wild m e a n i n g of the quietly-uttered w o r d s . M y brain reeled a s I h e a r k e n e d , e n t r a n c e d , to a m e l o d y m o r e than m o r t a l — t o a s s u m p t i o n s a n d a s p i r a t i o n s which mortality h a d never before k n o w n . T h a t Ligeia loved m e , I s h o u l d not have d o u b t e d ; a n d I might have b e e n easily a w a r e that, in a b o s o m s u c h as h e r s , love w o u l d have reigned n o ordinary p a s s i o n . B u t in d e a t h only, w a s I fully i m p r e s s e d with the intensity of her affection. F o r long h o u r s , d e t a i n i n g my h a n d , w o u l d s h e p o u r o u t before m e the overflowings of a h e a r t w h o s e m o r e than p a s s i o n a t e devotion a m o u n t e d to idolatry. H o w h a d I d e s e r v e d to b e so b l e s s e d by s u c h c o n f e s s i o n s . — H o w h a d I d e s e r v e d to b e so c u r s e d with the r e m o v a l of my beloved in the h o u r of her m a k i n g t h e m ? B u t u p o n this s u b j e c t I c a n n o t b e a r to dilate. L e t m e say only, that in Ligeia's m o r e than w o m a n l y a b a n d o n m e n t to a love, a l a s , all u n m e r i t e d , all unworthily b e s t o w e d ; I at l e n g t h r e c o g n i s e d the principle of her longing, with s o wildly e a r n e s t a desire for the life w h i c h w a s now fleeing s o rapidly away. It is this wild l o n g i n g — i t is this e a g e r intensity of desire for life—but for l i f e — t h a t I have n o p o w e r to p o u r t r a y — n o u t t e r a n c e c a p a b l e to e x p r e s s . M e t h i n k s I a g a i n b e h o l d the terrific s t r u g g l e s of her lofty, her nearly idealized n a t u r e , with the m i g h t a n d the terror, a n d the m a j e s t y of the great S h a d o w . B u t s h e p e r i s h e d . T h e giant will s u c c u m b e d to a p o w e r m o r e stern. A n d I t h o u g h t , a s I g a z e d u p o n the c o r p s e , of the wild 3.

S l u g g i s h ; i n a l c h e m y saturnus

lead.

is t h e n a m e f o r

4. T h e A n g e l of D e a t h (in J u d a i s m a n d I s l a m ) ,

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p a s s a g e in J o s e p h Glanvill. " T h e will therein lieth, which dieth not. W h o knoweth the mysteries of the will, with its vigor? F o r G o d is but a great will pervading all things by n a t u r e of its i n t e n t n e s s . IVjan doth not yield him to the a n g e l s , nor unto death utterly, save only through the w e a k n e s s of his feeble will." S h e d i e d — a n d I, c r u s h e d into the very d u s t with sorrow, c o u l d no longer e n d u r e the lonely d e s o l a t i o n of my dwelling in the d i m a n d d e c a y i n g city by the R h i n e . I h a d no lack of w h a t the world t e r m s w e a l t h — L i g e i a h a d b r o u g h t m e far m o r e , very far m o r e , than falls ordinarily to the lot of m o r t a l s . After a few m o n t h s , therefore, of weary a n d a i m l e s s w a n d e r i n g , I p u r c h a s e d , a n d put in s o m e repair, an a b b e y , which I shall not n a m e , in o n e of the wildest a n d least f r e q u e n t e d portions of fair E n g l a n d . T h e g l o o m y a n d dreary grand e u r of the building, the a l m o s t s a v a g e a s p e c t of the d o m a i n , the m a n y m e l a n c h o l y a n d t i m e - h o n o r e d m e m o r i e s c o n n e c t e d with b o t h , h a d m u c h in u n i s o n with the feelings of utter a b a n d o n m e n t which h a d driven m e into that r e m o t e a n d u n s o c i a l region of the country. Yet, a l t h o u g h the external abbey, with its verdant d e c a y h a n g i n g a b o u t it suffered but little alteration, I gave way with a child-like perversity, a n d p e r c h a n c e with a faint h o p e of alleviating my sorrows, to a display of m o r e than regal m a g n i f i c e n c e within. For s u c h follies even in c h i l d h o o d I h a d i m b i b e d a t a s t e , a n d n o w they c a m e b a c k to m e as if in the d o t a g e of grief. A l a s , I now feel h o w m u c h even of incipient m a d n e s s might have b e e n d i s c o v e r e d in the g o r g e o u s a n d fantastic d r a p e r i e s , in the s o l e m n carvings of Egypt, in the wild c o r n i c e s a n d furniture of A r a b e s q u e , in the b e d l a m p a t t e r n s of the c a r p e t s of tufted gold! I h a d b e c o m e a b o u n d e n slave in the t r a m m e l s of o p i u m , a n d my labors a n d my orders had taken a c o l o u r i n g from my d r e a m s . B u t t h e s e a b s u r d i t i e s I m u s t not p a u s e to detail. L e t m e s p e a k only of that o n e c h a m b e r , ever a c c u r s e d , whither, in a m o m e n t of m e n t a l alienation, I led from the altar a s my b r i d e — a s the s u c c e s s o r of the unforgotten L i g e i a — t h e fair-haired a n d blue-eyed lady R o w e n a T r e v a n i o n , of T r e m a i n e . T h e r e is not any individual portion of the a r c h i t e c t u r e a n d d e c o r a t i o n of that bridal c h a m b e r which is not now visibly before m e . W h e r e were the souls of the h a u g h t y family of the bride, w h e n , t h r o u g h thirst of gold, they p e r m i t t e d to p a s s the t h r e s h o l d of a n a p a r t m e n t so b e d e c k e d , a m a i d e n a n d a d a u g h t e r so beloved? I have said that I minutely r e m e m b e r the details of the c h a m b e r — y e t I a m sadly forgetful on topics of d e e p m o m e n t — a n d here there w a s no s y s t e m , n o k e e p i n g , in the fantastic display, to take hold upon the m e m o r y . T h e r o o m lay in a high turret of the c a s t e l l a t e d a b b e y , w a s p e n t a g o n a l in s h a p e , a n d of c a p a c i o u s size. O c c u p y i n g the w h o l e s o u t h e r n face of the p e n t a g o n w a s the sole w i n d o w — a n i m m e n s e s h e e t of u n b r o k e n glass from V e n i c e — a single p a n e , a n d tinted of a l e a d e n h u e , so that the rays of either the s u n or m o o n , p a s s i n g through it, fell with a ghastly lustre u p o n the o b j e c t s within. O v e r the u p p e r portion of this h u g e window extended the o p e n trellice-work of an a g e d vine w h i c h c l a m b e r e d up the m a s s y walls of the turret. T h e ceiling, of gloomy-looking oak, w a s excessively lofty, v a u l t e d , a n d elaborately fretted with the wildest a n d m o s t g r o t e s q u e s p e c i m e n s of a s e m i - G o t h i c , semi-druidical device. F r o m out the m o s t c e n tral r e c e s s of this m e l a n c h o l y vaulting, d e p e n d e d , by a single c h a i n of gold, with long links, a h u g e c e n s e r of the s a m e m e t a l , A r a b e s q u e in p a t t e r n , a n d with m a n y perforations so contrived that there writhed in a n d out of t h e m ,

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a s if e n d u e d with a s e r p e n t vitality, a c o n t i n u a l s u c c e s s i o n of parti-coloured fires. S o m e few o t t o m a n s a n d g o l d e n c a n d e l a b r a s of E a s t e r n figure were in various stations a b o u t — a n d there w a s the c o u c h , too, the bridal c o u c h , of an Indian m o d e l , a n d low, a n d s c u l p t u r e d of solid ebony, with a c a n o p y a b o v e . In e a c h of the a n g l e s of the c h a m b e r , s t o o d on e n d a gigantic sarc o p h a g u s of b l a c k g r a n i t e , from the t o m b s of the kings over a g a i n s t L u x o r , 5 with their a g e d lids full of i m m e m o r i a l s c u l p t u r e . B u t in the d r a p i n g of the a p a r t m e n t lay, alas! the chief p h a n t a s y of all. T h e lofty w a l l s — g i g a n t i c in h e i g h t — e v e n unproportionally s o , were h u n g from s u m m i t to foot, in vast folds with a heavy a n d m a s s y looking t a p e s t r y — t a p e s t r y of a material w h i c h w a s f o u n d alike a s a c a r p e t o n the floor, a s a c o v e r i n g for the o t t o m a n s , a n d the ebony b e d , a s a c a n o p y for the b e d , a n d a s the g o r g e o u s v o l u t e s 6 of the c u r t a i n s w h i c h partially s h a d e d the window. T h i s material w a s the r i c h e s t cloth of gold. It w a s s p o t t e d all over, at irregular intervals, with A r a b e s q u e figures, of a b o u t a foot in d i a m e t e r , a n d w r o u g h t u p o n the cloth in p a t t e r n s of the m o s t jetty black. B u t t h e s e figures p a r t o o k of the true c h a r a c t e r of the A r a b e s q u e only w h e n r e g a r d e d from a single point of view. By a c o n t r i v a n c e now c o m m o n , a n d i n d e e d t r a c e a b l e to a very r e m o t e period of antiquity, they were m a d e c h a n g e a b l e in a s p e c t . T o o n e e n t e r i n g t h e r o o m they b o r e the a p p e a r a n c e of ideal m o n s t r o s i t i e s ; b u t , u p o n a farther a d v a n c e , this a p p e a r a n c e s u d d e n l y d e p a r t e d ; a n d , step by s t e p , a s the visitor m o v e d his station in the c h a m b e r , h e s a w h i m s e l f s u r r o u n d e d by a n e n d l e s s s u c c e s s i o n of the ghastly f o r m s which b e l o n g to the superstition of the N o r t h m a n , or a r i s e in the guilty s l u m b e r s of the m o n k . T h e p h a n t a s m a g o r i c effect w a s vastly h e i g h t e n e d by the artificial i n t r o d u c t i o n of a s t r o n g c o n t i n u a l c u r r e n t of wind b e h i n d the d r a p e r i e s — g i v i n g a h i d e o u s a n d u n e a s y vitality to the w h o l e . In halls s u c h a s t h e s e — i n a bridal c h a m b e r s u c h a s this, I p a s s e d , with the lady of T r e m a i n e , the u n h a l l o w e d h o u r s of the first m o n t h of our marr i a g e — p a s s e d t h e m with but little d i s q u i e t u d e . T h a t my wife d r e a d e d the fierce m o o d i n e s s of my t e m p e r — t h a t s h e s h u n n e d m e , a n d loved m e but little, I c o u l d not help p e r c e i v i n g — b u t it g a v e m e rather p l e a s u r e t h a n otherwise. I loathed her with a hatred b e l o n g i n g m o r e to d e m o n t h a n to m a n . M y m e m o r y flew b a c k , (oh, with w h a t intensity of regret!) to L i g e i a , the beloved, the beautiful, the e n t o m b e d . I revelled in recollections of her purity, of her w i s d o m , of her lofty, her ethereal n a t u r e , of her p a s s i o n a t e , her idola t r o u s love. N o w , t h e n , did my spirit fully a n d freely b u r n with m o r e than all the fires of her own. In the e x c i t e m e n t of my o p i u m d r e a m s (for I w a s habitually fettered in the iron s h a c k l e s of the d r u g ) 7 I w o u l d call a l o u d u p o n her n a m e , d u r i n g the s i l e n c e of the night, or a m o n g the s h e l t e r e d r e c e s s e s of the g l e n s by day, a s if, by the wild e a g e r n e s s , the s o l e m n p a s s i o n , the c o n s u m i n g intensity of my longing for the d e p a r t e d L i g e i a , I c o u l d restore the d e p a r t e d L i g e i a to the p a t h w a y s s h e h a d a b a n d o n e d u p o n e a r t h . A b o u t the c o m m e n c e m e n t of the s e c o n d m o n t h of the m a r r i a g e , the lady R o w e n a w a s a t t a c k e d with s u d d e n illness from w h i c h her recovery w a s slow. T h e fever which c o n s u m e d her, r e n d e r e d her nights u n e a s y , a n d , in her p e r t u r b e d s t a t e of half-slumber, s h e s p o k e of s o u n d s , a n d of m o t i o n s , in a n d a b o u t the c h a m b e r of the turret which h a d no origin save in the d i s t e m p e r 5 . In m i d d l e E g y p t , n e a r T h e b e s ; s i t e o f ruins, including the temple of A m u n . 6.

Scroll-like o r n a m e n t s .

famous

7 . T h e American Museum has no punctuation a f t e r " d r e a m s " o r " d r u g " in t h i s s e n t e n c e ; p a r e n t h e s e s a r e a d d e d to t h e p r e s e n t text.

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of her fancy, or, p e r h a p s , in the p h a n t a s m a g o r i c i n f l u e n c e s of the c h a m b e r itself. S h e b e c a m e at length c o n v a l e s c e n t — f i n a l l y well. Yet b u t a brief period e l a p s e d , ere a s e c o n d m o r e violent disorder a g a i n threw her u p o n a b e d of s u f f e r i n g — a n d from this a t t a c k her f r a m e , at all t i m e s f e e b l e , never altogether recovered. H e r illnesses w e r e , after this p e r i o d , of a l a r m i n g c h a r a c t e r , a n d of m o r e a l a r m i n g r e c u r r e n c e , defying alike the k n o w l e d g e a n d the g r e a t exertions of her m e d i c a l m e n . With the i n c r e a s e of the c h r o n i c d i s e a s e which h a d t h u s , apparently, taken too s u r e hold u p o n her c o n s t i t u t i o n to b e e r a d icated by h u m a n m e a n s , I c o u l d not fail to o b s e r v e a similar i n c r e a s e in the nervous irritability of her t e m p e r a m e n t , a n d in her excitability by trivial c a u s e s of fear. I n d e e d r e a s o n s e e m e d fast tottering from her t h r o n e . S h e s p o k e a g a i n , a n d now m o r e frequently a n d pertinaciously, o f the s o u n d s , of the slight s o u n d s , a n d of the u n u s u a l m o t i o n s a m o n g the t a p e s t r i e s , to w h i c h s h e h a d formerly a l l u d e d . It w a s o n e night n e a r the c l o s i n g in of S e p t e m b e r , w h e n s h e p r e s s e d this d i s t r e s s i n g s u b j e c t with m o r e t h a n u s u a l e m p h a s i s u p o n my attention. S h e h a d j u s t a w a k e n e d from a p e r t u r b e d s l u m b e r , a n d I h a d b e e n w a t c h i n g , with feelings half of anxiety, half of a v a g u e terror, the workings of her e m a c i a t e d c o u n t e n a n c e . I sat by the side of her e b o n y b e d , u p o n o n e of the o t t o m a n s of India. S h e partly a r o s e , a n d s p o k e , in an e a r n e s t low whisper, of s o u n d s which s h e then h e a r d , but which I c o u l d not hear, of m o t i o n s which s h e then saw, but which I c o u l d not p e r c e i v e . T h e wind w a s r u s h i n g hurriedly b e h i n d the tapestries, a n d I wished to s h o w her (what, let m e c o n f e s s it, I c o u l d not all believe) that t h o s e faint, a l m o s t a r t i c u l a t e , b r e a t h i n g s , a n d the very g e n t l e variations of the figures u p o n the wall, were b u t the natural effects of that c u s t o m a r y r u s h i n g of the w i n d . B u t a deadly pallor o v e r s p r e a d i n g her f a c e , h a d proved to m e that my exertions to r e - a s s u r e her would b e fruitless. S h e a p p e a r e d to b e fainting, a n d n o a t t e n d a n t s were within call. I r e m e m b e r e d w h e r e w a s d e p o s i t e d a d e c a n t e r of s o m e light wine which h a d b e e n o r d e r e d by her p h y s i c i a n s , a n d h a s t e n e d a c r o s s the c h a m b e r to p r o c u r e it. B u t , a s I s t e p p e d b e n e a t h the light of the c e n s e r , two c i r c u m s t a n c e s of a startling n a t u r e a t t r a c t e d my attention. I h a d felt that s o m e p a l p a b l e object h a d p a s s e d lightly by my p e r s o n ; a n d I s a w that there lay a faint, indefinite s h a d o w u p o n the g o l d e n c a r p e t in the very m i d d l e of the rich lustre, thrown from the c e n s e r . B u t I w a s wild with the e x c i t e m e n t of a n i m m o d e r a t e d o s e of o p i u m , a n d h e e d e d t h e s e things b u t little, nor s p o k e of t h e m to R o w e n a . F i n d i n g the w i n e , I re-crossed the c h a m b e r , a n d p o u r e d o u t a goblet-ful, which I held to the lips of the fainting lady. B u t s h e h a d now partially recovered, a n d took, herself, the vessel, while I s a n k u p o n the o t t o m a n near m e , with my eyes rivetted u p o n her p e r s o n . It w a s then that I b e c a m e distinctly a w a r e of a gentle foot-fall u p o n the c a r p e t , a n d near the c o u c h ; a n d , in a s e c o n d thereafter, as R o w e n a w a s in the act of raising the wine to her lips, I saw, or m a y have d r e a m e d that I saw, fall within the goblet, a s if from s o m e invisible spring in the a t m o s p h e r e of the r o o m , three or four large d r o p s of a brilliant a n d ruby c o l o r e d fluid. If this I s a w — n o t s o R o w e n a . S h e swallowed the wine unhesitatingly, a n d I forbore to s p e a k to her of a c i r c u m s t a n c e which m u s t , after all, I c o n s i d e r e d , have b e e n but the s u g g e s tion of a vivid i m a g i n a t i o n , r e n d e r e d morbidly active by the terror of the lady, by the o p i u m , a n d by the hour. Yet I c a n n o t c o n c e a l it from myself, after this period, a rapid c h a n g e for the w o r s e took p l a c e in the disorder of my wife, s o that, on the third s u b -

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s e q u e n t night, the h a n d s of her m e n i a l s p r e p a r e d her for the t o m b , a n d o n the fourth, I sat a l o n e , with her s h r o u d e d body, in that fantastical c h a m b e r which h a d received her a s my bride. Wild visions, o p i u m e n g e n d e r e d , flitted, shadow-like, before m e . I gazed with u n q u i e t eye u p o n the s a r c o p h a g i in the a n g l e s of the r o o m , u p o n the varying figures of the drapery, a n d u p o n the writhing of the parti-colored fires in the c e n s e r o v e r h e a d . M y eyes then fell, a s I called to m i n d the c i r c u m s t a n c e s of a former night, to the spot b e n e a t h the glare of the c e n s e r w h e r e I h a d b e h e l d the faint traces of the s h a d o w . It w a s there, however, no longer, a n d , b r e a t h i n g with greater f r e e d o m , I t u r n e d my g l a n c e s to the pallid a n d rigid figure u p o n the b e d . T h e n r u s h e d u p o n m e a t h o u s a n d m e m o r i e s of L i g e i a — a n d then c a m e b a c k u p o n my heart, with the t u r b u l e n t v i o l e n c e of a flood, the whole of that u n u t t e r a b l e w o e with which I h a d r e g a r d e d her t h u s e n s h r o u d e d . T h e night w a n e d ; a n d still, with a b o s o m full of bitter t h o u g h t s of the o n e only a n d s u p r e m e l y beloved, I r e m a i n e d with m i n e eyes rivetted u p o n the body of R o w e n a . It might have b e e n m i d n i g h t , or p e r h a p s earlier, or later, for I h a d taken no note of t i m e , w h e n a s o b , low, g e n t l e , b u t very distinct, startled m e from my revery. I felt that it c a m e from the b e d of e b o n y — t h e b e d of d e a t h . I listened in an a g o n y of s u p e r s t i t i o u s t e r r o r — b u t there w a s n o repetition of the s o u n d ; I strained my vision to d e t e c t any m o t i o n in the c o r p s e , but there w a s not the slightest p e r c e p t i b l e . Yet I c o u l d not have b e e n deceived. I h a d heard the n o i s e , however faint, a n d my w h o l e soul w a s a w a k e n e d within m e , a s I resolutely a n d perseveringly kept my a t t e n t i o n rivetted u p o n the body. M a n y m i n u t e s e l a p s e d before any c i r c u m s t a n c e o c c u r r e d t e n d i n g to throw light u p o n the mystery. At length if b e c a m e evident that a slight, a very faint, a n d barely n o t i c e a b l e tinge of c o l o u r h a d f l u s h e d up within the c h e e k s , a n d a l o n g the s u n k e n small veins of the eyelids. T h r o u g h a s p e c i e s of u n u t t e r a b l e horror a n d a w e , for which the l a n g u a g e of mortality h a s no sufficiently energetic e x p r e s s i o n , I felt my brain reel, my heart c e a s e to b e a t , my limbs grow rigid where I sat. Yet a s e n s e of duty finally o p e r a t e d to restore my selfp o s s e s s i o n . I c o u l d no longer d o u b t that we h a d b e e n p r e c i p i t a t e in our p r e p a r a t i o n s for i n t e r m e n t — t h a t R o w e n a still lived. It w a s n e c e s s a r y that s o m e i m m e d i a t e exertion be m a d e ; yet the turret w a s altogether apart from the portion of the Abbey t e n a n t e d b y the s e r v a n t s — t h e r e were n o n e within call, a n d I h a d no m e a n s of s u m m o n i n g t h e m to my aid without leaving the r o o m for m a n y m i n u t e s — a n d this I c o u l d not venture to d o . I therefore s t r u g g l e d a l o n e in my e n d e a v o r s to call b a c k the spirit still hovering. In a short period it b e c a m e evident however, that a r e l a p s e h a d t a k e n p l a c e ; the color utterly d i s a p p e a r e d from both eyelid a n d c h e e k , leaving a w a n n e s s even m o r e than that of m a r b l e ; the lips b e c a m e d o u b l y shrivelled a n d p i n c h e d u p in the ghastly e x p r e s s i o n of d e a t h ; a c o l d n e s s s u r p a s s i n g that of ice, overs p r e a d rapidly the s u r f a c e of the body, a n d all the u s u a l r i g o r o u s stiffness immediately s u p e r v e n e d . I fell b a c k with a s h u d d e r u p o n the o t t o m a n from which I h a d b e e n so startlingly a r o u s e d , a n d a g a i n gave myself up to p a s s i o n a t e waking visions of Ligeia. An hour t h u s e l a p s e d w h e n , (could it be p o s s i b l e ? ) I w a s a s e c o n d time a w a r e of s o m e v a g u e s o u n d i s s u i n g from the region of the b e d . I l i s t e n e d — in extremity of horror. T h e s o u n d c a m e a g a i n — i t w a s a sigh. R u s h i n g to the c o r p s e , I s a w — d i s t i n c t l y s a w — a t r e m o r u p o n the lips. In a m i n u t e after they slightly relaxed, d i s c l o s i n g a bright line of the pearly teeth. A m a z e m e n t now

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struggled in my b o s o m with the p r o f o u n d a w e which h a d hitherto reigned therein a l o n e . I felt that my vision grew d i m , that my brain w a n d e r e d , a n d it w a s only by a convulsive effort that I at length s u c c e e d e d in nerving myself to the task which duty t h u s , o n c e m o r e , h a d p o i n t e d out. T h e r e w a s now a partial glow u p o n the f o r e h e a d , u p o n the c h e e k a n d t h r o a t — a p e r c e p t i b l e w a r m t h p e r v a d e d the whole f r a m e — t h e r e w a s even a slight p u l s a t i o n at the heart. T h e lady lived; a n d with r e d o u b l e d a r d o u r I b e t o o k myself to the t a s k of restoration. I c h a f e d , a n d b a t h e d the t e m p l e s , a n d the h a n d s , a n d u s e d every exertion w h i c h e x p e r i e n c e , a n d no little m e d i c a l reading, c o u l d s u g g e s t . B u t in vain. S u d d e n l y , the c o l o u r fled, the p u l s a t i o n c e a s e d , the lips r e s u m e d the expression of the d e a d , a n d , in a n instant afterwards, the w h o l e body took u p o n itself the icy c h i l l n e s s , the livid h u e , the i n t e n s e rigidity, the s u n k e n outline, a n d e a c h a n d all of the l o a t h s o m e peculiarities of that which has b e e n , for m a n y days, a tenant of the t o m b . A n d again I s u n k into visions of L i g e i a — a n d again (what marvel that I s h u d d e r while I write?) again there r e a c h e d my e a r s a low s o b from the region of the e b o n y b e d . B u t why shall I minutely detail the u n s p e a k a b l e horrors of that night? W h y shall I p a u s e to relate how, time after t i m e , until n e a r the period of the grey d a w n , this h i d e o u s d r a m a of revivification w a s r e p e a t e d , a n d h o w e a c h terrific r e l a p s e w a s only into a s t e r n e r a n d a p p a r e n t l y m o r e i r r e d e e m a b l e d e a t h ? L e t m e hurry to a c o n c l u s i o n . T h e greater part of the fearful night h a d worn away, a n d the c o r p s e of R o w e n a o n c e again s t i r r e d — a n d now m o r e vigorously than hitherto, a l t h o u g h a r o u s i n g from a dissolution m o r e a p p a l l i n g in its utter h o p e l e s s n e s s than any. I h a d long c e a s e d to struggle or to m o v e , a n d r e m a i n e d sitting rigidly u p o n the o t t o m a n , a helpless prey to a whirl of violent e m o t i o n s , of which e x t r e m e a w e w a s p e r h a p s the least terrible, the least c o n s u m i n g . T h e c o r p s e , I repeat, stirred, a n d now m o r e vigorously than b e f o r e . T h e h u e s of life flushed u p with u n w o n t e d energy into the c o u n t e n a n c e — t h e limbs r e l a x e d — a n d , save that the eyelids were yet p r e s s e d heavily together, a n d that the b a n d a g e s a n d d r a p e r i e s of the grave still i m p a r t e d their c h a r n e l c h a r a c t e r to the figure, I might have d r e a m e d that R o w e n a h a d i n d e e d s h a k e n off, utterly, the fetters of D e a t h . B u t if this idea w a s not, even t h e n , altogether a d o p t e d , I c o u l d , at least, d o u b t no longer, w h e n , arising from the b e d , tottering, with feeble s t e p s , with c l o s e d eyes, a n d with the air of o n e bewildered in a d r e a m , the lady of T r e m a i n e s t o o d bodily a n d p a l p a b l y before me. I t r e m b l e d n o t — I stirred n o t — f o r a crowd of u n u t t e r a b l e f a n c i e s c o n n e c t e d with the air, the d e m e a n o u r of the figure, r u s h i n g hurriedly through my brain, sent the p u r p l e blood e b b i n g in torrents from the t e m p l e s to the heart. I stirred n o t — b u t g a z e d u p o n her w h o w a s before m e . T h e r e w a s a m a d disorder in my t h o u g h t s — a t u m u l t u n a p p e a s a b l e . C o u l d it, i n d e e d , b e the living R o w e n a w h o c o n f r o n t e d m e ? Why, why s h o u l d I d o u b t it? T h e b a n d a g e lay heavily a b o u t the m o u t h — b u t then it w a s the m o u t h of the b r e a t h i n g lady of T r e m a i n e . A n d the c h e e k s — t h e r e were the r o s e s as in her n o o n of h e a l t h — y e s , t h e s e were i n d e e d the fair c h e e k s of the living lady of T r e m a i n e . And the c h i n , with its d i m p l e s , a s in h e a l t h , w a s it not h e r s ? — b u t — b u t had she then grown taller since her malady? W h a t inexpressible m a d n e s s seized m e with that t h o u g h t ? O n e b o u n d , a n d I h a d r e a c h e d her feet! S h r i n k i n g from my t o u c h , s h e let fall from her h e a d , u n l o o s e n e d , the

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ghastly c e r e m e n t s which h a d confined it, a n d t h e r e s t r e a m e d forth, into the r u s h i n g a t m o s p h e r e of the c h a m b e r , h u g e m a s s e s of long a n d dishevelled hair. It was blacker than the raven wings of the midnight! A n d n o w the eyes o p e n e d of the figure which s t o o d before m e . " H e r e then at l e a s t , " I shrieked a l o u d , " c a n I n e v e r — c a n I never b e m i s t a k e n — t h e s e are the full, a n d the black, a n d the wild eyes of the l a d y — o f the lady L i g e i a ! " 1838

The Fall of the House of Usher 1 D u r i n g the w h o l e of a dull, dark, a n d s o u n d l e s s day in the a u t u m n of the year, w h e n the c l o u d s h u n g oppressively low in the h e a v e n s , I h a d b e e n p a s s i n g a l o n e , on h o r s e b a c k , through a singularly dreary tract of country; a n d at length f o u n d myself, as the s h a d e s of the evening drew o n , within view of the m e l a n c h o l y H o u s e of U s h e r . I k n o w not how it w a s — b u t , with the first g l i m p s e of the building, a s e n s e of insufferable g l o o m p e r v a d e d my spirit. I say i n s u f f e r a b l e ; for the feeling w a s unrelieved by any of that halfp l e a s u r a b l e , b e c a u s e p o e t i c , s e n t i m e n t , with w h i c h the m i n d u s u a l l y receives even the s t e r n e s t n a t u r a l i m a g e s of the d e s o l a t e or terrible. I looked u p o n the s c e n e before m e — u p o n the m e r e h o u s e , a n d the s i m p l e l a n d s c a p e features of the d o m a i n — u p o n the b l e a k w a l l s — u p o n the v a c a n t eye-like wind o w s — u p o n a few rank s e d g e s — a n d u p o n a few white trunks of d e c a y e d t r e e s — w i t h an utter d e p r e s s i o n of soul w h i c h I c a n c o m p a r e to no earthly s e n s a t i o n m o r e properly than to the after-dream of the reveller u p o n o p i u m — t h e bitter l a p s e into c o m m o n l i f e — t h e h i d e o u s d r o p p i n g off of the veil. T h e r e w a s a n i c i n e s s , a sinking, a s i c k e n i n g of the h e a r t — a n u n r e d e e m e d d r e a r i n e s s of t h o u g h t which no g o a d i n g of the i m a g i n a t i o n c o u l d torture into a u g h t of the s u b l i m e . W h a t w a s i t — I p a u s e d to t h i n k — w h a t w a s it that so u n n e r v e d m e in the c o n t e m p l a t i o n of the H o u s e of U s h e r ? It w a s a mystery all i n s o l u b l e ; nor c o u l d I g r a p p l e with the s h a d o w y f a n c i e s that c r o w d e d u p o n m e a s I p o n d e r e d . I w a s forced to fall b a c k u p o n the u n s a t i s f a c t o r y c o n c l u sion, that while, beyond d o u b t , there are c o m b i n a t i o n s of very s i m p l e natural o b j e c t s which have the power of t h u s affecting u s , still the r e a s o n , a n d the analysis, of this power, lie a m o n g c o n s i d e r a t i o n s b e y o n d o u r d e p t h . It w a s p o s s i b l e , I reflected, that a m e r e different a r r a n g e m e n t of the p a r t i c u l a r s of the s c e n e , of the details of this p i c t u r e , would be sufficient to modify, or p e r h a p s to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful i m p r e s s i o n ; a n d , a c t i n g u p o n this idea, I reined my h o r s e to the p r e c i p i t o u s brink of a b l a c k a n d lurid t a r n 2 that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling, a n d g a z e d d o w n — b u t with a s h u d d e r even m o r e thrilling than b e f o r e — u p o n the r e - m o d e l l e d a n d inverted i m a g e s of the gray s e d g e , a n d the ghastly t r e e - s t e m s , a n d the v a c a n t a n d eyelike w i n d o w s . N e v e r t h e l e s s , in this m a n s i o n of g l o o m I now p r o p o s e d to myself a s o j o u r n of s o m e w e e k s . Its proprietor, R o d e r i c k U s h e r , h a d b e e n o n e of my b o o n c o m p a n i o n s i n b o y h o o d ; b u t m a n y years h a d e l a p s e d s i n c e our last m e e t i n g . 1. T h e Burton's

text

is

that

Gentleman's

of

the

first

Magazine,

publication and

American

in

Monthly 2.

Review

5 (September

1839).

A s m a l l l a k e , u s u a l l y in t h e m o u n t a i n s .

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A letter, however, h a d lately r e a c h e d m e in a d i s t a n t part of the c o u n t r y — a letter from h i m — w h i c h , in its wildly i m p o r t u n a t e n a t u r e , h a d a d m i t t e d of no other than a p e r s o n a l reply. T h e M S . gave e v i d e n c e of n e r v o u s agitation. T h e writer s p o k e of a c u t e bodily i l l n e s s — o f a pitiable m e n t a l idiosyncrasy which o p p r e s s e d h i m — a n d of an e a r n e s t desire to s e e m e , as his b e s t , a n d i n d e e d , his only p e r s o n a l friend, with a view of a t t e m p t i n g , by the cheerfuln e s s of my society, s o m e alleviation of his m a l a d y . It w a s the m a n n e r in which all this, a n d m u c h m o r e , w a s s a i d — i t w a s the a p p a r e n t heart that went with his r e q u e s t — w h i c h allowed m e no r o o m for h e s i t a t i o n — a n d I a c c o r d ingly obeyed, what I still c o n s i d e r e d a very singular s u m m o n s , forthwith. A l t h o u g h , a s boys, we h a d b e e n even intimate a s s o c i a t e s , yet I really knew little of my friend. H i s reserve h a d b e e n always excessive a n d h a b i t u a l . I w a s a w a r e , however, that his very a n c i e n t family h a d b e e n n o t e d , time out of m i n d , for a p e c u l i a r sensibility of t e m p e r a m e n t , displaying itself, t h r o u g h long a g e s , in m a n y works of exalted art, a n d m a n i f e s t e d , of late, in r e p e a t e d d e e d s of munificent yet u n o b t r u s i v e charity, a s well a s in a p a s s i o n a t e devotion to the intricacies, p e r h a p s even m o r e than to the orthodox a n d easily recognizable b e a u t i e s , of m u s i c a l s c i e n c e . I h a d l e a r n e d , too, the very r e m a r k a b l e fact, that the s t e m of the U s h e r r a c e , all t i m e - h o n o r e d as it w a s , h a d put forth, at no period, any e n d u r i n g b r a n c h ; in other w o r d s , that the entire family lay in the direct line of d e s c e n t , a n d h a d always, with very trifling a n d very t e m p o r a r y variation, s o lain. It w a s this deficiency, I c o n s i d ered, while r u n n i n g over in thought the perfect k e e p i n g of the c h a r a c t e r of the p r e m i s e s with the a c c r e d i t e d c h a r a c t e r of the p e o p l e , a n d while s p e c u lating u p o n the p o s s i b l e influence which the o n e , in the long l a p s e of c e n turies, might have exercised u p o n the o t h e r — i t w a s this deficiency, p e r h a p s , of collateral i s s u e , a n d the c o n s e q u e n t u n d e v i a t i n g t r a n s m i s s i o n , from sire to s o n , of the p a t r i m o n y with the n a m e , which h a d , at length, so identified the two a s to m e r g e the original title of the e s t a t e in the q u a i n t a n d equivocal appellation of the " H o u s e of U s h e r " — a n appellation w h i c h s e e m e d to i n c l u d e , in the m i n d s of the p e a s a n t r y w h o u s e d it, both the family a n d the family m a n s i o n . I have said that the sole effect of my s o m e w h a t childish e x p e r i m e n t , of looking d o w n within the tarn, h a d b e e n to d e e p e n the first singular i m p r e s sion. T h e r e c a n be no d o u b t that the c o n s c i o u s n e s s of the rapid i n c r e a s e of my s u p e r s t i t i o n — f o r why s h o u l d I not s o term i t ? — s e r v e d mainly to a c c e l erate the i n c r e a s e itself. S u c h , I have long k n o w n , is the p a r a d o x i c a l law of all s e n t i m e n t s having terror a s a b a s i s . A n d it might have b e e n for this r e a s o n only, that, w h e n I a g a i n uplifted my eyes to the h o u s e itself, from its i m a g e in the pool, there grew in my m i n d a s t r a n g e f a n c y — a fancy s o r i d i c u l o u s , indeed, that I but m e n t i o n it to s h o w the vivid force of the s e n s a t i o n s which o p p r e s s e d m e . I h a d s o worked u p o n my i m a g i n a t i o n a s really to believe that a r o u n d a b o u t the whole m a n s i o n a n d d o m a i n there h u n g a n a t m o s p h e r e p e c u l i a r to t h e m s e l v e s a n d their i m m e d i a t e vicinity—an a t m o s p h e r e which h a d no affinity with the air of h e a v e n , but which h a d reeked u p from the d e c a y e d trees, a n d the gray walls, a n d the silent tarn, in the form of a n inelastic vapor or g a s — d u l l , s l u g g i s h , faintly d i s c e r n i b l e , a n d J e a d e n - h u e d . S h a k i n g off from my spirit what must have b e e n a d r e a m , I s c a n n e d m o r e narrowly the real a s p e c t of the building. Its principal feature s e e m e d to be that of an excessive antiquity. T h e discoloration of a g e s h a d b e e n great.

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M i n u t e fungi o v e r s p r e a d the w h o l e exterior, h a n g i n g in a fine t a n g l e d webwork from the e a v e s . Yet all this w a s apart from any extraordinary dilapidation. N o portion of the m a s o n r y h a d fallen; a n d there a p p e a r e d to be a wild i n c o n s i s t e n c y b e t w e e n its still perfect a d a p t a t i o n of p a r t s , a n d the utterly p o r o u s , a n d evidently d e c a y e d c o n d i t i o n of the individual s t o n e s . In this there w a s m u c h that r e m i n d e d m e of the s p e c i o u s totality of old wood-work which h a s rotted for long years in s o m e n e g l e c t e d vault, with no d i s t u r b a n c e from the b r e a t h of the external air. B e y o n d this indication of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of instability. P e r h a p s the eye of a scrutinizing observer might have d i s c o v e r e d a barely p e r c e p t i b l e fissure, w h i c h , extending from the roof of the b u i l d i n g in front, m a d e its way d o w n the wall in a zigzag direction, until it b e c a m e lost in the sullen waters of the tarn. N o t i c i n g t h e s e things, I r o d e over a short c a u s e w a y to the h o u s e . A servant in waiting took my h o r s e , a n d I entered the G o t h i c archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy s t e p , t h e n c e c o n d u c t e d m e , in s i l e n c e , t h r o u g h m a n y dark a n d intricate p a s s a g e s in my p r o g r e s s to the s t u d i o of his m a s t e r . M u c h that I e n c o u n t e r e d on the way c o n t r i b u t e d , I know not how, to heighten the v a g u e s e n t i m e n t s of which I have already s p o k e n . W h i l e the o b j e c t s a r o u n d m e — while the carvings of the ceilings, the s o m b r e t a p e s t r i e s of the walls, the e b o n b l a c k n e s s of the floors, a n d the p h a n t a s m a g o r i c armorial trophies which rattled a s I s t r o d e , were b u t m a t t e r s to w h i c h , or to s u c h a s w h i c h , I h a d b e e n a c c u s t o m e d from my i n f a n c y — w h i l e I h e s i t a t e d not to acknowle d g e how familiar w a s all t h i s — I still w o n d e r e d to find how u n f a m i l i a r were the f a n c i e s which ordinary i m a g e s were stirring u p . O n o n e of the s t a i r c a s e s , I m e t the p h y s i c i a n of the family. His c o u n t e n a n c e , I t h o u g h t , wore a mingled e x p r e s s i o n of low c u n n i n g a n d perplexity. H e a c c o s t e d m e with trepidation a n d p a s s e d on. T h e valet n o w threw o p e n a d o o r a n d u s h e r e d m e into the p r e s e n c e of his m a s t e r . T h e r o o m in which I f o u n d myself w a s very large a n d excessively lofty. T h e windows were long, narrow, a n d p o i n t e d , a n d at so vast a d i s t a n c e from the black o a k e n floor a s to b e altogether i n a c c e s s i b l e from within. F e e b l e g l e a m s of e n c r i m s o n e d light m a d e their way t h r o u g h the trelliced p a n e s , a n d served to render sufficiently distinct the m o r e p r o m i n e n t o b j e c t s a r o u n d ; the eye, however, s t r u g g l e d in vain to r e a c h the r e m o t e r a n g l e s of the c h a m b e r , or the r e c e s s e s of the vaulted a n d fretted ceiling. D a r k d r a p e r i e s h u n g u p o n the walls. T h e general furniture w a s p r o f u s e , c o m f o r t l e s s , a n t i q u e , a n d tattered. M a n y b o o k s a n d m u s i c a l i n s t r u m e n t s lay s c a t t e r e d a b o u t , but failed to give any vitality to the s c e n e . I felt that I b r e a t h e d a n a t m o s p h e r e of sorrow. An air of s t e r n , d e e p , a n d i r r e d e e m a b l e g l o o m h u n g over a n d p e r v a d e d all. U p o n my e n t r a n c e , U s h e r a r o s e from a sofa u p o n which he h a d b e e n lying at full length, a n d g r e e t e d m e with a vivacious w a r m t h which h a d m u c h in it, I at first thought of a n overdone c o r d i a l i t y — o f the c o n s t r a i n e d effort of the e n n u y e 3 m a n of the world. A g l a n c e , however, at his c o u n t e n a n c e c o n vinced m e of his perfect sincerity. W e sat d o w n ; a n d for s o m e m o m e n t s , while he s p o k e not, I gazed u p o n him with a feeling half of pity, half of a w e . Surely, m a n h a d never before s o terribly a l t e r e d , in so brief a p e r i o d , a s h a d R o d e r i c k U s h e r ! It w a s with difficulty that I c o u l d bring myself to a d m i t the identity of the w a n b e i n g before m e with the c o m p a n i o n of m y early b o y h o o d . 3.

Bored (from French).

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Yet the c h a r a c t e r of his f a c e h a d b e e n at all times r e m a r k a b l e . A cadavero u s n e s s of c o m p l e x i o n ; a n eye large, liquid, a n d l u m i n o u s b e y o n d c o m p a r i s o n ; lips s o m e w h a t thin a n d very pallid, but of a s u r p a s s i n g l y beautiful c u r v e ; a n o s e of a delicate H e b r e w m o d e l , but with a b r e a d t h of nostril u n u s u a l in similar f o r m a t i o n s ; a finely m o u l d e d c h i n , s p e a k i n g , in its want of promin e n c e , of a want of moral energy; hair of a m o r e than web-like s o f t n e s s a n d tenuity; t h e s e f e a t u r e s , with a n inordinate e x p a n s i o n a b o v e the regions of the t e m p l e , m a d e u p altogether a c o u n t e n a n c e not easily to be forgotten. And now in the m e r e exaggeration of the prevailing c h a r a c t e r of t h e s e features, a n d of the expression they were wont to convey, lay s o m u c h of c h a n g e that I d o u b t e d to w h o m I s p o k e . T h e now ghastly pallor of the skin, a n d the now m i r a c u l o u s lustre of the eye, a b o v e all things startled a n d even a w e d m e . T h e silken hair, too, h a d b e e n suffered to grow all u n h e e d e d , a n d a s , in its wild g o s s a m e r texture, it floated rather than fell a b o u t the f a c e , I c o u l d not, even with effort, c o n n e c t its a r a b e s q u e expression with any idea of simple h u m a n i t y . In the m a n n e r of my friend I was at o n c e s t r u c k with a n i n c o h e r e n c e — an i n c o n s i s t e n c y ; a n d I s o o n f o u n d this to arise from a series of feeble a n d futile s t r u g g l e s to o v e r c o m e an habitual trepidancy, a n excessive nervous agitation. F o r s o m e t h i n g of this n a t u r e I h a d i n d e e d b e e n p r e p a r e d , n o less by his letter, than by r e m i n i s c e n c e s of certain boyish traits, a n d by c o n c l u sions d e d u c e d from his p e c u l i a r physical c o n f o r m a t i o n a n d t e m p e r a m e n t . His action w a s alternately vivacious a n d sullen. His voice varied rapidly from a t r e m u l o u s indecision (when the a n i m a l spirits s e e m e d utterly in a b e y a n c e ) to that s p e c i e s of energetic c o n c i s i o n — t h a t a b r u p t , weighty, u n h u r r i e d , a n d hollow-sounding e n u n c i a t i o n — t h a t l e a d e n , s e l f - b a l a n c e d a n d perfectly m o d u l a t e d guttural u t t e r a n c e , which m a y be observed in the m o m e n t s of the intensest excitement of the lost d r u n k a r d , or the i r r e c l a i m a b l e eater of opium. " It w a s thus that he s p o k e of the object of my visit, of his e a r n e s t d e s i r e to s e e m e , a n d of the s o l a c e he expected m e to afford him. H e e n t e r e d , at s o m e length, into what he c o n c e i v e d to be the n a t u r e of his m a l a d y . It w a s , h e said, a constitutional a n d a family evil, a n d o n e for w h i c h he d e s p a i r e d to find a r e m e d y — a m e r e n e r v o u s affection, he i m m e d i a t e l y a d d e d , which would u n d o u b t e d l y s o o n p a s s off. It displayed itself in a host of u n n a t u r a l s e n s a t i o n s . S o m e of t h e s e , a s he detailed t h e m , interested a n d bewildered m e — a l t h o u g h , p e r h a p s , the t e r m s , a n d the general m a n n e r of the narration had their weight. H e suffered m u c h from a morbid a c u t e n e s s of the s e n s e s ; the m o s t insipid food w a s a l o n e e n d u r a b l e ; he c o u l d w e a r only g a r m e n t s of certain texture; the o d o r s of all flowers were o p p r e s s i v e ; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light; a n d there were but p e c u l i a r s o u n d s , a n d t h e s e from stringed i n s t r u m e n t s , which did not inspire him with horror. T o an a n o m a l o u s s p e c i e s of terror I f o u n d him a b o u n d e n slave. "I shall p e r i s h , " said h e , "I must perish in this d e p l o r a b l e folly. T h u s , t h u s , a n d not o t h e r w i s e , shall I be lost. I d r e a d the events of the future, not in t h e m s e l v e s , but in their results. I s h u d d e r at the t h o u g h t of any, even the m o s t trivial, incident, which may o p e r a t e u p o n this intolerable agitation of s o u l . I h a v e , i n d e e d , no a b h o r r e n c e of d a n g e r , except in its a b s o l u t e e f f e c t — i n terror. In this u n n e r v e d — i n this pitiable c o n d i t i o n — I feel that I m u s t inevitably a b a n d o n life a n d r e a s o n together in my struggles with s o m e fatal d e m o n of f e a r . "

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I l e a r n e d , moreover, at intervals, a n d t h r o u g h broken a n d equivocal hints, a n o t h e r singular f e a t u r e of his m e n t a l condition. H e w a s e n c h a i n e d by certain s u p e r s t i t i o u s i m p r e s s i o n s in regard to the dwelling w h i c h h e t e n a n t e d , a n d from w h i c h , for m a n y years, h e h a d never v e n t u r e d f o r t h — i n regard to an influence w h o s e s u p p o s i t i t i o u s force w a s conveyed in t e r m s too shadowy here to b e r e s t a t e d — a n influence which s o m e peculiarities in the m e r e form a n d s u b s t a n c e of his family m a n s i o n , h a d , by dint of long s u f f e r a n c e , h e s a i d , o b t a i n e d over his s p i r i t — a n effect which the physique of the gray walls a n d turrets, a n d of the dim tarn into which they all looked d o w n , h a d , at length, b r o u g h t a b o u t u p o n the morale of his e x i s t e n c e . H e a d m i t t e d , however, a l t h o u g h with hesitation, that m u c h of the p e c u l i a r g l o o m which t h u s afflicted him c o u l d b e t r a c e d to a m o r e n a t u r a l a n d far m o r e p a l p a b l e o r i g i n — t o the severe a n d l o n g - c o n t i n u e d i l l n e s s — i n d e e d to the evidently a p p r o a c h i n g d i s s o l u t i o n — o f a tenderly beloved sister; his sole c o m p a n i o n for long y e a r s — h i s last a n d only relative on e a r t h . " H e r d e c e a s e , " h e said, with a bitterness which I c a n never forget, "would leave him (him the h o p e l e s s a n d the frail) the last of the a n c i e n t r a c e of the U s h e r s . " As h e s p o k e , the lady M a d e l i n e (for s o w a s s h e called) p a s s e d slowly through a r e m o t e portion of the a p a r t m e n t , a n d , without having n o t i c e d my p r e s e n c e , d i s a p p e a r e d . I r e g a r d e d her with a n utter a s t o n i s h m e n t not u n m i n g l e d with d r e a d . H e r figure, her air, her f e a t u r e s — a l l , in their very m i n u t e s t developm e n t were t h o s e — w e r e identically (I c a n u s e no other sufficient term) were identically t h o s e of the R o d e r i c k U s h e r w h o sat b e s i d e m e . A feeling of s t u p o r o p p r e s s e d m e , a s my eyes followed her retreating s t e p s . As a door, at length, c l o s e d u p o n her exit, my g l a n c e s o u g h t instinctively a n d eagerly the c o u n t e n a n c e of the b r o t h e r — b u t h e h a d b u r i e d his f a c e in his h a n d s , a n d I c o u l d only p e r c e i v e that a far m o r e t h a n ordinary w a n n e s s h a d o v e r s p r e a d the e m a c i a t e d fingers through which trickled m a n y p a s s i o n a t e t e a r s . - T h e d i s e a s e of the lady M a d e l i n e h a d long baffled the skill of her physic i a n s . A settled apathy, a g r a d u a l w a s t i n g away of the p e r s o n , a n d f r e q u e n t a l t h o u g h transient affections of a partially c a t a l e p t i c a l c h a r a c t e r , w e r e the u n u s u a l d i a g n o s i s . H i t h e r t o s h e h a d steadily b o r n e u p a g a i n s t the p r e s s u r e of her malady, a n d h a d not b e t a k e n herself finally to b e d ; b u t , on the c l o s i n g in of the e v e n i n g of my arrival at the h o u s e , s h e s u c c u m b e d , a s her brother told m e at night with inexpressible agitation, to the p r o s t r a t i n g p o w e r of the d e s t r o y e r — a n d I learned that the g l i m p s e I h a d o b t a i n e d of her p e r s o n w o u l d t h u s probably be the last I s h o u l d o b t a i n — t h a t the lady, at least while living, w o u l d be s e e n by m e no m o r e . F o r several days e n s u i n g , her n a m e w a s u n m e n t i o n e d by either U s h e r or myself; a n d , d u r i n g this p e r i o d , I w a s b u s i e d in e a r n e s t e n d e a v o r s to alleviate the m e l a n c h o l y of my friend. W e p a i n t e d a n d r e a d t o g e t h e r — o r I listened, a s if in a d r e a m , to the wild i m p r o v i s a t i o n s of his s p e a k i n g guitar. A n d t h u s , a s a c l o s e r a n d still c l o s e r i n t i m a c y a d m i t t e d m e m o r e unreservedly into the r e c e s s e s of his spirit, the m o r e bitterly did I p e r c e i v e the futility of all a t t e m p t at c h e e r i n g a m i n d from which d a r k n e s s , a s if a n inherent positive quality, p o u r e d forth u p o n all o b j e c t s of the m o r a l a n d p h y s i c a l u n i v e r s e , in o n e u n c e a s i n g radiation of g l o o m . I shall ever b e a r a b o u t m e , a s M o s l e m i n their s h r o u d s at M e c c a ; a m e m o r y of the m a n y s o l e m n h o u r s I t h u s s p e n t a l o n e with the m a s t e r of the H o u s e

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of U s h e r . Yet I s h o u l d fail in any a t t e m p t to convey a n idea of the exact c h a r a c t e r of the s t u d i e s , or of the o c c u p a t i o n s , in which h e involved m e , or led m e the way. An excited a n d highly d i s t e m p e r e d ideality threw a s u l p h u r o u s lustre over all. H i s long improvised dirges will ring for ever in my e a r s . A m o n g other things, I b e a r painfully in m i n d a certain s i n g u l a r perversion a n d amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von W e b e r . 4 F r o m the paintings over which his e l a b o r a t e fancy b r o o d e d , a n d which grew, t o u c h by t o u c h , into v a g u e n e s s e s at which I s h u d d e r e d the m o r e thrillingly, b e c a u s e I s h u d d e r e d knowing not why, from t h e s e p a i n t i n g s (vivid a s their i m a g e s now are before m e ) I would in vain e n d e a v o r to e d u c e m o r e t h a n a small portion which s h o u l d lie within the c o m p a s s of merely written w o r d s . By the utter simplicity, by the n a k e d n e s s , of his d e s i g n s , he a r r e s t e d a n d over-awed attention. If ever mortal p a i n t e d an idea, that mortal w a s R o d e r i c k U s h e r . F o r m e at l e a s t — i n the c i r c u m s t a n c e s then s u r r o u n d i n g m e — t h e r e a r o s e out of the p u r e a b s t r a c t i o n s which the h y p o c h o n d r i a c contrived to throw u p o n his c a n v a s , an intensity of intolerable a w e , n o s h a d o w of which felt I ever yet in the c o n t e m p l a t i o n of the certainly glowing yet too c o n c r e t e reveries of F u s e l i . 5 O n e of the p h a n t a s m a g o r i c c o n c e p t i o n s of my friend, p a r t a k i n g not so rigidly of the spirit of a b s t r a c t i o n , may be s h a d o w e d forth, a l t h o u g h feebly, in w o r d s . A small p i c t u r e p r e s e n t e d the interior of an i m m e n s e l y long a n d r e c t a n g u l a r vault or tunnel, with low walls, s m o o t h , white, a n d without interruption or device. C e r t a i n a c c e s s o r y points of the d e s i g n served well to c o n vey the idea that this excavation lay at an e x c e e d i n g d e p t h below the s u r f a c e of the e a r t h . N o outlet w a s o b s e r v e d in any portion of its vast extent, a n d n o torch, or other artificial s o u r c e of light w a s d i s c e r n i b l e — y e t a flood of i n t e n s e rays rolled t h r o u g h o u t , a n d b a t h e d the w h o l e in a ghastly a n d i n a p p r o p r i a t e splendor. I have j u s t s p o k e n of that m o r b i d condition of the auditory nerve w h i c h rendered all m u s i c intolerable to the sufferer, with the exception of certain effects of stringed i n s t r u m e n t s . It w a s , p e r h a p s , the narrow limits to w h i c h he t h u s confined h i m s e l f u p o n the guitar, which gave birth, in great m e a s u r e , to the fantastic c h a r a c t e r of his p e r f o r m a n c e s . B u t the fervid facility of his i m p r o m p t u s c o u l d not b e so a c c o u n t e d for. T h e y m u s t have b e e n , a n d w e r e , in the n o t e s , a s well a s in the w o r d s of his wild f a n t a s i a s , (for h e not unfrequently a c c o m p a n i e d h i m s e l f with r h y m e d verbal i m p r o v i s a t i o n s , ) the result of that intense m e n t a l c o l l e c t e d n e s s a n d c o n c e n t r a t i o n to which I have p r e viously a l l u d e d a s o b s e r v a b l e only in particular m o m e n t s of the highest artificial e x c i t e m e n t . T h e w o r d s of o n e of t h e s e r h a p s o d i e s I have easily b o r n e away in m e m o r y . I w a s , p e r h a p s , the m o r e forcibly i m p r e s s e d with it, a s h e gave it, b e c a u s e , in the u n d e r or mystic c u r r e n t of its m e a n i n g , I f a n c i e d that I perceived, a n d for the first t i m e , a full c o n s c i o u s n e s s on the part of U s h e r , of the tottering of his lofty r e a s o n u p o n her t h r o n e . T h e v e r s e s , which were entitled " T h e H a u n t e d P a l a c e , " ran very nearly, if not a c c u r a t e l y , t h u s : 6 4. Karl M a r i a von W e b e r ( 1 7 8 6 - 1 8 2 6 ) establ i s h e d R o m a n t i c i s m in G e r m a n o p e r a . " T h e L a s t W a l t z o f V o n W e b e r " w a s c o m p o s e d by Karl G o t tlieb Reissiger ( 1 7 9 8 - 1 8 5 9 ) . 5. H e n r y F u s e l i ( 1 7 4 1 — 1 8 2 5 ) , S w i s s p a i n t e r w h o m a d e h i s r e p u t a t i o n in L o n d o n ; n o t e d f o r h i s i n t e r -

e s t in t h e s u p e r n a t u r a l . 6 . In t h e o r i g i n a l p r i n t i n g t h i s n o t e a p p e a r e d a t the e n d of the story: " T h e ballad of ' T h e H a u n t e d P a l a c e , ' i n t r o d u c e d in t h i s t a l e , w a s p u b l i s h e d s e p a r a t e l y , s o m e m o n t h s a g o , in t h e Baltimore 'Museum.' "

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In the g r e e n e s t of our valleys, By g o o d a n g e l s t e n a n t e d , O n c e a fair a n d stately p a l a c e — Snow-white p a l a c e — r e a r e d its h e a d . In the m o n a r c h T h o u g h t ' s d o m i n i o n — It s t o o d there! N e v e r s e r a p h s p r e a d a pinion Over fabric half so fair. II

B a n n e r s yellow, glorious, g o l d e n , O n its roof did float a n d flow; ( T h i s — a l l t h i s — w a s in the olden T i m e long a g o ) A n d every g e n t l e air that dallied, In that sweet day, A l o n g the r a m p a r t s p l u m e d a n d pallid, A winged o d o r went away. in

W a n d e r e r s in that h a p p y valley T h r o u g h two l u m i n o u s w i n d o w s saw Spirits m o v i n g m u s i c a l l y T o a lute's well-tuned law, R o u n d a b o u t a t h r o n e , w h e r e sitting (Porphyrogene!)7 In state his glory well befitting, T h e sovereign of the r e a l m w a s s e e n . IV

A n d all with pearl a n d ruby glowing W a s the fair p a l a c e door, T h r o u g h which c a m e flowing, flowing, flowing, A n d sparkling e v e r m o r e , A troop of E c h o e s w h o s e sole duty W a s but to sing, In voices of s u r p a s s i n g b e a u t y , T h e wit a n d w i s d o m of their king.

B u t evil things, in robes of sorrow, A s s a i l e d the m o n a r c h ' s high e s t a t e ; (Ah, let u s m o u r n , for never m o r r o w Shall d a w n u p o n him, d e s o l a t e ! )

7.

B o r n to t h e p u r p l e , of royal birth.

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A n d , r o u n d a b o u t his h o m e , the glory That blushed and bloomed Is but a d i m - r e m e m b e r e d story O f the old time e n t o m b e d .

VI

A n d travellers n o w within that valley, T h r o u g h the red-litten w i n d o w s , s e e V a s t forms that move fantastically T o a d i s c o r d a n t melody; W h i l e , like a rapid ghastly river, T h r o u g h the pale door, A h i d e o u s t h r o n g rush out forever, A n d l a u g h — b u t smile no m o r e . I well r e m e m b e r that s u g g e s t i o n s arising from this ballad led u s into a train of thought wherein there b e c a m e m a n i f e s t a n o p i n i o n of U s h e r ' s which I m e n t i o n not s o m u c h on a c c o u n t of its novelty, (for other m e n have t h o u g h t t h u s , ) a s on a c c o u n t of the pertinacity with which he m a i n t a i n e d it. T h i s opinion, in its g e n e r a l form, w a s that of the s e n t i e n c e of all vegetable things. B u t , in his d i s o r d e r e d fancy, the idea h a d a s s u m e d a m o r e d a r i n g c h a r a c t e r , a n d t r e s p a s s e d , u n d e r certain c o n d i t i o n s , u p o n the k i n g d o m of inorganization. I lack words to e x p r e s s the full extent, or the e a r n e s t abandon of his p e r s u a s i o n . T h e belief, however, w a s c o n n e c t e d (as I have previously hinted) with the gray s t o n e s of the h o m e of his forefathers. T h e c o n d i t i o n of the s e n t i e n c e h a d b e e n h e r e , he i m a g i n e d , fulfilled in the m e t h o d of collocation of these s t o n e s — i n the order of their a r r a n g e m e n t , a s well as in that of the m a n y fungi which o v e r s p r e a d t h e m , a n d of the d e c a y e d trees which s t o o d a r o u n d — a b o v e all, in the long u n d i s t u r b e d e n d u r a n c e of this a r r a n g e m e n t , a n d in its reduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its e v i d e n c e — t h e evidence of the s e n t i e n c e — w a s to be s e e n , he s a i d , (and I here started a s he spoke,) in the gradual yet certain condensation of an atmosphere of their own about the waters and the walls. T h e result w a s d i s c o v e r a b l e , he a d d e d , in that silent, yet i m p o r t u n a t e a n d terrible influence which for c e n t u r i e s h a d m o u l d e d the destinies of his family, a n d which m a d e him what I now s a w h i m — w h a t he w a s . S u c h opinions n e e d no c o m m e n t , a n d I will m a k e n o n e . O u r b o o k s — t h e books w h i c h , for years, h a d formed no small portion of the m e n t a l existence of the i n v a l i d — w e r e , a s might be s u p p o s e d , in strict k e e p i n g with this c h a r a c t e r of p h a n t a s m . W e p o r e d together over s u c h works a s the Ververt et C h a r t r e u s e of G r e s s e t ; the B e l p h e g o r of M a c h i a v e l l i ; the S e l e n o g r a p h y of Brewster; the H e a v e n a n d Hell of S w e d e n b o r g ; the S u b t e r r a n e a n Voyage of N i c h o l a s K l i m m de H o l b e r g ; the C h i r o m a n c y of Robert F l u d , of J e a n d ' I n d a g i n e , a n d of D e la C h a m b r e ; the J o u r n e y into the B l u e D i s t a n c e of T i e c k ; a n d the City of the S u n of C a m p a n e l l a . O n e favorite v o l u m e w a s a small o c t a v o edition of the D i r e c t o r i u m I n q u i s i t o r i u m , by the D o m i n i c a n E y m e r i c de G i r o n n e ; a n d there were p a s s a g e s in P o m p o n i u s M e l a , a b o u t the old African Satyrs a n d CEgipans, over which U s h e r would sit d r e a m i n g for h o u r s . H i s chief delight, however, w a s f o u n d in the e a r n e s t a n d r e p e a t e d p e r u s a l of a n exceedingly rare a n d c u r i o u s b o o k in q u a r t o

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G o t h i c — t h e m a n u a l of a forgotten c h u r c h — t h e Vigilae Mortuorum secundum Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae.* I c o u l d not help thinking of the wild ritual of this work, a n d of its p r o b a b l e influence u p o n the h y p o c h o n d r i a c , w h e n , o n e evening, h a v i n g i n f o r m e d m e abruptly that the lady M a d e l i n e w a s no m o r e , h e s t a t e d his intention of preserving her c o r p s e for a fortnight, previously to its final i n t e r m e n t , in o n e of the n u m e r o u s vaults within the m a i n walls of the building. T h e worldly r e a s o n , however, a s s i g n e d for this s i n g u l a r p r o c e e d i n g , w a s o n e w h i c h I did not feel at liberty to d i s p u t e . T h e brother h a d b e e n led to his r e s o l u t i o n ( s o he told m e ) by c o n s i d e r a t i o n s of the u n u s u a l c h a r a c t e r of the m a l a d y of the d e c e a s e d , of certain obtrusive a n d e a g e r inquiries on the part of her m e d i c a l m e n , a n d of the r e m o t e a n d e x p o s e d situation of the burial g r o u n d of the family. I will not deny that w h e n I called to m i n d the sinister c o u n t e n a n c e of the p e r s o n w h o m I met u p o n the s t a i r c a s e , o n the day of my arrival at the h o u s e , I h a d no desire to o p p o s e what I r e g a r d e d a s at b e s t but a h a r m l e s s , a n d not by any m e a n s a n u n n a t u r a l p r e c a u t i o n . 9 At the r e q u e s t of U s h e r , I p e r s o n a l l y a i d e d him in the a r r a n g e m e n t s for the t e m p o r a r y e n t o m b m e n t . T h e body h a v i n g b e e n encoffined, we two a l o n e b o r e it to its rest. T h e vault in w h i c h we p l a c e d it (and w h i c h h a d b e e n s o long u n o p e n e d that our t o r c h e s , half s m o t h e r e d in its o p p r e s s i v e a t m o s p h e r e , gave u s little opportunity for investigation) w a s s m a l l , d a m p , a n d utterly without m e a n s of a d m i s s i o n for light; lying, at great d e p t h , i m m e d i a t e l y b e n e a t h that portion of the b u i l d i n g in which w a s my own s l e e p i n g apartm e n t . It h a d b e e n u s e d , apparently, in r e m o t e feudal t i m e s , for the worst p u r p o s e s of a d o n j o n - k e e p , a n d , in later d a y s , a s a p l a c e of d e p o s i t for p o w d e r , or other highly c o m b u s t i b l e s u b s t a n c e , a s a portion of its floor, a n d the w h o l e interior of a long a r c h w a y through which w e r e a c h e d it, were carefully s h e a t h e d with c o p p e r . T h e door, of m a s s i v e iron, h a d b e e n , a l s o , similarly p r o t e c t e d . Its i m m e n s e weight c a u s e d a n u n u s u a l l y s h a r p grating s o u n d , a s it m o v e d u p o n its h i n g e s . H a v i n g d e p o s i t e d our m o u r n f u l b u r d e n u p o n tressels within this region of horror, we partially t u r n e d a s i d e the yet u n s c r e w e d lid of the coffin, a n d looked u p o n the f a c e of the t e n a n t . T h e exact s i m i l i t u d e b e t w e e n the brother a n d sister even here a g a i n startled a n d c o n f o u n d e d m e . U s h e r , divining,

8. T h e titles a r e real, a l t h o u g h t h e w a y they s o u n d in t h e n a r r a t o r s i n v e n t o r y is a t l e a s t a s i m p o r t a n t as their precise contents. J e a n Baptiste G r e s s e t ( 1 7 0 9 - 1 7 7 7 ) w r o t e t h e a n t i c l e r i c a l Vairveri and by Niccolo M a c h i a Ma Chartreuse. I n Belphegor, velli ( 1 4 6 9 - 1 5 2 7 ) , a d e m o n c o m e s to e a r t h t o prove that w o m e n d a m n m e n to hell. Sir David Brewster ( 1 7 8 1 - 1 8 6 8 ) , Scottish physicist who s t u d i e d o p t i c s a n d p o l a r i z e d light. E m a n u e l S w e denborg (1688—1772), Swedish scientist and mystic, p r e s e n t s a f a n t a s t i c a l l y p r e c i s e a n a t o m y of living c o n d i t i o n s in h e a v e n a n d hell, s e e i n g t h e t w o places as mutually attractive opposites. L u d w i g H o l b e r g ( 1 6 8 4 - 1 7 5 4 ) , D a n i s h dramatist a n d historian, deals with a voyage to the land of d e a t h a n d back. Robert Flud ( 1 5 7 4 - 1 6 3 7 ) , English physician and noted Rosicrucian (the Rosicrucians then being a new organization of esoteric philosophy a n d theology that purported to be b a s e d on a n c i e n t lore from the Middle East), a n d two F r e n c h m e n ,

J e a n D ' I n d a g i n e (fl. e a r l y 1 6 t h c e n t u r y ) a n d M a r i a C i r e a u d e la C h a m b r e ( 1 5 9 4 - 1 6 6 9 ) , all w r o t e o n chiromancy (palm reading). T h e G e r m a n Ludwig T i e c k ( 1 7 7 3 - 1 8 5 3 ) w r o t e Das Alte Buch; oder Reise ins Blaue hinein, which deals with a journey t o a n o t h e r w o r l d . The City of the Sun b y t h e I t a l i a n T o m m a s o C a m p a n e l l a ( 1 5 6 8 — 1 6 3 9 ) is a f a m o u s Utopian work. N i c h o l a s Eymeric de G e r o n e , w h o was inquisitor-general for Castile in 1356, r e c o r d e d p r o c e d u r e s for torturing heretics. P o m ponius Mela (1st century) was a R o m a n whose w i d e l y u s e d b o o k o n g e o g r a p h y ( p r i n t e d in Italy in 1471) described strange beasts ("oegipans" are A f r i c a n g o a t - m e n ) . A b o o k c a l l e d The Vigils of the Dead, According to the Church-Choir of Mayence w a s p r i n t e d in B a s e l a r o u n d 1 5 0 0 . 9. T h e s h o r t a g e o f c o r p s e s for d i s s e c t i o n h a d led to t h e n e w p r o f e s s i o n o f " r e s u r r e c t i o n m e n , " w h o d u g u p fresh c o r p s e s a n d sold t h e m to medical students and surgeons.

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p e r h a p s , my t h o u g h t s , m u r m u r e d out s o m e few words from w h i c h I learned that the d e c e a s e d a n d h i m s e l f h a d b e e n twins, a n d that s y m p a t h i e s of a scarcely intelligible n a t u r e h a d always existed b e t w e e n t h e m . O u r g l a n c e s , however, r e s t e d not long u p o n the d e a d — f o r we c o u l d not regard her u n a w e d . T h e d i s e a s e which h a d t h u s e n t o m b e d the lady in the maturity of y o u t h , h a d left, as u s u a l in all m a l a d i e s of a strictly c a t a l e p t i c a l c h a r a c t e r , the mockery of a faint b l u s h u p o n the b o s o m a n d the f a c e , a n d that s u s p i ciously lingering smile u p o n the lip which is so terrible in d e a t h . W e r e p l a c e d a n d s c r e w e d d o w n the lid, a n d , having s e c u r e d the d o o r of iron, m a d e o u r way, with toil, into the scarcely less g l o o m y a p a r t m e n t s of the u p p e r portion of the h o u s e . A n d now, s o m e days of bitter grief having e l a p s e d , a n o b s e r v a b l e c h a n g e c a m e over the f e a t u r e s of the m e n t a l disorder of my friend. His ordinary m a n n e r h a d v a n i s h e d . H i s ordinary o c c u p a t i o n s were n e g l e c t e d or forgotten. H e r o a m e d from c h a m b e r to c h a m b e r with hurried, u n e q u a l , a n d o b j e c t l e s s s t e p . T h e pallor of his c o u n t e n a n c e h a d a s s u m e d , if p o s s i b l e , a m o r e ghastly h u e — b u t the l u m i n o u s n e s s of his eye h a d utterly g o n e out. T h e o n c e o c c a sional h u s k i n e s s of his t o n e w a s h e a r d no m o r e ; a n d a t r e m u l o u s q u a v e r , a s if of extreme terror, habitually c h a r a c t e r i z e d his u t t e r a n c e . — T h e r e w e r e t i m e s , i n d e e d , w h e n I t h o u g h t his u n c e a s i n g l y agitated m i n d w a s laboring with an o p p r e s s i v e secret, to divulge which h e struggled for the n e c e s s a r y c o u r a g e . At t i m e s , a g a i n , I w a s obliged to resolve all into the m e r e inexplic a b l e vagaries of m a d n e s s , a s I b e h e l d him gazing u p o n v a c a n c y for long h o u r s , in an attitude of the p r o f o u n d e s t attention, a s if listening to s o m e imaginary s o u n d . It w a s no w o n d e r that his condition terrified—that it infected m e . I felt c r e e p i n g u p o n m e , by slow yet certain d e g r e e s , the wild influences of his own f a n t a s t i c yet i m p r e s s i v e s u p e r s t i t i o n s . It w a s , m o s t especially, u p o n retiring to b e d late in the night of the seventh or eighth day after the e n t o m b m e n t of the lady M a d e l i n e , that I e x p e r i e n c e d the full power of s u c h feelings. S l e e p c a m e not near my c o u c h — w h i l e the h o u r s w a n e d a n d w a n e d away. I struggled to r e a s o n off the n e r v o u s n e s s which h a d d o m i n i o n over m e . I e n d e a v o r e d to believe that m u c h , if not all of w h a t I felt, w a s d u e to the p h a n t a s m a g o r i c influence of the g l o o m y furniture of the r o o m — o f the dark a n d tattered d r a p e r i e s , w h i c h , tortured into m o t i o n by the breath of a rising t e m p e s t , swayed fitfully to a n d fro u p o n the walls, a n d rustled u n e a s i l y a b o u t the d e c o r a t i o n s of the b e d . B u t my efforts were fruitless. An irrepressible t r e m o r gradually p e r v a d e d my f r a m e ; a n d , at length, there sat u p o n my very heart an i n c u b u s 1 of utterly c a u s e l e s s a l a r m . S h a k i n g this off with a g a s p a n d a struggle, I uplifted myself u p o n the pillows, a n d , p e e r i n g earnestly within the i n t e n s e d a r k n e s s of the c h a m b e r , hark e n e d — I know not why, except that a n instinctive spirit p r o m p t e d m e — t o certain low a n d indefinite s o u n d s which c a m e , t h r o u g h the p a u s e s of the s t o r m , at long intervals, I knew not w h e n c e . O v e r p o w e r e d by an i n t e n s e s e n t i m e n t of horror, u n a c c o u n t a b l e yet u n e n d u r a b l e , I threw on my c l o t h e s with h a s t e , for I felt that I s h o u l d s l e e p n o m o r e d u r i n g the night, a n d endeavored to a r o u s e myself from the pitiable c o n d i t i o n into which I h a d fallen, by p a c i n g rapidly to a n d fro t h r o u g h the a p a r t m e n t . I h a d taken but few turns in this m a n n e r , w h e n a light step on a n a d j o i n i n g 1. A n evil spirit s u p p o s e d t o lie u p o n p e o p l e in t h e i r s l e e p .

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s t a i r c a s e a r r e s t e d my a t t e n t i o n . I presently recognized it a s that of U s h e r . In a n instant afterwards h e r a p p e d , with a gentle t o u c h , at my door, a n d entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance was, as usual, cadaverously w a n — but there w a s a s p e c i e s of m a d hilarity in his e y e s — a n evidently r e s t r a i n e d hysteria in his whole d e m e a n o r . H i s air a p p a l l e d m e — b u t any thing w a s preferable to the s o l i t u d e which I had s o long e n d u r e d , a n d I even w e l c o m e d his p r e s e n c e a s a relief. "And you have not s e e n it?" h e said abruptly, after having stared a b o u t him for s o m e m o m e n t s in s i l e n c e — " y o u have not then s e e n i t ? — b u t , stay! you s h a l l . " T h u s s p e a k i n g , a n d having carefully s h a d e d his l a m p , he hurried to o n e of the gigantic c a s e m e n t s , a n d threw it freely o p e n to the s t o r m . T h e i m p e t u o u s fury of the e n t e r i n g g u s t nearly lifted us from our feet. It w a s , i n d e e d , a t e m p e s t u o u s yet sternly beautiful night, a n d o n e wildly sing u l a r in its terror a n d its beauty. A whirlwind h a d a p p a r e n t l y c o l l e c t e d its force in our vicinity; for there were f r e q u e n t a n d violent alterations in the direction of the wind; a n d the e x c e e d i n g density of the c l o u d s (which h u n g so low as to p r e s s u p o n the turrets of the h o u s e ) did not prevent our perceiving the life-like velocity with which they flew c a r e e r i n g from all points a g a i n s t e a c h other, without p a s s i n g away into the d i s t a n c e . I say that even their e x c e e d i n g density did not prevent our perceiving t h i s — y e t we h a d no g l i m p s e of the m o o n or s t a r s — n o r w a s there any flashing forth of the lightning. B u t the u n d e r s u r f a c e s of the h u g e m a s s e s of agitated vapor, a s well a s all terrestrial o b j e c t s i m m e d i a t e l y a r o u n d u s , were glowing in the unnatural light of a faintly l u m i n o u s a n d distinctly visible g a s e o u s exhalation which h u n g a b o u t a n d e n s h r o u d e d the m a n s i o n . "You m u s t n o t — y o u shall not b e h o l d t h i s ! " said I, shudderingly, to U s h e r , a s I led h i m , with a gentle violence, from the window to a s e a t . " T h e s e a p p e a r a n c e s , which bewilder you, a r e merely electrical p h e n o m e n a not u n c o m m o n — o r it may be that they have their ghastly origin in the rank m i a s m a of the tarn. L e t u s c l o s e this c a s e m e n t — t h e air is chilling a n d d a n g e r o u s to your f r a m e . H e r e is o n e of your favorite r o m a n c e s . I will r e a d , a n d you shall l i s t e n — a n d s o we will p a s s away this terrible night together." T h e a n t i q u e v o l u m e which I h a d taken up w a s the " M a d T r i s t " of Sir L a u n c e l o t C a n n i n g 2 - — b u t I h a d called it a favorite of U s h e r ' s m o r e in s a d j e s t than in e a r n e s t ; for, in truth, there is little in its u n c o u t h a n d unimaginative prolixity w h i c h c o u l d have h a d interest for the lofty a n d spiritual ideality of my friend. It w a s , however, the only b o o k i m m e d i a t e l y at h a n d ; a n d I i n d u l g e d a v a g u e h o p e that the e x c i t e m e n t which now a g i t a t e d the hypoc h o n d r i a c might find relief (for the history of m e n t a l disorder is full of similar a n o m a l i e s ) even in the e x t r e m e n e s s of the folly which I s h o u l d r e a d . C o u l d 1 have j u d g e d , i n d e e d , by the wild, overstrained air of vivacity with which he h a r k e n e d , or apparently h a r k e n e d , to the w o r d s of the t a l e , I might have well c o n g r a t u l a t e d myself u p o n the s u c c e s s of my d e s i g n . I h a d arrived at that well-known portion of the story w h e r e E t h e l r e d , the hero of the Trist, having s o u g h t in vain for p e a c e a b l e a d m i s s i o n into the dwelling of the hermit, p r o c e e d s to m a k e g o o d a n e n t r a n c e by f o r c e . H e r e , it will be r e m e m b e r e d , the words of the narrative run t h u s — 2. N o t a real b o o k . " T r i s t " h e r e m e a n s s i m p l y m e e t i n g , or p r e a r r a n g e d or fated e n c o u n t e r , not t h e lovers' m e e t i n g i m p l i e d in t h e m o d e r n u s e o f " t r y s t . "

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"And E t h e l r e d , w h o w a s by n a t u r e of a doughty heart, a n d w h o w a s now mighty withal, o n a c c o u n t of the p o w e r f u l n e s s of the wine which he h a d d r u n k e n , waited no longer to hold parley with the hermit, w h o , in s o o t h , w a s of a n o b s t i n a t e a n d maliceful turn, b u t , feeling the rain u p o n his s h o u l d e r s , a n d fearing the rising of the t e m p e s t , uplifted his m a c e outright, a n d , with blows, m a d e quickly r o o m in the p l a n k i n g s of the d o o r for his g a u n t l e t e d h a n d , a n d now pulling therewith sturdily, he so c r a c k e d , a n d ripped, a n d tore all a s u n d e r , that the n o i s e of the dry a n d h o l l o w - s o u n d i n g w o o d alaru m m e d a n d reverberated t h r o u g h o u t the f o r e s t . " At the termination of this s e n t e n c e I started, a n d , for a m o m e n t , p a u s e d ; for it a p p e a r e d to m e ( a l t h o u g h I at o n c e c o n c l u d e d that my excited fancy h a d deceived m e ) — i t a p p e a r e d to m e that, from s o m e very r e m o t e portion of the m a n s i o n or of its vicinity, there c a m e , indistinctly, to my e a r s , what might have b e e n , in its exact similarity of c h a r a c t e r , the e c h o (but a stifled a n d dull o n e certainly) of the very c r a c k i n g a n d ripping s o u n d w h i c h Sir L a u n c e l o t h a d s o particularly d e s c r i b e d . It w a s , b e y o n d d o u b t , the coincid e n c e a l o n e which h a d a r r e s t e d my a t t e n t i o n ; for, a m i d the rattling of the s a s h e s of the c a s e m e n t s , a n d the ordinary c o m m i n g l e d n o i s e s of the still i n c r e a s i n g s t o r m , the s o u n d , in itself, h a d nothing, surely, which s h o u l d have interested or d i s t u r b e d m e . I c o n t i n u e d the story. " B u t the g o o d c h a m p i o n E t h e l r e d , now e n t e r i n g within the door, w a s sore e n r a g e d a n d a m a z e d to perceive n o signal of the maliceful h e r m i t ; b u t , in the s t e a d thereof, a d r a g o n of scaly a n d p r o d i g i o u s d e m e a n o r , a n d of a fiery t o n g u e , which s a t e in g u a r d before a p a l a c e of gold, with a floor of silver; a n d u p o n the wall there h u n g a shield of shining b r a s s with this l e g e n d enwritten— W h o e n t e r e t h herein, a c o n q u e r o r hath bin, W h o slayeth the d r a g o n , the shield he shall win. And E t h e l r e d uplifted which fell before him, a n d h a r s h , a n d withal with his h a n d s a g a i n s t before h e a r d . "

his m a c e , a n d s t r u c k u p o n the h e a d of the d r a g o n , a n d g a v e u p his pesty b r e a t h , with a shriek s o horrid so piercing, that E t h e l r e d had fain to c l o s e his e a r s the dreadful noise of it, the like w h e r e o f w a s never

H e r e again I p a u s e d abruptly, a n d now with a feeling of wild a m a z e m e n t — for there c o u l d b e no d o u b t whatever that, in this i n s t a n c e , I did actually h e a r ( a l t h o u g h from what direction it p r o c e e d e d I f o u n d it i m p o s s i b l e to say) a low a n d apparently d i s t a n t , but h a r s h , p r o t r a c t e d , a n d m o s t u n u s u a l s c r e a m i n g or grating s o u n d — t h e exact c o u n t e r p a r t of what my fancy h a d already c o n j u r e d u p a s the s o u n d of the d r a g o n ' s u n n a t u r a l shriek a s d e s c r i b e d by the r o m a n c e r . O p p r e s s e d , a s I certainly w a s , u p o n the o c c u r r e n c e of this s e c o n d a n d m o s t extraordinary c o i n c i d e n c e , by a t h o u s a n d conflicting s e n s a t i o n s , in which w o n d e r a n d extreme terror were p r e d o m i n a n t , I still r e t a i n e d sufficient p r e s e n c e of m i n d to avoid exciting, by any observation, the sensitive nervo u s n e s s of my c o m p a n i o n . I w a s by no m e a n s certain that he h a d noticed the s o u n d s in q u e s t i o n ; a l t h o u g h , assuredly, a s t r a n g e alteraton h a d , d u r i n g the last few m i n u t e s , taken p l a c e in his d e m e a n o r . F r o m a position fronting my own, h e h a d gradually b r o u g h t r o u n d his chair, so a s to sit with his f a c e to the door of the c h a m b e r , a n d t h u s I c o u l d b u t partially perceive his features, a l t h o u g h I saw that his lips t r e m b l e d as if he were m u r m u r i n g inau-

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dibly. His h e a d had d r o p p e d upon his b r e a s t — y e t I k n e w that he w a s not a s l e e p , from the wide a n d rigid o p e n i n g of the eye, a s I c a u g h t a g l a n c e of it in profile. T h e motion of his body, too, w a s at v a r i a n c e with his i d e a — f o r he rocked from side to side with a gentle yet c o n s t a n t a n d uniform sway. H a v i n g rapidly taken notice of all this, I r e s u m e d the narrative of Sir L a u n c e l o t , which thus p r o c e e d e d : — "And now, the c h a m p i o n , having e s c a p e d from the terrible fury of the d r a g o n , bethinking himself of the brazen shield, a n d of the b r e a k i n g up of the e n c h a n t m e n t which w a s u p o n it, r e m o v e d the c a r c a s s from out of the way before h i m , a n d a p p r o a c h e d valorously over the silver p a v e m e n t of the c a s t l e to w h e r e the shield w a s u p o n the wall; which in s o o t h tarried not for his full c o m i n g , but fell down at his feet u p o n the silver floor, with a mighty great a n d terrible ringing s o u n d . " N o s o o n e r h a d these syllables p a s s e d my lips, t h a n — a s if a shield of b r a s s had i n d e e d , at the m o m e n t , fallen heavily u p o n a floor of silver—I b e c a m e a w a r e of a distinct, hollow, metallic, a n d c l a n g o r o u s , yet a p p a r e n t l y muffled reverberation. C o m p l e t e l y u n n e r v e d , I s t a r t e d convulsively to my feet, but the m e a s u r e d rocking m o v e m e n t of U s h e r w a s u n d i s t u r b e d . I r u s h e d to the chair in which he sat. His eyes were bent fixedly before h i m , a n d t h r o u g h o u t his whole c o u n t e n a n c e there reigned a m o r e t h a n stony rigidity. B u t , a s I laid my hand u p o n his s h o u l d e r , there c a m e a s t r o n g s h u d d e r over his f r a m e ; a sickly smile quivered a b o u t his lips; a n d I s a w that he s p o k e in a low, hurried, a n d gibbering m u r m u r , a s if u n c o n s c i o u s of my p r e s e n c e . B e n d i n g closely over his p e r s o n , I at length d r a n k in the h i d e o u s import of his words. " N o t hear i t ? — y e s , I h e a r it, a n d have h e a r d it. L o n g — l o n g — l o n g — m a n y m i n u t e s , m a n y h o u r s , m a n y d a y s , have I h e a r d it—yet I d a r e d n o t — o h , pity m e , m i s e r a b l e wretch that I a m ! — I d a r e d n o t — I dared not s p e a k ! We have put her living in the tomb! S a i d I not that my s e n s e s were a c u t e ? — I now tell you that I h e a r d her first feeble m o v e m e n t s in the hollow coffin. I h e a r d t h e m — m a n y , m a n y days a g o — y e t I d a r e d n o t — / dared not speak! A n d n o w — t o - n i g h t — E t h e l r e d — h a ! h a ! — t h e b r e a k i n g of the hermit's d o o r , a n d the death-cry of the d r a g o n , a n d the c l a n g o r of the s h i e l d — s a y , rather, the rending of the coffin, a n d the grating of the iron h i n g e s , a n d her s t r u g g l e s within the c o p p e r e d archway of the vault! O h wither shall I fly? Will s h e not b e here a n o n ? Is s h e not hurrying to u p b r a i d m e for my h a s t e ? H a v e I not heard her f o o t s t e p s on the stair? D o I not distinguish that heavy a n d horrible b e a t i n g of her heart? M a d m a n ! "—here he s p r u n g violently to his feet, and shrieked out his syllables, a s if in the effort h e were giving u p his s o u l — " M a d m a n ! I tell you that she now stands without the door!" As if in the s u p e r h u m a n energy of his u t t e r a n c e there h a d b e e n f o u n d the potency of a s p e l l — t h e h u g e a n t i q u e p a n n e l s to which the s p e a k e r p o i n t e d , threw slowly b a c k , u p o n the instant, their p o n d e r o u s a n d e b o n y j a w s . It w a s the work of the r u s h i n g g u s t — b u t then without t h o s e d o o r s there did s t a n d the lofty a n d e n s h r o u d e d figure of the lady M a d e l i n e of U s h e r . T h e r e w a s blood u p o n her white r o b e s , a n d the e v i d e n c e of s o m e bitter struggle u p o n every portion of her e m a c i a t e d f r a m e . F o r a m o m e n t s h e r e m a i n e d t r e m b l i n g a n d reeling to a n d fro u p o n the t h r e s h o l d — t h e n , with a low m o a n i n g cry, fell heavily inward u p o n the p e r s o n of her brother, a n d in her horrible a n d now final d e a t h - a g o n i e s , b o r e him to the floor a c o r p s e , a n d a victim to the terrors he h a d d r e a d e d . F r o m that c h a m b e r , a n d from that m a n s i o n , I fled a g h a s t . T h e storm was

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still a b r o a d in all its wrath a s I f o u n d myself c r o s s i n g the old c a u s e w a y . S u d d e n l y there shot a l o n g the p a t h a wild light, a n d I t u r n e d to s e e w h e n c e a g l e a m so u n u s u a l c o u l d have i s s u e d — f o r the vast h o u s e a n d its s h a d o w s were a l o n e b e h i n d m e . T h e r a d i a n c e w a s that of the full, setting, a n d bloodred m o o n , which now s h o n e vividly through that o n c e barely-discernible fissure, of which I have before s p o k e n , a s extending from the roof of the building, in a zig-zag direction, to the b a s e . W h i l e I g a z e d , this fissure rapidly w i d e n e d — t h e r e c a m e a fierce breath of the w h i r l w i n d — t h e entire orb of the satellite b u r s t at o n c e u p o n my s i g h t — m y brain reeled a s I s a w the mighty walls r u s h i n g a s u n d e r — t h e r e w a s a long t u m u l t u o u s s h o u t i n g s o u n d like the voice of a t h o u s a n d w a t e r s — a n d the d e e p a n d d a n k tarn at my feet c l o s e d sullenly a n d silently over the f r a g m e n t s of the "House of Usher." 1839

The Tell-Tale Heart 1 Art is long and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave. Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. Longfellow2

T r u e ! — n e r v o u s — v e r y , very dreadfully n e r v o u s I h a d b e e n , a n d a m ; but why will you say that I a m m a d ? T h e d i s e a s e h a d s h a r p e n e d my s e n s e s — n o t d e s t r o y e d — n o t dulled t h e m . Above all w a s the s e n s e of h e a r i n g a c u t e . I heard all things in the heaven a n d in the e a r t h . I heard m a n y things in hell. H o w , t h e n , a m I m a d ? H a r k e n ! a n d o b s e r v e how h e a l t h i l y — h o w calmly I can tell you the whole story. It is i m p o s s i b l e to say how first the idea e n t e r e d my brain; but, o n c e c o n ceived, it h a u n t e d m e day a n d night. O b j e c t there w a s n o n e . P a s s i o n there was n o n e . I loved the old m a n . H e had never wronged m e . H e h a d never given m e insult. F o r his gold I h a d no desire. I think it w a s his e y e ! — y e s , it w a s this! H e had the eye of a v u l t u r e — a p a l e b l u e eye, with a film over it. W h e n e v e r it fell u p o n m e , my blood ran cold; a n d s o , by d e g r e e s — v e r y gradually—I m a d e up my m i n d to take the life of the old m a n , a n d t h u s rid myself of the eye forever. N o w this is the point. You fancy m e m a d . M a d m e n know nothing. B u t you s h o u l d have s e e n me. You s h o u l d have seen how wisely I p r o c e e d e d — w i t h what c a u t i o n — w i t h what foresight—with what d i s s i m u l a t i o n I went to work! I was never kinder to the old m a n than d u r i n g the whole w e e k before I killed him. A n d every night, a b o u t midnight, I turned the latch of his d o o r a n d o p e n e d i t — o h s o gently! And then, when I h a d m a d e a n o p e n i n g sufficient for my h e a d , I first p u t in a dark lantern,* all c l o s e d , c l o s e d , so that no light 1. F i r s t p u b l i s h e d in The pioneer (January 1843), t h e s o u r c e o f t h e p r e s e n t text. P o e very likely m a d e a f e w o f t h e c h a n g e s f o r t h e r e p r i n t i n g in t h e Broadway Journal (August 23, 1845) (such as c h a n g i n g the old man t o " h e " o r " h i m " a f e w t i m e s ) , b u t t h e Broadway Journal compositor dropped s o m e n e c e s s a r y w o r d s ( f o o t n o t e d in t h e t e x t ) , m i s printed others, and bungled the punctuation

(including the u s e of italics) throughout. M o s t modern reprintings derive from the corrupt 1845 t e x t t h a t R u f u s G r i s w o l d r e p r i n t e d in t h e first v o l u m e o f P o e ' s p o s t h u m o u s Works (1850). 2. Henry W a d s w o r t h Longfellow's ( 1 8 0 7 - 1 8 8 2 ) "A P s a l m of Life," lines 1 3 - 1 6 . 3.

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s h o n e out, a n d then I thrust in my h e a d . O h , you w o u l d have l a u g h e d to s e e how c u n n i n g l y I thrust it in! I m o v e d it slowly—very, very slowly, s o that I might not d i s t u r b the old m a n ' s s l e e p . It took m e a n h o u r to p l a c e my whole h e a d within the o p e n i n g s o far that I c o u l d s e e the old m a n a s he lay u p o n his b e d . H a ! — w o u l d a m a d m a n have b e e n so wise a s this? A n d t h e n , w h e n my h e a d w a s well in the r o o m , I u n d i d the lantern c a u t i o u s l y — o h , s o c a u tiously (for the h i n g e s c r e a k e d ) — I u n d i d it j u s t s o m u c h that a single thin ray fell u p o n the vulture eye. A n d this I did for s e v e n long n i g h t s — e v e r y night j u s t at m i d n i g h t — b u t I f o u n d the eye always c l o s e d ; a n d so it w a s i m p o s s i b l e to do the work; for it w a s not the old m a n w h o vexed m e , but his Evil Eye. A n d every m o r n i n g , w h e n the day b r o k e , I went boldly into his c h a m b e r , a n d s p o k e c o u r a g e o u s l y to h i m , calling him by n a m e in a hearty t o n e , a n d inquiring how he h a d p a s s e d the night. S o you s e e h e would have b e e n a very p r o f o u n d old m a n , i n d e e d , to s u s p e c t that every night, j u s t at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept. U p o n the eighth night I w a s m o r e than u s u a l l y c a u t i o u s in o p e n i n g the door. A w a t c h ' s m i n u t e - h a n d m o v e s m o r e quickly than did m i n e . Never, before that night, h a d I felt the extent of my own p o w e r s — o f my sagacity. I c o u l d scarcely c o n t a i n my feelings of t r i u m p h . T o think that there I w a s , o p e n i n g the door, little by little, a n d the old m a n not even to d r e a m of my secret d e e d s or t h o u g h t s . I fairly c h u c k l e d at the idea. A n d p e r h a p s the old m a n h e a r d m e ; for he m o v e d in the b e d s u d d e n l y , a s if startled. N o w you m a y think that I drew b a c k — b u t n o . His r o o m w a s a s b l a c k a s pitch with the thick d a r k n e s s , (for the s h u t t e r s were c l o s e f a s t e n e d , t h r o u g h fear of robbers,) a n d so I knew that he c o u l d not s e e the o p e n i n g of the door, a n d I kept on p u s h i n g it steadily, steadily. I h a d got my h e a d in, a n d w a s a b o u t to o p e n the lantern, w h e n my t h u m b slipped u p o n the tin f a s t e n i n g , a n d the old m a n s p r a n g u p in the b e d , crying out—"Who's there?" I kept q u i t e still a n d said nothing. F o r a n o t h e r h o u r I did not m o v e a m u s c l e , a n d in the m e a n t i m e I did not h e a r the old m a n lie d o w n . H e w a s still sitting u p in the b e d , l i s t e n i n g ; — j u s t a s I have d o n e , night after night, h e a r k e n i n g to the d e a t h - w a t c h e s 4 in the wall. Presently I h e a r d a slight g r o a n , a n d I knew that it w a s the g r o a n of mortal terror. It w a s not a g r o a n of p a i n , or of g r i e f — o h , n o ! — i t w a s the low, stifled s o u n d that a r i s e s from the b o t t o m of the soul w h e n o v e r c h a r g e d with awe. I knew the s o u n d well. M a n y a night, j u s t at m i d n i g h t , w h e n all the world slept, it h a s welled u p from my own b o s o m , d e e p e n i n g , with its dreadful e c h o , the terrors that d i s t r a c t e d m e . I say I k n e w it well. I k n e w what the old m a n felt, a n d pitied h i m , a l t h o u g h I c h u c k l e d at heart. I knew that he h a d b e e n lying a w a k e ever s i n c e the first slight n o i s e , w h e n h e h a d t u r n e d in the b e d . H i s fears h a d b e e n , ever s i n c e , growing u p o n h i m . H e h a d b e e n trying to fancy t h e m c a u s e l e s s , but c o u l d not. H e h a d b e e n s a y i n g to h i m s e l f — " I t is n o t h i n g but the wind in the c h i m n e y — i t is only a m o u s e c r o s s i n g the floor," or "it is merely a cricket which h a s m a d e a single c h i r p . " Y e s , h e h a d b e e n trying to c o m f o r t h i m s e l f with t h e s e s u p p o s i t i o n s ; but h e h a d f o u n d all in vain. All in vain; b e c a u s e d e a t h , in a p p r o a c h i n g the old m a n , h a d stalked 4. Beetles that m a k e a hollow clicking s o u n d by striking their h e a d s against the w o o d into which burrow.

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with his black s h a d o w before him, a n d the s h a d o w h a d n o w r e a c h e d a n d enveloped the v i c t i m . 5 A n d it w a s the m o u r n f u l influence of the u n p e r c e i v e d s h a d o w that c a u s e d him to f e e l — a l t h o u g h h e neither saw nor h e a r d m e — to feel the p r e s e n c e of my h e a d within the r o o m . W h e n I h a d waited a long t i m e , very patiently, without h e a r i n g the old m a n lie d o w n , I resolved to o p e n a little—a very, very little crevice in the lantern. S o I o p e n e d it—you c a n n o t i m a g i n e how stealthily, stealthily—until, at length, a single d i m ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from o u t the crevice a n d fell full u p o n the vulture eye. It w a s o p e n — w i d e , wide o p e n — a n d I grew furious a s I g a z e d u p o n it. I saw it with perfect d i s t i n c t n e s s — a l l a dull b l u e , with a h i d e o u s veil over it that chilled the very m a r r o w in my b o n e s ; but I c o u l d s e e n o t h i n g e l s e of the old m a n ' s f a c e or p e r s o n ; for I h a d directed the ray, a s if by instinct, precisely u p o n the d a m n e d s p o t . A n d n o w — h a v e I not told you that what you m i s t a k e for m a d n e s s is but over a c u t e n e s s of the s e n s e s ? — n o w , I say, there c a m e to my ears a low, dull, quick sound—much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that s o u n d well, too. It w a s the b e a t i n g of the old m a n ' s heart. It i n c r e a s e d my fury, a s the b e a t i n g of a d r u m s t i m u l a t e s the soldier into courage. B u t even yet I refrained a n d kept still. I scarcely b r e a t h e d . I held the lantern m o t i o n l e s s . I tried how steadily I c o u l d m a i n t a i n the ray u p o n the eye. M e a n t i m e the hellish t a t t o o 6 of the heart i n c r e a s e d . It grew q u i c k e r , a n d l o u d e r a n d louder every instant. T h e old m a n ' s terror must have b e e n extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every m o m e n t : — d o you m a r k m e well? I have told you that I a m n e r v o u s : — s o I a m . A n d now, at the d e a d h o u r of night, a n d a m i d the dreadful s i l e n c e of that old h o u s e , s o s t r a n g e a n o i s e a s this excited m e to u n c o n t r o l l a b l e w r a t h . 7 Yet, for s o m e m i n u t e s longer, I refrained a n d kept still. B u t the b e a t i n g grew louder, louder! I t h o u g h t the heart m u s t burst! A n d now a new anxiety seized m e — t h e s o u n d would b e h e a r d by a neighbor! T h e old m a n ' s h o u r h a d c o m e ! With a loud yell, I threw o p e n the lantern a n d l e a p e d into the r o o m . H e shrieked o n c e — o n c e only. In a n instant I d r a g g e d him to the floor, a n d pulled the heavy b e d over h i m . I then sat u p o n the b e d 8 a n d s m i l e d gaily, to find the d e e d s o far d o n e . B u t , for m a n y m i n u t e s , the heart b e a t o n , with a muffled s o u n d . T h i s , however, did not vex m e ; it w o u l d not be h e a r d t h r o u g h the walls. At length it c e a s e d . T h e old m a n w a s d e a d . I r e m o v e d the b e d a n d e x a m i n e d the c o r p s e . Yes, he was s t o n e , s t o n e d e a d . I p l a c e d my h a n d u p o n the heart a n d held it there m a n y m i n u t e s . T h e r e w a s no p u l s a t i o n . T h e old m a n w a s s t o n e d e a d . H i s eye would trouble me n o m o r e . If, still, you think m e m a d , you will think so no longer w h e n I d e s c r i b e the wise p r e c a u t i o n s I took for the c o n c e a l m e n t of the body. T h e night w a n e d , a n d I worked hastily, b u t in s i l e n c e . First of all I d i s m e m b e r e d the c o r p s e . I cut off the h e a d a n d the a r m s a n d the legs. I then t o o k up three p l a n k s from the flooring of the c h a m b e r , a n d d e p o s i t e d all b e t w e e n the s c a n t l i n g s . 9 I then 5 . T h e 1 8 4 5 t e x t r e a d s : "All in vain; because D e a t h , in a p p r o a c h i n g h i m h a d s t a l k e d w i t h h i s b l a c k s h a d o w b e f o r e h i m , a n d e n v e l o p e d t h e victim." 6. D r u m b e a t .

7. 8. on to 9.

T h e 1 8 4 5 t e x t r e p l a c e s wrath w i t h " t e r r o r . " T h e 1 8 4 5 text l a c k s t h e grisly detail of sitting t h e b e d w h i l e s m i l i n g g a i l y ("I t h e n s m i l e d g a i l y , find t h e d e e d s o f a r d o n e . " ) . Small planks.

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r e p l a c e d the b o a r d s s o cleverly, s o cunningly, that n o h u m a n e y e — n o t even his—could have d e t e c t e d anything w r o n g . T h e r e w a s n o t h i n g to w a s h o u t — n o stain of any k i n d — n o blood-spot whatever. I h a d b e e n too wary for that. A t u b h a d c a u g h t a l l — h a ! ha! W h e n 1 h a d m a d e a n e n d of t h e s e labors, it w a s four o'clock—still d a r k a s midnight. As the bell s o u n d e d the hour, there c a m e a k n o c k i n g at the street door. I went down to o p e n it with a light h e a r t , — f o r w h a t h a d I now to fear? T h e r e entered three m e n , w h o i n t r o d u c e d t h e m s e l v e s , with perfect suavity, as officers of the p o l i c e . A shriek h a d b e e n h e a r d by a n e i g h b o r d u r i n g the night; s u s p i c i o n of foul play h a d b e e n a r o u s e d ; information h a d b e e n lodged at the police-office, a n d they (the officers) h a d b e e n d e p u t e d to s e a r c h the premises. 1 s m i l e d , — f o r what h a d I to fear? I b a d e the g e n t l e m e n w e l c o m e . T h e shriek, I said, w a s my own in a d r e a m . T h e old m a n , I m e n t i o n e d , w a s a b s e n t in the country. I took my visiters all over the h o u s e . I b a d e t h e m s e a r c h — s e a r c h well. I led t h e m , at length, to his c h a m b e r . I s h o w e d t h e m his treasu r e s , s e c u r e , u n d i s t u r b e d . In the e n t h u s i a s m of my c o n f i d e n c e , I b r o u g h t chairs into the r o o m , a n d desired t h e m here to rest from their fatigues; while I myself, in the wild a u d a c i t y of my perfect t r i u m p h , p l a c e d my own s e a t u p o n the very spot b e n e a t h which r e p o s e d the c o r p s e of the victim. T h e officers were satisfied. M y manner h a d c o n v i n c e d t h e m . I w a s singularly at e a s e . T h e y sat, a n d , while I a n s w e r e d cheerily, they c h a t t e d of familiar things. B u t , ere long, I felt myself getting p a l e a n d w i s h e d t h e m g o n e . M y h e a d a c h e d , a n d I fancied a ringing in my e a r s : but still they sat a n d still c h a t t e d . T h e ringing b e c a m e m o r e distinct: I talked m o r e freely, to get rid of the feeling; but it c o n t i n u e d a n d g a i n e d d e f i n i t i v e n e s s — u n t i l , at length, I f o u n d that the n o i s e w a s wot within my e a r s . N o d o u b t I now grew very p a l e ; — b u t I talked m o r e fluently, a n d with a h e i g h t e n e d v o i c e . Yet the s o u n d i n c r e a s e d — a n d what c o u l d I d o ? It w a s a such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped low, dull, quick sound—much in cotton. I g a s p e d for b r e a t h — a n d yet the officers h e a r d it not. I talked m o r e q u i c k l y — m o r e v e h e m e n t l y ; — b u t the n o i s e steadily i n c r e a s e d . I a r o s e , a n d a r g u e d a b o u t trifles, in a high key a n d with violent g e s t i c u l a t i o n s ; — b u t the noise steadily i n c r e a s e d . W h y woidd they not b e g o n e ? I p a c e d the floor to a n d fro, with heavy strides, a s if excited to fury by the o b s e r v a t i o n s of the m e n ; — b u t the noise steadily i n c r e a s e d . O h G o d ! what could I do? I foam e d — I r a v e d — I swore! I s w u n g the c h a i r u p o n which I h a d sat, a n d grated it u p o n the b o a r d s ; — b u t the n o i s e a r o s e over all a n d continually i n c r e a s e d . It grew louder—louder—louder! A n d still the m e n c h a t t e d pleasantly, a n d s m i l e d . W a s it p o s s i b l e they h e a r d not? Almighty G o d ! n o , n o ! T h e y h e a r d ! — they s u s p e c t e d ! — t h e y knew!—they were m a k i n g a m o c k e r y of my h o r r o r ! — this I t h o u g h t , a n d this I think. B u t a n y t h i n g better t h a n this agony! Anything w a s m o r e tolerable than this derision! I c o u l d b e a r t h o s e hypocritical smiles n o longer! I felt that I m u s t s c r e a m or d i e ! — a n d n o w — a g a i n ! — h a r k ! louder! louder! louder! louder!— "Villains!" I shrieked, " d i s s e m b l e no m o r e ! I a d m i t the d e e d ! — t e a r u p the p l a n k s ! — h e r e , h e r e ! — i t is the b e a t i n g of his h i d e o u s h e a r t ! " 1843

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The Purloined Letter 1 At Paris, j u s t after dark o n e gusty evening in the a u t u m n of 1 8 — , I w a s enjoying the twofold luxury of meditation a n d a m e e r s c h a u m , in c o m p a n y with my friend C . A u g u s t e D u p i n , in his little b a c k library, or book-closet, au troisieme,2 N o . 3 3 , Rue Dunot, Faubourg St. Germain. F o r o n e h o u r at least we h a d m a i n t a i n e d a p r o f o u n d s i l e n c e ; while e a c h , to any c a s u a l observer, might have s e e m e d intently a n d exclusively o c c u p i e d with the curling e d d i e s of s m o k e that o p p r e s s e d the a t m o s p h e r e of the c h a m b e r . F o r myself, however, I w a s mentally d i s c u s s i n g certain topics which h a d f o r m e d m a t t e r for c o n v e r s a t i o n b e t w e e n u s at an earlier period of the evening; I m e a n the affair of the R u e M o r g u e , a n d the mystery a t t e n d i n g the m u r d e r of M a r i e R o g e t . I looked u p o n it, therefore, a s s o m e t h i n g of c o i n c i d e n c e , w h e n the d o o r of our a p a r t m e n t was thrown o p e n a n d a d m i t t e d o u r old acquaintance, Monsieur G , the Prefect of the P a r i s i a n p o l i c e . W e gave him a hearty w e l c o m e ; for there w a s nearly half a s m u c h of the entertaining a s of the c o n t e m p t i b l e a b o u t the m a n , a n d we h a d not s e e n him for several years. W e h a d b e e n sitting in the dark, a n d D u p i n now a r o s e for the p u r p o s e of lighting a l a m p , but sat d o w n a g a i n , without d o i n g s o , u p o n G.'s saying that he h a d called to c o n s u l t u s , or rather to a s k the opinion of my friend, a b o u t s o m e official b u s i n e s s which h a d o c c a s i o n e d a great deal of trouble. "If it is any point requiring reflection," o b s e r v e d D u p i n , a s he forebore to enkindle the wick, "we shall e x a m i n e it to better p u r p o s e in the d a r k . " "That is a n o t h e r of your o d d n o t i o n s , " said the Prefect, w h o h a d a f a s h i o n of calling every thing " o d d " that w a s beyond his c o m p r e h e n s i o n , a n d t h u s lived a m i d a n a b s o l u t e legion of " o d d i t i e s . " "Very t r u e , " said D u p i n , a s he s u p p l i e d his visiter with a p i p e , a n d rolled towards him a very c o m f o r t a b l e chair. "And what is the difficulty n o w ? " I a s k e d . " N o t h i n g m o r e in the a s s a s s i nation way, I h o p e ? " " O h n o ; n o t h i n g of that n a t u r e . T h e fact is, the b u s i n e s s is very s i m p l e i n d e e d , a n d I m a k e n o d o u b t that we c a n m a n a g e it sufficiently well ourselves; but then I thought D u p i n would like to h e a r the details of it, b e c a u s e it is s o excessively odd." " S i m p l e a n d o d d , " said D u p i n . "Why, y e s ; a n d not exactly that, either. T h e fact is, we have all b e e n a g o o d deal puzzled b e c a u s e the affair is so s i m p l e , a n d yet baffles u s a l t o g e t h e r . " 1. T h e t e x t is t h a t o f t h e first p u b l i c a t i o n in The Gift, a P h i l a d e l p h i a a n n u a l d a t e d 1 8 4 5 b u t f o r s a l e l a t e in 1 8 4 4 . H i s t o r i a n s o f d e t e c t i v e f i c t i o n u s u a l l y cite Poe's three stories about C . A u g u s t e Dupin as t h e first o f t h e g e n r e . T h i s is t h e t h i r d D u p i n s t o r y , t h e o t h e r s b e i n g " T h e M u r d e r s in t h e R u e M o r g u e " (1841) and "The Mystery of Marie Roget" (1842). H e r e t h e c r i m i n a l is k n o w n f r o m t h e b e g i n n i n g a n d the solution c o m e s from Dupin's analytical powers. In " T h e M u r d e r s i n t h e R u e M o r g u e , " h o w e v e r , P o e is a t s o m e p a i n s t o s t r e s s t h a t D u p i n ' s p o w e r s are not of mere "calculation," rather "the analyst t h r o w s h i m s e l f into the spirit o f his o p p o n e n t , identifies himself therewith, a n d not unfrequently

s e e s t h u s , at a g l a n c e , t h e s o l e m e t h o d s ( s o m e t i m e s i n d e e d a b s u r d l y s i m p l e o n e s ) by w h i c h h e m a y s e d u c e into error or hurry into miscalculation." 2. Actually the fourth floor ( b e c a u s e the F r e n c h d o n o t c o u n t t h e f i r s t , t h e rez-de~cliaussee). In " T h e Murders in t h e R u e Morgue" the narrator d e s c r i b e s his a n d D u p i n ' s quarters, "a time-eaten and grotesque mansion, long deserted through s u p e r s t i t i o n s , " " t o t t e r i n g t o i t s fall i n a r e t i r e d a n d desolate portion of the F a u b o u r g St. G e r m a i n , " but m e a n w h i l e f u r n i s h e d "in a style w h i c h s u i t e d the rather fantastic g l o o m " of their c o m m o n temperament.

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" P e r h a p s it is the very simplicity of the thing which p u t s you at f a u l t , " said my friend. " W h a t n o n s e n s e you do talk!" replied the Prefect, l a u g h i n g heartily. " P e r h a p s the mystery is a little too p l a i n , " said D u p i n . " O h , good h e a v e n s ! w h o ever h e a r d of s u c h a n i d e a ? " "A little too self-evident." " H a ! ha! h a ! — h a ! ha! h a ! — h o ! ho! h o ! " r o a r e d o u t our visiter, profoundly a m u s e d , " o h , D u p i n , you will b e the d e a t h of m e yet!" "And w h a t , after all, is the m a t t e r on h a n d ? " I a s k e d . "Why, I will tell y o u , " replied the P r e f e c t , a s h e gave a long, steady, a n d c o n t e m p l a t i v e puff, a n d settled himself in his chair. "I will tell you in a few w o r d s ; b u t , before I b e g i n , let m e c a u t i o n you that this is a n affair d e m a n d i n g the g r e a t e s t s e c r e c y , a n d that I s h o u l d m o s t probably lose the p o s i t i o n I n o w hold, were it known that I confided it to any o n e . " " P r o c e e d , " s a i d I. " O r n o t , " said D u p i n . "Well, t h e n ; I have received p e r s o n a l i n f o r m a t i o n , from a very high quarter, that a certain d o c u m e n t of the last i m p o r t a n c e , h a s b e e n p u r l o i n e d from the royal a p a r t m e n t s . T h e individual w h o p u r l o i n e d it is k n o w n ; this b e y o n d a d o u b t ; h e w a s s e e n to take it. It is k n o w n , a l s o , that it still r e m a i n s in his possession." " H o w is this k n o w n ? " a s k e d D u p i n . "It is clearly inferred," replied the Prefect, "from the n a t u r e of the d o c u m e n t , a n d from the n o n - a p p e a r a n c e of certain results w h i c h would at o n c e arise from its p a s s i n g out of the robber's p o s s e s s i o n ; — t h a t is to say, from his e m p l o y i n g it a s h e m u s t d e s i g n in the e n d to e m p l o y i t . " " B e a little m o r e explicit," I s a i d . "Well, I m a y venture so far a s to say that the p a p e r gives its holder a certain power in a certain q u a r t e r w h e r e s u c h p o w e r is i m m e n s e l y v a l u a b l e . " T h e Prefect w a s fond of the c a n t of d i p l o m a c y . "Still I do not q u i t e u n d e r s t a n d , " said D u p i n . " N o ? W e l l ; the d i s c l o s u r e of the d o c u m e n t to a third p e r s o n , w h o shall b e n a m e l e s s , would bring in q u e s t i o n the h o n o u r of a p e r s o n a g e of m o s t exalted station; a n d this fact gives the holder of the d o c u m e n t a n a s c e n d a n c y over the illustrious p e r s o n a g e w h o s e h o n o u r a n d p e a c e are s o j e o p a r d i z e d . " " B u t this a s c e n d a n c y , " I i n t e r p o s e d , "would d e p e n d u p o n the robber's k n o w l e d g e of the loser's k n o w l e d g e of the robber. W h o w o u l d d a r e — " " T h e thief," said G , "is t h e — M i n i s t e r D , w h o d a r e s all things, t h o s e u n b e c o m i n g a s well a s t h o s e b e c o m i n g a m a n . T h e m e t h o d of the theft was not less i n g e n i o u s t h a n bold. T h e d o c u m e n t in q u e s t i o n — a letter, to be f r a n k — h a d b e e n received by the p e r s o n a g e r o b b e d while a l o n e in the royal boudoir. D u r i n g its p e r u s a l s h e w a s s u d d e n l y interrupted by the e n t r a n c e of the other exalted p e r s o n a g e from w h o m especially it w a s her wish to c o n c e a l it. After a hurried a n d vain e n d e a v o u r to thrust it in a drawer, s h e w a s forced to p l a c e it, o p e n a s it w a s , u p o n a t a b l e . T h e a d d r e s s , however, w a s upperm o s t , a n d the c o n t e n t s t h u s u n e x p o s e d , the letter e s c a p e d n o t i c e . At this j u n c t u r e enters the M i n i s t e r D . H i s lynx eye i m m e d i a t e l y p e r c e i v e s the p a p e r , r e c o g n i s e s the handwriting of the a d d r e s s , o b s e r v e s the c o n f u s i o n of the p e r s o n a g e a d d r e s s e d , a n d f a t h o m s her secret. After s o m e b u s i n e s s transa c t i o n s , hurried t h r o u g h in his ordinary m a n n e r , he p r o d u c e s a letter s o m e what similar to the o n e in q u e s t i o n , o p e n s it, p r e t e n d s to r e a d it, a n d then

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p l a c e s it in c l o s e j u x t a p o s i t i o n to the other. Again h e c o n v e r s e s , for s o m e fifteen m i n u t e s , u p o n the public affairs. At length, in taking leave, he takes a l s o from the table the letter to which he h a d no c l a i m . Its rightful owner saw, b u t , of c o u r s e , dared not call attention to the act, in the p r e s e n c e of the third p e r s o n a g e w h o s t o o d at her elbow. T h e minister d e c a m p e d ; leaving his own l e t t e r — o n e of n o i m p o r t a n c e — u p o n the t a b l e . " " H e r e , t h e n , " s a i d D u p i n to m e , "you have precisely what you d e m a n d to m a k e the a s c e n d a n c y c o m p l e t e — t h e robber's knowledge of the loser's knowle d g e of the r o b b e r . " " Y e s , " replied the Prefect; " a n d the power t h u s a t t a i n e d h a s , for s o m e m o n t h s p a s t , b e e n wielded, for political p u r p o s e s , to a very d a n g e r o u s extent. T h e p e r s o n a g e r o b b e d is m o r e thoroughly c o n v i n c e d , every day, of the n e c e s sity of r e c l a i m i n g her letter. B u t this, of c o u r s e , c a n n o t be d o n e openly. In fine, driven to d e s p a i r , s h e has c o m m i t t e d the m a t t e r to m e . " " T h a n w h o m , " said D u p i n , a m i d a perfect whirlwind of s m o k e , " n o m o r e s a g a c i o u s agent c o u l d , I s u p p o s e , b e d e s i r e d , or even i m a g i n e d . " "You flatter m e , " replied the Prefect; " b u t it is p o s s i b l e that s o m e s u c h opinion may have b e e n e n t e r t a i n e d . " "It is c l e a r , " said I, " a s you o b s e r v e , that the letter is still in p o s s e s s i o n of the minister; s i n c e it is this p o s s e s s i o n , a n d not any e m p l o y m e n t , of the letter, which b e s t o w s the power. With the e m p l o y m e n t the p o w e r d e p a r t s . " " T r u e , " said G ; " a n d u p o n this conviction I p r o c e e d e d . M y first c a r e w a s to m a k e t h o r o u g h s e a r c h of the minister's hotel; a n d here my chief e m b a r r a s s m e n t lay in the necessity of s e a r c h i n g without his k n o w l e d g e . B e y o n d all things, I have b e e n w a r n e d of the d a n g e r w h i c h would result from giving him r e a s o n to s u s p e c t our d e s i g n . " " B u t , " said I, "you a r e quite aufait* in t h e s e investigations. T h e Parisian police have d o n e this thing often b e f o r e . " " O yes; a n d for this r e a s o n I did not d e s p a i r . T h e habits of the minister gave m e , too, a great a d v a n t a g e . H e is frequently a b s e n t from h o m e all night. His servants are by no m e a n s n u m e r o u s . T h e y sleep at a d i s t a n c e from their m a s t e r ' s a p a r t m e n t s , a n d , b e i n g chiefly N e a p o l i t a n s , are readily m a d e drunk. I have keys, a s you know, with which I c a n o p e n any c h a m b e r or c a b i n e t in Paris. F o r three m o n t h s a night h a s not p a s s e d , d u r i n g the greater part of which I have not b e e n e n g a g e d , personally, in r a n s a c k i n g the D Hotel. M y h o n o u r is interested, a n d , to m e n t i o n a great s e c r e t , the reward is enorm o u s . S o I did not a b a n d o n the s e a r c h until I h a d b e c o m e fully satisfied that the thief is a m o r e a s t u t e m a n than myself. I fancy that I have investigated every n o o k a n d c o r n e r of the p r e m i s e s in which it is p o s s i b l e that the p a p e r can be c o n c e a l e d . " " B u t is it not p o s s i b l e , " I s u g g e s t e d , "that a l t h o u g h the letter may b e in p o s s e s s i o n of the minister, a s it u n q u e s t i o n a b l y is, he may have c o n c e a l e d it elsewhere than u p o n his own p r e m i s e s ? " "This is barely p o s s i b l e , " said D u p i n . " T h e p r e s e n t p e c u l i a r c o n d i t i o n of affairs at c o u r t , a n d especially of t h o s e intrigues in which D is known to be involved, would render the instant availability of the d o c u m e n t — i t s susceptibility of b e i n g p r o d u c e d at a m o m e n t ' s n o t i c e — a point of nearly e q u a l i m p o r t a n c e with its p o s s e s s i o n . " "Its susceptibility of b e i n g p r o d u c e d ? " said I. 3. A t h o m e , e x p e r t ( F r e n c h ) .

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" T h a t is to say, of b e i n g destroyed," said D u p i n . " T r u e , " I observed; " t h e p a p e r is clearly then u p o n the p r e m i s e s . As for its b e i n g u p o n the p e r s o n of the minister, we may c o n s i d e r that a s out of the question." "Entirely," said the Prefect. " H e h a s b e e n twice waylaid, a s if by f o o t p a d s , a n d his p e r s o n rigorously s e a r c h e d u n d e r my own i n s p e c t i o n . " "You might have s p a r e d yourself this t r o u b l e , " said D u p i n . " D , I pres u m e , is not altogether a fool, a n d , if not, m u s t have a n t i c i p a t e d t h e s e waylayings, as a m a t t e r of c o u r s e . " " N o t altogether a fool," said G , "but then he's a p o e t , w h i c h I take to b e only o n e r e m o v e from a fool." " T r u e ; " said D u p i n , after a long a n d thoughtful whiff from his meers c h a u m , " a l t h o u g h I have b e e n guilty of certain d o g g e r e l myself." " S u p p o s e you d e t a i l , " s a i d I, "the particulars of your s e a r c h . " "Why the fact is, we took our t i m e , a n d we s e a r c h e d every where. I have had long e x p e r i e n c e in t h e s e affairs. I took the entire building, r o o m by r o o m ; devoting the nights of a whole w e e k to e a c h . W e e x a m i n e d , first, the furniture of e a c h a p a r t m e n t . W e o p e n e d every p o s s i b l e drawer; a n d I p r e s u m e you know that, to a properly trained police a g e n t , s u c h a thing a s a secret drawer is i m p o s s i b l e . Any m a n is a dolt who p e r m i t s a 'secret' drawer to e s c a p e him in a s e a r c h of this kind. T h e thing is so plain. T h e r e is a certain a m o u n t of b u l k — o f s p a c e — t o be a c c o u n t e d for in every c a b i n e t . T h e n w e have a c c u r a t e rules. T h e fiftieth part of a line c o u l d not e s c a p e u s . After the c a b i n e t s we took the c h a i r s . T h e c u s h i o n s we p r o b e d with the fine long n e e d l e s you have s e e n m e employ. F r o m the tables we r e m o v e d the t o p s . " "Why s o ? " " S o m e t i m e s the top of a t a b l e , or other similarly a r r a n g e d p i e c e of furniture, is r e m o v e d by the p e r s o n w i s h i n g to c o n c e a l a n article; then the leg is excavated, the article d e p o s i t e d within the cavity, a n d the top r e p l a c e d . T h e b o t t o m s a n d tops of b e d - p o s t s are e m p l o y e d in the s a m e w a y . " " B u t c o u l d not the cavity be d e t e c t e d by s o u n d i n g ? " I a s k e d . " B y no m e a n s , if, w h e n the article is d e p o s i t e d , a sufficient w a d d i n g of cotton be p l a c e d a r o u n d it. B e s i d e s , in o u r c a s e , we were obliged to p r o c e e d without n o i s e . " " B u t you c o u l d not have r e m o v e d — y o u c o u l d not have t a k e n to p i e c e s all articles of furniture in which it would have b e e n p o s s i b l e to m a k e a d e p o s i t in the m a n n e r you m e n t i o n . A letter m a y b e c o m p r e s s e d into a thin spiral roll, not differing m u c h in s h a p e or bulk from a large knitting-needle, a n d in this form it might be inserted into the r u n g of a chair, for e x a m p l e . You did not take to p i e c e s all the c h a i r s ? " " C e r t a i n l y not; but we did b e t t e r — w e e x a m i n e d the r u n g s of every chair in the hotel, a n d , i n d e e d , the j o i n t i n g s of every description of furniture, by the aid of a m o s t powerful m i c r o s c o p e . 4 H a d there b e e n any t r a c e s of r e c e n t d i s t u r b a n c e we s h o u l d not have failed to d e t e c t it instanter.* A single grain of gimlet-dust, or s a w d u s t , for e x a m p l e , would have b e e n a s o b v i o u s a s a n a p p l e . Any disorder in the g l u e i n g — a n y u n u s u a l g a p i n g in the j o i n t s — w o u l d have sufficed to i n s u r e d e t e c t i o n . "

4.

I.e., a p o w e r f u l m a g n i f y i n g g l a s s .

5.

Instantly.

THE PURLOINED LETTER

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735

" O f c o u r s e you looked to the mirrors, b e t w e e n the b o a r d s a n d the p l a t e s , and you probed the b e d s a n d the b e d - c l o t h e s , a s well a s the c u r t a i n s a n d carpets." " T h a t of c o u r s e ; a n d w h e n we h a d absolutely c o m p l e t e d every particle of the furniture in this way, then we e x a m i n e d the h o u s e itself. W e divided its entire s u r f a c e into c o m p a r t m e n t s , which we n u m b e r e d , s o that n o n e might be m i s s e d ; then we scrutinized e a c h individual s q u a r e inch t h r o u g h o u t the p r e m i s e s , i n c l u d i n g the two h o u s e s immediately adjoining, with the microscope, as before." " T h e two h o u s e s a d j o i n i n g ! " I e x c l a i m e d ; "you m u s t have had a great deal of t r o u b l e . " " W e h a d ; but the reward offered is p r o d i g i o u s . " "You i n c l u d e the grounds a b o u t the h o u s e s ? " "All the g r o u n d s are paved with brick. T h e y gave u s comparatively little trouble. W e e x a m i n e d the m o s s b e t w e e n the bricks, a n d f o u n d it u n d i s turbed." " A n d the r o o f s ? " " W e surveyed every inch of the external s u r f a c e , a n d p r o b e d carefully b e n e a t h every tile." "You looked a m o n g D 's p a p e r s , of c o u r s e , a n d into the books of the library?" "Certainly; we o p e n e d every p a c k a g e a n d parcel; we not only o p e n e d every book, but we turned over every leaf in e a c h v o l u m e , not c o n t e n t i n g ourselves with a m e r e s h a k e , a c c o r d i n g to the fashion of s o m e of our p o l i c e officers. W e a l s o m e a s u r e d the thickness of every book-cover, with the m o s t a c c u r a t e a d m e a s u r e m e n t , a n d applied to t h e m the m o s t j e a l o u s scrutiny of the micros c o p e . H a d any of the b i n d i n g s b e e n recently m e d d l e d with, it would have b e e n utterly i m p o s s i b l e that the fact s h o u l d have e s c a p e d observation. S o m e five or six v o l u m e s , j u s t from the h a n d s of the binder, w e carefully p r o b e d , longitudinally, with the n e e d l e s . " "You explored the floors b e n e a t h the c a r p e t s ? " " B e y o n d d o u b t . W e r e m o v e d every c a r p e t , a n d e x a m i n e d the b o a r d s with the m i c r o s c o p e . " " A n d the p a p e r on the w a l l s ? " "Yes." "You looked into the c e l l a r s ? " " W e did; a n d , a s time a n d l a b o u r were n o o b j e c t s , we d u g u p every o n e of t h e m to the d e p t h of four f e e t . " " T h e n , " I said, "you have b e e n m a k i n g a m i s c a l c u l a t i o n , a n d the letter is not u p o n the p r e m i s e s , a s you s u p p o s e . " "I fear you are right t h e r e , " said the Prefect. "And now, D u p i n , what would you advise m e to d o ? " " T o m a k e a t h o r o u g h re-search of the p r e m i s e s . " " T h a t is absolutely n e e d l e s s , " replied G . "I a m not m o r e s u r e that I b r e a t h e than I a m that the letter is not at the H o t e l . " "I have n o better advice to give y o u , " said D u p i n . "You have, of c o u r s e , a n a c c u r a t e description of the letter?" " O h y e s ! " — A n d here the Prefect, p r o d u c i n g a m e m o r a n d u m - b o o k , proc e e d e d to read a l o u d a m i n u t e a c c o u n t of the internal, a n d especially of the external, a p p e a r a n c e of the m i s s i n g d o c u m e n t . S o o n after finishing the

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p e r u s a l of this d e s c r i p t i o n , he took his d e p a r t u r e , m o r e entirely d e p r e s s e d in spirits than I h a d ever known the g o o d g e n t l e m a n b e f o r e . In a b o u t a m o n t h afterwards he p a i d u s a n o t h e r visit, a n d f o u n d u s o c c u p i e d very nearly a s b e f o r e . H e took a p i p e a n d a chair, a n d e n t e r e d into s o m e ordinary c o n v e r s a t i o n . At length I s a i d , — "Well, b u t G , what of the p u r l o i n e d letter? I p r e s u m e you have at last m a d e up your m i n d that there is n o s u c h thing a s o v e r r e a c h i n g the M i n i s t e r ? " " C o n f o u n d h i m , say I—yes; I m a d e the re-examination, however, a s D u p i n s u g g e s t e d — b u t it w a s all l a b o u r lost, a s I knew it w o u l d b e . " " H o w m u c h w a s the reward offered, did you s a y ? " a s k e d D u p i n . "Why, a very great d e a l — a very liberal r e w a r d — I don't like to say how m u c h , precisely; but o n e thing I will say, that I wouldn't m i n d giving my individual c h e c k for fifty t h o u s a n d f r a n c s to any o n e w h o c o u l d obtain m e that letter. T h e fact is, it is b e c o m i n g of m o r e a n d m o r e i m p o r t a n c e every day; a n d the reward h a s b e e n lately d o u b l e d . If it were trebled, however, I c o u l d do no m o r e than I have d o n e . " "Why, y e s , " said D u p i n , drawlingly, b e t w e e n the whiffs of his meers c h a u m , "I really—think, G , you have n o t exerted y o u r s e l f — t o the u t m o s t in this matter. You m i g h t — d o a little m o r e , I think, e h ? " " H o w ? — i n what w a y ? " " W h y — p u f f , p u f f — y o u m i g h t — p u f f , p u f f — e m p l o y c o u n s e l in the m a t t e r , e h ? — p u f f , puff, puff. D o you r e m e m b e r the story they tell of A b e r n e t h y ? " " N o ; hang Abernethy!" " T o b e s u r e ! h a n g him a n d w e l c o m e . B u t , o n c e u p o n a t i m e , a certain rich m i s e r c o n c e i v e d the d e s i g n of s p u n g i n g u p o n this A b e r n e t h y for a m e d i c a l opinion. G e t t i n g u p , for this p u r p o s e , a n ordinary c o n v e r s a t i o n in a private c o m p a n y , he i n s i n u a t e d his c a s e to the p h y s i c i a n , a s that of a n imaginary individual. " 'We will s u p p o s e , ' said the m i s e r , 'that his s y m p t o m s are s u c h a n d s u c h ; now, doctor, what w o u l d you have d i r e c t e d him to t a k e ? ' " ' T a k e ! ' said Abernethy, 'why, take advice, to b e s u r e . ' " " B u t , " s a i d the Prefect, a little d i s c o m p o s e d , "I a m perfectly willing to take advice, a n d to pay for it. I would really give fifty t h o u s a n d f r a n c s , every centime of it, to any o n e w h o would aid m e in the m a t t e r ! " "In that c a s e , " replied D u p i n , o p e n i n g a drawer, a n d p r o d u c i n g a c h e c k book, "you may a s well fill m e u p a c h e c k for the a m o u n t m e n t i o n e d . W h e n you have s i g n e d it, I will h a n d you the letter." I w a s a s t o u n d e d . T h e Prefect a p p e a r e d a b s o l u t e l y t h u n d e r - s t r i c k e n . F o r s o m e m i n u t e s h e r e m a i n e d s p e e c h l e s s a n d m o t i o n l e s s , looking incredulously at my friend with o p e n m o u t h , a n d eyes that s e e m e d starting from their s o c k e t s ; t h e n , a p p a r e n t l y recovering h i m s e l f in s o m e m e a s u r e , he seized a p e n , a n d after several p a u s e s a n d v a c a n t s t a r e s , finally filled u p a n d s i g n e d a c h e c k for fifty t h o u s a n d f r a n c s , a n d h a n d e d it a c r o s s the table to D u p i n . T h e latter e x a m i n e d it carefully a n d d e p o s i t e d it in his p o c k e t - b o o k ; t h e n , u n l o c k i n g a n escritoire,b took t h e n c e a letter a n d g a v e it to the Prefect. T h i s functionary g r a s p e d it in a perfect a g o n y of joy; o p e n e d it with a t r e m b l i n g h a n d , c a s t a rapid g l a n c e at its c o n t e n t s , a n d t h e n , s c r a m b l i n g a n d s t r u g g l i n g to the door, r u s h e d at length u n c e r e m o n i o u s l y from the r o o m a n d from the 6. Writing d e s k ( F r e n c h ) ; n o w s p e l l e d

icritoire.

THE PURLOINED LETTER

/

737

h o u s e , without having uttered a solitary syllable s i n c e D u p i n h a d r e q u e s t e d him to fill up the c h e c k . W h e n he h a d g o n e , my friend entered into s o m e e x p l a n a t i o n s . " T h e Parisian p o l i c e , " h e s a i d , " a r e exceedingly able in their way. T h e y are persevering, i n g e n i o u s , c u n n i n g , a n d thoroughly versed in the k n o w l e d g e which their d u t i e s s e e m chiefly to d e m a n d . T h u s w h e n G detailed to u s his m o d e of s e a r c h i n g the p r e m i s e s at the Hotel D , I felt the entire c o n f i d e n c e in his having m a d e a satisfactory i n v e s t i g a t i o n — s o far a s his labours extended." " S o far a s his l a b o u r s e x t e n d e d ? " said I. " Y e s , " said D u p i n . " T h e m e a s u r e s a d o p t e d were not only the b e s t of their kind, but carried out to a b s o l u t e perfection. H a d the letter b e e n d e p o s i t e d within the r a n g e of their s e a r c h , t h e s e fellows w o u l d , b e y o n d a q u e s t i o n , have f o u n d it." I merely l a u g h e d — b u t h e s e e m e d quite s e r i o u s in all that h e s a i d . " T h e m e a s u r e s , t h e n , " he c o n t i n u e d , "were g o o d in their kind, a n d well e x e c u t e d ; their defect lay in their b e i n g i n a p p l i c a b l e to the c a s e , a n d to the m a n . A certain set of highly i n g e n i o u s r e s o u r c e s a r e , with the P r e f e c t , a sort of P r o c r u s t e a n b e d , 7 to which he forcibly a d a p t s his d e s i g n s . B u t h e perpetually errs by b e i n g too d e e p or too shallow, for the m a t t e r in h a n d ; a n d m a n y a schoolboy is a better r e a s o n e r than h e . I knew o n e a b o u t eight years of a g e , w h o s e s u c c e s s at g u e s s i n g in the g a m e of 'even a n d o d d ' a t t r a c t e d universal a d m i r a t i o n . T h i s g a m e is s i m p l e , a n d is played with m a r b l e s . O n e player holds in his h a n d a n u m b e r of t h e s e toys; a n d d e m a n d s of a n o t h e r whether that n u m b e r is even or o d d . If the g u e s s is right, the g u e s s e r wins o n e ; if wrong, he l o s e s o n e . T h e boy to w h o m I a l l u d e won all the m a r b l e s of the school. O f c o u r s e h e h a d s o m e principle of g u e s s i n g ; a n d this lay in m e r e observation a n d a d m e a s u r e m e n t of the a s t u t e n e s s of his o p p o n e n t s . F o r e x a m p l e , a n arrant s i m p l e t o n is his o p p o n e n t , a n d , h o l d i n g u p his c l o s e d h a n d , a s k s , 'are they even or o d d ? ' O u r s c h o o l b o y replies 'odd,' a n d l o s e s ; but u p o n the s e c o n d trial h e wins, for he then says to himself, 'the s i m p l e t o n h a d t h e m even u p o n the first trial, a n d his a m o u n t of c u n n i n g is j u s t sufficient to m a k e him have t h e m o d d u p o n the s e c o n d ; I will therefore g u e s s o d d ; ' — h e g u e s s e s o d d , a n d w i n s . N o w , with a s i m p l e t o n a d e g r e e a b o v e the first, h e would have r e a s o n e d t h u s : 'this fellow finds that in the first i n s t a n c e I g u e s s e d o d d , a n d , in the s e c o n d , he will p r o p o s e to himself, u p o n the first i m p u l s e , a s i m p l e variation from even to o d d , a s did the first s i m p l e t o n ; b u t then a s e c o n d thought will s u g g e s t that this is too s i m p l e a variation, a n d finally he will d e c i d e u p o n p u t t i n g it even a s before. I will therefore g u e s s e v e n ; ' — h e g u e s s e s even, a n d w i n s . N o w this m o d e of r e a s o n i n g in the schoolboy, w h o m his fellows t e r m e d 'lucky,'—what, in its last analysis, is i t ? " "It is merely," I said, " a n identification of the r e a s o n e r ' s intellect with that of his o p p o n e n t . " "It i s , " said D u p i n ; " a n d , u p o n inquiring of the boy by what m e a n s he effected the thorough identification in which his s u c c e s s c o n s i s t e d , I received a n s w e r as follows: 'WTien I wish to find out how wise, or how s t u p i d , or how g o o d , or how wicked is any o n e , or what are his t h o u g h t s at the m o m e n t , I 7. P r o c r u s t e s , l e g e n d a r y G r e e k b a n d i t , m a d e h i s v i c t i m s fit t h e b e d h e b o u n d t h e m t o , e i t h e r b y s t r e t c h i n g t h e m t o t h e r e q u i r e d l e n g t h o r b y h a c k i n g o f f a n y s u r p l u s l e n g t h in t h e f e e t a n d l e g s .

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fashion the expression of my f a c e , a s a c c u r a t e l y a s p o s s i b l e , in a c c o r d a n c e with the expression of his, a n d then wait to s e e w h a t t h o u g h t s or s e n t i m e n t s arise in my mind or heart, as if to m a t c h or c o r r e s p o n d with the e x p r e s s i o n . ' T h i s r e s p o n s e of the s c h o o l b o y lies at the b o t t o m of all the s p u r i o u s profundity which has b e e n attributed to R o c h e f o u c a u l t , to L a B r u y e r e , to M a c h i avelli, a n d to C a m p a n e l l a . " 8 "And the identification," I said, "of the reasoner's intellect with that of his o p p o n e n t , d e p e n d s , if I u n d e r s t a n d you aright, u p o n the a c c u r a c y with w h i c h the o p p o n e n t ' s intellect is a d m e a s u r e d . " " F o r its practical value it d e p e n d s u p o n t h i s , " replied D u p i n ; " a n d the Prefect a n d his cohort fail s o frequently, first, by default of this identification, a n d , secondly, by i l l - a d m e a s u r e m e n t , or rather t h r o u g h n o n - a d m e a s u r e m e n t , of the intellect with which they are e n g a g e d . T h e y c o n s i d e r only their own ideas of ingenuity; a n d , in s e a r c h i n g for any thing h i d d e n , advert only to the m o d e s in which they w o u l d have hidden it. T h e y are right in this m u c h — t h a t their own ingenuity is a faithful r e p r e s e n t a t i v e of that of the mass; but w h e n the c u n n i n g of the individual felon is diverse in c h a r a c t e r from their own, the felon foils t h e m , of c o u r s e . T h i s always h a p p e n s when it is a b o v e their o w n , a n d very usually w h e n it is below. T h e y have no variation of principle in their investigations; at b e s t , when u r g e d by s o m e u n u s u a l e m e r g e n c y — b y s o m e extraordinary r e w a r d — t h e y extend or e x a g g e r a t e their old m o d e s of practice, without t o u c h i n g their principles. W h a t , for e x a m p l e , in this c a s e of D , has b e e n d o n e to vary the principle of a c t i o n ? W h a t is all this boring, a n d probing, a n d s o u n d i n g , a n d scrutinizing with the micros c o p e , a n d dividing the s u r f a c e of the building into registered s q u a r e i n c h e s — w h a t is it all but a n exaggeration of the application of the o n e principle or set of principles of s e a r c h , which are b a s e d u p o n the o n e set of n o t i o n s regarding h u m a n ingenuity, to w h i c h the Prefect, in the long routine of his duty, has b e e n a c c u s t o m e d ? D o you not s e e he h a s taken it for granted that all m e n p r o c e e d to c o n c e a l a l e t t e r , — n o t exactly in a gimlet-hole bored in a c h a i r - l e g — b u t , at least, in some out-of-the-way hole or c o r n e r s u g g e s t e d by the s a m e tenor of t h o u g h t which would urge a m a n to s e c r e t e a letter in a gimlet-hole b o r e d in a chair-leg? A n d d o you not s e e a l s o , that s u c h recherches* nooks for c o n c e a l m e n t are a d a p t e d only for ordinary o c c a s i o n s , a n d would be a d o p t e d only by ordinary intellects; for, in all c a s e s of conc e a l m e n t , a d i s p o s a l of the article c o n c e a l e d — a disposal of it in this recherche m a n n e r , — i s , in the very first i n s t a n c e , p r e s u m e d a n d p r e s u m a b l e ; a n d t h u s its discovery d e p e n d s , not at all u p o n the a c u m e n , but a l t o g e t h e r u p o n the m e r e c a r e , p a t i e n c e , a n d d e t e r m i n a t i o n of the s e e k e r s ; a n d w h e r e the c a s e is of i m p o r t a n c e — o r , w h a t a m o u n t s to the s a m e thing in the policial e y e s , w h e n the reward is of m a g n i t u d e , the qualities in q u e s t i o n have never b e e n known to fail. You will now u n d e r s t a n d what I m e a n t in s u g g e s t i n g that, h a d the p u r l o i n e d letter b e e n hidden any w h e r e within the limits of the Prefect's e x a m i n a t i o n — i n other w o r d s , h a d the principle of its c o n c e a l m e n t b e e n c o m p r e h e n d e d within the principles of the P r e f e c t — i t s discovery would have b e e n a m a t t e r altogether beyond q u e s t i o n . T h i s functionary,

8. A n o d d l y a s s o r t e d g r o u p o f m o r a l i s t s a n d p o l i t i c a l a n d r e l i g i o u s p h i l o s o p h e r s , all d e n i g r a t e d b y Dupin. T h e original reads " L a Bougive," probablv a printer's error.

9. O u t of the ordinary, esoteric (French); then p e r m i s s i b l e w i t h o u t t h e a c u t e a c c e n t o r w i t h it, a s just below.

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however, has b e e n thoroughly mystified; a n d the r e m o t e s o u r c e of his defeat lies in the s u p p o s i t i o n that the Minister is a fool, b e c a u s e he h a s a c q u i r e d renown a s a p o e t . All fools are p o e t s ; this the Prefect feels; a n d he is merely guilty of a non distributio medii' in t h e n c e inferring that all p o e t s are f o o l s . " " B u t is this really the p o e t ? " I a s k e d . " T h e r e a r e two b r o t h e r s , I know; a n d both have attained reputation in letters. T h e M i n i s t e r I believe h a s written learnedly on the Differential C a l c u l u s . H e is a m a t h e m a t i c i a n , a n d no p o e t . " "You are m i s t a k e n ; I know him well; he is both. As poet and m a t h e m a t i c i a n , he would r e a s o n well; as poet, profoundly; as m e r e m a t h e m a t i c i a n , h e could not have r e a s o n e d at all, a n d thus would have b e e n at the m e r c y of the P r e f e c t . " "You surprise m e , " I said, "by t h e s e o p i n i o n s , which have b e e n contradicted by the voice of the world. You do not m e a n to set at n a u g h t the welldigested idea of c e n t u r i e s . T h e m a t h e m a t i c a l r e a s o n has b e e n long r e g a r d e d a s the reason par excellence." " 'II y a a parier,' replied D u p i n , q u o t i n g from C h a m f o r t , ' q u e t o u t e idee p u b l i q u e , toute convention r e c u e , est u n e sottise, c a r elle a c o n v e n u e a u p l u s grand n o m b r e . ' 2 T h e m a t h e m a t i c i a n s , I grant you, have d o n e their b e s t to p r o m u l g a t e the p o p u l a r error to which you a l l u d e , a n d which is n o n e the less a n error for its p r o m u l g a t i o n a s truth. With an art worthy a better c a u s e , for e x a m p l e , they have i n s i n u a t e d the term 'analysis' into a p p l i c a t i o n to algebra. T h e F r e n c h are the originators of this particular d e c e p t i o n ; but if a term is of any i m p o r t a n c e — i f w o r d s derive any value from a p p l i c a b i l i t y — t h e n 'analysis' conveys 'algebra' a b o u t a s m u c h a s , in L a t i n , 'ambitus' implies 'ambition,' 'religio 'religion,' or 'homines honesti,' a set of honourable men." "You have a quarrel on h a n d , I s e e , " said I, "with s o m e of the algebraists of Paris; but p r o c e e d . " "I d i s p u t e the availability, a n d t h u s the v a l u e , of that r e a s o n which is cultivated in any e s p e c i a l form other than the abstractly logical. I d i s p u t e , in particular, the r e a s o n e d u c e d by m a t h e m a t i c a l study. T h e m a t h e m a t i c s are the s c i e n c e of form a n d quantity; m a t h e m a t i c a l r e a s o n i n g is merely logic applied to observation u p o n form a n d quantity. T h e great error lies in s u p p o s i n g that even the truths of what is called pure a l g e b r a , are a b s t r a c t or general truths. And this error is so e g r e g i o u s that I a m c o n f o u n d e d at the universality with which it h a s b e e n received. M a t h e m a t i c a l a x i o m s are not axioms of general truth. W h a t is true of relation—of form a n d q u a n t i t y — i s often grossly false in regard to m o r a l s , for e x a m p l e . In this latter s c i e n c e it is very usually u n t r u e that the a g g r e g a t e d p a r t s are equal to the w h o l e . In chemistry a l s o the axiom fails. In the c o n s i d e r a t i o n of motive it fails; for two motives, e a c h of a given v a l u e , have not, necessarily, a value w h e n u n i t e d , e q u a l to the s u m of their v a l u e s apart. T h e r e are n u m e r o u s other m a t h e matical truths which are only truths within the limits of relation. B u t the m a t h e m a t i c i a n a r g u e s , from his finite truths, t h r o u g h habit, a s if they were of absolutely general a p p l i c a b i l i t y — a s the world i n d e e d i m a g i n e s them to b e . B r y a n t , 1 in his very learned 'Mythology,' m e n t i o n s a n a n a l o g o u s s o u r c e 1. A f a l l a c y in l o g i c in w h i c h n e i t h e r p r e m i s e o f a syllogism "distributes" (i.e.. conveys information about every m e m b e r of the class) the middle term. A c c o r d i n g to D u p i n , the P r e f e c t d o e s not a l l o w for the possibility that s o m e poets are not fools. 2. T h e o d d s a r e that every c o m m o n n o t i o n , every accepted convention, is nonsense, precisely

b e c a u s e it h a s s u i t e d i t s e l f t o t h e majority (trench). Sebastian Roch Nicolas Chamfort Pensees. ( 1 7 4 1 - 1 7 9 4 ) , a u t h o r o f Maximes el 3. J a c o b B r y a n t ( 1 7 1 5 - 1 8 0 4 ) , E n g l i s h s c h o l a r w h o w r o t e A New System, or an Analysis of Antient Mythology (1774-78)!

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of error, w h e n he says that ' a l t h o u g h the P a g a n fables a r e not believed, yet we forget ourselves continually, a n d m a k e inferences from t h e m a s existing realities.' With the algebraist, however, w h o are P a g a n s t h e m s e l v e s , the ' P a g a n fables' are believed, a n d the i n f e r e n c e s are m a d e , not s o m u c h t h r o u g h l a p s e of m e m o r y , a s t h r o u g h a n u n a c c o u n t a b l e a d d l i n g of the b r a i n s . In short, I never yet e n c o u n t e r e d the m e r e m a t h e m a t i c i a n w h o c o u l d be t r u s t e d o u t of e q u a l roots, or o n e w h o did not c l a n d e s t i n e l y hold it a s a point of his faith x2+px w a s absolutely a n d unconditionally e q u a l to q. S a y to o n e of t h e s e g e n t l e m e n , by way of e x p e r i m e n t , if you p l e a s e , that you believe o c c a s i o n s may o c c u r w h e r e x2+px is not altogether e q u a l to q, a n d , having m a d e h i m u n d e r s t a n d w h a t you m e a n , get o u t of his r e a c h a s speedily a s c o n v e n i e n t , for, b e y o n d d o u b t , he will e n d e a v o u r to k n o c k you d o w n . "I m e a n to s a y , " c o n t i n u e d D u p i n , while I merely l a u g h e d at his last observations, "that if the M i n i s t e r h a d b e e n no m o r e than a m a t h e m a t i c i a n , the Prefect would have b e e n u n d e r n o n e c e s s i t y of giving m e this c h e c k . H a d h e b e e n no m o r e than a p o e t , I think it p r o b a b l e that he would have foiled u s all. I knew him, however, a s both m a t h e m a t i c i a n a n d poet, a n d my m e a s u r e s were a d a p t e d to his c a p a c i t y , with r e f e r e n c e to the c i r c u m s t a n c e s by w h i c h he w a s s u r r o u n d e d . I k n e w him a s a courtier, too, a n d a s a bold intriguant. S u c h a m a n , I c o n s i d e r e d , c o u l d not fail to b e a w a r e of the ordinary policial m o d e s of a c t i o n . H e c o u l d not have failed to a n t i c i p a t e — a n d events have proved that he did not fail to a n t i c i p a t e — t h e waylayings to which he w a s s u b j e c t e d . H e m u s t have f o r e s e e n , I reflected, the secret investigations of his p r e m i s e s . H i s f r e q u e n t a b s e n c e s from h o m e at night, w h i c h were hailed by the Prefect a s certain aids to his s u c c e s s , I r e g a r d e d only a s ruses, to afford opportunity for t h o r o u g h s e a r c h to the p o l i c e , a n d t h u s the s o o n e r to i m p r e s s t h e m with the conviction to which G , in fact, did finally arrive—the conviction that the letter w a s not u p o n the p r e m i s e s . I felt, a l s o , that the whole train of t h o u g h t , which I w a s at s o m e p a i n s in detailing to you j u s t now, c o n c e r n i n g the invariable principle of policial a c t i o n in s e a r c h e s for articles c o n c e a l e d — I felt that this w h o l e train of t h o u g h t would n e c e s s a r i l y p a s s t h r o u g h the m i n d of the M i n i s t e r . It would imperatively lead him to d e s p i s e all the ordinary nooks of c o n c e a l m e n t . He c o u l d not, I reflected, b e s o w e a k a s not to s e e that the m o s t intricate a n d r e m o t e r e c e s s of his hotel would b e a s o p e n as his c o m m o n e s t c l o s e t s to the e y e s , to the p r o b e s , to the g i m l e t s , a n d to the m i c r o s c o p e s of the Prefect. I saw, in fine, that h e would b e driven, a s a m a t t e r of c o u r s e , to simplicity, if not deliberately i n d u c e d to it a s a m a t t e r of c h o i c e . You will r e m e m b e r , p e r h a p s h o w d e s p e r a t e l y the Prefect l a u g h e d w h e n I s u g g e s t e d , u p o n our first interview, that it w a s j u s t p o s s i b l e this mystery troubled him s o m u c h on a c c o u n t of its b e i n g s o very self-evident." " Y e s , " said I, "I r e m e m b e r his m e r r i m e n t well. I really t h o u g h t he would have fallen into c o n v u l s i o n s . " " T h e material w o r l d , " c o n t i n u e d D u p i n , " a b o u n d s with very strict a n a l o gies to the i m m a t e r i a l ; a n d t h u s s o m e c o l o u r of truth h a s b e e n given to the rhetorical d o g m a , that m e t a p h o r , or simile, m a y b e m a d e to s t r e n g t h e n a n a r g u m e n t , a s well a s to e m b e l l i s h a d e s c r i p t i o n . T h e principle of the vis inertise,4 for e x a m p l e , with the a m o u n t of momentum p r o p o r t i o n a t e with it 4. T h e p o w e r of inertia (Latin).

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a n d c o n s e q u e n t u p o n it, s e e m s to be identical in physics a n d m e t a p h y s i c s . It is not m o r e true in the former, that a large body is with m o r e difficulty set in motion than a s m a l l e r o n e , a n d that its s u b s e q u e n t impetus is c o m m e n s u r a t e with this difficulty, than it is, in the latter, that intellects of the vaster capacity, while m o r e forcible, m o r e c o n s t a n t , a n d m o r e eventful in their m o v e m e n t s than t h o s e of inferior g r a d e , are yet the less readily m o v e d , a n d m o r e e m b a r r a s s e d a n d full of hesitation in the first few s t e p s of their prog r e s s . Again: have you ever noticed which of the street s i g n s , over the s h o p d o o r s , are the m o s t attractive of a t t e n t i o n ? " "I have never given the m a t t e r a t h o u g h t , " I said. " T h e r e is a g a m e of p u z z l e s , " he r e s u m e d , "which is played u p o n a m a p . O n e party playing r e q u i r e s a n o t h e r to find a given w o r d — t h e n a m e of town, river, s t a t e , or e m p i r e ^ a n y w o r d , in short, u p o n the motley a n d perplexed s u r f a c e of the chart. A novice in the g a m e generally s e e k s to e m b a r r a s s his o p p o n e n t s by giving t h e m the m o s t minutely lettered n a m e s ; but the a d e p t s e l e c t s s u c h words a s stretch, in large c h a r a c t e r s , from o n e e n d of the c h a r t to the other. T h e s e , like the over-largely lettered signs a n d p l a c a r d s of the street, e s c a p e observation by dint of b e i n g excessively o b v i o u s ; a n d here the physical oversight is precisely a n a l o g o u s with the moral i n a p p r e h e n s i o n by which the intellect suffers to p a s s u n n o t i c e d t h o s e c o n s i d e r a t i o n s which are too obtrusively a n d too p a l p a b l y self-evident. B u t this is a point, it a p p e a r s , s o m e w h a t a b o v e or b e n e a t h the u n d e r s t a n d i n g of the Prefect. H e never o n c e thought it p r o b a b l e , or p o s s i b l e , that the Minister h a d d e p o s i t e d the letter immediately b e n e a t h the n o s e of the whole world, by way of b e s t preventing any portion of that world from perceiving it. " B u t the m o r e I reflected u p o n the daring, d a s h i n g , a n d d i s c r i m i n a t i n g ingenuity of D ; u p o n the fact that the d o c u m e n t m u s t always have b e e n at hand, if he i n t e n d e d ' to u s e it to g o o d p u r p o s e ; a n d u p o n the decisive e v i d e n c e , o b t a i n e d by the Prefect, that it w a s not hidden within the limits of that dignitary's ordinary s e a r c h — t h e m o r e satisfied I b e c a m e that, to c o n ceal this letter, the M i n i s t e r h a d resorted to the c o m p r e h e n s i v e a n d s a g a cious expedient of not a t t e m p t i n g to c o n c e a l it at all. "Full of t h e s e i d e a s , I p r e p a r e d myself with a pair of green s p e c t a c l e s , a n d called o n e fine morning, quite by a c c i d e n t , at the ministerial hotel. I found D at h o m e , yawning, lounging, a n d d a w d l i n g a s u s u a l , a n d p r e t e n d i n g to be in the last extremity of ennui.5 H e is, p e r h a p s , the m o s t really energetic h u m a n being now a l i v e — b u t that is only when nobody s e e s h i m . " T o b e even with him, I c o m p l a i n e d of my w e a k e y e s , a n d l a m e n t e d the necessity of the s p e c t a c l e s , u n d e r cover of which I c a u t i o u s l y a n d thoroughly surveyed the whole a p a r t m e n t , while seemingly intent only u p o n the c o n versation of my host. "I paid e s p e c i a l attention to a large writing-table near which he sat, a n d u p o n which lay confusedly, s o m e m i s c e l l a n o u s letters a n d other p a p e r s , with o n e or two m u s i c a l i n s t r u m e n t s a n d a few b o o k s . H e r e , however, after a long a n d very deliberate scrutiny, I saw n o t h i n g to excite p a r t i c u l a r s u s p i c i o n . "At length my eyes, in g o i n g the circuit of the r o o m , fell u p o n a trumpery fillagree card-rack of p a s t e b o a r d , that h u n g d a n g l i n g by a dirty b l u e riband, from a little b r a s s knob j u s t b e n e a t h the middle of the m a n t e l - p i e c e . In this 5.

Boredom (French).

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rack, which h a d three or four c o m p a r t m e n t s , were five or six visiting-cards, a n d a solitary letter. T h i s last w a s m u c h soiled a n d c r u m p l e d . It w a s torn nearly in two, a c r o s s the m i d d l e — a s if a d e s i g n , in the first i n s t a n c e , to tear it entirely u p a s w o r t h l e s s , h a d b e e n altered, or stayed, in the s e c o n d . It h a d a large b l a c k seal, b e a r i n g the D c i p h e r very c o n s p i c u o u s l y , a n d w a s a d d r e s s e d , in a d i m i n u t i v e f e m a l e h a n d , to D , the minister himself. It w a s thrust carelessly, a n d even, a s it s e e m e d , c o n t e m p t u o u s l y , into o n e of the u p p e r m o s t divisions of the rack. " N o s o o n e r h a d I g l a n c e d at this letter, t h a n I c o n c l u d e d it to b e that of which I w a s in s e a r c h . T o be s u r e , it w a s , to all a p p e a r a n c e , radically different from the o n e of which the Prefect h a d r e a d u s s o m i n u t e a d e s c r i p t i o n . H e r e the seal w a s large a n d black, with the D c i p h e r ; there, it w a s small a n d red, with the d u c a l a r m s of the S family. H e r e , the a d d r e s s , to the minister, w a s diminutive a n d f e m i n i n e ; t h e r e , the s u p e r s c r i p t i o n , to a certain royal p e r s o n a g e , w a s markedly bold a n d d e c i d e d ; the size a l o n e f o r m e d a point of c o r r e s p o n d e n c e . B u t , t h e n , the radicalness of t h e s e differences, which w a s excessive; the dirt, the soiled a n d torn c o n d i t i o n of the p a p e r , so i n c o n s i s t e n t with the true m e t h o d i c a l habits of D , a n d s o suggestive of a d e s i g n to d e l u d e the b e h o l d e r into an idea of the w o r t h l e s s n e s s of the d o c u m e n t ; t h e s e things, together with the hyper-obtrusive situation of this d o c u m e n t , full in the view of every visiter, a n d t h u s exactly in a c c o r d a n c e with the c o n c l u s i o n s to which I h a d previously arrived; t h e s e t h i n g s , I say, were strongly corroborative of s u s p i c i o n , in o n e w h o c a m e with the intention to s u s p e c t . "I p r o t r a c t e d my visit a s long a s p o s s i b l e , a n d , while I m a i n t a i n e d a m o s t a n i m a t e d d i s c u s s i o n with the minister, u p o n a topic w h i c h I k n e w well h a d never failed to interest a n d excite h i m , I kept my a t t e n t i o n really riveted u p o n the letter. In this e x a m i n a t i o n , I c o m m i t t e d to m e m o r y its external a p p e a r a n c e a n d a r r a n g e m e n t in the rack; a n d a l s o fell, at length, u p o n a discovery which set at rest whatever trivial d o u b t I m i g h t have e n t e r t a i n e d . In scrutinizing the e d g e s of the p a p e r , I o b s e r v e d t h e m to b e m o r e chafed than s e e m e d n e c e s s a r y . T h e y p r e s e n t e d the broken a p p e a r a n c e w h i c h is m a n i f e s t e d w h e n a stiff p a p e r , h a v i n g b e e n o n c e folded a n d p r e s s e d with a folder, is refolded in a reversed direction, in the s a m e c r e a s e s or e d g e s w h i c h h a d f o r m e d the original fold. T h i s discovery w a s sufficient. It w a s clear to m e that the letter h a d b e e n t u r n e d , a s a glove, i n s i d e o u t , re-directed, a n d re-sealed. I b a d e the minister g o o d m o r n i n g a n d took my d e p a r t u r e at o n c e , leaving a gold snuff-box u p o n the t a b l e . " T h e next m o r n i n g I called for the snuff-box, w h e n we r e s u m e d , q u i t e eagerly, the c o n v e r s a t i o n of the p r e c e d i n g day. W h i l e t h u s e n g a g e d , however, a loud report, a s if of a pistol, w a s h e a r d i m m e d i a t e l y b e n e a t h the w i n d o w s of the hotel, a n d w a s s u c c e e d e d by a series of fearful s c r e a m s , a n d the s h o u t ings of a terrified m o b . D r u s h e d to a c a s e m e n t , threw it o p e n , a n d looked out. In the m e a n t i m e , I s t e p p e d to the c a r d - r a c k , took the letter, p u t it in my p o c k e t , a n d r e p l a c e d it by a facsimile, w h i c h I h a d carefully p r e p a r e d at my l o d g i n g s — i m i t a t i n g the D cipher, very readily, by m e a n s of a seal f o r m e d of b r e a d . " T h e d i s t u r b a n c e in the street h a d b e e n o c c a s i o n e d by the frantic behaviour of a m a n with a m u s k e t . H e h a d fired it a m o n g a crowd of w o m e n a n d c h i l d r e n . It proved, however, to have b e e n without ball, a n d the fellow w a s suffered to g o his way a s a lunatic or a d r u n k a r d . W h e n h e h a d g o n e , D

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c a m e from the window, whither I h a d followed him i m m e d i a t e l y u p o n securing the object in view. S o o n afterwards I b a d e him farewell. T h e p r e t e n d e d lunatic w a s a m a n in my own p a y . " " B u t what p u r p o s e h a d y o u , " I a s k e d , "in r e p l a c i n g the letter by a facsimile? W o u l d it not have b e e n better, at the first visit, to have seized it openly, a n d d e p a r t e d ? " "D ," replied D u p i n , "is a d e s p e r a t e m a n , a n d a m a n o f nerve. H i s hotel, too, is not without a t t e n d a n t s devoted to his interests. H a d I m a d e the wild a t t e m p t you s u g g e s t , I s h o u l d never have left the ministerial p r e s e n c e alive. T h e g o o d p e o p l e of Paris would have h e a r d of m e no m o r e . B u t I h a d an object apart from t h e s e c o n s i d e r a t i o n s . You know my political p r e p o s s e s sions. In this matter, I act a s a p a r t i s a n of the lady c o n c e r n e d . F o r e i g h t e e n m o n t h s the minister h a s h a d her in his power. S h e h a s now him in h e r s — s i n c e , b e i n g u n a w a r e that the letter is not in his p o s s e s s i o n , h e will p r o c e e d with his e x a c t i o n s a s if it w a s . T h u s will he inevitably c o m m i t himself, at o n c e , to his political d e s t r u c t i o n . His downfall, too, will not b e m o r e precipitate t h a n awkward. It is all very well to talk a b o u t the facilis descensus Averni;6 but in all kinds of climbing, a s C a t a l i n i 7 s a i d of singing, it is far m o r e easy to get u p than to c o m e d o w n . In the p r e s e n t i n s t a n c e I have n o symp a t h y — a t least n o pity for him w h o d e s c e n d s . H e is that monstrum horrendum,8 an u n p r i n c i p l e d m a n of g e n i u s . I c o n f e s s , however, that I s h o u l d like very well to know the p r e c i s e c h a r a c t e r of his t h o u g h t s , w h e n , b e i n g defied by her w h o m the Prefect t e r m s 'a certain p e r s o n a g e , ' h e is r e d u c e d to o p e n i n g the letter which I left for h i m in the c a r d - r a c k . " " H o w ? did you p u t any thing particular in i t ? " " W h y — i t did not s e e m altogether right to leave the interior b l a n k — t h a t would have b e e n insulting. T o b e s u r e , D , at V i e n n a o n c e , did m e a n evil turn, which I told h i m , q u i t e g o o d - h u m o u r e d l y , that I s h o u l d r e m e m b e r . S o , a s I knew he w o u l d feel s o m e curiosity in regard to the identity of the p e r s o n w h o h a d outwitted him, I t h o u g h t it a pity not to give h i m a c l u e . H e is well a c q u a i n t e d with my M S . , a n d I j u s t c o p i e d into the m i d d l e of the blank sheet the w o r d s — " ' — U n d e s s e i n si f u n e s t e , S'il n'est d i g n e d'Atree, est digne d e T h y e s t e . ' T h e y are to b e f o u n d in Crebillon's 'Atree.' " 9 1844

The Cask of Amontillado1 T h e t h o u s a n d injuries of F o r t u n a t o I h a d b o r n e a s I b e s t c o u l d , b u t w h e n he ventured u p o n insult I vowed revenge. Y o u , w h o so well know the n a t u r e 6 . S l i g h t l y m i s q u o t e d f r o m V i r g i l ' s Aeneid, b o o k 6 : " T h e d e s c e n t to A v e r n u s [ H e l l ] is e a s y . " 7. A n g e l i c a C a t a l a n i ( 1 7 8 0 - 1 8 4 9 ) , Italian singer. 8. " D r e a d f u l m o n s t r o s i t y " (Virgil's e p i t h e t for Polyphemus, the one-eyed man-eating giant). 9 . P r o s p e r J o l y o t d e C r e b i l l o n w r o t e Atree et T / i y e s t e ( 1 7 0 7 ) , in w h i c h T h y e s t e s s e d u c e s t h e w i f e o f h i s b r o t h e r A t r e u s , t h e k i n g o f M y c e n a e ; in

revenge Atreus murders the sons of Thyestes and serves t h e m to their father at a feast. T h e q u o t a t i o n r e a d s : " S o b a n e f u l a s c h e m e , / if n o t w o r t h y o f A t r e u s , is w o r t h y o f T h y e s t e s " ( F r e n c h ) . 1. T h e t e x t i s t h a t o f t h e first p u b l i c a t i o n , i n Godey's Magazine and Lady's Book 3 3 ( N o v e m b e r 1846).

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of my soul, will not s u p p o s e , however, that I gave u t t e r a n c e to a threat. At length I would be a v e n g e d ; this w a s a point definitively s e t t l e d — b u t the very definitiveness with which it w a s resolved p r e c l u d e d the idea of risk. I m u s t not only p u n i s h b u t p u n i s h with impunity. A w r o n g is u n r e d r e s s e d w h e n retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally u n r e d r e s s e d w h e n the avenger fails to m a k e h i m s e l f felt a s s u c h to him w h o has d o n e the w r o n g . It m u s t be u n d e r s t o o d that neither by word nor d e e d h a d I given F o r t u n a t o c a u s e to d o u b t my g o o d will. I c o n t i n u e d , a s w a s my wont, to s m i l e in his f a c e , a n d he did not perceive that my smile now w a s at the t h o u g h t of his immolation. H e h a d a w e a k p o i n t — t h i s F o r t u n a t o — a l t h o u g h in other r e g a r d s h e w a s a m a n to be r e s p e c t e d a n d even f e a r e d . H e p r i d e d himself u p o n his conn o i s s e u r s h i p in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. F o r the m o s t part their e n t h u s i a s m is a d o p t e d to suit the time a n d opportunity, to p r a c t i c e i m p o s t u r e u p o n the British a n d A u s t r i a n millionaires. In p a i n t i n g a n d g e m mary, F o r t u n a t o , like his c o u n t r y m e n , w a s a q u a c k , but in the m a t t e r of old wines h e w a s s i n c e r e . In this r e s p e c t I did not differ from him materially;—I w a s skilful in the Italian vintages myself, a n d b o u g h t largely w h e n e v e r I could. It w a s a b o u t d u s k , o n e e v e n i n g d u r i n g the s u p r e m e m a d n e s s of the carnival s e a s o n , that I e n c o u n t e r e d my friend. H e a c c o s t e d m e with excessive w a r m t h , for he h a d b e e n drinking m u c h . T h e m a n w o r e m o t l e y . 2 H e h a d o n a tight-fitting parti-striped d r e s s , a n d his h e a d w a s s u r m o u n t e d by the c o n i c a l c a p a n d bells. I w a s so p l e a s e d to s e e him that I t h o u g h t I s h o u l d never have d o n e wringing his h a n d . I said to h i m — " M y d e a r F o r t u n a t o , you are luckily m e t . H o w remarkably well you a r e looking to-day. B u t I have received a p i p e of w h a t p a s s e s for A m o n t i l l a d o , 3 a n d I have my d o u b t s . " " H o w ? " said h e . " A m o n t i l l a d o ? A p i p e ? I m p o s s i b l e ! A n d in the m i d d l e of the carnival!" "I have my d o u b t s , " I replied; " a n d I w a s silly e n o u g h to pay the full A m o n tillado price without c o n s u l t i n g you in the m a t t e r . You were not to be f o u n d , a n d I w a s fearful of losing a b a r g a i n . " "Amontillado!" "I have my d o u b t s . " "Amontillado!" "And I m u s t satisfy t h e m . " "Amontillado!" "As you are e n g a g e d , I a m on my way to L u c h r e s i . If any o n e h a s a critical turn it is h e . H e will tell m e " " L u c h r e s i c a n n o t tell A m o n t i l l a d o from S h e r r y . " "And yet s o m e fools will have it that his taste is a m a t c h for your o w n . " " C o m e , let us g o . " "Whither?" " T o your v a u l t s . " " M y friend, n o ; I will not i m p o s e u p o n your g o o d n a t u r e . I p e r c e i v e you have an e n g a g e m e n t . L u c h r e s i " "I have no e n g a g e m e n t ; — c o m e . " 2.

Fool's varicolored c o s t u m e .

3. A light S p a n i s h s h e r r y . " P i p e " : a l a r g e b a r r e l .

THE

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" M y friend, n o . It is not the e n g a g e m e n t , b u t the severe cold with which I perceive you a r e afflicted. T h e vaults are insufferably d a m p . T h e y are e n c r u s t e d with n i t r e . " 4 " L e t u s g o , n e v e r t h e l e s s . T h e cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have b e e n i m p o s e d u p o n . A n d as for L u c h r e s i , he c a n n o t distinguish Sherry from A m o n t i l l a d o . " T h u s s p e a k i n g , F o r t u n a t o p o s s e s s e d himself of my a r m ; a n d p u t t i n g on a m a s k of b l a c k silk a n d drawing a roquelaire^ closely a b o u t my p e r s o n , I suffered him to hurry m e to my palazzo. T h e r e were n o a t t e n d a n t s at h o m e ; they h a d a b s c o n d e d to m a k e merry in h o n o u r of the t i m e . I h a d told t h e m that f s h o u l d not return until the morning, a n d h a d given t h e m explicit orders not to stir from the h o u s e . T h e s e o r d e r s were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their i m m e d i a t e d i s a p p e a r a n c e , o n e a n d all, as s o o n a s my b a c k w a s t u r n e d . I took from their s c o n c e s two flambeaux, a n d giving o n e to F o r t u n a t o , b o w e d him t h r o u g h several s u i t e s of r o o m s to the archway that led into the vaults. I p a s s e d d o w n a long a n d winding s t a i r c a s e , r e q u e s t i n g him to be c a u t i o u s as h e followed. W e c a m e at length to the foot of the d e s c e n t , a n d stood together u p o n the d a m p g r o u n d of the c a t a c o m b s of the M o n t r e s o r s . T h e gait of my friend w a s u n s t e a d y , a n d the bells u p o n his c a p jingled a s he s t r o d e . " T h e p i p e , " said h e . "It is farther o n , " s a i d I; " b u t o b s e r v e the white web-work which g l e a m s from t h e s e cavern w a l l s . " H e turned towards m e , a n d looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that distilled the r h e u m of intoxication. " N i t r e ? " h e a s k e d , at length. " N i t r e , " I replied. " H o w long have you h a d that c o u g h ? " " U g h ! u g h ! u g h ! — u g h ! u g h ! u g h ! — u g h ! ugh ! u g h ! — u g h ! ugh! u g h ! — u g h ! ugh! u g h ! " M y p o o r friend f o u n d it i m p o s s i b l e to reply for m a n y m i n u t e s . "It is n o t h i n g , " he said, at last. " C o m e , " I said, with d e c i s i o n , "we will go b a c k ; your health is p r e c i o u s . You are rich, r e s p e c t e d , a d m i r e d , beloved; you are happy, a s o n c e I w a s . You are a m a n to be m i s s e d . F o r m e it is no matter. W e will go back; you will be ill, a n d I c a n n o t be r e s p o n s i b l e . B e s i d e s , there is L u c h r e s i " " E n o u g h , " h e s a i d ; " t h e c o u g h is a m e r e nothing; it will not kill m e . I shall not die of a c o u g h . " " T r u e — t r u e , " I replied; " a n d , i n d e e d , I had no intention of a l a r m i n g you u n n e c c e s s a r i l y — b u t you s h o u l d u s e all proper c a u t i o n . A d r a u g h t of this M e d o c 6 will d e f e n d u s from the d a m p s . " H e r e I k n o c k e d off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that lay u p o n the m o u l d . " D r i n k , " I s a i d , p r e s e n t i n g him the wine. H e raised it to his lips with a leer. H e p a u s e d a n d n o d d e d to m e familiarly, while his bells j i n g l e d . "I drink," he said, "to the buried that r e p o s e a r o u n d u s . " 4. Saltpeter, nitrate.

the

whitish

mineral potassium

5. A knee-length cloak, 6. A claret from near Bordeaux.

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"And I to your l o n g life." H e again t o o k my a r m , a n d we p r o c e e d e d . " T h e s e v a u l t s , " he said, "are e x t e n s i v e . " " T h e M o n t r e s o r s , " I replied, "were a great a n d n u m e r o u s family." "I forget your a r m s . " "A h u g e h u m a n foot d'or, in a field a z u r e ; the foot c r u s h e s a s e r p e n t ramp a n t w h o s e fangs are i m b e d d e d in the h e e l . " 7 " A n d the m o t t o ? " "Nemo

me impune

lacessit.

"

H

" G o o d ! " h e said. T h e wine sparkled in his eyes a n d the bells j i n g l e d . M y own fancy grew w a r m with the M e d o c . W e h a d p a s s e d t h r o u g h long walls of piled skeletons, with c a s k s a n d p u n c h e o n s intermingling, into the i n m o s t r e c e s s e s of the c a t a c o m b s . I p a u s e d a g a i n , a n d this time I m a d e bold to seize F o r t u n a t o by a n a r m a b o v e the elbow. " T h e n i t r e ! " I s a i d ; " s e e , it i n c r e a s e s . It h a n g s like m o s s u p o n the vaults. W e are below the river's b e d . T h e d r o p s of m o i s t u r e trickle a m o n g the b o n e s . C o m e , we will go b a c k ere it is too late. Your c o u g h " "It is n o t h i n g , " h e s a i d ; "let u s go o n . B u t first, a n o t h e r d r a u g h t of the Medoc." I b r o k e a n d r e a c h e d him a flacon of D e G r a v e . 9 H e e m p t i e d it at a b r e a t h . H i s eyes flashed with a fierce light. H e l a u g h e d a n d threw the bottle u p w a r d s with a g e s t i c u l a t i o n I did not u n d e r s t a n d . I looked at h i m in s u r p r i s e . H e r e p e a t e d the m o v e m e n t — a g r o t e s q u e o n e . "You d o not c o m p r e h e n d ? " h e s a i d . " N o t I," I replied. " T h e n you are not of the b r o t h e r h o o d . " "How?" "You a r e not of the m a s o n s . " "Yes, y e s , " I s a i d ; " y e s , y e s . " "You? Impossible! A m a s o n ? " "A m a s o n , " I replied. "A s i g n , " h e said, "a s i g n . " roquelaire "It is t h i s , " I a n s w e r e d , p r o d u c i n g from b e n e a t h the folds of my a trowel. "You j e s t , " h e e x c l a i m e d , recoiling a few p a c e s . " B u t let u s p r o c e e d to the Amontillado." " B e it s o , " I said, r e p l a c i n g the tool b e n e a t h the c l o a k a n d again offering h i m my a r m . H e l e a n e d u p o n it heavily. W e c o n t i n u e d o u r rout in s e a r c h of the A m o n t i l l a d o . W e p a s s e d t h r o u g h a r a n g e of low a r c h e s , d e s c e n d e d , p a s s e d o n , a n d d e s c e n d i n g a g a i n , arrived at a d e e p crypt, in which the fouln e s s of the air c a u s e d our f l a m b e a u x rather to glow t h a n flame. At the m o s t r e m o t e e n d of the crypt there a p p e a r e d a n o t h e r less s p a c i o u s . Its walls h a d b e e n lined with h u m a n r e m a i n s , piled to the vault o v e r h e a d , in the f a s h i o n of the great c a t a c o m b s of Paris. T h r e e sides of this interior crypt were still o r n a m e n t e d in this m a n n e r . F r o m the fourth side the b o n e s h a d b e e n thrown d o w n , a n d lay p r o m i s c u o u s l y u p o n the earth, forming at o n e 7. On the coat of arms the golden foot is in a blue background; the foot crushes a serpent whose head is reared up.

8. No one insults me with impunity (Latin). 9. A white Bordeaux wine.

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point a m o u n d of s o m e size. Within the wall t h u s e x p o s e d by the d i s p l a c i n g of the b o n e s , we perceived a still interior crypt or r e c e s s , in d e p t h a b o u t four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It s e e m e d to have b e e n constructed for n o e s p e c i a l u s e within itself, but formed merely the interval b e t w e e n two of the c o l o s s a l s u p p o r t s of the roof of the c a t a c o m b s , a n d w a s b a c k e d by o n e of their c i r c u m s c r i b i n g walls of solid g r a n i t e . It w a s in vain that F o r t u n a t o , uplifting his dull torch, e n d e a v o u r e d to pry into the d e p t h of the r e c e s s . Its termination the feeble light did not e n a b l e u s to s e e . " P r o c e e d , " I said; "herein is the A m o n t i l l a d o . As for L u c h r e s i " " H e is a n i g n o r a m u s , " interrupted my friend, a s h e s t e p p e d unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In a n instant he h a d r e a c h e d the extremity of the n i c h e , a n d finding his p r o g r e s s a r r e s t e d by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A m o m e n t m o r e a n d I h a d fettered him to the granite. In its s u r f a c e were two iron s t a p l e s , d i s t a n t from e a c h other a b o u t two feet, horizontally. F r o m o n e of t h e s e d e p e n d e d a short c h a i n , from the other a p a d l o c k . T h r o w i n g the links a b o u t his waist, it w a s but the work of a few s e c o n d s to s e c u r e it. H e w a s too m u c h a s t o u n d e d to resist. Withdrawing the key I s t e p p e d b a c k from the r e c e s s . " P a s s your h a n d , " I said, "over the wall; you c a n n o t help feeling the nitre. I n d e e d , it is very d a m p . O n c e m o r e let m e implore you to return. N o ? T h e n I m u s t positively leave you. B u t I will first render you all the little attentions in my p o w e r . " " T h e A m o n t i l l a d o ! " e j a c u l a t e d my friend, not yet recovered from his a s t o n ishment. " T r u e , " I replied; "the A m o n t i l l a d o . " As I said t h e s e w o r d s I b u s i e d myself a m o n g the pile of b o n e s of which I have before s p o k e n . T h r o w i n g t h e m a s i d e , I s o o n u n c o v e r e d a quantity of building s t o n e a n d mortar. W i t h t h e s e materials a n d with the aid of my trowel, I b e g a n vigorously to wall u p the e n t r a n c e of the n i c h e . I h a d scarcely laid the first tier of the m a s o n r y w h e n I d i s c o v e r e d that the intoxication of F o r t u n a t o h a d in great m e a s u r e worn off. T h e earliest indication I had of this w a s a low m o a n i n g cry from the d e p t h of the r e c e s s . It w a s not the cry of a d r u n k e n m a n . T h e r e w a s then a long a n d o b s t i n a t e s i l e n c e . I laid the s e c o n d tier, a n d the third, a n d the fourth; a n d then I heard the furious vibration of the c h a i n . T h e n o i s e lasted for several m i n u t e s , duri n g w h i c h , that I might h e a r k e n to it with the m o r e satisfaction, I c e a s e d my l a b o u r s a n d sat down u p o n the b o n e s . W h e n at last the c l a n k i n g s u b s i d e d , I r e s u m e d the trowel, a n d finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, a n d the seventh tier. T h e wall w a s now nearly u p o n a level with my breast. I again p a u s e d , a n d holding the flambeaux over the m a s o n - w o r k , threw a few feeble rays u p o n the figure within. A s u c c e s s i o n of loud a n d shrill s c r e a m s , b u r s t i n g s u d d e n l y from the throat of the c h a i n e d form, s e e m e d to thrust m e violently b a c k . F o r a brief m o m e n t I h e s i t a t e d , I t r e m b l e d . U n s h e a t h i n g my rapier, I b e g a n to g r o p e with it a b o u t the r e c e s s ; but the thought of an instant r e a s s u r e d m e . I p l a c e d my h a n d u p o n the solid fabric of the c a t a c o m b s a n d felt satisfied. I r e a p p r o a c h e d the wall. I replied to the yells of him w h o c l a m o u r e d . I r e - e c h o e d , I a i d e d , I s u r p a s s e d t h e m in v o l u m e a n d in strength. I did this, a n d the c l a m o u r e r grew still.

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It w a s now midnight, a n d my task w a s drawing to a c l o s e . I h a d c o m p l e t e d the eighth, the ninth a n d the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last a n d the eleventh; there r e m a i n e d but a single s t o n e to b e fitted a n d p l a s t e r e d in. I struggled with its weight; I p l a c e d it partially in its d e s t i n e d p o s i t i o n . B u t now there c a m e from o u t the n i c h e a low l a u g h that e r e c t e d the hairs u p o n my h e a d . It w a s s u c c e e d e d by a s a d voice, which I h a d difficulty in recognizing a s that of the noble F o r t u n a t o . T h e voice s a i d — " H a ! ha! h a ! — h e ! h e ! h e ! — a very g o o d j o k e , i n d e e d — a n excellent j e s t . W e will have m a n y a rich laugh a b o u t it at the p a l a z z o — h e ! h e ! h e ! — o v e r o u r wine—he! he! he!" "The Amontillado!" I said. " H e ! h e ! h e ! — h e ! h e ! h e ! — y e s , the A m o n t i l l a d o . B u t is it not g e t t i n g late? Will not they be awaiting u s at the p a l a z z o — t h e L a d y F o r t u n a t o a n d the rest? L e t u s be g o n e . " " Y e s , " I said, "let u s be g o n e . " "For the love of God, Montresor!" " Y e s , " I said, "for the love of G o d ! " B u t to t h e s e w o r d s I h e a r k e n e d in vain for a reply. I grew i m p a t i e n t . I called a l o u d — "Fortunato!" N o a n s w e r . I called a g a i n — "Fortunato!" N o a n s w e r still. I thrust a torch t h r o u g h the r e m a i n i n g a p e r t u r e a n d let it fall within. T h e r e c a m e forth in return only a j i n g l i n g of the bells. M y heart grew sick; it w a s the d a m p n e s s of the c a t a c o m b s that m a d e it s o . I h a s t e n e d to m a k e a n e n d of my labour. I f o r c e d the last s t o n e into its position; I p l a s t e r e d it u p . A g a i n s t the new m a s o n r y I re-erected the old r a m p a r t of b o n e s . F o r the half of a century no mortal h a s d i s t u r b e d t h e m . In pace requiescat!1 1846

The Philosophy of Composition 1 C h a r l e s D i c k e n s , in a n o t e 2 now lying before m e , a l l u d i n g to a n examination I o n c e m a d e of the m e c h a n i s m of " B a r n a b y R u d g e , " s a y s — " B y the way, a r e you a w a r e that G o d w i n wrote his ' C a l e b W i l l i a m s ' b a c k w a r d s ? H e first involved his h e r o in a w e b of difficulties, forming the s e c o n d v o l u m e , a n d t h e n , for the first, c a s t a b o u t him for s o m e m o d e of a c c o u n t i n g for what had been done."3 I c a n n o t think this the precise m o d e of p r o c e d u r e on the part of G o d w i n — 1.

M a y h e r e s t in p e a c e ! ( L a t i n ) .

I. T h e title m e a n s s o m e t h i n g like " T h e T h e o r y o f W r i t i n g . " P o e w r o t e t h e w o r k a s a l e c t u r e in h o p e s of capitalizing on the s u c c e s s of " T h e R a v e n . " For y e a r s in h i s r e v i e w s P o e h a d c a m p a i g n e d f o r d e l i b e r a t e artistry rather than u n c o n t r o l l e d effusions, a n d " T h e P h i l o s o p h y of C o m p o s i t i o n " m u s t b e regarded as part of that c a m p a i g n rather t h a n a factual a c c o u n t of how Poe actually wrote " T h e

R a v e n . " In a l e t t e r o f A u g u s t 9 , 1 8 4 6 , P o e c a l l e d t h e e s s a y h i s " b e s t s p e c i m e n o f a n a l y s i s . " T h e text h e r e is t h a t o f t h e f i r s t p r i n t i n g , i n Graham's Magazine ( A p r i l 1 8 4 6 ) . 2 . D a t e d M a r c h 6 , 1 8 4 2 , a n d p r i n t e d in t h e P i l g r i m e d i t i o n o f D i c k e n s ' s Letters 3.106-07. 3 . W i l l i a m G o d w i n m a k e s t h i s c l a i m in h i s 1 8 3 2 p r e f a c e t o Caleb Williams ( f i r s t p u b l i s h e d in 1794).

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a n d i n d e e d what he himself a c k n o w l e d g e s , is not altogether in a c c o r d a n c e with M r . D i c k e n s ' i d e a — b u t the a u t h o r of " C a l e b W i l l i a m s " w a s too good a n artist not to perceive the a d v a n t a g e derivable from at least a s o m e w h a t similar p r o c e s s . N o t h i n g is m o r e clear than that every plot, worth the n a m e , m u s t be e l a b o r a t e d to its denouement before any thing b e a t t e m p t e d with the p e n . It is only with the denouement c o n s t a n t l y in view that we c a n give a plot its i n d i s p e n s a b l e air of c o n s e q u e n c e , or c a u s a t i o n , by m a k i n g the i n c i d e n t s , a n d especially the tone at all p o i n t s , tend to the d e v e l o p m e n t of the intention. T h e r e is a radical error, I think, in the u s u a l m o d e of c o n s t r u c t i n g a story. Either history affords a t h e s i s — o r o n e is s u g g e s t e d by a n incident of the d a y — o r , at best, the a u t h o r sets himself to work in the c o m b i n a t i o n of striking events to form merely the b a s i s of his n a r r a t i v e — d e s i g n i n g , generally, to fill in with d e s c r i p t i o n , d i a l o g u e , or autorial c o m m e n t , whatever crevices of fact, or a c t i o n , may, from p a g e to p a g e , r e n d e r t h e m s e l v e s a p p a r e n t . I prefer c o m m e n c i n g with the c o n s i d e r a t i o n of an effect. K e e p i n g originality always in view—for h e is false to h i m s e l f w h o v e n t u r e s to d i s p e n s e with s o obvious a n d so easily attainable a s o u r c e of i n t e r e s t — I say to myself, in the first p l a c e , " O f the i n n u m e r a b l e effects, or i m p r e s s i o n s , of which the heart, the intellect, or ( m o r e generally) the soul is s u s c e p t i b l e , w h a t o n e shall I, on the p r e s e n t o c c a s i o n , s e l e c t ? " H a v i n g c h o s e n a novel, first, a n d s e c o n d l y a vivid effect, I c o n s i d e r w h e t h e r it c a n best be w r o u g h t by incident or t o n e — whether by ordinary i n c i d e n t s a n d p e c u l i a r t o n e , or the c o n v e r s e , or by p e c u liarity both of incident a n d t o n e — a f t e r w a r d looking a b o u t m e (or rather within) for s u c h c o m b i n a t i o n s of event, or t o n e , a s shall best aid m e in the c o n s t r u c t i o n of the effect. I have often thought how interesting a m a g a z i n e p a p e r might be written by any a u t h o r w h o w o u l d — t h a t is to say, w h o c o u l d — d e t a i l , step by s t e p , the p r o c e s s e s by which any o n e of his c o m p o s i t i o n s attained its u l t i m a t e point of c o m p l e t i o n . W h y s u c h a p a p e r has never b e e n given to the world, I a m m u c h at a loss to s a y — b u t , p e r h a p s , the autorial vanity has h a d m o r e to do with the o m i s s i o n t h a n any o n e other c a u s e . M o s t w r i t e r s — p o e t s in e s p e c i a l — p r e f e r having it u n d e r s t o o d that they c o m p o s e by a s p e c i e s of fine f r e n z y 4 — a n ecstatic i n t u i t i o n — a n d would positively s h u d d e r at letting the public take a p e e p b e h i n d the s c e n e s , at the e l a b o r a t e a n d vacillating crudities of t h o u g h t — a t the true p u r p o s e s seized only at the last m o m e n t — a t the i n n u m e r a b l e g l i m p s e s of idea that arrived not at the maturity of full v i e w — a t the fully m a t u r e d f a n c i e s d i s c a r d e d in d e s p a i r a s u n m a n a g e a b l e — a t the c a u t i o u s selections a n d r e j e c t i o n s — a t the painful e r a s u r e s a n d interpol a t i o n s — i n a word, at the wheels a n d p i n i o n s — t h e tackle for s c e n e s h i f t i n g — t h e step-ladders a n d d e m o n - t r a p s — t h e cock's f e a t h e r s , the red paint a n d the b l a c k p a t c h e s , w h i c h , in ninety-nine c a s e s o u t of the h u n d r e d , c o n s t i t u t e the properties of the literary histrio.* I a m a w a r e , on the other h a n d , that the c a s e is by no m e a n s c o m m o n , in which a n a u t h o r is at all in condition to r e t r a c e the s t e p s by which his c o n 4. S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Midsummer Night's Dream 5 . 1 . 1 2 , in T h e s e u s ' s d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h e p o e t : " T h e p o e t ' s e y e , in a fine f r e n z y r o l l i n g , / D o t h g l a n c e from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven / And a s imagination b o d i e s forth / T h e forms of things

u n k n o w n , the poet's p e n / T u r n s t h e m to s h a p e s , a n d gives to airy n o t h i n g / A local h a b i t a t i o n a n d a name." 5. Artist ( L a t i n ) .

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e l u s i o n s have b e e n a t t a i n e d . In g e n e r a l , s u g g e s t i o n s , having a r i s e n pell-mell, a r e p u r s u e d a n d forgotten in a similar m a n n e r . F o r my own p a r t , I have neither s y m p a t h y with the r e p u g n a n c e alluded to, nor, at any t i m e , the least difficulty in recalling to m i n d the progressive s t e p s of any of my c o m p o s i t i o n s ; a n d , s i n c e the interest of a n analysis, or r e c o n s t r u c t i o n , s u c h a s I have c o n s i d e r e d a desideratum,6 is q u i t e i n d e p e n d e n t of any real or fancied interest in the thing analyzed, it will not b e regarded a s a b r e a c h of d e c o r u m on my part to s h o w the modus operandi7 by which s o m e o n e of my own works w a s put together. I select " T h e R a v e n , " a s the m o s t generally known. It is my d e s i g n to r e n d e r it m a n i f e s t that no o n e point in its c o m p o s i t i o n is referrible either to a c c i d e n t or i n t u i t i o n — t h a t the work p r o c e e d e d , step by s t e p , to its c o m p l e t i o n with the p r e c i s i o n a n d rigid c o n s e q u e n c e of a m a t h e m a t i c a l p r o b l e m . L e t u s d i s m i s s , a s irrelevant to the p o e m per se, the c i r c u m s t a n c e — o r say the n e c e s s i t y — w h i c h , in the first p l a c e , gave rise to the intention of c o m p o s i n g a p o e m that s h o u l d suit at o n c e the p o p u l a r a n d the critical t a s t e . W e c o m m e n c e , t h e n , with this intention. T h e initial c o n s i d e r a t i o n w a s that of extent. If any literary work is too long to be read at o n e sitting, we m u s t b e c o n t e n t to d i s p e n s e with the i m m e n s e l y important effect derivable from unity of i m p r e s s i o n — f o r , if two sittings b e r e q u i r e d , the affairs of the world interfere, a n d every thing like totality is at o n c e d e s t r o y e d . B u t s i n c e , ceteris paribus,1* no p o e t c a n afford to d i s p e n s e with any thing that m a y a d v a n c e his d e s i g n , it but r e m a i n s to b e s e e n w h e t h e r there is, in extent, any a d v a n t a g e to c o u n t e r b a l a n c e the loss of unity w h i c h a t t e n d s it. H e r e I say n o , at o n c e . W h a t we term a long p o e m is, in fact, merely a s u c c e s s i o n of brief o n e s — t h a t is to say, of brief p o e t i c a l effects. It is n e e d l e s s to d e m o n s t r a t e that a p o e m is s u c h , only i n a s m u c h a s it intensely excites, by elevating, the s o u l ; a n d all i n t e n s e e x c i t e m e n t s a r e , through a psychal necessity, brief. F o r this r e a s o n , at least o n e half of the " P a r a d i s e L o s t " 9 is essentially p r o s e — a s u c c e s s i o n of poetical e x c i t e m e n t s inters p e r s e d , inevitably, with c o r r e s p o n d i n g d e p r e s s i o n s — t h e w h o l e b e i n g deprived, t h r o u g h the e x t r e m e n e s s of its l e n g t h , of the vastly i m p o r t a n t artistic e l e m e n t , totality, or unity, of effect. It a p p e a r s evident, t h e n , that there is a distinct limit, a s r e g a r d s length, to all works of literary a r t — t h e limit of a single s i t t i n g — a n d that, a l t h o u g h in certain c l a s s e s of p r o s e c o m p o s i t i o n , s u c h a s " R o b i n s o n C r u s o e , " 1 ( d e m a n d ing n o unity,) this limit may b e a d v a n t a g e o u s l y o v e r p a s s e d , it c a n never properly b e o v e r p a s s e d in a p o e m . Within this limit, the extent of a p o e m m a y b e m a d e to b e a r m a t h e m a t i c a l relation to its m e r i t — i n other w o r d s , to the e x c i t e m e n t or e l e v a t i o n — a g a i n in other w o r d s , to the d e g r e e of the true poetical effect which it is c a p a b l e of i n d u c i n g ; for it is clear that the brevity m u s t b e in direct ratio of the intensity of the i n t e n d e d e f f e c t : — t h i s , with o n e p r o v i s o — t h a t a certain d e g r e e of d u r a t i o n is a b s o l u t e l y r e q u i s i t e for the prod u c t i o n of any effect at all. H o l d i n g in view t h e s e c o n s i d e r a t i o n s , a s well a s that d e g r e e of e x c i t e m e n t 6.

S o m e t h i n g to be desired (Latin).

7. M e t h o d of p r o c e d u r e (Latin). 8. O t h e r t h i n g s b e i n g e q u a l ( L a t i n ) . 9. T h e t w e l v e - b o o k b l a n k - v e r s e e p i c by J o h n Milton, which contains s o m e 1 0 . 5 0 0 lines, m o r e than

a hundred times as m a n y lines as Poe considered d e s i r a b l e in a p o e m . 1. D a n i e l D e f o e ' s n o v e l o f s h i p w r e c k i n t h e C a r i b bean ( 1 7 1 9 ) . b a s e d on the experiences of Alexander Selkirk.

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which I d e e m e d not a b o v e the p o p u l a r , while not below the critical, t a s t e , I r e a c h e d at o n c e what I c o n c e i v e d the p r o p e r length for my i n t e n d e d p o e m — a length of a b o u t o n e h u n d r e d lines. It is, in fact, a h u n d r e d a n d eight. M y next thought c o n c e r n e d the c h o i c e of a n i m p r e s s i o n , or effect, to be conveyed: a n d here I m a y a s well observe that, t h r o u g h o u t the c o n s t r u c t i o n , I kept steadily in view the d e s i g n of r e n d e r i n g the work universally a p p r e c i a ble. I s h o u l d b e carried too far out of my i m m e d i a t e topic were I to d e m o n s t r a t e a point u p o n which I have repeatedly i n s i s t e d , a n d w h i c h , with the poetical, s t a n d s not in the slightest n e e d of d e m o n s t r a t i o n — t h e point, I m e a n , that B e a u t y is the sole legitimate province of the p o e m . A few w o r d s , however, in e l u c i d a t i o n of my real m e a n i n g , which s o m e of my friends have evinced a disposition to m i s r e p r e s e n t . T h a t p l e a s u r e which is at o n c e the m o s t i n t e n s e , the m o s t elevating, a n d the m o s t p u r e , is, I believe, f o u n d in the c o n t e m p l a t i o n of the beautiful. W h e n , i n d e e d , m e n s p e a k of B e a u t y , they m e a n , precisely, not a quality, a s is s u p p o s e d , but a n e f f e c t — t h e y refer, in short, j u s t to that i n t e n s e a n d p u r e elevation of soul—wot of intellect, or of h e a r t — u p o n which I have c o m m e n t e d , a n d which is e x p e r i e n c e d in c o n s e q u e n c e of c o n t e m p l a t i n g "the b e a u t i f u l . " N o w I d e s i g n a t e B e a u t y as the province of the p o e m , merely b e c a u s e it is an obvious rule of Art that effects s h o u l d be m a d e to spring from direct c a u s e s — t h a t o b j e c t s s h o u l d b e a t t a i n e d through m e a n s b e s t a d a p t e d for their a t t a i n m e n t — n o o n e as yet having b e e n w e a k e n o u g h to deny that the p e c u l i a r elevation a l l u d e d to, is most readily attained in the p o e m . N o w the object, T r u t h , or the satisfaction of the intellect, a n d the o b j e c t , P a s s i o n , or the e x c i t e m e n t of the heart, a r e , a l t h o u g h a t t a i n a b l e , to a certain extent, in poetry, far m o r e readily a t t a i n a b l e in p r o s e . T r u t h , in fact, d e m a n d s a p r e c i s i o n , a n d P a s s i o n , a homeliness (the truly p a s s i o n a t e will c o m p r e h e n d m e ) which are absolutely a n t a g o n i s t i c to that B e a u t y which, I m a i n t a i n , is the e x c i t e m e n t , or p l e a s u r a b l e elevation, of the soul. It by no m e a n s follows from any thing h e r e said, that p a s s i o n , or even truth, m a y not be i n t r o d u c e d , a n d even profitably i n t r o d u c e d , into a p o e m — for they m a y serve in e l u c i d a t i o n , or aid the g e n e r a l effect, a s d o d i s c o r d s in m u s i c , by c o n t r a s t — b u t the true artist will always contrive, first, to t o n e t h e m into p r o p e r s u b s e r v i e n c e to the p r e d o m i n a n t a i m , a n d , s e c o n d l y , to enveil t h e m , a s far a s p o s s i b l e , in that B e a u t y which is the a t m o s p h e r e a n d the e s s e n c e of the p o e m . R e g a r d i n g , then, B e a u t y a s my province, my next q u e s t i o n referred to the tone of its highest m a n i f e s t a t i o n — a n d all e x p e r i e n c e h a s s h o w n that this tone is o n e of sadness. B e a u t y of whatever kind, in its s u p r e m e d e v e l o p m e n t , invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. M e l a n c h o l y is t h u s the m o s t legitimate of all the p o e t i c a l t o n e s . T h e length, the province, a n d the t o n e , b e i n g t h u s d e t e r m i n e d , I b e t o o k myself to ordinary i n d u c t i o n , with the view of o b t a i n i n g s o m e artistic p i q u a n c y which might serve m e a s a key-note in the c o n s t r u c t i o n of the p o e m — s o m e pivot u p o n which the w h o l e s t r u c t u r e m i g h t turn. In carefully thinking over all the u s u a l artistic e f f e c t s — o r m o r e properly -points, in the theatrical s e n s e — I did not fail to perceive i m m e d i a t e l y that n o o n e h a d b e e n s o universally e m p l o y e d a s that of the refrain. T h e universality of its employm e n t sufficed to a s s u r e m e of its intrinsic v a l u e , a n d s p a r e d m e the n e c e s s i t y of s u b m i t t i n g it to analysis. I c o n s i d e r e d it, however, with regard to its s u s ceptibility of i m p r o v e m e n t , a n d s o o n s a w it to b e in a primitive c o n d i t i o n .

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A s c o m m o n l y u s e d , the refrain, or b u r d e n , not only is limited to lyric verse, but d e p e n d s for its i m p r e s s i o n u p o n the force of m o n o t o n e — b o t h in s o u n d a n d thought. T h e p l e a s u r e is d e d u c e d solely from the s e n s e of identity—of repetition. I resolved to diversify, a n d s o vastly h e i g h t e n , the effect, by adhering, in general, to the m o n o t o n e of s o u n d , while I continually varied that of t h o u g h t : that is to say, I d e t e r m i n e d to p r o d u c e c o n t i n u o u s l y novel e f f e c t s , by the variation of the application of the refrain—the refrain itself r e m a i n i n g , for the m o s t part, unvaried. T h e s e points b e i n g settled, I next b e t h o u g h t m e of the nature of my refrain. S i n c e its a p p l i c a t i o n w a s to be repeatedly varied, it w a s clear that the refrain itself m u s t be brief, for there would have b e e n an i n s u r m o u n t a b l e difficulty in f r e q u e n t variations of a p p l i c a t i o n in any s e n t e n c e of length. In proportion to the brevity of the s e n t e n c e , w o u l d , of c o u r s e , be the facility of the variation. T h i s led m e at o n c e to a single word a s the b e s t refrain. T h e q u e s t i o n now a r o s e a s to the character of the word. H a v i n g m a d e u p my m i n d to a refrain, the division of the p o e m into s t a n z a s w a s , of c o u r s e , a corollary: the refrain f o r m i n g the c l o s e to e a c h s t a n z a . T h a t s u c h a c l o s e , to have force, m u s t be s o n o r o u s a n d s u s c e p t i b l e of p r o t r a c t e d e m p h a s i s , admitted no d o u b t : a n d t h e s e c o n s i d e r a t i o n s inevitably led m e to the long o a s the m o s t s o n o r o u s vowel, in c o n n e c t i o n with r a s the m o s t p r o d u c i b l e c o n s o n a n t . T h e s o u n d of the refrain b e i n g t h u s d e t e r m i n e d , it b e c a m e n e c e s s a r y to select a word e m b o d y i n g this s o u n d , a n d at the s a m e time in the fullest p o s s i b l e keeping with that m e l a n c h o l y which I h a d p r e d e t e r m i n e d a s the tone of the p o e m . In s u c h a s e a r c h it would have b e e n absolutely i m p o s s i b l e to overlook the word " N e v e r m o r e . " In fact, it w a s the very first which pres e n t e d itself. T h e next desideratum w a s a pretext for the c o n t i n u o u s u s e of the o n e word " n e v e r m o r e . " In observing the difficulty which I at o n c e f o u n d in inventing a sufficiently p l a u s i b l e r e a s o n for its c o n t i n u o u s repetition, I did not fail to perceive that this difficulty a r o s e solely from the p r e - a s s u m p t i o n that the word w a s to be s o c o n t i n u o u s l y or m o n o t o n o u s l y s p o k e n by a human b e i n g — I did not fail to perceive, in short, that the difficulty lay in the reconciliation of this m o n o t o n y with the exercise of r e a s o n o n the part of the c r e a t u r e r e p e a t i n g the word. H e r e , t h e n , i m m e d i a t e l y a r o s e the idea of a nowr e a s o n i n g c r e a t u r e c a p a b l e of s p e e c h ; a n d , very naturally, a parrot, in the first i n s t a n c e , s u g g e s t e d itself, but w a s s u p e r s e d e d forthwith by a R a v e n , a s equally c a p a b l e of s p e e c h , a n d infinitely m o r e in k e e p i n g with the i n t e n d e d tone. I h a d now g o n e so far a s the c o n c e p t i o n of a R a v e n — t h e bird of ill o m e n — m o n o t o n o u s l y r e p e a t i n g the o n e word, " N e v e r m o r e , " at the c o n c l u s i o n of e a c h s t a n z a , in a p o e m of m e l a n c h o l y t o n e , a n d in length a b o u t o n e h u n d r e d lines. N o w , never losing sight of the object supremeness, or p e r f e c t i o n , at all p o i n t s , I a s k e d m y s e l f — " O f all m e l a n c h o l y t o p i c s , w h a t , a c c o r d i n g to the universal u n d e r s t a n d i n g of m a n k i n d , is the most m e l a n c h o l y ? " D e a t h — w a s the obvious reply. "And w h e n , " I said, "is this m o s t m e l a n c h o l y of topics m o s t p o e t i c a l ? " F r o m what I have already explained at s o m e length, the a n s w e r , here a l s o , is o b v i o u s — " W h e n it m o s t closely allies itself to Beauty: the d e a t h , then, of a beautiful w o m a n is, u n q u e s t i o n a b l y , the m o s t p o e t i c a l topic in the w o r l d — a n d equally is it b e y o n d d o u b t that the lips best suited for s u c h topic are t h o s e of a bereaved lover."

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I h a d now to c o m b i n e the two i d e a s , of a lover l a m e n t i n g his d e c e a s e d m i s t r e s s a n d a Raven c o n t i n u o u s l y r e p e a t i n g the word " N e v e r m o r e " — I h a d to c o m b i n e t h e s e , b e a r i n g in mind my d e s i g n of varying, at every turn, the application of the word r e p e a t e d ; but the only intelligible m o d e l of s u c h c o m b i n a t i o n is that of i m a g i n i n g the Raven e m p l o y i n g the word in a n s w e r to the q u e r i e s of the lover. A n d here it w a s that I s a w at o n c e the opportunity afforded for the effect o n which I h a d b e e n d e p e n d i n g — t h a t is to say, the effect of the variation of application. I saw that I c o u l d m a k e the first query p r o p o u n d e d by the l o v e r — t h e first query to which the Raven s h o u l d reply " N e v e r m o r e " — t h a t I c o u l d m a k e this first query a c o m m o n p l a c e o n e — t h e s e c o n d less s o — t h e third still l e s s , a n d s o o n — u n t i l at length the lover, startled from his original nonchalance by the m e l a n c h o l y c h a r a c t e r of the word itself—by its frequent r e p e t i t i o n — a n d by a c o n s i d eration of the o m i n o u s reputation of the fowl that uttered it—is at length excited to superstition, a n d wildly p r o p o u n d s q u e r i e s of a far different c h a r a c t e r — q u e r i e s w h o s e solution he h a s p a s s i o n a t e l y at h e a r t — p r o p o u n d s t h e m half in superstition a n d half in that s p e c i e s of d e s p a i r which delights in s e l f - t o r t u r e — p r o p o u n d s t h e m not a l t o g e t h e r b e c a u s e h e believes in the p r o p h e t i c or d e m o n i a c c h a r a c t e r of the bird (which, r e a s o n a s s u r e s him, is merely r e p e a t i n g a l e s s o n learned by rote) but b e c a u s e he experiences a phrenzied p l e a s u r e in so m o d e l i n g his q u e s t i o n s a s to receive from the expected " N e v e r m o r e " the m o s t d e l i c i o u s b e c a u s e the m o s t intolerable of sorrow. Perceiving the opportunity t h u s afforded m e — o r , m o r e strictly, thus forced u p o n m e in the p r o g r e s s of the c o n s t r u c t i o n — I first e s t a b l i s h e d in mind the climax, or c o n c l u d i n g q u e r y — t h a t to which " N e v e r m o r e " s h o u l d be in the last p l a c e an a n s w e r — t h a t in reply to which this word " N e v e r m o r e " s h o u l d involve the u t m o s t c o n c e i v a b l e a m o u n t of sorrow a n d despair. H e r e then the p o e m may be said to have its b e g i n n i n g — a t the e n d , w h e r e all works of art s h o u l d b e g i n — f o r it w a s h e r e , at this point of my p r e c o n s i d e r a t i o n s , that I first put pen to p a p e r in the c o m p o s i t i o n of the s t a n z a : " P r o p h e t , " said I, "thing of evil! p r o p h e t still if bird or devil! By that heaven that b e n d s a b o v e u s — b y that G o d we both a d o r e , Tell this soul with sorrow l a d e n , if within the distant A i d e n n , It shall c l a s p a sainted m a i d e n w h o m the a n g e l s n a m e L e n o r e — C l a s p a rare a n d radiant m a i d e n w h o m the a n g e l s n a m e L e n o r e . " Quoth the raven " N e v e r m o r e . " 1 c o m p o s e d this s t a n z a , at this point, first that, by e s t a b l i s h i n g the climax, I might the better vary a n d g r a d u a t e , a s regards s e r i o u s n e s s a n d i m p o r t a n c e , the p r e c e d i n g q u e r i e s of the l o v e r — a n d , s e c o n d l y , that I might definitely settle the rhythm, the m e t r e , a n d the length a n d general a r r a n g e m e n t of the s t a n z a — a s well a s g r a d u a t e the s t a n z a s which were to p r e c e d e , so that n o n e of t h e m might s u r p a s s this in rhythmical effect. H a d I b e e n a b l e , in the s u b s e q u e n t c o m p o s i t i o n , to c o n s t r u c t m o r e vigorous s t a n z a s , I s h o u l d , without s c r u p l e , have p u r p o s e l y e n f e e b l e d t h e m , so a s not to interfere with the climacteric effect. A n d here I m a y a s well say a few words of the versification. M y first object (as u s u a l ) w a s originality. T h e extent to which this h a s b e e n n e g l e c t e d , in versification, is o n e of the m o s t u n a c c o u n t a b l e things in the world. A d m i t t i n g

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that there is little possibility of variety in m e r e rhythm, it is still clear that the p o s s i b l e varieties of m e t r e a n d s t a n z a a r e absolutely i n f i n i t e — a n d yet, for centuries, no man, in verse, has ever done, or ever seemed to think of doing, an original thing. T h e fact is, originality ( u n l e s s in m i n d s of very u n u s u a l force) is by n o m e a n s a m a t t e r , a s s o m e s u p p o s e , of i m p u l s e or intuition. In general, to b e f o u n d , it m u s t b e elaborately s o u g h t , a n d a l t h o u g h a positive merit of the h i g h e s t c l a s s , d e m a n d s in its a t t a i n m e n t less of invention t h a n negation. O f c o u r s e , I p r e t e n d to n o originality in either the rhythm or m e t r e of the " R a v e n . " T h e f o r m e r is t r o c h a i c — t h e latter is o c t a m e t e r a c a t a l e c t i c , altern a t i n g with h e p t a m e t e r c a t a l e c t i c r e p e a t e d in the refrain of the fifth verse, a n d t e r m i n a t i n g with t e t r a m e t e r c a t a l e c t i c . L e s s p e d a n t i c a l l y — t h e feet e m p l o y e d t h r o u g h o u t ( t r o c h e e s ) c o n s i s t of a long syllable followed by a short: the first line of the stanza c o n s i s t s of eight of t h e s e f e e t — t h e s e c o n d of seven a n d a half (in effect t w o - t h i r d s ) — t h e third of e i g h t — t h e fourth of seven a n d a h a l f — t h e fifth the s a m e — t h e sixth three a n d a half. N o w , e a c h of t h e s e lines, taken individually, h a s b e e n e m p l o y e d b e f o r e , a n d w h a t originality the " R a v e n " h a s , is in their combination into stanza; n o t h i n g even remotely a p p r o a c h i n g this c o m b i n a t i o n h a s ever b e e n a t t e m p t e d . T h e effect of this originality of c o m b i n a t i o n is a i d e d by other u n u s u a l , a n d s o m e a l t o g e t h e r novel effects, arising from an extension of the a p p l i c a t i o n of the p r i n c i p l e s of rhyme a n d alliteration. T h e next point to b e c o n s i d e r e d w a s the m o d e of bringing t o g e t h e r the lover a n d the R a v e n — a n d the first b r a n c h of this c o n s i d e r a t i o n w a s the locale. F o r this the m o s t n a t u r a l s u g g e s t i o n m i g h t s e e m to b e a forest, or the fields—but it h a s always a p p e a r e d to m e t h a t a c l o s e circumscription of space is absolutely n e c e s s a r y to the effect of i n s u l a t e d i n c i d e n t : — i t h a s the force of a f r a m e to a p i c t u r e . It h a s a n i n d i s p u t a b l e moral p o w e r in k e e p i n g c o n c e n t r a t e d the attention, a n d , of c o u r s e , m u s t not b e c o n f o u n d e d with m e r e unity of p l a c e . I d e t e r m i n e d , t h e n , to p l a c e the lover in his c h a m b e r — i n a c h a m b e r r e n d e r e d s a c r e d to him by m e m o r i e s of her w h o h a d f r e q u e n t e d it. T h e r o o m is r e p r e s e n t e d a s richly f u r n i s h e d — t h i s in m e r e p u r s u a n c e of the ideas I have already explained o n the s u b j e c t of B e a u t y , a s the s o l e true poetical thesis. T h e locale b e i n g t h u s d e t e r m i n e d , I h a d now to i n t r o d u c e the b i r d — a n d the thought of i n t r o d u c i n g him t h r o u g h the window, w a s inevitable. T h e idea of m a k i n g the lover s u p p o s e , in the first i n s t a n c e , that the flapping of the wings of the bird a g a i n s t the s h u t t e r , is a " t a p p i n g " at the door, originated in a wish to i n c r e a s e , by p r o l o n g i n g , the reader's curiosity, a n d in a d e s i r e to a d m i t the incidental effect arising from the lover's throwing o p e n the door, finding all dark, a n d t h e n c e a d o p t i n g the half-fancy that it w a s the spirit of his m i s t r e s s that k n o c k e d . I m a d e the night t e m p e s t u o u s , first, to a c c o u n t for the R a v e n ' s s e e k i n g a d m i s s i o n , a n d secondly, for the effect of c o n t r a s t with the (physical) serenity within the c h a m b e r . I m a d e the bird alight on the b u s t of P a l l a s , 2 a l s o for the effect of c o n t r a s t b e t w e e n the m a r b l e a n d the p l u m a g e — i t b e i n g u n d e r s t o o d that the b u s t w a s 2.

Pallas Athena, the G r e e k g o d d e s s of w i s d o m a n d the arts.

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absolutely suggested by the b i r d — t h e b u s t of Pallas b e i n g c h o s e n , first, a s m o s t in k e e p i n g with the s c h o l a r s h i p of the lover, a n d , s e c o n d l y , for the s o n o r o u s n e s s of the word, P a l l a s , itself. A b o u t the m i d d l e of the p o e m , a l s o , I have availed myself of the force of c o n t r a s t , with a view of d e e p e n i n g the u l t i m a t e i m p r e s s i o n . F o r e x a m p l e , a n air of the f a n t a s t i c — a p p r o a c h i n g a s nearly to the l u d i c r o u s a s w a s a d m i s s i b l e — i s given to the Raven's e n t r a n c e . H e c o m e s in "with m a n y a flirt a n d flutter." N o t the least obeisance made he—not a m o m e n t s t o p p e d or stayed h e , But with mien of lord or lady, p e r c h e d a b o v e my c h a m b e r door. In the two s t a n z a s which follow, the d e s i g n is m o r e obviously carried out:— T h e n this e b o n y bird b e g u i l i n g my s a d fancy into s m i l i n g By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, " T h o u g h thy crest be shorn and shaven t h o u , " I s a i d , "art s u r e n o c r a v e n , G h a s t l y grim a n d a n c i e n t R a v e n w a n d e r i n g from the nightly s h o r e — Tell m e what thy lordly n a m e is on the Night's P l u t o n i a n s h o r e ! " Quoth the R a v e n " N e v e r m o r e . " M u c h I marvelled this ungainly fowl to h e a r d i s c o u r s e so plainly, T h o u g h its a n s w e r little m e a n i n g — l i t t l e relevancy b o r e ; F o r we c a n n o t help a g r e e i n g that n o living h u m a n b e i n g Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door— Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With s u c h n a m e a s " N e v e r m o r e . " T h e effect of the denouement b e i n g t h u s provided for, I i m m e d i a t e l y d r o p the fantastic for a tone of the m o s t p r o f o u n d s e r i o u s n e s s : — t h i s t o n e c o m m e n c i n g in the stanza directly following the o n e last q u o t e d , with the line, B u t the R a v e n , sitting lonely on that p l a c i d b u s t , s p o k e only, e t c . F r o m this e p o c h the lover n o longer j e s t s — n o longer s e e s any thing even of the fantastic in the Raven's d e m e a n o r . H e s p e a k s of h i m as a " g r i m , ungainly, ghastly, g a u n t , a n d o m i n o u s bird of y o r e , " a n d feels the "fiery e y e s " b u r n i n g into his " b o s o m ' s c o r e . " T h i s revolution of t h o u g h t , or fancy, on the lover's part, is i n t e n d e d to i n d u c e a similar o n e on the part of the r e a d e r — to bring the m i n d into a p r o p e r f r a m e for the denouement—which is now b r o u g h t a b o u t a s rapidly a n d a s directly a s p o s s i b l e . With the denouement p r o p e r — w i t h the Raven's reply, " N e v e r m o r e , " to the lover's final d e m a n d if he shall m e e t his m i s t r e s s in a n o t h e r w o r l d — t h e p o e m , in its obvious p h a s e , that of a s i m p l e narrative, m a y b e said to have its c o m p l e t i o n . S o far, every thing is within the limits of the a c c o u n t a b l e — of the real. A raven, having learned by rote the single word " N e v e r m o r e , " a n d having e s c a p e d from the c u s t o d y of its owner, is driven, at m i d n i g h t , through the violence of a s t o r m , to s e e k a d m i s s i o n at a w i n d o w from which a light still g l e a m s — t h e c h a m b e r - w i n d o w of a s t u d e n t , o c c u p i e d half in poring over a v o l u m e , half in d r e a m i n g of a beloved m i s t r e s s d e c e a s e d . T h e c a s e m e n t b e i n g thrown o p e n at the fluttering of the bird's w i n g s , the bird itself p e r c h e s on the m o s t c o n v e n i e n t seat out of the i m m e d i a t e r e a c h of the

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s t u d e n t , w h o , a m u s e d by t h e incident a n d the oddity of the visiter's d e m e a n o r , d e m a n d s of it, in j e s t a n d without looking for a reply, its n a m e . T h e raven a d d r e s s e d , a n s w e r s with its c u s t o m a r y w o r d , " N e v e r m o r e " — a word which finds i m m e d i a t e e c h o in t h e m e l a n c h o l y heart of the s t u d e n t , w h o , giving u t t e r a n c e a l o u d to certain t h o u g h t s s u g g e s t e d by the o c c a s i o n , is again startled by the fowl's repetition of " N e v e r m o r e . " T h e s t u d e n t n o w g u e s s e s the state of the c a s e , but is i m p e l l e d , a s I have before explained, by the h u m a n thirst for self-torture, a n d in part by s u p e r s t i t i o n , to p r o p o u n d s u c h q u e r i e s to the bird a s will bring h i m , the lover, the m o s t of the luxury of sorrow, t h r o u g h the a n t i c i p a t e d a n s w e r " N e v e r m o r e . " W i t h the indulg e n c e , to the u t m o s t e x t r e m e , of this self-torture, the narration, in w h a t I have t e r m e d its first or obvious p h a s e , h a s a natural t e r m i n a t i o n , a n d s o far there h a s b e e n no o v e r s t e p p i n g of the limits of the real. B u t in s u b j e c t s s o h a n d l e d , however skilfully, or with however vivid a n array of i n c i d e n t , there is always a certain h a r d n e s s or n a k e d n e s s , which repels the artistical eye. T w o things are invariably r e q u i r e d — f i r s t , s o m e a m o u n t of complexity, or m o r e properly, a d a p t a t i o n ; a n d , s e c o n d l y , s o m e a m o u n t of s u g g e s t i v e n e s s — s o m e u n d e r c u r r e n t , however indefinite of m e a n ing. It is this latter, in e s p e c i a l , which i m p a r t s to a work of art s o m u c h of that richness (to borrow from colloquy a forcible term) which we a r e too fond of c o n f o u n d i n g with the ideal. It is the excess of the s u g g e s t e d m e a n i n g — i t is the r e n d e r i n g this the u p p e r i n s t e a d of the u n d e r c u r r e n t of the t h e m e — which turns into p r o s e ( a n d that of the very flattest kind) t h e s o called poetry of the so called t r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s t s . H o l d i n g t h e s e o p i n i o n s , I a d d e d the two c o n c l u d i n g s t a n z a s of t h e p o e m — their s u g g e s t i v e n e s s b e i n g t h u s m a d e to p e r v a d e all the narrative which h a s p r e c e d e d t h e m . T h e u n d e r - c u r r e n t of m e a n i n g is r e n d e r e d first a p p a r e n t in the l i n e s — " T a k e thy b e a k from out my heart, a n d take thy form from off my d o o r ! " Quoth t h e R a v e n " N e v e r m o r e ! " It will b e o b s e r v e d that the w o r d s , "from out my h e a r t , " involve the first m e t a p h o r i c a l e x p r e s s i o n in the p o e m . T h e y , with the a n s w e r , " N e v e r m o r e , " d i s p o s e the m i n d to s e e k a moral in all that h a s b e e n previously n a r r a t e d . T h e reader b e g i n s n o w to regard the R a v e n a s e m b l e m a t i c a l — b u t it is not until the very last line of the very last s t a n z a , that the intention of m a k i n g Remembrance is permitted him e m b l e m a t i c a l of Mournful and Never-ending distinctly to b e s e e n : And the R a v e n , never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, O n the pallid b u s t of Pallas j u s t a b o v e my c h a m b e r d o o r ; A n d his eyes have all the s e e m i n g of a d e m o n ' s that is d r e a m i n g , And the lamplight o'er him s t r e a m i n g throws his s h a d o w o n t h e floor; A n d my s o u l ^ r o w out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall b e l i f t e d — n e v e r m o r e .

757

ABRAHAM L I N C O L N 1809-1865 Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth president of the United States, was born o n February 12, 1 8 0 9 , in a b a c k w o o d s c a b i n in H a r d i n C o u n t y , K e n t u c k y . H i s father, T h o m a s L i n c o l n , a n d h i s m o t h e r , M a r y H a n k s , w e r e barely literate; L i n c o l n h i m s e l f a t t e n d e d s c h o o l only s p o r a d i c a l l y — p r o b a b l y for n o m o r e t h a n a y e a r a l t o g e t h e r . A l t h o u g h h i s a c c e s s to b o o k s w a s limited, his m e m o r y w a s r e m a r k a b l e ; y e a r s later h e w a s a b l e to d r a w o n h i s c h i l d h o o d r e a d i n g o f t h e K i n g J a m e s B i b l e ; Aesop's Fables; J o h n B u n y a n ' s Pilgrim's Progress; D a n i e l D e f o e ' s Robinson Crusoe; a n d M a s o n L o c k e W e e m ' s A History of the Life

and

Death,

Virtues,

and

Exploits

of General

George

Washington.

Lin-

coln never lost his love o f r e a d i n g — a d d i n g S h a k e s p e a r e , J o h n S t u a r t Mill, L o r d B y r o n , a n d R o b e r t B u r n s , a m o n g m a n y o t h e r s , to h i s list o f favorites. L i n c o l n s p e n t his i m p o v e r i s h e d y o u t h in K e n t u c k y a n d s o u t h e r n I n d i a n a , w h e r e his f a t h e r f a r m e d for a living. H i s m o t h e r d i e d w h e n h e w a s n i n e , b u t h i s s t e p m o t h e r , w h o s o o n j o i n e d t h e family with c h i l d r e n o f h e r o w n , s e e m s t o h a v e s i n g l e d o u t A b r a h a m for s p e c i a l a f f e c t i o n ; h e later s p o k e o f h e r a s h i s " a n g e l m o t h e r . " In 1 8 3 0 t h e family m o v e d t o Illinois; after splitting rails t o f e n c e in t h e family's n e w f a r m , y o u n g L i n c o l n s e t o u t o n h i s o w n , m a k i n g a trip t o N e w O r l e a n s a s a f l a t b o a t m a n . H e s o o n r e t u r n e d to s e t t l e in t h e tiny village o f N e w S a l e m , Illinois, w h e r e h e w o r k e d a s s t o r e k e e p e r , p o s t m a s t e r , a n d surveyor. In 1 8 3 2 h e v o l u n t e e r e d for s e r v i c e in t h e B l a c k H a w k W a r ; h e w a s e l e c t e d c a p t a i n o f his c o m p a n y b u t , a s h e later o b s e r v e d , saw more action against mosquitoes than he did against the S a c a n d Fox Indians. A l t h o u g h L i n c o l n h a d c o n s i d e r e d b l a c k s m i t h i n g a s a t r a d e , h e d e c i d e d in t h e early 1 8 3 0 s to p r e p a r e h i m s e l f for a c a r e e r in law. T h i s h e d i d by s t u d y i n g i n d e p e n d e n t l y the b a s i c l a w b o o k s o f t h e t i m e : B l a c k s t o n e ' s Commentaries, Chitty's Pleadings, G r e e n l e a f ' s Evidence,

a n d S t o r y ' s Equity

a n d Equity

Pleadings.

In 1 8 3 4 h e w a s e l e c t e d

to t h e first o f four t e r m s a s a n Illinois s t a t e legislator, a t that t i m e a p o s i t i o n o f s m a l l i n f l u e n c e a n d s m a l l e r salary. H e p a s s e d t h e s t a t e b a r e x a m i n a t i o n in 1 8 3 6 a n d m o v e d the next year to t h e n e w s t a t e c a p i t a l in S p r i n g f i e l d . T h e r e h e e n t e r e d a s u c c e s s i o n of law p a r t n e r s h i p s , t h e m o s t e n d u r i n g with W i l l i a m H . H e r n d o n , later his b i o g r a p h e r . By dint o f h a r d w o r k — w h i c h i n c l u d e d twice-yearly s e s s i o n s following t h e c o u r t o n h o r s e b a c k or b u g g y a s it m o v e d from town to town t o r e a c h t h e p e o p l e a c r o s s t h e Illinois c o u n t r y s i d e — L i n c o l n p r o s p e r e d a s a lawyer a n d e a r n e d a r e p u t a t i o n a s a s h r e w d , s e n s i b l e , fair, a n d h o n e s t p r a c t i t i o n e r . In 1 8 4 2 L i n c o l n m e t M a r y T o d d , from a wealthy K e n t u c k y family t h e n r e s i d i n g in Springfield. T h e r e w e r e o b j e c t i o n s from t h e T o d d s t o h e r m a r r y i n g s o m e o n e from s u c h a p o o r b a c k g r o u n d , a n d h e a l s o e x p r e s s e d m i s g i v i n g s a b o u t t h e m a r r i a g e . Neve r t h e l e s s , t h e c o u p l e w a s m a r r i e d in 1 8 4 2 a n d p r o d u c e d f o u r s o n s , only o n e of w h o m survived to a d u l t h o o d . T h e n e t w o r k o f political a n d o t h e r historical e v e n t s o f t h e 1 8 4 0 s a n d 1 8 5 0 s that w o u l d result in L i n c o l n ' s e l e c t i o n to t h e p r e s i d e n c y in 1 8 6 0 is c o m p l i c a t e d , b u t t h e c e n t r a l i s s u e w a s w h e t h e r slavery w o u l d b e p e r m i t t e d in t h e n e w territories, w h i c h eventually w o u l d b e c o m e s t a t e s . L i n c o l n w a s e l e c t e d t o t h e U . S . C o n g r e s s in 1 8 4 6 ; always c o n c e r n e d with m e d i a t i n g rather t h a n i n f l a m i n g d i s p u t e s , h e v o t e d a g a i n s t abolitionist m e a s u r e s , w h i c h h e b e l i e v e d m i g h t e v e n t u a l l y t h r e a t e n t h e U n i o n . At t h e s a m e t i m e , r e c a l l i n g h i s o w n r e m a r k a b l e rise from poverty, h e i n s i s t e d that n e w territories b e kept free a s " p l a c e s for p o o r p e o p l e to g o a n d b e t t e r their c o n d i t i o n . " H e a l s o j o i n e d a n u n s u c c e s s f u l vote to c e n s u r e P r e s i d e n t P o l k for e n g a g i n g in t h e w a r a g a i n s t M e x i c o ( 1 8 4 6 — 4 8 ) , a w a r h e a n d m a n y o f his legislative c o l l e a g u e s believed to b e b o t h unjustified a n d u n c o n s t i t u t i o n a l . H e d i d n o t r u n for r e e l e c t i o n a n d it a p p e a r e d that his political c a r e e r h a d c o m e to a n e n d . By 1 8 5 4 t h e t w o m a j o r political p a r t i e s o f the t i m e — t h e W h i g s (to w h i c h L i n c o l n

758

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b e l o n g e d ) a n d t h e D e m o c r a t s — h a d c o m p r o m i s e d o n t h e e x t e n s i o n of slavery into n e w territories a n d s t a t e s . S t r o n g antislavery e l e m e n t s in b o t h p a r t i e s , h o w e v e r , e s t a b l i s h e d i n d e p e n d e n t o r g a n i z a t i o n s ; a n d w h e n , in 1 8 5 4 , t h e R e p u b l i c a n Party w a s organized, L i n c o l n s o o n j o i n e d it. H i s n e w party lost the p r e s i d e n t i a l e l e c t i o n of 1 8 5 6 to the D e m o c r a t s , but in 1 8 5 8 L i n c o l n r e e n t e r e d political life a s the R e p u b l i c a n c a n d i d a t e in the Illinois s e n a t o r i a l e l e c t i o n . H e o p p o s e d the D e m o c r a t S t e p h e n A. D o u g l a s , w h o h a d earlier s p o n s o r e d t h e K a n s a s - N e b r a s k a Bill, a bill that, h a d it p a s s e d , w o u l d h a v e left it to n e w territories to e s t a b l i s h their s t a t u s a s s l a v e or free w h e n they a c h i e v e d s t a t e h o o d . L i n c o l n m a y h a v e w o n the f a m o u s s e r i e s of d e b a t e s with D o u g l a s , b u t h e lost the e l e c t i o n . M o r e i m p o r t a n t for t h e f u t u r e , t h o u g h , h e had g a i n e d n a t i o n a l r e c o g n i t i o n a n d f o u n d a t h e m e c o m m e n s u r a t e with his rapidly i n t e n s i f y i n g p o w e r s of t h o u g h t a n d e x p r e s s i o n . As t h e " H o u s e D i v i d e d " s p e e c h , d e l i v e r e d in 1 8 5 8 at t h e R e p u b l i c a n S t a t e C o n v e n t i o n in Illinois, s u g g e s t s , L i n c o l n n o w a d d e d to the often biting satirical h u m o r , a n d to the logic a n d n a t u r a l g r a c e of his earlier uttera n c e s , a r e s o n a n c e a n d w i s d o m that m a r k his e m e r g e n c e a s a n a t i o n a l political l e a d e r a n d a s a m a s t e r of l a n g u a g e . T h i s r e p u t a t i o n w a s e n h a n c e d by the " C o o p e r U n i o n A d d r e s s " in 1 8 6 0 , his first in t h e e a s t , in w h i c h L i n c o l n d i s p u t e d the idea that slavery w a s c r e a t e d a n d e n d o r s e d by t h e F o u n d i n g F a t h e r s ; a n d at the R e p u b l i c a n p r e s i d e n t i a l c o n v e n t i o n h e won n o m i n a t i o n on the third ballot. L i n c o l n w a s e l e c t e d p r e s i d e n t of the U n i t e d S t a t e s in N o v e m b e r 1 8 6 0 ; but b e f o r e h e t o o k office on M a r c h 4, 1 8 6 1 , s e v e n S o u t h e r n s t a t e s had s e c e d e d from t h e U n i o n to f o r m the C o n f e d e r a c y . Little m o r e t h a n a m o n t h after his i n a u g u r a t i o n , t h e Civil W a r h a d b e g u n . T r u e to his l o n g - s t a n d i n g c o m m i t m e n t , h e d e v o t e d h i m s e l f to the p r e s e r v a t i o n of t h e U n i o n . T o d o this h e h a d to d e v e l o p a n overall w a r strategy, d e v i s e a w o r k a b l e c o m m a n d s y s t e m , a n d find t h e right p e r s o n n e l to e x e c u t e his p l a n s . All of this h e w a s to a c c o m p l i s h by trial a n d error in the early years of the war. At the s a m e t i m e h e h a d to d e v e l o p p o p u l a r s u p p o r t for his p u r p o s e s by u s i n g his e x t r a o r d i n a r y political skills in t i m e s of high p a s s i o n a n d internal division. A n d w h e n the w a r — w h i c h l a s t e d far l o n g e r a n d p r o v e d m u c h m o r e c o s t l y t h a n anyo n e h a d a n t i c i p a t e d — e n d e d , he h a d i m m e d i a t e l y to f a c e t h e m o n u m e n t a l p r o b l e m s of h e a l i n g a n u n e a s i l y r e u n i t e d n a t i o n . L i n c o l n c o m m i t t e d h i m s e l f to t h e e l i m i n a t i o n of slavery t h r o u g h o u t t h e c o u n t r y by d e g r e e s . Initially, h e w i s h e d only to c o n t a i n it; t h e n h e s a w that " a h o u s e divided a g a i n s t itself c a n n o t s t a n d , " a n d h e p r o c e e d e d c a u t i o u s l y , with the E m a n c i p a t i o n P r o c l a m a t i o n i s s u e d in 1 8 6 3 ; finally, h e t o o k t h e l e a d i n g role in the p a s s a g e of the T h i r t e e n t h A m e n d m e n t , w h i c h o u t l a w e d slavery e v e r y w h e r e a n d forever in the U n i t e d S t a t e s . E l e c t e d to a s e c o n d t e r m in 1 8 6 4 , h e h a d s e r v e d s c a r c e l y a m o n t h of his newt e r m w h e n he w a s a s s a s s i n a t e d , while a t t e n d i n g a play, by t h e f a n a t i c S h a k e s p e a r e a n a c t o r J o h n W i l k e s B o o t h . H e d i e d o n April 1 5 , 1 8 6 5 .

Address Delivered at the Dedication of the Cemetery at Gettysburg, November 19, 1863' F o u r s c o r e a n d seven years a g o o u r fathers b r o u g h t forth on this c o n t i n e n t , a new nation, c o n c e i v e d in Liberty, a n d d e d i c a t e d to the p r o p o s i t i o n that all m e n are c r e a t e d e q u a l . N o w we a r e e n g a g e d in a great civil war, t e s t i n g w h e t h e r that n a t i o n , or any nation s o c o n c e i v e d a n d so d e d i c a t e d , c a n long e n d u r e . W e are met on a great battle-field of that war. W e have c o m e to d e d i c a t e a portion of that I. T h e s o u r c e o f t h e t e x t p r i n t e d h e r e is t h e f a c s i m i l e s r e p r o d u c e d in W . F . B a r t o n ' s L i n c o l n tit (1930).

Gettysburg

SECOND INAUGURAL A D D R E S S

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field, a s a final resting p l a c e for t h o s e w h o here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting a n d proper that we s h o u l d d o this. B u t , in a larger s e n s e , we can not d e d i c a t e — w e c a n not c o n s e c r a t e — w e c a n not h a l l o w — t h i s g r o u n d . T h e brave m e n , living a n d d e a d , w h o struggled here, have c o n s e c r a t e d it, far a b o v e our p o o r power to a d d or detract. T h e world will little n o t e , nor long r e m e m b e r what we say h e r e , but it c a n never forget what they did h e r e . It is for u s the living, rather, to be d e d i c a t e d here to the unfinished work which they w h o fought here have t h u s far so nobly a d v a n c e d . It is rather for us to be here d e d i c a t e d to the great task r e m a i n i n g before u s — t h a t from t h e s e honored d e a d we take i n c r e a s e d devotion to that c a u s e for which they gave the last full m e a s u r e of d e v o t i o n — t h a t we here highly resolve that t h e s e d e a d shall not have died in v a i n — t h a t this nation, u n d e r G o d , shall have a new birth of f r e e d o m — a n d that g o v e r n m e n t of the p e o p l e , by the p e o p l e , for the p e o p l e , shall not perish from the e a r t h . ABRAHAM

LINCOLN

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Second Inaugural Address, March 4, 1865' At this s e c o n d a p p e a r i n g to take the oath of the presidential office, there is less o c c a s i o n for an extended a d d r e s s than there w a s at the first. T h e n a s t a t e m e n t , s o m e w h a t in detail, of a c o u r s e to b e p u r s u e d , s e e m e d fitting and proper. N o w , at the expiration of four years, d u r i n g which public d e c l a r a t i o n s have b e e n constantly called forth o n every point a n d p h a s e of the great c o n t e s t which still a b s o r b s the a t t e n t i o n , a n d e n g r o s s e s the energies of the n a t i o n , little that is n e w c o u l d be p r e s e n t e d . T h e p r o g r e s s of our a r m s , u p o n which all else chiefly d e p e n d s , is a s well known to the public as to myself; a n d it is, I trust, r e a s o n a b l y satisfactory a n d e n c o u r a g i n g to all. With high h o p e for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured. O n the o c c a s i o n c o r r e s p o n d i n g to this four years a g o , all t h o u g h t s were anxiously directed to a n i m p e n d i n g civil war. All d r e a d e d it—all s o u g h t to avert it. While the inaugural a d d r e s s w a s b e i n g delivered from this p l a c e , devoted altogether to saving the U n i o n without war, i n s u r g e n t a g e n t s were in the city s e e k i n g to destroy it without w a r — s e e k i n g to dissol[v]e the U n i o n , a n d divide effects, by negotiation. B o t h parties d e p r e c a t e d war; but o n e of t h e m would make war rather than let the nation survive; a n d the other would accept war rather than let it perish. A n d the war c a m e . O n e eighth of the w h o l e p o p u l a t i o n were c o l o r e d slaves, not distributed generally over the U n i o n , but localized in the S o u t h e r n part of it. T h e s e slaves c o n s t i t u t e d a p e c u l i a r a n d powerful interest. All knew that this interest w a s , s o m e h o w , the c a u s e of the war. T o s t r e n g t h e n , p e r p e t u a t e , a n d extend this interest w a s the object for which the i n s u r g e n t s would rend the U n i o n , even by war; while the g o v e r n m e n t c l a i m e d no right to do m o r e than to restrict the territorial e n l a r g e m e n t of it. N e i t h e r party 1.

T h e t e x t is h a s e d o n p h o t o s t a t s o f t h e o r i g i n a l m a n u s c r i p t , o w n e d b y t h e A b r a h a m L i n c o l n A s s o c i a t i o n .

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e x p e c t e d for the war, the m a g n i t u d e , or the d u r a t i o n , w h i c h it h a s already a t t a i n e d . N e i t h e r a n t i c i p a t e d that t h e cause of the conflict m i g h t c e a s e with, or even b e f o r e , t h e conflict itself s h o u l d c e a s e . E a c h looked for a n e a s i e r t r i u m p h , a n d a result less f u n d a m e n t a l a n d a s t o u n d i n g . B o t h r e a d t h e s a m e B i b l e , a n d pray to the s a m e G o d ; a n d e a c h invokes H i s aid a g a i n s t the other. It m a y s e e m s t r a n g e that any m e n s h o u l d d a r e to a s k a j u s t G o d ' s a s s i s t a n c e in wringing their b r e a d from t h e sweat of o t h e r m e n ' s f a c e s ; but let u s j u d g e not that we b e not j u d g e d . T h e prayers of b o t h c o u l d not b e a n s w e r e d ; that of neither h a s b e e n a n s w e r e d fully. T h e Almighty h a s his own p u r p o s e s . " W o e u n t o the world b e c a u s e of o f f e n c e s ! for it m u s t n e e d s b e that o f f e n c e s c o m e ; b u t w o e to that m a n by w h o m t h e offence c o m e t h ! " If w e shall s u p p o s e that A m e r i c a n Slavery is o n e of t h o s e o f f e n c e s w h i c h , in the p r o v i d e n c e of G o d , m u s t n e e d s c o m e , b u t w h i c h , having c o n t i n u e d t h r o u g h H i s a p p o i n t e d t i m e , H e now wills to r e m o v e , a n d that H e gives to b o t h N o r t h a n d S o u t h , this terrible war, as the w o e d u e to t h o s e by w h o m the offence c a m e , shall we d i s c e r n therein any d e p a r t u r e from t h o s e divine attributes w h i c h the believers in a Living G o d always a s c r i b e to H i m ? F o n d l y do we h o p e — f e r v e n t l y do w e p r a y — t h a t this mighty s c o u r g e of war m a y speedily p a s s away. Yet, if G o d wills that it c o n t i n u e , until all the wealth piled by t h e b o n d - m a n ' s two h u n d r e d a n d fifty years of u n r e q u i t e d toil shall b e s u n k , a n d until every d r o p of b l o o d drawn with the l a s h , shall be p a i d by a n o t h e r d r a w n with the sword, a s w a s said three t h o u s a n d years a g o , s o still it m u s t b e said " t h e j u d g m e n t s of the L o r d , are true a n d r i g h t e o u s a l t o g e t h e r . " With m a l i c e toward n o n e ; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, a s G o d gives u s to s e e the right, let u s strive o n to finish the work we a r e in; to bind u p the nation's w o u n d s ; to c a r e for him w h o shall h a ve b o r n e the battle, a n d for his widow, a n d his o r p h a n — t o d o all w h i c h m a y a c h i e v e a n d c h e r i s h a j u s t a n d lasting p e a c e , a m o n g o u r s e l v e s , a n d with all n a t i o n s . 1865

MARGARET FULLER 1810-1850 S a r a h M a r g a r e t F u l l e r w a s b o r n at C a m b r i d g e p o r t ( n o w p a r t of C a m b r i d g e ) , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , o n M a y 2 3 , 1 8 1 0 . H e r f a t h e r s u p e r v i s e d h e r e d u c a t i o n , m a k i n g her a p r o d i g y b u t d e p r i v i n g h e r of a c h i l d h o o d . After a brief, t r a u m a t i c stay at a girls' s c h o o l in her early t e e n s , s h e r e t u r n e d to p u r s u e her r i g o r o u s e d u c a t i o n at h o m e , s t e e p i n g h e r s e l f in t h e c l a s s i c s a n d in m o d e r n l a n g u a g e s a n d l i t e r a t u r e s , e s p e c i a l l y G e r m a n . A c c u s t o m e d to i n t e n s e , lonely s t u d y , F u l l e r n e v e r t h e l e s s f o r m e d l a s t i n g i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d e m o t i o n a l f r i e n d s h i p s with a few y o u n g H a r v a r d s c h o l a r s , a m o n g t h e m h e r c o b i o g r a p h e r s J a m e s F r e e m a n C l a r k e a n d W . H . C h a n n i n g . A C a m b r i d g e lady, Eliza F a r r a r , u n d e r t o o k to instill s o m e of t h e s o c i a l g r a c e s i n t o t h e f a t h e r - t a u g h t M a r g a r e t . T h e d e a t h of her f a t h e r in 1 8 3 5 b u r d e n e d F u l l e r with the e d u c a t i o n of y o u n g e r b r o t h e r s a n d s i s t e r s . S e t t i n g a s i d e her o w n a m b i t i o n s ( i n c l u d i n g a p l a n n e d trip to

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E u r o p e ) , s h e t a u g h t for several y e a r s , in B o s t o n a n d P r o v i d e n c e . D u r i n g this t i m e the G e r m a n novelist a n d d r a m a t i s t G o e t h e b e c a m e t h e c h i e f i n f l u e n c e o n h e r religion a n d p h i l o s o p h y , a n d s h e t o r m e n t e d h e r s e l f with t h e h o p e that s h e m i g h t h a v e m o n e y , t i m e , a n d ability to write his b i o g r a p h y . In 1 8 3 9 s h e b e g a n l e a d i n g " C o n v e r s a t i o n " c l a s s e s a m o n g a n elite g r o u p of B o s t o n w o m e n . L a t e r , m e n p a r t i c i p a t e d a l s o ; a n d d u r i n g the next years her t o p i c s i n c l u d e d G r e e k mythology, t h e fine a r t s , e t h i c s , e d u c a t i o n , d e m o n o l o g y , c r e e d s , a n d t h e ideal. A c l o s e friend of E m e r s o n ' s s i n c e s h e first s o u g h t him o u t in 1 8 3 6 , F u l l e r e d i t e d t h e T r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s t s ' m a g a z i n e The Dial f r o m 1 8 4 0 to 1 8 4 2 , m e a n w h i l e c o n t i n u i n g to t r a n s l a t e w o r k s by a n d a b o u t G o e t h e . In 1 8 4 4 " S u m m e r o n t h e L a k e s , " a n a c c o u n t of a trip to t h e M i d w e s t , led H o r a c e G r e e l e y to hire her a s literary critic for his N e w York Tribune, m a k i n g her o n e of t h e first s e l f - s u p p o r t i n g A m e r i c a n w o m a n j o u r n a l ists. M o r e t h a n a literary reviewer, F u l l e r w r o t e a s e r i e s of r e p o r t s o n p u b l i c q u e s t i o n s , a m o n g t h e m t h e c o n d i t i o n s of t h e blind, of t h e i n s a n e , a n d of f e m a l e p r i s o n e r s . In 1 8 4 5 G r e e l e y p u b l i s h e d her Woman in the Nineteenth Century, the title article of w h i c h w a s a n e x p a n s i o n of a c o n t r o v e r s i a l Dial e s s a y , " T h e G r e a t L a w s u i t . " T h i s is o n e of the great n e g l e c t e d d o c u m e n t s of A m e r i c a n sexual l i b e r a t i o n — n o t m e r e l y of f e m i n i s m , for F u l l e r r e c o g n i z e d that b o t h m e n a n d w o m e n w e r e i m p r i s o n e d by s o c i a l r o l e s , a l t h o u g h m e n at least h a d t h e p o w e r to m a k e a n d e n f o r c e t h e d e f i n i t i o n s of t h o s e roles. In 1 8 4 6 s o m e of her Tribune p i e c e s w e r e c o l l e c t e d in Papers on Literature and Art. In N e w York s h e fell in love with J a m e s N a t h a n , a G e r m a n J e w w h o , a c o s m o p o l i t e baffled by her m i x t u r e of sexual h o n e s t y a n d p r u d e r y , fled h o m e in J u n e 1 8 4 5 , letting t h e g r o w i n g s p a c e s b e t w e e n his letters p e r s u a d e her g r a d u a l l y that h e h a d r e j e c t e d her. F u l l e r s a i l e d for E u r o p e in A u g u s t 1 8 4 6 , i n t e n d i n g to s u p p o r t h e r s e l f a s foreign c o r r e s p o n d e n t for the Tribune. In E n g l a n d o n e of her idols, T h o m a s C a r l y l e ( t h e n in his fifties), d i s a p p o i n t e d h e r by his r e a c t i o n a r y political views a n d his i n s e n s i tivity to t h e worth of o t h e r s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e Italian r e v o l u t i o n a r y J o s e p h M a z z i n i , w h o h a d s o u g h t r e f u g e in E n g l a n d . In P a r i s s h e m e t a n o t h e r idol, G e o r g e S a n d , w h o p r o v e d m o r e s a t i s f a c t o r y t h a n C a r l y l e , a n d a n o t h e r political r e v o l u t i o n a r y , t h e exiled P o l i s h p o e t A d a m M i c k i e w i c z . S a n d ' s e x a m p l e of sexually l i b e r a t e d w o m a n h o o d stirred F u l l e r p r o f o u n d l y , a s did M i c k i e w i c z ' s b l u n t s p e c u l a t i o n that s h e c o u l d n o t d e e p l y r e s p o n d to E u r o p e while r e m a i n i n g a v i r g i n — n o t the sort of c o m m e n t m e n like E m e r s o n a n d G r e e l e y h a d a c c u s t o m e d h e r to. F u l l e r w e n t o n to Italy, t h e n n o t a unified c o u n t r y b u t a c o l l e c t i o n of s t a t e s — s o m e c o n t r o l l e d by t h e p o p e , o t h e r s i n d e p e n d e n t , a n d to the n o r t h , a third g r o u p c o n t r o l l e d by A u s tria. S o o n after her arrival in R o m e s h e b e c a m e the o b j e c t of c o u r t s h i p by a R o m a n of t h e nobility, G i o v a n n i A n g e l o O s s o l i , a l m o s t e l e v e n y e a r s y o u n g e r t h a n s h e . W h e n s h e r e t u r n e d f r o m s u m m e r i n g in n o r t h e r n Italy, R o m e w a s u n d e r g o i n g a n t i p a p a l f e r m e n t , a n d her d i s p a t c h e s to the Tribune became more and more political. M a k i n g u s e of her c o n n e c t i o n s with varying f a c t i o n s , s h e b e g a n a n earn e s t a c c u m u l a t i o n of d o c u m e n t s c o n c e r n i n g t h e f o r t h c o m i n g r e v o l u t i o n — n e w s p a p e r s , p a m p h l e t s , leaflets. A n d s h e b e g a n a love affair with O s s o l i . In D e c e m b e r s h e w a s p r e g n a n t , with n o m a n or w o m a n s h e c o u l d c o n f i d e in, e i t h e r in t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s or E u r o p e . At the start of 1 8 4 8 s h e w r o t e g u a r d e d l y to a friend at h o m e : " W i t h this year I e n t e r u p o n a s p h e r e of m y d e s t i n y s o difficult that at p r e s e n t I s e e n o way o u t e x c e p t t h r o u g h t h e g a t e of d e a t h . " M a r r i a g e s e e m e d o u t of t h e q u e s t i o n b e c a u s e of t h e c e r t a i n o p p o s i t i o n of O s s o l i ' s family. T h r o u g h a d i s m a l rainy s e a s o n , in w h i c h s h e lived o n p e n n i e s a day, F u l l e r c o v e r e d for t h e Tribune s u c h events as the popular agitation against the J e s u i t s . S h e b e c a m e i n t i m a t e with the P r i n c e s s B e l g i o i o s o , a l e a d e r o f the antiA u s t r i a n f a c t i o n w h o d r e w h e r still m o r e d e e p l y into I t a l i a n p o l i t i c s . W h e n cities of n o r t h e r n Italy revolted a g a i n s t the A u s t r i a n s in M a r c h , F u l l e r d e s c r i b e d to her N e w York r e a d e r s t h e j o y o u s r e s p o n s e of t h e R o m a n c i t i z e n s . T h e r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s M i c k i e wicz a n d M a z z i n i e n t e r e d Italy; b o t h kept in t o u c h with F u l l e r o u t of their r e s p e c t for

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h e r p e r s o n a l c o m m i t m e n t to their g o a l s a n d their s e n s e of her v a l u e in s h a p i n g A m e r ican opinion. T h a t s p r i n g , 1 8 4 8 , E m e r s o n w r o t e f r o m E n g l a n d u r g i n g her to r e t u r n h o m e with h i m b e f o r e war b r o k e o u t . Still k e e p i n g her s e c r e t , s h e w i t h d r e w i n s t e a d to t h e Abruzzi region to wait o u t her p r e g n a n c y . O s s o l i h a d b e c o m e a m e m b e r of the civic g u a r d , b u t h e m a n a g e d to b e with her for the birth of A n g e l o o n S e p t e m b e r 5. L e a v i n g the b a b y in Rieti with a wet n u r s e , F u l l e r r e t u r n e d to R o m e l a t e in N o v e m b e r , in t i m e to report the flight of the p o p e a n d , early in 1 8 4 9 , the arrival of t h e Italian n a t i o n a l i s t G i u s e p p e G a r i b a l d i a n d t h e p r o c l a m a t i o n of t h e R o m a n R e p u b l i c . S h e s h a r e d the t r i u m p h of M a z z i n i ' s arrival in R o m e , b u t the r e p u b l i c w a s short-lived. A n t i c i p a t i n g t h e intervention of t h e F r e n c h o n b e h a l f of t h e p o p e , P r i n c e s s B e l g i o i o s o u r g e n t l y wrote F u l l e r on April 3 0 , 1 8 4 9 : "You a r e n a m e d R e g o l a t r i c e of the H o s p i t a l of t h e F a t e B e n e F r a t e l l i " — o n a n i s l a n d in the T i b e r . F u l l e r ran the h o s p i t a l heroically w h e n the F r e n c h laid s i e g e , d e s p i t e her c o n c e r n for O s s o l i , w h o w a s

fighting

with the

R e p u b l i c a n f o r c e s , a n d her u n c e r t a i n t y a b o u t the baby, w h o m s h e h a d hardly s e e n s i n c e h e w a s two m o n t h s old. After R o m e fell to the F r e n c h o n t h e f o u r t h of J u l y s h e m a d e her way to Rieti, only to find that t h e n u r s e , a s s u m i n g t h e b a b y h a d b e e n a b a n d o n e d , w a s a l l o w i n g h i m to s t a r v e . R e t r e a t i n g to F l o r e n c e with O s s o l i a n d the baby, F u l l e r f a c e d d o w n her s h o c k e d a c q u a i n t a n c e s , i n c l u d i n g R o b e r t a n d E l i z a b e t h B a r r e t t B r o w n i n g , a n d b e g a n w o r k o n h e r history of t h e R o m a n R e p u b l i c . W h i l e at F l o r e n c e s h e m a y h a v e m a r r i e d O s s o l i , a s his s i s t e r later c l a i m e d . In M a y 1 8 5 0 , s h e s a i l e d for t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s with O s s o l i a n d t h e baby, full of f o r e b o d i n g s a b o u t the s h i p a n d the way they w o u l d b e r e c e i v e d at h o m e . All t h r e e d i e d in a s h i p w r e c k off Fire I s l a n d , N e w York, o n J u l y 19. T h e b o d y of the b a b y w a s w a s h e d a s h o r e a s well a s a t r u n k that c o n t a i n e d s o m e of F u l l e r ' s p a p e r s b u t n o t t h e history. T h o r e a u s o u g h t in vain for her b o d y . E m e r s o n , C l a r k e , a n d C h a n n i n g e d i t e d F u l l e r ' s Memoirs

( 1 8 5 2 ) in a way that s a n -

itized h e r p e r s o n a l life, d e n i g r a t e d her a c c o m p l i s h m e n t s a s a writer, a n d s l i g h t e d her lifelong a c t i v i s m . In 1 9 0 3 her friend J u l i a W a r d H o w e p u b l i s h e d h e r love letters to J a m e s N a t h a n , t h e r e b y s e a l i n g t h e i m a g e of F u l l e r a s a w o u l d - b e i n t e l l e c t u a l , willful a n d foolish in her p e r s o n a l e n t a n g l e m e n t s . H a w t h o r n e ' s old verdict s e e m e d c o n firmed:

" T h e r e never w a s s u c h a t r a g e d y a s h e r w h o l e story; t h e s a d d e r a n d s t e r n e r ,

b e c a u s e s o m u c h of the r i d i c u l o u s w a s m i x e d u p with it, a n d b e c a u s e s h e c o u l d b e a r a n y t h i n g b e t t e r t h a n to b e r i d i c u l o u s . " S e x i s t r i d i c u l e d i e s h a r d , a n d in F u l l e r ' s c a s e its d e a t h w a s r e t a r d e d by the l o n g i n a c c e s s i b i l i t y of m o s t of her writings. T h e F u l l e r b i b l i o g r a p h y i n c l u d e d in this v o l u m e s h o w s that her writings now, in the 1 9 9 0 s , a r e fast c o m i n g b a c k into p r i n t — a n excellent edition of h e r letters, a c o l l e c t i o n of her d i s p a t c h e s to t h e Tribune a n a n n o t a t e d e d i t i o n of her Woman

in the Nineteenth

Century,

from E u r o p e ,

and a generous anthol-

ogy of her writings. T h e s u b s t a n t i a l " p o p u l a r " b i o g r a p h y of 1 9 9 0 w a s followed in 1 9 9 2 by the m e t i c u l o u s l y r e s e a r c h e d first v o l u m e of a p r o j e c t e d t w o - v o l u m e s c h o l a r l y biography. T h e e v i d e n c e is at h a n d that m a y at last e s t a b l i s h F u l l e r ' s c a n d i d a c y for s e r i o u s consideration as what Hawthorne said mockingly, "the greatest, wisest, best w o m a n of the a g e . "

THE

GREAT LAWSUIT

The Great Lawsuit MAN versus MEN. WOMAN versus [Four

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Equality]

W h e r e the t h o u g h t of equality has b e c o m e pervasive, it s h o w s itself in four kinds. T h e h o u s e h o l d p a r t n e r s h i p . In our country the w o m a n looks for a " s m a r t but k i n d " h u s b a n d , the m a n for a " c a p a b l e , sweet t e m p e r e d " wife. T h e m a n furnishes the h o u s e , the w o m a n regulates it. T h e i r relation is o n e of m u t u a l e s t e e m , m u t u a l d e p e n d e n c e . T h e i r talk is of b u s i n e s s , their affection s h o w s itself by practical k i n d n e s s . T h e y know that life g o e s m o r e smoothly a n d cheerfully to e a c h for the other's aid; they a r e grateful a n d c o n t e n t . T h e wife p r a i s e s her h u s b a n d as a " g o o d provider," the h u s b a n d in return c o m p l i m e n t s her as a "capital h o u s e k e e p e r . " T h i s relation is g o o d a s far a s it g o e s . Next c o m e s a closer tie which takes the two f o r m s , either of intellectual c o m p a n i o n s h i p , or m u t u a l idolatry. T h e last, we s u p p o s e , is to n o o n e a p l e a s ing s u b j e c t of c o n t e m p l a t i o n . T h e parties w e a k e n a n d narrow o n e a n o t h e r ; they lock the g a t e a g a i n s t all the glories of the universe that they may live in a cell together. T o t h e m s e l v e s they s e e m the only w i s e , to all o t h e r s s t e e p e d in infatuation, the g o d s smile a s they look forward to the crisis of c u r e , to m e n the w o m a n s e e m s an unlovely syren, to w o m e n the m a n an e f f e m i n a t e boy. T h e other form, of intellectual c o m p a n i o n s h i p , h a s b e c o m e m o r e a n d m o r e frequent. M e n e n g a g e d in public life, literary m e n , a n d artists have often found in their wives c o m p a n i o n s a n d confidants in t h o u g h t no less than in feeling. A n d , a s in the c o u r s e of things the intellectual d e v e l o p m e n t of w o m a n has s p r e a d wider a n d risen higher, they have, not unfrequently, s h a r e d the s a m e e m p l o y m e n t . As in the c a s e of Roland a n d his wife, w h o were friends in the h o u s e h o l d a n d the nation's c o u n c i l s , read together, regulated h o m e affairs, or p r e p a r e d public d o c u m e n t s together indifferently. It is very p l e a s a n t , in letters b e g u n by R o l a n d a n d finished by his wife, to s e e the h a r m o n y of m i n d a n d the difference of n a t u r e , o n e t h o u g h t , but various ways of treating it. T h i s is o n e of the b e s t i n s t a n c e s of a m a r r i a g e of friendship. It w a s only

I. R e p r i n t e d h e r e f r o m t h e B o s t o n Dial (July 1 8 4 3 ) . In 1 8 4 4 F u l l e r p u b l i s h e d t h e revised, e x p a n d e d version of this w o r k u n d e r the title Woman in the Nineteenth Century, but the additions were hardly m o r e than padding. T h i s p a s s a g e of her preliminary 1 8 4 4 footnote m a k e s clear her i n t e n t i o n s for the original title of t h e e s s a y : " O b j e c tions h a v i n g b e e n m a d e to the f o r m e r title, as not sufficiently e a s y to b e u n d e r s t o o d , the p r e s e n t h a s been substituted as expressive of the main purpose o f t h e e a s s a y ; t h o u g h , b y m y s e l f , t h e o t h e r is p r e f e r r e d , partly for t h e r e a s o n o t h e r s d o not like i t , — t h a t i s , t h a t it r e q u i r e s s o m e t h o u g h t t o s e e w h a t it m e a n s , a n d m i g h t t h u s p r e p a r e t h e r e a d e r t o m e e t m e o n m y o w n g r o u n d . B e s i d e s , it o f f e r s a l a r g e r s c o p e , a n d i s , in t h a t w a y , m o r e j u s t t o m y d e s i r e . I m e a n t by t h a t t i t l e t o i n t i m a t e t h e f a c t t h a t , w h i l e it is t h e d e s t i n y o f M a n , in t h e c o u r s e o f t h e a g e s , t o a s c e r t a i n a n d fulfil t h e l a w o f h i s

b e i n g , s o t h a t h i s life s h a l l b e s e e n , a s a w h o l e , t o be that of a n a n g e l or m e s s e n g e r , t h e a c t i o n of p r e j u d i c e s a n d p a s s i o n s w h i c h a t t e n d , in t h e d a y , t h e g r o w t h o f t h e i n d i v i d u a l , is c o n t i n u a l l y o b s t r u c t i n g t h e h o l y w o r k t h a t is t o m a k e e a r t h a part of heaven. By M e n I m e a n both m a n a n d w o m a n ; these are the two halves of o n e thought. I lay n o e s p e c i a l s t r e s s o n t h e w e l f a r e o f e i t h e r . I believe that the development of the o n e cannot be effected without that of the other. M y highest wish is t h a t t h i s t r u t h s h o u l d b e d i s t i n c t l y a n d r a t i o n a l l y a p p r e h e n d e d , a n d t h e c o n d i t i o n s o f life a n d f r e e d o m recognized a s the s a m e for the d a u g h t e r s a n d the sons of time; twin exponents of a divine t h o u g h t . " Fuller's relentlessly allusive style w a s t y p i c a l o f h e r t i m e . A f e w o f h e r m o r e e l u s i v e refe r e n c e s h a v e r e m a i n e d u n g l o s s e d in t h i s a n t h o l ogy-

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friendship, w h o s e b a s i s w a s e s t e e m ; probably neither party k n e w love, except by n a m e . R o l a n d w a s a g o o d m a n , worthy to e s t e e m a n d be e s t e e m e d , his wife a s deserving of a d m i r a t i o n as able to do without it. M a d a m e R o l a n d is the fairest s p e c i m e n we have yet of her c l a s s , a s clear to d i s c e r n her a i m , a s valiant to p u r s u e it, a s S p e n s e r ' s B r i t o m a r t , austerely set apart from all that did not b e l o n g to her, w h e t h e r a s w o m a n or a s m i n d . S h e is a n antetype of a c l a s s to which the c o m i n g time will afford a field, the S p a r t a n m a t r o n , b r o u g h t by the c u l t u r e of a b o o k - f u r n i s h i n g a g e to intellectual c o n s c i o u s n e s s a n d expansion. Self-sufficing s t r e n g t h a n d c l e a r - s i g h t e d n e s s were in her c o m b i n e d with a power of d e e p a n d c a l m affection. T h e p a g e of her life is o n e of unsullied dignity. H e r a p p e a l to posterity is o n e a g a i n s t the injustice of t h o s e w h o c o m m i t t e d s u c h c r i m e s in the n a m e of liberty. S h e m a k e s it in b e h a l f of herself a n d her h u s b a n d . I would p u t b e s i d e it o n the shelf a little v o l u m e , c o n t a i n i n g a similar a p p e a l from the verdict of c o n t e m p o r a r i e s to that of m a n k i n d , that of G o d w i n in b e h a l f of his wife, the c e l e b r a t e d , the by m o s t m e n d e t e s t e d Mary W o l s t o n e c r a f t . 2 In his view it w a s a n a p p e a l from the i n j u s t i c e of t h o s e w h o did s u c h w r o n g in the n a m e of virtue. W e r e this little b o o k interesting for no other c a u s e , it w o u l d b e s o for the g e n e r o u s affection evinced u n d e r the p e c u l i a r c i r c u m s t a n c e s . T h i s m a n h a d c o u r a g e to love a n d h o n o r this w o m a n in the f a c e of the world's verdict, a n d of all that w a s repulsive in her own p a s t history. H e believed he s a w of what soul s h e w a s , a n d that the t h o u g h t s s h e h a d struggled to act o u t were n o b l e . H e loved her a n d h e d e f e n d e d her for the m e a n i n g a n d intensity of her inner life. It w a s a g o o d fact. M a r y W o l s t o n e c r a f t , like M a d a m e D u d e v a n t 3 ( c o m m o n l y known a s G e o r g e S a n d ) in our day, w a s a w o m a n w h o s e e x i s t e n c e better proved the n e e d of s o m e new interpretation of w o m a n ' s rights, than anything s h e wrote. S u c h w o m e n a s t h e s e , rich in g e n i u s , of m o s t tender s y m p a t h i e s , a n d c a p a b l e of high virtue a n d a c h a s t e n e d h a r m o n y , o u g h t not to find t h e m s e l v e s by birth in a p l a c e s o narrow, that in b r e a k i n g b o n d s they b e c o m e o u t l a w s . W e r e there a s m u c h r o o m in the world for s u c h , a s in S p e n s e r ' s p o e m for Britom a r t , they would not run their h e a d s s o wildly a g a i n s t its laws. T h e y find their way at last to p u r e r air, b u t the world will not take off the b r a n d it h a s set u p o n t h e m . T h e c h a m p i o n of the rights of w o m a n f o u n d in G o d w i n o n e w h o p l e a d her own c a u s e like a brother. G e o r g e S a n d s m o k e s , w e a r s m a l e attire, w i s h e s to be a d d r e s s e d a s M o n f r e r e ; 4 p e r h a p s , if s h e f o u n d t h o s e w h o were as b r o t h e r s i n d e e d , s h e would not c a r e w h e t h e r s h e were b r o t h e r or sister. W e rejoice to s e e that s h e , w h o e x p r e s s e s s u c h a painful c o n t e m p t for m e n in m o s t of her works, a s s h o w s s h e m u s t have known great w r o n g from t h e m , in L a R o c h e M a u p r a t 5 d e p i c t i n g o n e r a i s e d , by the workings of love, from 2 . Memoirs of the Author of "A Vindication of the Rights of Woman" ( 1 7 9 8 ) by W i l l i a m G o d w i n ( 1 7 5 6 - 1 8 3 6 ) . Mary Wollstonecraft ( 1 7 5 9 - 1 7 9 7 ) m a r r i e d G o d w i n s h o r t l y b e f o r e h e r d e a t h in c h i l d birth.

her s u c c e s s i o n of lovers a n d m a n n i s h attire b u t a d m i r e d by t h o s e like F u l l e r w h o s a w h e r a s c r u s a d e r for t h e liberation of w o m e n . 4. Old friend a n d c o l l e a g u e ( F r e n c h ) ; m y brother (literal t r a n s . ) .

3. A m a n d i n e A u r o r e L u c i l e D u d e v a n t (18041 8 7 6 ) , F r e n c h R o m a n t i c novelist, s c a n d a l o u s for

5.

D r a m a by G e o r g e S a n d .

T H E GREAT LAWSUIT

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the d e p t h s of s a v a g e s e n s u a l i s m to a moral a n d intellectual life. It w a s love for a p u r e o b j e c t , for a s t e a d f a s t w o m a n , o n e of t h o s e w h o , the Italian said, c o u l d m a k e the stair to h e a v e n . W o m e n like S a n d will s p e a k now, a n d c a n n o t b e s i l e n c e d ; their c h a r a c t e r s a n d their e l o q u e n c e alike foretell an era w h e n s u c h a s they shall e a s i e r learn to lead true lives. B u t t h o u g h s u c h forebode, not s u c h shall be the p a r e n t s of it. T h o s e w h o would reform the world m u s t s h o w that they d o not s p e a k in the heat of wild i m p u l s e ; their lives m u s t be u n s t a i n e d by p a s s i o n a t e error; they m u s t be severe lawgivers to t h e m s e l v e s . A s to their t r a n s g r e s s i o n s a n d o p i n i o n s , it m a y be o b s e r v e d , that the resolve of E l o i s a to be only the m i s t r e s s of A b e l a r d , w a s that of o n e w h o s a w the c o n t r a c t of m a r r i a g e a seal of degr a d a t i o n . 6 W h e r e v e r a b u s e s of this sort are s e e n , the timid will suffer, the bold protest. B u t society is in the right to o u t l a w t h e m till s h e has revised her law, a n d she m u s t be taught to do s o , by o n e w h o s p e a k s with authority, not in a n g e r a n d h a s t e . If G o d w i n ' s c h o i c e of the c a l u m n i a t e d a u t h o r e s s of the " R i g h t s of W o m a n , " for his h o n o r e d wife, be a sign of a n e w era, no less s o is a n article of great l e a r n i n g a n d e l o q u e n c e , p u b l i s h e d several years s i n c e in a n E n g l i s h review, where the writer, in d o i n g full j u s t i c e to E l o i s a , s h o w s his bitter regret that s h e lives not now to love h i m , w h o might have known better h o w to prize her love t h a n did the egotistical Abelard. T h e s e m a r r i a g e s , t h e s e c h a r a c t e r s , with all their i m p e r f e c t i o n s , e x p r e s s an onward tendency. T h e y s p e a k of aspiration of s o u l , of energy of m i n d , s e e k i n g c l e a r n e s s a n d f r e e d o m . O f a like p r o m i s e are the tracts n o w p u b l i s h i n g by G o o d w y n B a r m b y 7 (the E u r o p e a n P a r i a h a s he calls himself) a n d his wife C a t h a r i n e . W h a t e v e r we m a y think of their m e a s u r e s , we s e e t h e m in wedlock, the two m i n d s a r e wed by the only c o n t r a c t that c a n p e r m a n e n t l y avail, of a c o m m o n faith, a n d a c o m m o n p u r p o s e . W e might m e n t i o n i n s t a n c e s , nearer h o m e , of m i n d s , p a r t n e r s in work a n d in life, s h a r i n g together, on e q u a l t e r m s , public a n d private interests, a n d which have not on any side that a s p e c t of o f f e n c e which c h a r a c t e r i z e s the attitude of the last n a m e d ; p e r s o n s who steer straight o n w a r d , a n d in our freer life have not b e e n obliged to run their h e a d s a g a i n s t any wall. B u t the principles which g u i d e t h e m might, u n d e r petrified or o p p r e s s i v e institutions, have m a d e t h e m warlike, p a r a d o x i c a l , or, in s o m e s e n s e , P a r i a h s . T h e p h e n o m e n o n is different, the last the s a m e , in all t h e s e c a s e s . M e n a n d w o m e n have b e e n obliged to build their h o u s e from the very f o u n d a t i o n . If they f o u n d s t o n e ready in the quarry, they took it p e a c e a b l y , otherwise they a l a r m e d the country by pulling down old towers to get m a t e r i a l s . T h e s e are all i n s t a n c e s of m a r r i a g e a s intellectual c o m p a n i o n s h i p . T h e parties m e e t m i n d to m i n d , a n d a m u t u a l trust is excited which c a n b u c k l e r t h e m a g a i n s t a million. T h e y work together for a c o m m o n p u r p o s e , a n d , in all these i n s t a n c e s , with the s a m e i m p l e m e n t , the p e n . A p l e a s i n g expression in this kind is afforded by the union in the n a m e s of the H o w i t t s . 8 William a n d M a r y Howitt we h e a r d n a m e d together for years, s u p p o s i n g t h e m to be brother a n d sister; the equality of l a b o r s a n d 6. In h e r f a m o u s letters E l o i s a s t e a d f a s t l y r e f u s e d to m a r r y A b e l a r d , b e c a u s e m a r r i a g e w o u l d force h i m to give u p his t e a c h i n g o f t h e o l o g y within the church.

7.

Minor British publisher.

8. W i l l i a m H o w i t t ( 1 7 9 2 - 1 8 7 9 ) a n d M a r y H o w i t t ( 1 7 9 9 - 1 8 8 8 ) , prolific British a u t h o r s a n d translators.

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r e p u t a t i o n , even s o , w a s a u s p i c i o u s , m o r e s o , now we find t h e m m a n a n d wife. In his late work on G e r m a n y , Howitt m e n t i o n s his wife with pride, a s o n e a m o n g the constellation of d i s t i n g u i s h e d E n g l i s h w o m e n , a n d in a g r a c e ful, s i m p l e m a n n e r . In n a m i n g t h e s e i n s t a n c e s we do not m e a n to imply that c o m m u n i t y of e m p l o y m e n t is a n e s s e n t i a l to union of this sort, m o r e than to the union of friendship. H a r m o n y exists n o less in difference than in l i k e n e s s , if only the s a m e key-note govern both p a r t s . W o m a n the p o e m , m a n the p o e t ; w o m a n the heart, m a n the h e a d ; s u c h divisions are only i m p o r t a n t w h e n they are never to b e t r a n s c e n d e d . If n a t u r e is never b o u n d d o w n , nor the voice of inspiration stifled, that is e n o u g h . W e are p l e a s e d that w o m e n s h o u l d write a n d s p e a k , if they feel the n e e d of it, from having s o m e t h i n g to tell; but silence for a h u n d r e d years would be a s well, if that s i l e n c e be from divine c o m m a n d , a n d not from m a n ' s tradition. While G o e t z von B e r l i c h i n g e n 9 rides to battle, his wife is b u s y in the kitchen; but difference of o c c u p a t i o n d o e s not prevent that c o m m u n i t y of life, that perfect e s t e e m , with which he says, " W h o m G o d loves, to him gives h e s u c h a w i f e ! " M a n z o n i t h u s d e d i c a t e s his A d e l c h i . 1 " T o his beloved a n d venerated wife, E n r i c h e t t a L u i g i a B l o n d e l , w h o , with c o n j u g a l affections a n d m a t e r n a l w i s d o m , has preserved a virgin m i n d , the a u t h o r d e d i c a t e s this A d e l c h i , grieving that he c o u l d not, by a m o r e splendid a n d m o r e d u r a b l e m o n u m e n t , h o n o r the d e a r n a m e a n d the m e m o r y of so m a n y v i r t u e s . " T h e relation c o u l d not be fairer, nor m o r e e q u a l , if s h e too h a d written p o e m s . Yet the position of the parties might have b e e n the reverse a s well; the w o m a n might have s u n g the d e e d s , given voice to the life of the m a n , a n d b e a u t y would have b e e n the result, a s we s e e in p i c t u r e s of A r c a d i a 2 the n y m p h singing to the s h e p h e r d s , or the s h e p h e r d with his p i p e allures the n y m p h s , either m a k e s a good p i c t u r e . T h e s o u n d i n g lyre r e q u i r e s not m u s c u l a r strength, b u t energy of soul to a n i m a t e the h a n d which c a n control it. N a t u r e s e e m s to delight in varying her a r r a n g e m e n t s , a s if to s h o w that s h e will be fettered by no rule, a n d we m u s t a d m i t the s a m e varieties that s h e admits. I have not s p o k e n of the higher g r a d e of m a r r i a g e u n i o n , the religious, which may b e e x p r e s s e d as p i l g r i m a g e towards a c o m m o n s h r i n e . T h i s i n c l u d e s the o t h e r s ; h o m e s y m p a t h i e s , a n d h o u s e h o l d w i s d o m , for t h e s e pilgrims m u s t know how to a s s i s t o n e a n o t h e r to carry their b u r d e n s a l o n g the dusty way; intellectual c o m m u n i o n , for how s a d it would be on s u c h a journey to have a c o m p a n i o n to w h o m you could not c o m m u n i c a t e t h o u g h t s a n d a s p i r a t i o n s , a s they s p r a n g to life, w h o would have n o feeling for the m o r e a n d m o r e glorious p r o s p e c t s that o p e n a s we a d v a n c e , w h o w o u l d never s e e the flowers that may be g a t h e r e d by the m o s t i n d u s t r i o u s traveler. It m u s t i n c l u d e all t h e s e . S u c h a fellow pilgrim C o u n t Zinzendorf* s e e m s to have found in his c o u n t e s s of w h o m h e t h u s writes: 9. G e r m a n knight ( 1 4 8 1 - 1 5 6 2 ) , a sort of Rohin H o o d , f a m i l i a r t o F u l l e r f r o m G o e t h e ' s p l a y Giietz von Berlichingen. 1. A t r a g e d y ( 1 8 2 2 ) b y A l e s s a n d r o Manzoni ( 1 7 8 5 - 1 8 7 3 ) . Italian writer.

2 . P a s t o r a l d i s t r i c t o f t h e P e l o p o n n e s u s in G r e e c e , symbolic of rustic simplicity a n d c o n t e n t m e n t . 3. N i k o l a s L u d w i g , C o u n t v o n Z i n z e n d o r f ( 1 7 0 0 1 7 6 0 ) , G e r m a n leader of the M o r a v i a n C h u r c h , or the B o h e m i a n Brethren, a Catholic heretical group

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"Twenty-five years' experience has s h o w n m e that j u s t the h e l p - m a t e w h o m I have is the only o n e that c o u l d suit my v o c a t i o n , W h o else c o u l d have so carried through my family affairs? W h o lived s o spotlessly before the world? W h o s o wisely aided m e in my rejection of a dry morality? W h o s o clearly set a s i d e the P h a r i s a i s m 4 w h i c h , a s years p a s s e d , threate n e d to c r e e p in a m o n g u s ? W h o so deeply d i s c e r n e d a s to the spirits of delusion which s o u g h t to bewilder u s ? W h o would have g o v e r n e d my whole e c o n o m y so wisely, richly, a n d hospitably w h e n c i r c u m s t a n c e s c o m m a n d e d ? W h o have taken indifferently the part of servant or mistress, without on the o n e side affecting a n e s p e c i a l spirituality, on the other b e i n g sullied by any worldly pride? W h o , in a c o m m u n i t y w h e r e all ranks are e a g e r to be o n a level, w o u l d , from wise a n d real c a u s e s , have known how to m a i n t a i n inward a n d o u t w a r d distinctions? W h o , without a m u r m u r , have seen her h u s b a n d e n c o u n t e r s u c h d a n g e r s by land a n d s e a ? W h o u n d e r t a k e n with him a n d s u s t a i n e d s u c h a s t o n i s h i n g p i l g r i m a g e s ? W h o a m i d s u c h difficulties always held up her h e a d , a n d s u p p o r t e d m e ? W h o f o u n d so m a n y h u n d r e d t h o u s a n d s a n d a c q u i t t e d t h e m on her own credit? A n d , finally, who, of all h u m a n b e i n g s , would so well u n d e r s t a n d a n d interpret to others my inner a n d o u t e r b e i n g a s this o n e , of s u c h n o b l e n e s s in her way of thinking, s u c h great intellectual capacity, a n d free from the theological perplexities that e n v e l o p e d m e ? " An observer'* a d d s this testimony. " W e m a y in m a n y m a r r i a g e s regard it a s the b e s t a r r a n g e m e n t , if the m a n h a s s o m u c h a d v a n t a g e over his wife that s h e c a n , without m u c h thought of her o w n , b e , by him, led a n d directed, a s by a father. B u t it w a s not s o with the C o u n t a n d his c o n s o r t . S h e w a s not m a d e to be a copy; she w a s a n original; a n d , while s h e loved a n d h o n o r e d h i m , s h e thought for herself on all s u b j e c t s with so m u c h intelligence, that he c o u l d a n d did look on her a s a sister a n d friend a l s o . " S u c h a w o m a n is the sister a n d friend of all b e i n g s , a s the worthy m a n is their brother a n d helper.

[The Great

Radical

Dualism]

F o r w o m a n , if by a s y m p a t h y a s to o u t w a r d c o n d i t i o n , s h e is led to aid the e n f r a n c h i s e m e n t of the slave, m u s t n o less s o , by inward t e n d e n c y , to favor m e a s u r e s which p r o m i s e to bring the world m o r e thoroughly a n d deeply into h a r m o n y with her n a t u r e . W h e n the l a m b takes p l a c e of the lion as the e m b l e m of n a t i o n s , both w o m e n a n d m e n will b e a s children of o n e spirit, p e r p e t u a l learners of the word a n d d o e r s thereof, not h e a r e r s only. A writer in a late n u m b e r of the N e w York Pathfinder, in two articles h e a d e d " F e m a l i t y , " h a s uttered a still m o r e p r e g n a n t word than any we have n a m e d . H e views w o m a n truly from the s o u l , a n d not from society, a n d the depth a n d leading of his t h o u g h t s is proportionably r e m a r k a b l e . H e views f o u n d e d i n B o h e m i a in 1 4 5 7 , i n f l u e n t i a l b o t h in E u r o p e a n d in t h e M o r a v i a n s e t t l e m e n t s in t h e A m e r i c a n colonies, which he visited. 4. Self-righteous hypocrisy, from the J e w i s h sect

o u t w a r d , b u t a r e w i t h i n full o f d e a d m e n ' s b o n e s , a n d o f all u n c l e a n n e s s . " 5. " S p a n g e n b e r g " [Fuller's n o t e ] . A u g u s t G o t l i e b S p a n g e n b e r g ( 1 7 0 4 — 1 7 9 2 ) , s u c c e s s o r to C o u n t

w h o m J e s u s c o n d e m n e d as whitened sepulchres (Matthew 2 3 . 2 7 ) , "which indeed appear beautiful

von Zinzendorf.

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the f e m i n i n e n a t u r e as a h a r m o n i z e r of the v e h e m e n t e l e m e n t s , a n d this h a s often b e e n hinted e l s e w h e r e ; but w h a t he e x p r e s s e s m o s t forcibly is the lyrical, the inspiring a n d inspired a p p r e h e n s i v e n e s s of her b e i n g . H a d I r o o m to dwell u p o n this topic, I c o u l d not say anything so p r e c i s e , so near the heart of the matter, as m a y b e f o u n d in that article; b u t , a s it is, I c a n only i n d i c a t e , not d e c l a r e , my view. T h e r e are two a s p e c t s of w o m a n ' s n a t u r e , e x p r e s s e d by the a n c i e n t s a s M u s e a n d M i n e r v a . 6 It is the former to which the writer in the Pathfinder looks. It is the latter which W o r d s w o r t h h a s in m i n d , w h e n he says, " W i t h a placid brow, W h i c h w o m a n ne'er s h o u l d forfeit, k e e p thy v o w . " 7 T h e e s p e c i a l g e n i u s of w o m a n I believe to be e l e c t r i c a l 8 in m o v e m e n t , intuitive in f u n c t i o n , spiritual in t e n d e n c y . S h e is great not s o easily in c l a s sification, or re-creation, a s in a n instinctive seizure of c a u s e s , a n d a s i m p l e b r e a t h i n g o u t of what s h e receives that h a s the s i n g l e n e s s of life, rather than the s e l e c t i n g or energizing of art. M o r e native to her is it to b e the living m o d e l of the artist, t h a n to set apart from herself any o n e f o r m in objective reality; m o r e native to inspire a n d receive the p o e m than to c r e a t e it. In s o far a s s o u l is in her c o m p l e t e l y d e v e l o p e d , all soul is the s a m e ; b u t a s far a s it is modified in her a s w o m a n , it flows, it b r e a t h e s , it s i n g s , rather than d e p o s i t s soil, or finishes work, a n d that which is especially f e m i n i n e flushes in b l o s s o m the f a c e of e a r t h , a n d p e r v a d e s like air a n d water all this s e e m i n g solid g l o b e , daily r e n e w i n g a n d purifying its life. S u c h may be the especially f e m i n i n e e l e m e n t , s p o k e n of a s Femality. B u t it is n o m o r e the order of n a t u r e that it s h o u l d b e i n c a r n a t e d p u r e in any form, than that the m a s c u l i n e energy s h o u l d exist u n m i n g l e d with it in any f o r m . M a l e a n d f e m a l e r e p r e s e n t the two s i d e s of the great radical d u a l i s m . B u t , in fact, they are perpetually p a s s i n g into o n e a n o t h e r . F l u i d h a r d e n s to solid, solid r u s h e s to fluid. T h e r e is no wholly m a s c u l i n e m a n , no purely feminine woman. History j e e r s at the a t t e m p t s of physiologists to bind great original laws by the f o r m s which flow from t h e m . T h e y m a k e a rule; they say f r o m observation w h a t c a n a n d c a n n o t b e . In vain! N a t u r e provides e x c e p t i o n s to every rule. S h e s e n d s w o m e n to battle, a n d s e t s H e r c u l e s s p i n n i n g ; 9 s h e e n a b l e s w o m e n to b e a r i m m e n s e b u r d e n s , cold, a n d frost; s h e e n a b l e s the m a n , w h o feels m a t e r n a l love, to n o u r i s h his infant like a m o t h e r . O f late s h e plays still gayer p r a n k s . N o t only she deprives o r g a n i z a t i o n s , b u t o r g a n s , of a n e c e s s a r y e n d . S h e e n a b l e s p e o p l e to read with the top of the h e a d , a n d s e e with the pit of the s t o m a c h . Presently s h e will m a k e a f e m a l e N e w t o n , a n d a m a l e S y r e n . ' M a n p a r t a k e s of the f e m i n i n e in the Apollo, w o m a n of the M a s c u l i n e a s Minerva. L e t u s be wise a n d not i m p e d e the s o u l . L e t her work a s s h e will. L e t u s have o n e creative energy, o n e i n c e s s a n t revelation. L e t it take w h a t form it 6. T h e p o e t i c a l o r a r t i s t i c a s p e c t , e m b o d i e d in t h e M u s e s , g o d d e s s e s of s o n g a n d poetry a n d the arts a n d sciences, a n d the intellectually serene aspect, e m b o d i e d in M i n e r v a , g o d d e s s o f w i s d o m . 7 . S l i g h t l y m i s q u o t e d f r o m Liberty: Sequel to the Preceding (1835). 8 . D a r t i n g in s p a r k l i k e f a s h i o n ; t h e r o o t i n N e w L a t i n , electricus, m e a n s "like a m b e r , " from the fact

that a m b e r gives off sparks w h e n rubbed. 9. I.e., s e t s t h e s t r o n g e s t m e n to d o m e s t i c t a s k s . 1. In t h i s i n v e r s i o n o f s e x u a l s t e r e o t y p e s , a m a l e w o u l d b e a s alluring a s the S y r e n s (or S i r e n s ) , G r e e k sea n y m p h s w h o lured mariners into shipwreck on the rocks s u r r o u n d i n g their island. Isaac Newton (1642—1727), English mathematician.

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will, a n d let u s not bind it by the p a s t to m a n or w o m a n , b l a c k or w h i t e . J o v e s p r a n g from R h e a , Pallas from J o v e . 2 S o let it b e . If it h a s b e e n the t e n d e n c y of the p a s t r e m a r k s to call w o m a n rather to the Minerva s i d e , — i f I, unlike the m o r e g e n e r o u s writer, have s p o k e n from society no less than the s o u l , — l e t it be p a r d o n e d . It is love that h a s c a u s e d this, love for m a n y i n c a r c e r a t e d s o u l s , that might be freed c o u l d the idea of religious s e l f - d e p e n d e n c e be e s t a b l i s h e d in t h e m , c o u l d the w e a k e n i n g habit of d e p e n d e n c e on others b e broken u p . Every relation, every g r a d a t i o n of n a t u r e , is i n c a l c u l a b l y p r e c i o u s , but only to the soul which is p o i s e d u p o n itself, a n d to w h o m n o l o s s , n o c h a n g e , c a n bring dull d i s c o r d , for it is in h a r m o n y with the central soul. If any individual live too m u c h in relations, so that he b e c o m e s a stranger to the r e s o u r c e s of his own n a t u r e , he falls after a while into a d i s t r a c t i o n , or imbecility, from which he c a n only b e c u r e d by a time of isolation, which gives the renovating f o u n t a i n s time to rise u p . W i t h a society it is the s a m e . M a n y m i n d s , deprived of the traditionary or instinctive m e a n s of p a s s i n g a cheerful e x i s t e n c e , m u s t find help in s e l f - i m p u l s e or p e r i s h . It is therefore that while any elevation, in the view of u n i o n , is to b e hailed with joy, we shall not decline celibacy as the great fact of the t i m e . It is o n e from which no vow, no a r r a n g e m e n t , c a n at p r e s e n t save a thinking m i n d . F o r n o w the rowers are p a u s i n g on their o a r s , they wait a c h a n g e before they c a n pull together. All t e n d s to illustrate the thought of a wise c o n t e m p o r a r y . U n i o n is only p o s s i b l e to t h o s e who are units. T o b e fit for relations in t i m e , s o u l s , w h e t h e r of m a n or w o m a n , m u s t b e a b l e to do without t h e m in the spirit. It is therefore that I would have w o m a n lay a s i d e all t h o u g h t , s u c h a s s h e habitually c h e r i s h e s , of b e i n g taught a n d led by m e n . I would have her, like the Indian girl, d e d i c a t e herself to the S u n , the S u n of T r u t h , a n d go no where if his b e a m s did not m a k e clear the p a t h . I would have her free from c o m p r o m i s e , from c o m p l a i s a n c e , from h e l p l e s s n e s s , b e c a u s e I would have her good e n o u g h a n d s t r o n g e n o u g h to love o n e a n d all b e i n g s , from the fulness, not the poverty of being. M e n , a s at p r e s e n t i n s t r u c t e d , will not help this work, b e c a u s e they a l s o are u n d e r the slavery of habit. I have s e e n with delight their poetic i m p u l s e s . A sister is the fairest ideal, a n d how nobly W o r d s w o r t h , a n d even Ryron, have written of a sister. 3 T h e r e is no sweeter sight than to s e e a father with his little d a u g h t e r . Very vulgar m e n b e c o m e refined to the eye w h e n leading a little girl by the h a n d . At that m o m e n t the right relation b e t w e e n the sexes s e e m s e s t a b l i s h e d , a n d you feel as if the m a n would aid in the n o b l e s t p u r p o s e , if you a s k him in behalf of his little d a u g h t e r . O n c e two fine figures s t o o d before m e , t h u s . T h e father of very intellectual a s p e c t , his falcon eye s o f t e n e d by affection as he looked d o w n o n his fair child, s h e the i m a g e of himself, only m o r e graceful a n d brilliant in e x p r e s s i o n . I w a s r e m i n d e d of S o u t h e y ' s K e h a m a , 4 w h e n lo, the d r e a m w a s rudely broken. T h e y were talking of e d u c a t i o n , a n d he said. "I shall not have M a r i a b r o u g h t too forward. If s h e knows too m u c h , s h e will never find a h u s b a n d ; superior w o m e n hardly ever c a n . " 2 . In G r e e k m y t h o l o g y . R h e a , t h e s i s t e r a n d w i f e of C r o n u s , bore Jove. Pallas Athena s p r a n g from J o v e ' s s k u l l , fully g r o w n a n d fully a r m e d . 3 . F u l l e r is t h i n k i n g o f t h e v a r i o u s t r i b u t e s b y W i l l i a m W o r d s w o r t h to his sister D o r o t h y a n d L o r d B y r o n to his half-sister A u g u s t a L e i g h . O n l y later in t h e c e n t u r y w a s e v i d e n c e p r e s e n t e d o f B y r o n ' s

incest with A u g u s t a , a n d not until the late 2 0 t h century did scholars begin to d e b a t e the possibility that William a n d Dorothy Wordsworth might have committed incest. Fuller's examples are unfortunate, not deliberately ironic. 4 . R o b e r t S o u t h e y ' s The Curse of Kehama (1810), a rhymed Asian tale.

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MARGARET

FULLER

" S u r e l y , " s a i d his wife, with a b l u s h , "you wish M a r i a to be as g o o d a n d wise a s s h e c a n , w h e t h e r it will help her to m a r r i a g e or n o t . " " N o , " he p e r s i s t e d , "I want her to have a s p h e r e a n d a h o m e , a n d s o m e o n e to protect her w h e n I a m g o n e . " It w a s a trifling incident, but m a d e a d e e p i m p r e s s i o n . I felt that the holiest relations fail to instruct the u n p r e p a r e d a n d perverted m i n d . If this m a n , i n d e e d , would have looked at it on the other s i d e , h e w a s the last that w o u l d have b e e n willing to have b e e n taken himself for the h o m e a n d p r o t e c t i o n he c o u l d give, but would have b e e n m u c h m o r e likely to repeat the tale of AJcibiades with his p h i a l s . B u t m e n do not look at both s i d e s , a n d w o m e n m u s t leave off a s k i n g t h e m a n d b e i n g influenced by t h e m , but retire within t h e m s e l v e s , a n d explore the g r o u n d w o r k of b e i n g till they find their p e c u l i a r s e c r e t . T h e n w h e n they c o m e forth a g a i n , renovated a n d baptized, they will know how to turn all d r o s s to gold, a n d will be rich a n d free t h o u g h they live in a hut, tranquil, if in a crowd. T h e n their sweet singing shall not b e from p a s s i o n a t e i m p u l s e , but the lyrical overflow of a divine r a p t u r e , a n d a n e w m u s i c shall b e e l u c i d a t e d from this m a n y - c h o r d e d world. G r a n t her then for a while the a r m o r a n d the j a v e l i n . s L e t her p u t from her the p r e s s of other m i n d s a n d m e d i t a t e in virgin l o n e l i n e s s . T h e s a m e idea shall r e a p p e a r in d u e time a s M u s e , or C e r e s , 6 the all-kindly, patient Earth-Spirit. I tire every o n e with my G o e t h e a n illustrations. B u t it c a n n o t be h e l p e d . G o e t h e , the great m i n d which gave itself a b s o l u t e l y to the l e a d i n g s of truth, a n d let rise t h r o u g h him the waves which are still a d v a n c i n g t h r o u g h the century, w a s its intellectual p r o p h e t . T h o s e w h o know h i m , s e e , daily, his t h o u g h t fulfilled m o r e a n d m o r e , a n d they m u s t s p e a k of it, till his n a m e weary a n d even n a u s e a t e , a s all great n a m e s have in their t i m e . A n d I c a n n o t s p a r e the reader, if s u c h there b e , his wonderful sight a s to the p r o s p e c t s a n d w a n t s of w o m e n . As his W i l h e l m grows in life a n d a d v a n c e s in w i s d o m , h e b e c o m e s a c q u a i n t e d with w o m e n of m o r e a n d m o r e c h a r a c t e r , rising from M a r i a n a to M a c a r i a . 7 M a c a r i a , b o u n d with the heavenly b o d i e s in fixed revolutions, the c e n t r e of all relations, herself u n r e l a t e d , e x p r e s s e s the M i n e r v a s i d e . M i g n o n , the electrical, inspired lyrical n a t u r e . All t h e s e w o m e n , t h o u g h we s e e t h e m in relations, we c a n think of as unrelated. T h e y all a r e very individual, yet s e e m n o w h e r e restrained. T h e y satisfy for the p r e s e n t , yet a r o u s e a n infinite e x p e c t a t i o n . T h e e c o n o m i s t T h e r e s a , the benevolent N a t a l i a , the fair S a i n t , have c h o sen a p a t h , b u t their t h o u g h t s are not narrowed to it. T h e f u n c t i o n s of life to t h e m a r e not e n d s , but s u g g e s t i o n s . T h u s to t h e m all things are i m p o r t a n t , b e c a u s e n o n e is n e c e s s a r y . T h e i r different c h a r a c t e r s have fair play, a n d e a c h is beautiful in its m i n u t e indic a t i o n s , for nothing is e n f o r c e d or c o n v e n t i o n a l , but everything, however slight, grows from the essential life of the b e i n g . M i g n o n a n d T h e r e s a wear m a l e attire w h e n they like, a n d it is graceful for t h e m to do s o , while M a c a r i a is confined to her a r m c h a i r b e h i n d the green c u r t a i n , a n d the Fair S a i n t c o u l d not b e a r a s p e c k of d u s t on h e r r o b e . 5. T h e w e a p o n s of A t h e n a , G r e e k g o d d e s s of wisdom. 6. T h e R o m a n g o d d e s s of agriculture. 7 . F e m i n i n e c h a r a c t e r s in J o h a n n W o l f g a n g v o n

G o e t h e ' s Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship; other female characters from the s a m e book are n a m e d just below.

HARRIET B E E C H E R STOWE

/

771

All things are in their p l a c e s in this little world b e c a u s e all is n a t u r a l a n d free, j u s t a s "there is r o o m for everything out of d o o r s . " Yet all is r o u n d e d in by natural h a r m o n y w h i c h will always arise w h e r e T r u t h a n d L o v e are s o u g h t in the light of f r e e d o m . G o e t h e ' s b o o k b o d e s an era of f r e e d o m like its o w n , of "extraordinary g e n e r o u s s e e k i n g , " a n d new revelations. N e w individualities shall b e develo p e d in the a c t u a l world, which shall a d v a n c e u p o n it a s gently a s the figures c o m e out u p o n his c a n v a s s . A p r o f o u n d thinker h a s said " n o married w o m a n c a n r e p r e s e n t the f e m a l e world, for s h e b e l o n g s to her h u s b a n d . T h e idea of w o m a n m u s t be repres e n t e d by a virgin." B u t that is the very fault of m a r r i a g e , a n d of the p r e s e n t relation b e t w e e n the sexes, that the w o m a n d o e s b e l o n g to the m a n , i n s t e a d of f o r m i n g a whole with h i m . W e r e it otherwise there would be no s u c h limitation to the thought. W o m a n , self-centred, w o u l d never be a b s o r b e d by any relation; it w o u l d b e only a n e x p e r i e n c e to her a s to m a n . It is a vulgar error that love, a love to w o m a n is her whole e x i s t e n c e ; s h e a l s o is born for T r u t h a n d L o v e in their universal energy. W o u l d s h e b u t a s s u m e her i n h e r i t a n c e , Mary w o u l d not be the only Virgin M o t h e r . N o t M a n z o n i H a l o n e would c e l e b r a t e in his wife the virgin mind with the m a t e r n a l w i s d o m a n d c o n j u g a l a f f e c t i o n s . T h e soul is ever y o u n g , ever virgin. A n d will not s h e s o o n a p p e a r ? T h e w o m a n w h o shall vindicate their birthright for all w o m e n ; who shall t e a c h t h e m what to c l a i m , a n d how to u s e what they o b t a i n ? Shall not her n a m e be for her era Victoria, for her c o u n t r y a n d her life Virginia?" Yet p r e d i c t i o n s are r a s h ; s h e herself m u s t t e a c h u s to give her the fitting n a m e . 1843 8. A n o t h e r a l l u s i o n t o t h e p r e f a c e t o M a n / o n i ' s Adelchi. 9 . I . e . , s h a l l n o t h e r c h a r a c t e r i n c l u d e b o t h tri-

u m p h a n t p o w e r ( s u c h a s m a d e V i c t o r i a s o fit a n a m e for a q u e e n ) a n d i m m a c u l a t e n e s s ( w h e t h e r literally virginal or n o t ) ?

HARRIET BEECHER 1811-1896

STOWE

Harriet B e e c h e r w a s born in Litchfield, C o n n e c t i c u t , the s e v e n t h child a n d fourth d a u g h t e r of L y m a n B e e c h e r , an e m i n e n t E v a n g e l i c a l C a l v i n i s t minister, a n d R o x a n a F o o t e B e e c h e r . After b e a r i n g two m o r e c h i l d r e n , R o x a n a died w h e n H a r r i e t w a s four; typically for this e r a , L y m a n r e m a r r i e d quickly. H a r r i e t B e e c h e r f o u n d her s t e p m o t h e r a l o o f a n d overly f o r m a l , a n d c o n t i n u e d to grieve for her m o t h e r . T h e family e v e n t u a l l y n u m b e r e d thirteen c h i l d r e n , a m o n g w h o m H a r r i e t w a s e s p e c i a l l y c l o s e to her b r o t h e r s H e n r y W a r d ( 1 8 1 3 - 1 8 8 7 ) a n d C h a r l e s ( 1 8 1 5 - 1 9 0 0 ) , her s i s t e r C a t h a r i n e ( 1 8 0 0 1 8 7 8 ) , a n d her half-sister I s a b e l l a ( 1 8 2 2 - 1 9 0 7 ) . P r o f o u n d l y i n f l u e n c e d by L y m a n B e e c h e r ' s a m b i t i o n a n d his d e e p l y p e s s i m i s t i c t h e o l o g y — a n o r t h o d o x C a l v i n i s t , he b e l i e v e d in universal d a m n a t i o n , with salvation a v a i l a b l e only t h r o u g h G o d ' s h u m a n l y i n e x p l i c a b l e c h o i c e — m a n y of the c h i l d r e n g r e w up to m a k e their m a r k on A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e . T h e m e n b e c a m e m i n i s t e r s ; the w o m e n b e c a m e writers, t e a c h e r s , a n d

772

/

HARRIET BEECHER

STOWE

r e f o r m e r s . C a t h a r i n e w a s a p i o n e e r in w o m e n ' s e d u c a t i o n a n d t e a c h e r t r a i n i n g ; Isab e l l a t u r n e d to s u f f r a g i s m a n d w o m e n ' s r i g h t s ; H a r r i e t w r o t e t h e m o s t effective antislavery novel in t h e n a t i o n ' s history. B e t w e e n 1 8 1 9 a n d 1 8 2 4 , H a r r i e t B e e c h e r s t u d i e d at S a r a h P i e r c e ' s girls' a c a d e m y in Litchfield, o n e of the e a r l i e s t s c h o o l s in t h e n a t i o n to offer s e r i o u s a c a d e m i c training to w o m e n . P i e r c e ( 1 8 0 6 - 1 8 6 3 ) b e l i e v e d that p r o p e r l y t r a i n e d a n d

instructed

w o m e n w e r e u l t i m a t e l y d e s t i n e d (as s h e p h r a s e d it in a c o m m e n c e m e n t a d d r e s s ) to " i n s t r u c t a n d e n l i g h t e n t h e w o r l d . " T h e c u r r i c u l u m i n c l u d e d " s a c r e d history" ( c l o s e s t u d y of the B i b l e a s a h i s t o r i c a l text) a n d s e c u l a r history, g e o g r a p h y , m a t h e m a t i c s , E n g l i s h g r a m m a r , a n d c o m p o s i t i o n a s well a s scientific s u b j e c t s i n c l u d i n g b o t a n y , a s t r o n o m y , a n d c h e m i s t r y ; it a l s o o f f e r e d i n s t r u c t i o n in m o d e r n a n d c l a s s i c a l l a n g u a g e s . In 1 8 2 3 , C a t h a r i n e B e e c h e r , w h o h a d a l s o a t t e n d e d P i e r c e ' s s c h o o l , j o i n e d with a n o t h e r sister, M a r y , to f o u n d a f e m a l e a c a d e m y in H a r t f o r d , C o n n e c t i c u t . H a r riet B e e c h e r b e g a n to s t u d y t h e r e in 1 8 2 4 a n d b e c a m e a t e a c h e r at t h e a c a d e m y in 1827. In 1 8 3 2 L y m a n B e e c h e r , c o n v i n c e d t h a t the f u t u r e of A m e r i c a n

Protestantism

d e p e n d e d o n e v a n g e l i c a l w o r k in t h e w e s t e r n s t a t e s , m o v e d to C i n c i n n a t i a s p r e s i d e n t of the n e w L a n e T h e o l o g i c a l S e m i n a r y a n d p a s t o r of t h e S e c o n d P r e s b y t e r i a n C h u r c h . W o r k i n g with her father, C a t h a r i n e B e e c h e r f o u n d e d t h e W e s t e r n F e m a l e I n s t i t u t e to train " h o m e m i s s i o n a r i e s " — C h r i s t i a n w o m e n w h o w o u l d work in A m e r i c a n s c h o o l s t e a c h i n g t h e c h i l d r e n of f a r m e r s a n d w o r k e r s , e s p e c i a l l y in the M i d w e s t . A l t h o u g h t h e B e e c h e r family h a d r e g r e t t e d l e a v i n g their b e l o v e d N e w E n g l a n d , they b e c a m e p a r t of a n a c t i v e h o m e - b a s e d c u l t u r a l life ( s c h o l a r s call this a " p a r l o r c u l t u r e " ) in C i n c i n n a t i , at that t i m e t h e l a r g e s t city in t h e W e s t . H a r r i e t B e e c h e r b e g a n to write short s t o r i e s in 1 8 3 4 ; in 1 8 3 6 s h e m a r r i e d C a l v i n S t o w e , a p r o f e s s o r of biblical lite r a t u r e at L a n e w h o w a s o n e of t h e b e s t H e b r e w s c h o l a r s of his day. S i n c e his salary w a s s m a l l , a n d t h e S t o w e s b e g a n to r e a r a large family very q u i c k l y — t w i n girls (Eliza a n d H a r r i e t ) w e r e b o r n in 1 8 3 6 , a s o n ( H e n r y ) in 1 8 3 8 — H a r r i e t B e e c h e r S t o w e c o n t i n u e d to write for m o n e y e v e n t h o u g h s h e f o u n d c h i l d b i r t h e x t r e m e l y d e b i l i t a t i n g . H e r first b o o k — a c o l l e c t i o n of s t o r i e s titled The Mayflower—appeared

in 1 8 4 3 .

T h e d e a t h of her b a b y b o y S a m u e l , w h o s u c c u m b e d to c h o l e r a in 1 8 4 9 b e f o r e h e w a s a y e a r old, w a s a g r e a t b l o w a n d i n f u s e d h e r w r i t i n g with s y m p a t h y for p e o p l e w h o w e r e h e l p l e s s in the f a c e o f g r e a t p e r s o n a l l o s s . A l t h o u g h s h e h a d little

firsthand

k n o w l e d g e of slavery, s h e h a d b e c o m e i n t e r e s t e d in t h e a b o l i t i o n i s t c a u s e ; n o w her d e e p s o r r o w f o r g e d a n e m o t i o n a l link with t h e o p p r e s s e d t h a t w a s to p u s h Tom's

Cabin

Uncle

far b e y o n d t h e s t a n d a r d a b o l i t i o n i s t tract.

In 1 8 4 9 C a l v i n S t o w e a c c e p t e d a p o s i t i o n at B o w d o i n C o l l e g e , in M a i n e , a n d the family r e t u r n e d to N e w E n g l a n d in 1 8 5 0 . (In 1 8 5 1 w h e n t h e family m o v e d a g a i n h e w e n t to A n d o v e r T h e o l o g i c a l S e m i n a r y in M a s s a c h u s e t t s . ) P a s s a g e of t h e F u g i t i v e S l a v e Act in 1 8 5 0 — w h i c h m a d e it c r i m i n a l for a n y b o d y to aid a n e s c a p i n g s l a v e — h a d c r e a t e d in H a r r i e t B e e c h e r S t o w e , a s in m a n y o t h e r N e w E n g l a n d e r s , a s e n s e of t r e m e n d o u s o u t r a g e . F o r , if it w a s n o w a c r i m e to h e l p e s c a p i n g s l a v e s a n y w h e r e in t h e n a t i o n , o n e c o u l d n o l o n g e r s e e slavery a s s i m p l y a s o u t h e r n i n s t i t u t i o n . F i r e d by this d e v e l o p m e n t , s h e b e g a n writing Uncle

Tom's

Cabin,

which w a s serialized during

1 8 5 1 in t h e W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . , weekly a n t i s l a v e r y j o u r n a l , The National

Era.

In this

s e t t i n g , t h e novel w a s well r e c e i v e d , b u t its a u d i e n c e w a s l i m i t e d to a d h e r e n t s of t h e abolitionist c a u s e . T h e novel h a d a n entirely different i m p a c t w h e n it a p p e a r e d in b o o k f o r m in 1 8 5 2 . It sold a r o u n d 3 , 0 0 0 c o p i e s t h e d a y of p u b l i c a t i o n a n d m o r e t h a n c o p i e s by t h e e n d of t h e year. ( C o m p a r a b l e

figures

350,000

for today's p o p u l a t i o n w o u l d

h a v e to b e m o r e t h a n t e n t i m e s larger.) As o n e reviewer (in t h e Literary

World)

put

it: " N o literary w o r k of a n y c h a r a c t e r or m e r i t , w h e t h e r of p o e t r y or p r o s e , or i m a g i n a t i o n or o b s e r v a t i o n , f a n c y or fact, truth or

fiction,

that h a s ever b e e n written

s i n c e t h e r e h a v e b e e n writers or r e a d e r s , h a s ever c o m m a n d e d s o g r e a t a p o p u l a r s u c c c e s s . " B e t w e e n 1 8 5 2 a n d 1 8 6 0 it w a s r e p r i n t e d in t w e n t y - t w o l a n g u a g e s ; a n d

HARRIET BEECHER

STOWE

/

773

in t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s d u r i n g t h e last half o f t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y it w a s o u t s o l d only by t h e B i b l e . T h e b o o k h e l p e d p u s h a b o l i t i o n i s m f r o m t h e m a r g i n s to t h e m a i n s t r e a m , a n d t h u s m o v e d t h e nation c l o s e r to Civil W a r — a n o u t c o m e that, in fact, S t o w e h a d h o p e d to avert by her d e p i c t i o n s o f s l a v e s u f f e r i n g . H e r a i m h a d b e e n to i n s p i r e v o l u n t a r y e m a n c i p a t i o n by c o m p e l l i n g l y d e m o n s t r a t i n g t h e evil a n d u n c h r i s t i a n n a t u r e o f slavery. F r o m t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f Uncle

Tom's

Cabin

forward S t o w e w a s a n a t i o n a l a n d

i n t e r n a t i o n a l celebrity; w h e n s h e traveled to E u r o p e in 1 8 5 3 s h e w a s e n t e r t a i n e d a n d feted w h e r e v e r s h e w e n t . A s a m e a n s o f a u t h e n t i c a t i n g t h e e p i s o d e s in Tom's

Cabin,

s h e h a d p u b l i s h e d t h e b o o k - l e n g t h Key to Uncle

Tom's

Cabin

s e t t i n g sail; a later a n d m u c h m o r e p e s s i m i s t i c a n t i s l a v e r y novel, Dred: the

Great

Dismal

Swamp,

Uncle before

A Tale

of

a p p e a r e d in 1 8 5 6 . A s t h e Civil W a r a p p r o a c h e d , S t o w e

c e a s e d to write on b e h a l f o f a b o l i t i o n i s m a n d t u r n e d to n o v e l s o f N e w E n g l a n d c u l t u r e a n d history. S h e m a d e a p i o n e e r i n g c o n t r i b u t i o n to r e g i o n a l writing in s u c h b o o k s a s The Minister's

Folks

Wooing

( 1 8 6 9 ) , a n d Poganuc

( 1 8 5 9 ) , The Pearl

People

of Orr's

Island

(1862),

Oldtown

( 1 8 7 8 ) . M u c h of the power of these novels

derives f r o m h e r p r o f o u n d l y a m b i v a l e n t t r i b u t e s to t h e old N e w E n g l a n d c h a r a c t e r a n d its ways o f life in t h e p r e r a i l r o a d d a y s . S h e d e p l o r e d N e w E n g l a n d ' s d o c t r i n a l severity, yet a d m i r e d t h e r e g i o n s h o m o g e n e o u s c o m m u n i t y life, w h i c h s h e strove to d e p i c t in m e t i c u l o u s , n o s t a l g i c detail. T h e s e novels d e v e l o p e d t h e figure o f a n innoc e n t y o u n g w o m a n w h o s e r e l i g i o u s i n t u i t i o n s resist t h e b o o k i s h t h e o l o g i e s of m a l e religious a u t h o r i t i e s . A historical novel, Agnes

of Sorrento

( 1 8 6 2 ) , which drew on

her travels in Italy, f e a t u r e d t h e s a m e kind o f h e r o i n e in a

fifteenth-century

setting.

In 1 8 6 3 C a l v i n S t o w e retired, a n d t h e S t o w e s m o v e d to H a r t f o r d , C o n n e c t i c u t . In this s a m e year s h e b e c a m e a n E p i s c o p a l i a n , a b a n d o n i n g t h e rigors o f C a l v i n i s m with w h i c h s h e h a d s t r u g g l e d for s o long. H e r life c o n t a i n e d m a n y s o r r o w s ; only t h r e e o f h e r s e v e n c h i l d r e n — t h e twins a n d t h e y o u n g e s t c h i l d , C h a r l e s , born in 1 8 5 0 — o u t l i v e d her. C a l v i n S t o w e d i e d in 1 8 8 6 ; in h e r last d e c a d e , H a r r i e t B e e c h e r S t o w e suffered greatly f r o m p h y s i c a l illness a n d m e n t a l e x h a u s t i o n . When

the modernist

movement

promulgated

a critical e t h o s

of

understate-

m e n t a n d a n t i s e n t i m e n t a l i t y , d e n y i n g that p o l i t i c s h a d a n y p l a c e in s e r i o u s literat u r e , Uncle

Tom's

Cabin

b e c a m e a target o f critical a b u s e . Overtly e m o t i o n a l a n d

fearlessly political, m a k i n g a n a p p e a l to t h e w i d e s t p o s s i b l e a u d i e n c e , it r e p r e s e n t e d literary v a l u e s that m o d e r n i s m a b h o r r e d . M o r e r e c e n t l y t h e novel's racial p o l i t i c s h a v e c o m e u n d e r fire, a s s o m e h a v e o b j e c t e d to t h e extent to w h i c h it a c c e p t s s t e r e o t y p e s . B u t if it h a d n o t b e e n s o m u c h a part o f its o w n t i m e , Uncle Cabin

Tom's

c o u l d never h a v e a c h i e v e d its effects, a n d r e c o n s i d e r a t i o n o f t h e novel h a s

h e l p e d revive a p p r e c i a t i o n for l i t e r a t u r e that is politically e n g a g e d a n d p o p u l a r l y effective. U n d e r s t a n d i n g t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f this novel in A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e

also

r e m i n d s r e a d e r s o f h o w c e n t r a l w o m e n w e r e to literary life b e f o r e t h e Civil W a r , a n d h o w o p e n l y they e n g a g e d t h e m s e l v e s with t o p i c s that, s u p p o s e d l y , w e r e o u t s i d e their s p h e r e . T h e text u s e d is that o f t h e first A m e r i c a n e d i t i o n of Uncle

Tom's

Cabin

(1852).

774

/

HARRIET BEECHER

From

STOWE

Uncle Tom's Cabin; or, Life among the Lowly1 Chapter THE

MOTHER'S

VII S T R U G G L E

2

It is i m p o s s i b l e to c o n c e i v e of a h u m a n c r e a t u r e m o r e wholly d e s o l a t e a n d forlorn than Eliza, w h e n s h e t u r n e d her f o o t s t e p s from U n c l e T o m ' s c a b i n . H e r h u s b a n d ' s suffering a n d d a n g e r s , a n d the d a n g e r of her child, all b l e n d e d in her m i n d , with a c o n f u s e d a n d s t u n n i n g s e n s e of the risk s h e w a s r u n n i n g , in leaving the only h o m e s h e h a d ever k n o w n , a n d c u t t i n g l o o s e from the p r o t e c t i o n of a friend w h o m s h e loved a n d revered. T h e n there w a s the parting from every familiar o b j e c t , — t h e p l a c e w h e r e s h e h a d grown u p , the trees u n d e r w h i c h s h e h a d played, the groves w h e r e she h a d walked m a n y a n e v e n i n g in h a p p i e r d a y s , by the side of her y o u n g h u s b a n d , — e v e r y t h i n g , as it lay in the clear, frosty starlight, s e e m e d to s p e a k reproachfully to her, a n d a s k her whither c o u l d s h e g o from a h o m e like that? B u t stronger than all w a s m a t e r n a l love, w r o u g h t into a p a r o x y s m of frenzy by the near a p p r o a c h of a fearful d a n g e r . H e r boy w a s old e n o u g h to have walked by her s i d e , a n d , in a n indifferent c a s e , s h e would only have led him by the h a n d ; but now the b a r e t h o u g h t of p u t t i n g h i m out of her a r m s m a d e her s h u d d e r , a n d s h e strained him to her b o s o m with a convulsive g r a s p , a s s h e went rapidly forward. T h e frosty g r o u n d c r e a k e d b e n e a t h her feet, a n d s h e t r e m b l e d at the s o u n d ; every q u a k i n g leaf a n d fluttering s h a d o w sent the b l o o d b a c k w a r d to her heart, a n d q u i c k e n e d her f o o t s t e p s . S h e w o n d e r e d within herself at the s t r e n g t h that s e e m e d to b e c o m e u p o n her; for s h e felt the weight of her boy a s if it h a d b e e n a feather, a n d every flutter of fear s e e m e d to i n c r e a s e the s u p e r n a t u r a l power that bore her on, while from her p a l e lips b u r s t forth, in f r e q u e n t e j a c u l a t i o n s , the prayer to a F r i e n d a b o v e — " L o r d , help! L o r d , save me!" If it were your Harry, m o t h e r , or your Willie, that were g o i n g to b e torn from you by a brutal trader, to-morrow m o r n i n g , — i f you h a d s e e n the m a n , a n d h e a r d that the p a p e r s were s i g n e d a n d delivered, a n d you h a d only from twelve o'clock till m o r n i n g to m a k e g o o d your e s c a p e , — h o w fast c o u l d you walk? H o w m a n y miles c o u l d you m a k e in t h o s e few brief h o u r s , with the darling at your b o s o m , — t h e little sleepy h e a d on your s h o u l d e r , — t h e small, soft a r m s trustingly holding on to your n e c k ? F o r the child slept. At first, the novelty a n d a l a r m kept him w a k i n g ; b u t his m o t h e r s o hurriedly r e p r e s s e d every b r e a t h or s o u n d , a n d so a s s u r e d him that if h e were only still s h e w o u l d certainly save h i m , that h e c l u n g quietly r o u n d her n e c k , only a s k i n g , a s h e f o u n d h i m s e l f sinking to s l e e p , 1. T h e n o v e l h a s t w o p l o t l i n e s , f o l l o w i n g t h e f o r t u n e s o f t w o s l a v e s o n t h e S h e l b y p l a n t a t i o n in K e n t u c k y . T h e first p l o t c o n c e r n s T o m , a b o u t thirty-five y e a r s old a n d a d e v o u t C h r i s t i a n ; t h e second c o n c e r n s Eliza, a y o u n g mother. Uncle d o e s not m e a n a n old person, but a n h o n o r e d pers o n . T h e s t o r y is s e t in m o t i o n b y S h e l b y ' s d e c i s i o n to sell b o t h T o m a n d Eliza's four-year-old s o n , Harry, to the slave trader D a n Haley to settle a debt. In this c h a p t e r , Eliza d o e s not k n o w a b o u t

t h e p r o j e c t e d s a l e o f h e r s o n a n d is m e e t i n g w i t h her h u s b a n d , G e o r g e H a r r i s , w h o lives o n a n o t h e r plantation. 2 . At this p o i n t in t h e n o v e l , E l i z a h a s d i s c o v e r e d t h e p l a n to sell H a r r y to D a n H a l e y a n d h a s determ i n e d to r u n a w a y w i t h h e r c h i l d . S h e h a s a l e r t e d T o m to his i m p e n d i n g s a l e ; h e d e c i d e s to r e m a i n a n d allow himself to b e sold to protect the other slave families on the plantation, since others would b e s o l d in h i s s t e a d if h e e s c a p e d .

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN, CHAPTER VII

/

775

" M o t h e r , I don't n e e d to keep a w a k e , d o I ? " " N o , my darling; s l e e p , if you want t o . " " B u t , m o t h e r , if I d o get a s l e e p , you won't let him get m e ? " " N o ! s o m a y G o d help m e ! " said his m o t h e r , with a paler c h e e k , a n d a brighter light in her large dark eyes. "You're sure, an't you, m o t h e r ? " "Yes, sure!" said the m o t h e r , in a voice that startled herself; for it s e e m e d to her to c o m e from a spirit within, that w a s no part of her; a n d the boy d r o p p e d his little weary h e a d on her shoulder, a n d w a s s o o n a s l e e p . H o w the t o u c h of t h o s e w a r m a r m s , the gentle b r e a t h i n g s that c a m e in her neck, s e e m e d to a d d fire a n d spirit to her m o v e m e n t s ! It s e e m e d to her a s if s t r e n g t h p o u r e d into her in electric s t r e a m s , from every g e n t l e t o u c h a n d m o v e m e n t of the s l e e p i n g , confiding child. S u b l i m e is the d o m i n i o n of the m i n d over the body, that, for a t i m e , c a n m a k e flesh a n d nerve i m p r e g n a b l e , a n d string the sinews like steel, so that the w e a k b e c o m e s o mighty. T h e b o u n d a r i e s of the farm, the grove, the wood-lot, p a s s e d by her dizzily, a s s h e walked o n ; a n d still she went, leaving o n e familiar object after a n o t h e r , s l a c k i n g not, p a u s i n g not, till r e d d e n i n g daylight f o u n d her m a n y a long mile from all traces of any familiar o b j e c t s u p o n the o p e n highway. S h e h a d often b e e n , with her m i s t r e s s , to visit s o m e c o n n e c t i o n s , in the little village of T , not far from the O h i o river, a n d k n e w the r o a d well. T o go thither, to e s c a p e a c r o s s the O h i o river, were the first hurried outlines of her plan of e s c a p e ; b e y o n d that, s h e c o u l d only h o p e in G o d . W h e n h o r s e s a n d vehicles b e g a n to m o v e a l o n g the highway, with that alert p e r c e p t i o n p e c u l i a r to a state of e x c i t e m e n t , a n d which s e e m s to b e a sort of inspiration, s h e b e c a m e a w a r e that her h e a d l o n g p a c e a n d d i s t r a c t e d air might bring on her r e m a r k a n d s u s p i c i o n . S h e therefore p u t the boy on the g r o u n d , a n d , a d j u s t i n g her d r e s s a n d b o n n e t , s h e walked o n at a s rapid a p a c e a s s h e t h o u g h t c o n s i s t e n t with the preservation of a p p e a r a n c e s . In her little b u n d l e s h e h a d provided a store of c a k e s a n d a p p l e s , w h i c h s h e u s e d as expedients for q u i c k e n i n g the s p e e d of the child, rolling the a p p l e s o m e yards before t h e m , w h e n the boy would run with all his might after it; a n d this r u s e , often r e p e a t e d , carried t h e m over m a n y a half-mile. After a while, they c a m e to a thick p a t c h of w o o d l a n d , t h r o u g h which m u r m u r e d a clear brook. A s the child c o m p l a i n e d of h u n g e r a n d thirst, s h e c l i m b e d over the f e n c e with h i m ; a n d , sitting d o w n b e h i n d a large rock w h i c h c o n c e a l e d t h e m from the r o a d , she gave him a b r e a k f a s t out of her little p a c k a g e . T h e boy w o n d e r e d a n d grieved that s h e c o u l d not eat; a n d w h e n , p u t t i n g his a r m s r o u n d her n e c k , he tried to w e d g e s o m e of his c a k e into her m o u t h , it s e e m e d to her that the rising in her throat would c h o k e her. " N o , n o , Harry darling! m o t h e r can't e a t till you are safe! W e m u s t go o n — on—till we c o m e to the river!" A n d s h e hurried again into the r o a d , a n d a g a i n c o n s t r a i n e d herself to walk regularly a n d c o m p o s e d l y forward. S h e w a s m a n y miles p a s t any n e i g h b o r h o o d w h e r e s h e w a s p e r s o n a l l y known. If s h e s h o u l d c h a n c e to m e e t any w h o knew her, s h e reflected that the well-known k i n d n e s s of the family would b e of itself a blind to s u s p i c i o n , a s m a k i n g it an unlikely s u p p o s i t i o n that s h e c o u l d b e a fugitive. A s s h e w a s also so white a s not to b e known a s of c o l o r e d l i n e a g e , without a critical survey, a n d her child w a s white a l s o , it w a s m u c h e a s i e r for her to p a s s o n unsuspected.

776

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HARRIET BEECHER

STOWE

O n this p r e s u m p t i o n , s h e s t o p p e d at noon at a n e a t f a r m h o u s e , to rest herself, a n d buy s o m e dinner for her child a n d self; for, a s the d a n g e r d e c r e a s e d with the d i s t a n c e , the s u p e r n a t u r a l tension of the n e r v o u s system l e s s e n e d , a n d s h e f o u n d herself both weary a n d hungry. T h e g o o d w o m a n , kindly a n d g o s s i p p i n g , s e e m e d rather p l e a s e d than otherwise with having s o m e b o d y c o m e in to talk with; a n d a c c e p t e d , without e x a m i n a t i o n , Eliza's s t a t e m e n t , that s h e " w a s g o i n g o n a little p i e c e , to s p e n d a w e e k with her f r i e n d s , " — a l l which s h e h o p e d in her heart might prove strictly true. An h o u r before s u n s e t , s h e entered the village of T , by the O h i o river, weary a n d foot-sore, but still strong in heart. H e r first g l a n c e w a s at the river, which lay, like J o r d a n , b e t w e e n her a n d the C a n a a n ' of liberty on the other side. It w a s n o w early s p r i n g , a n d the river w a s swollen a n d t u r b u l e n t ; great c a k e s of floating ice were swinging heavily to a n d fro in the turbid w a t e r s . O w i n g to the p e c u l i a r form of the s h o r e on the K e n t u c k y s i d e , the land b e n d i n g far out into the water, the ice h a d b e e n lodged a n d d e t a i n e d in great q u a n t i t i e s , a n d the n a r r o w c h a n n e l w h i c h swept r o u n d the b e n d w a s full of ice, piled o n e c a k e over a n o t h e r , t h u s forming a t e m p o r a r y barrier to the d e s c e n d i n g ice, which lodged, a n d f o r m e d a great, u n d u l a t i n g raft, filling up the w h o l e river, a n d extending a l m o s t to the K e n t u c k y s h o r e . Eliza s t o o d , for a m o m e n t , c o n t e m p l a t i n g this u n f a v o r a b l e a s p e c t of things, which s h e saw at o n c e m u s t prevent the u s u a l ferry-boat from r u n n i n g , a n d then turned into a small public h o u s e on the b a n k , to m a k e a few inquiries. T h e h o s t e s s , w h o w a s busy in various fizzing a n d s t e w i n g o p e r a t i o n s over the fire, preparatory to the e v e n i n g m e a l , s t o p p e d , with a fork in her h a n d , as Eliza's sweet a n d plaintive voice a r r e s t e d her. " W h a t is i t ? " s h e said. "Isn't there any ferry or b o a t , that takes p e o p l e over to B , now?" she said. " N o , i n d e e d ! " said the w o m a n ; "the b o a t s h a s s t o p p e d r u n n i n g . " Eliza's look of d i s m a y a n d d i s a p p o i n t m e n t s t r u c k the w o m a n , a n d s h e said, inquiringly, " M a y b e you're w a n t i n g to get o v e r ? — a n y b o d y sick? Ye s e e m mighty anxious?" "I've got a child that's very d a n g e r o u s , " s a i d Eliza. "I never heard of it till last night, a n d I've walked q u i t e a p i e c e to-day, in h o p e s to get to the ferry." "Well, now, that's o n l u c k y , " said the w o m a n , w h o s e motherly s y m p a t h i e s were m u c h a r o u s e d ; "I'm re'lly c o n s a r n e d for ye. S o l o m o n ! " s h e c a l l e d , from the window, t o w a r d s a small b a c k building. A m a n , in leather a p r o n a n d very dirty h a n d s , a p p e a r e d at the door. "I say, S o l , " said the w o m a n , "is that ar m a n g o i n g to tote t h e m bar'ls over to-night?" " H e said he s h o u l d try, if't w a s any way p r u d e n t , " said the m a n . " T h e r e ' s a m a n a p i e c e d o w n h e r e , that's g o i n g over with s o m e truck this evening, if h e durs'to; he'll be in here to s u p p e r to-night, s o you'd better set down a n d wait. T h a t ' s a sweet little fellow," a d d e d the w o m a n , offering him a cake. 3. In t h e B i b l e , t h e p r o m i s e d l a n d l o r t h e I s r a e l i t e s , w h o h a v e w a n d e r e d in t h e d e s e r t f o r f o r t y y e a r s . T h e J o r d a n is t h e final r i v e r t h e y h a d t o c r o s s t o g e t t h e r e .

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN, CHAPTER VII

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B u t the child, wholly e x h a u s t e d , cried with w e a r i n e s s . " P o o r fellow! h e isn't u s e d to walking, a n d I've hurried him on s o , " said Eliza. "Well, take him into this r o o m , " said the w o m a n , o p e n i n g into a small bedr o o m , w h e r e s t o o d a c o m f o r t a b l e b e d . Eliza laid the weary boy u p o n it, a n d held his h a n d s in hers till he w a s fast a s l e e p . F o r her there w a s no rest. As a fire in her b o n e s , the thought of the p u r s u e r u r g e d her o n ; a n d s h e g a z e d with longing eyes on the sullen, surging w a t e r s that lay b e t w e e n her a n d liberty. H e r e we m u s t take our leave of her for the p r e s e n t , to follow the c o u r s e of her p u r s u e r s . T h o u g h M r s . S h e l b y h a d p r o m i s e d that the dinner s h o u l d be hurried o n table, yet it w a s s o o n s e e n , a s the thing h a s often b e e n s e e n b e f o r e , that it required m o r e than o n e to m a k e a b a r g a i n . S o , a l t h o u g h the order w a s fairly given out in Haley's hearing, a n d carried to A u n t C h l o e 4 by at least half a dozen j u v e n i l e m e s s e n g e r s , that dignitary only gave certain very gruff s n o r t s , a n d t o s s e s of her h e a d , a n d went on with every operation in an u n u s u a l l y leisurely a n d c i r c u m s t a n t i a l m a n n e r . For s o m e singular r e a s o n , an i m p r e s s i o n s e e m e d to reign a m o n g the servants generally that M i s s i s would not be particularly disobliged by delay; a n d it w a s wonderful what a n u m b e r of c o u n t e r a c c i d e n t s o c c u r r e d constantly, to retard the c o u r s e of things. O n e l u c k l e s s wight contrived to upset the gravy; a n d then gravy h a d to be got u p de novo,'' with d u e c a r e a n d formality, A u n t C h l o e w a t c h i n g a n d stirring with d o g g e d p r e c i s i o n , a n s w e r i n g shortly, to all s u g g e s t i o n s of h a s t e , that s h e "warn't a g o i n g to have raw gravy on the table, to help nobody's c a t c h i n g s . " O n e t u m b l e d d o w n with the water, a n d h a d to go to the spring for m o r e ; a n d a n o t h e r precipitated the butter into the p a t h of events; a n d there w a s from time to time giggling news brought into the kitchen that " M a s ' r Haley w a s mighty o n e a s y , a n d that he couldn't sit in his c h e e r no ways, but w a s a walkin' a n d stalkin' to the winders a n d through the p o r c h . " " S a r v e s him right!" said A u n t C h l o e , indignantly. "He'll get w u s nor o n e a s y , o n e of t h e s e d a y s , if he don't m e n d his ways. His master'll be s e n d i n g for him, a n d then s e e how he'll look!" "He'll go to torment, a n d no m i s t a k e , " said little J a k e . " H e d e s a r v e s it!" said A u n t C h l o e , grimly; "he's broke a many, m a n y , many h e a r t s , — L t e l l ye all!" s h e said, stopping, with a fork uplifted in her h a n d s ; "it's like what M a s ' r G e o r g e r e a d s in B a v e l a t i o n s , h — s o u l s a callin' u n d e r the altar! a n d a callin' on the L o r d for v e n g e a n c e on s i c h ! — a n d by a n d by the Lord he'll hear ' e m — s o he will!" A u n t C h l o e , who w a s m u c h revered in the kitchen, w a s listened to with o p e n m o u t h ; a n d , the dinner b e i n g now fairly sent in, the w h o l e kitchen w a s at leisure to g o s s i p with her, a n d to listen to her r e m a r k s . " S i c h '11 be burnt up forever, a n d no m i s t a k e ; won't t h e r ? " said Andy. "I'd be glad to s e e it, I'll be b o u n ' , " said little J a k e . " C h i l ' e n ! " said a voice, that m a d e t h e m all start. It w a s U n c l e T o m , w h o had c o m e in, a n d s t o o d listening to the c o n v e r s a t i o n at the door. 4. T o m ' s wife, the Shelbys' cook. T h e entire h o u s e h o l d c o o p e r a t e s to d e l a y H a l e y ' s d e p a r t u r e in

5. 6.

pursuit of

symbolic prophecies of the end of the world.

Eliza.

From the beginning (Latin). I.e., t h e B o o k o f R e v e l a t i o n , w h i c h

contains

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HARRIET BEECHER

STOWE

" C h i l ' e n ! " h e s a i d , " I ' m afeard you don't know w h a t ye're sayin'. Forever is a dre'ful word, chil'en; it's awful to think o n ' t . You o u g h t e n t e r wish that ar to any h u m a n crittur." " W e wouldn't to anybody but the soul-drivers," s a i d Andy; " n o b o d y c a n help wishing it to t h e m , they's s o awful w i c k e d . " " D o n ' t natur herself kinder cry out on e m ? " said A u n t C h l o e . " D o n ' t dey tear der s u c k i n ' baby right off his m o t h e r ' s b r e a s t , a n d sell h i m , a n d der little children a s is crying a n d holding on by her c l o t h e s , — d o n ' t dey pull 'em off a n d sells e m ? Don't dey tear wife a n d h u s b a n d a p a r t ? " s a i d A u n t C h l o e , b e g i n n i n g to cry, " w h e n it's j e s t takin' the very life on ' e m ? — a n d all the while d o e s they feel o n e b i t , — d o n ' t dey drink a n d s m o k e , a n d take it o n c o m m o n e a s y ? Lor, if the devil don't get t h e m , what's h e g o o d f o r ? " A n d A u n t C h l o e covered her f a c e with her c h e c k e d a p r o n , a n d b e g a n to s o b in g o o d e a r n e s t . " P r a y for t h e m that 'spitefully u s e you, the g o o d b o o k s a y s , " says T o m . 7 "Pray for ' e m ! " s a i d A u n t C h l o e ; " L o r , it's t o o t o u g h ! I can't pray for ' e m . " "It's natur, C h l o e , a n d natur's s t r o n g , " said T o m , "but the L o r d ' s g r a c e is stronger; b e s i d e s , you o u g h t e r think w h a t a n awful state a p o o r crittur's soul's in that'll d o t h e m ar t h i n g s , — y o u o u g h t e r t h a n k G o d that you an't like him, C h l o e . I'm s u r e I'd rather b e sold, ten t h o u s a n d t i m e s over, than to have all that ar p o o r crittur's got to a n s w e r for." " S o ' d I, a h e a p , " said J a k e . " L o r , shouldn't we c o t c h it, A n d y ? " Andy s h r u g g e d his s h o u l d e r s , a n d gave a n a c q u i e s c e n t whistle. "I'm g l a d M a s ' r didn't go off this m o r n i n g , a s h e looked t o , " said T o m ; "that ar hurt m e m o r e t h a n sellin', it did. M e b b e it m i g h t have b e e n natural for h i m , b u t ' t would have c o m e desp't hard on m e , a s h a s k n o w n him from a baby; but I've s e e n M a s ' r , a n d I begin ter feel sort o' r e c o n c i l e d to the Lord's will now. M a s ' r c o u l d n ' t help hisself; he did right, b u t I'm f e a r e d things will be kinder goin' to rack, w h e n I'm g o n e . M a s ' r can't b e s p e c t e d to be a pryin' r o u n d everywhar, a s I've d o n e , a k e e p i n ' u p all the e n d s . T h e boys all m e a n s well, but they's powerful e a r l e s s . T h a t ar troubles m e . " T h e bell here rang, a n d T o m w a s s u m m o n e d to the parlor. " T o m , " said his m a s t e r , kindly, "I w a n t you to notice that I give this gent l e m a n b o n d s to forfeit a t h o u s a n d dollars if you are not on the spot w h e n he w a n t s you; he's g o i n g to-day to look after his other b u s i n e s s , a n d you c a n have the day to yourself. G o anywhere you like, b o y . " " T h a n k you, M a s ' r , " said T o m . " A n d m i n d yerself," s a i d the trader, " a n d don't c o m e it over your m a s t e r with any o' yer nigger tricks; for I'll take every c e n t o u t of h i m , if you an't thar. If he'd h e a r to m e , h e wouldn't trust any o n y e — s l i p p e r y a s e e l s ! " " M a s ' r , " said T o m , — a n d h e s t o o d very s t r a i g h t , — " I w a s jist eight years old w h e n ole M i s s i s p u t you into my a r m s , a n d you wasn't a year old. 'Thar,' says s h e , ' T o m , that's to be your y o u n g M a s ' r ; take g o o d c a r e o n h i m , ' says s h e . A n d now I jist a s k y o u , M a s ' r , have I ever b r o k e word to you, or g o n e contrary to y o u , 'specially s i n c e I w a s a C h r i s t i a n ? " M r . S h e l b y w a s fairly o v e r c o m e , a n d the tears r o s e to his eyes. " M y g o o d b o y , " s a i d h e , " t h e L o r d knows you say b u t the truth; a n d if I w a s able to help it, all the world s h o u l d n ' t buy y o u . " 7. F r o m M a t t h e w 5 . 4 4 : " L o v e y o u r e n e m i e s , b l e s s t h e m that c u r s e y o u , d o g o o d to t h e m that h a t e y o u , a n d pray for t h e m w h i c h despitefully u s e you, a n d p e r s e c u t e y o u . "

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"And s u r e a s I a m a C h r i s t i a n w o m a n , " said M r s . S h e l b y , "you shall be r e d e e m e d a s s o o n a s I c a n any way bring together m e a n s . S i r , " s h e said to Haley, " t a k e g o o d a c c o u n t of w h o you sell him to, a n d let m e k n o w . " " L o r , yes, for that m a t t e r , " said the trader, "I m a y bring him u p in a year, not m u c h the w u s s for wear, a n d trade him b a c k . " "I'll trade with you t h e n , a n d m a k e it for your a d v a n t a g e , " s a i d M r s . Shelby. " O f c o u r s e , " said the trader, "all's e q u a l with m e ; l i v e s t r a d e 'em u p a s d o w n , s o I d o e s a g o o d b u s i n e s s . All I want is a livin', you know, m a ' a m ; that's all any on u s w a n t s , I s ' p o s e . " Mr. a n d M r s . S h e l b y both felt a n n o y e d a n d d e g r a d e d by the familiar i m p u d e n c e of the trader, a n d yet both saw the a b s o l u t e n e c e s s i t y of p u t t i n g a constraint on their feelings. T h e m o r e hopelessly sordid a n d i n s e n s i b l e he a p p e a r e d , the greater b e c a m e M r s . Shelby's d r e a d of his s u c c e e d i n g in r e c a p turing Eliza a n d her child, a n d of c o u r s e the greater her motive for d e t a i n i n g him by every f e m a l e artifice. S h e therefore g r a c i o u s l y s m i l e d , a s s e n t e d , chatted familiarly, a n d did all s h e c o u l d to m a k e time p a s s imperceptibly. At two o'clock S a m a n d Andy brought the h o r s e s up to the p o s t s , apparently greatly refreshed a n d invigorated by the s c a m p e r of the m o r n i n g . S a m w a s there new oiled from dinner, with a n a b u n d a n c e of z e a l o u s a n d ready o f f i c i o u s n e s s . As H a l e y a p p r o a c h e d , he w a s b o a s t i n g , in flourishing style, to Andy, of the evident a n d e m i n e n t s u c c e s s of the o p e r a t i o n , now that he h a d "farly c o m e to it." "Your m a s t e r , I s ' p o s e , don't k e e p no d o g s , " said Haley, thoughtfully, a s he p r e p a r e d to m o u n t . " H e a p s on ' e m , " said S a m , triumphantly; "thar's B r u n o — h e ' s a roarer! a n d , b e s i d e s that, 'bout every nigger of u s k e e p s a p u p of s o m e natur or u t h e r . " " P o h ! " said H a l e y , — a n d he said s o m e t h i n g e l s e , t o o , with regard to the said d o g s , at which S a m m u t t e r e d , "I don't s e e no u s e c u s s i n ' o n 'em, n o w a y . " " B u t your m a s t e r don't keep n o dogs (I pretty m u c h know h e don't) for trackin' o u t n i g g e r s . " S a m knew exactly what he m e a n t , but h e kept o n a look of e a r n e s t a n d d e s p e r a t e simplicity. " O u r d o g s all smells r o u n d c o n s i d a b l e s h a r p . I s p e c t they's the kind, t h o u g h they han't never h a d no p r a c t i c e . They's far d o g s , t h o u g h , at m o s t anything, if you'd get 'em started. H e r e , B r u n o , " h e c a l l e d , whistling to the l u m b e r i n g N e w f o u n d l a n d , w h o c a m e p i t c h i n g t u m u l t u o u s l y toward t h e m . "You go h a n g ! " said Haley, getting u p . " C o m e , t u m b l e up n o w . " S a m t u m b l e d up accordingly, dexterously contriving to tickle Andy a s he did s o , which o c c a s i o n e d Andy to split o u t into a l a u g h , greatly to Haley's indignation, w h o m a d e a c u t at him with his riding-whip. ' T s 'stonished at yer, A n d y , " said S a m , with awful gravity. " T h i s yer's a seris b i s n e s s , Andy. Yer m u s t n ' t b e a m a k i n ' g a m e . T h i s yer an't n o way to help M a s ' r . " "I shall take the straight r o a d to the river," said Haley, decidedly, after they h a d c o m e to the b o u n d a r i e s of the e s t a t e . "I know the way of all of ' e m , — they m a k e s tracks for the u n d e r g r o u n d . " 8 8. I . e . , t h e U n d e r g r o u n d R a i l r o a d ; t h e i n f o r m a l , s e c r e t a s s o c i a t i o n o f i n d i v i d u a l s w h o s e h o m e s w e r e u s e d by s l a v e s e s c a p i n g f r o m t h e S o u t h to C a n a d a .

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" S a r t i n , " said S a m , "dat's d e idee. M a s ' r H a l e y hits de thing right in d e m i d d l e . N o w , der's two r o a d s to d e r i v e r , — d e dirt r o a d a n d der p i k e , — w h i c h M a s ' r m e a n to t a k e ? " Andy looked up innocently at S a m , s u r p r i s e d at h e a r i n g this new g e o g r a p h ical fact, but instantly c o n f i r m e d what he said, by a v e h e m e n t reiteration. " C a u s e , " said S a m , "I'd rather be 'clined to 'magine that Lizy'd take d e dirt road, bein' i t ' s the least travelled." Haley, n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g that he w a s a very old bird, a n d naturally inclined to b e s u s p i c i o u s of chaff, w a s rather b r o u g h t up by this view of the c a s e . "If yer warn't both on yer s u c h c u s s e d liars, n o w ! " h e s a i d , contemplatively, a s he p o n d e r e d a m o m e n t . T h e p e n s i v e , reflective tone in which this w a s s p o k e n a p p e a r e d to a m u s e Andy prodigiously, a n d he drew a little b e h i n d , a n d s h o o k s o a s apparently to run a great risk of falling off his h o r s e , while S a m ' s f a c e w a s i m m o v a b l y c o m p o s e d into the m o s t doleful gravity. " C o u r s e , " said S a m , " M a s ' r c a n d o a s h e ' d ruther; g o de straight r o a d , if M a s ' r thinks b e s t , — i t ' s all o n e to u s . N o w , w h e n I study 'pon it, I think de straight r o a d d o b e s t , deridedly." " S h e would naturally go a l o n e s o m e w a y , " s a i d Haley, thinking a l o u d , a n d not m i n d i n g S a m ' s remark. " D a r an't no sayin'," said S a m ; " g a l s is p e c u l a r ; they never d o e s nothin' ye thinks they will; m o s e gen'lly the contrar. G a l s is nat'lly m a d e contrary; a n d so, if you thinks they've g o n e o n e r o a d , it is sartin you'd better go t' other, a n d then you'll be s u r e to find 'em. N o w , my private 'pinion is, Lizy took der dirt r o a d ; so I think we'd better take d e straight o n e . " T h i s p r o f o u n d generic view of the f e m a l e sex did not s e e m to d i s p o s e H a l e y particularly to the straight r o a d ; a n d h e a n n o u n c e d decidedly that he s h o u l d go the other, a n d a s k e d S a m w h e n they s h o u l d c o m e to it. "A little p i e c e a h e a d , " said S a m , giving a wink to Andy with the eye which w a s on Andy's s i d e of the h e a d ; a n d he a d d e d , gravely, "but I've s t u d d e d on de matter, a n d I'm quite clar we o u g h t not to go dat ar way. I n e b b e r b e e n over it n o way. It's despit l o n e s o m e , a n d we might lose o u r w a y , — w h a r we'd c o m e to, de L o r d only k n o w s . " " N e v e r t h e l e s s , " said Haley, "I shall go that w a y . " " N o w I think o n ' t , I think I h e a r n 'em tell that dat ar r o a d w a s all fenced up a n d down by der creek, a n d thar, an't it, A n d y ? " Andy wasn't c e r t a i n ; he'd only " h e a r n tell" a b o u t that r o a d , but never b e e n over it. In short, he w a s strictly n o n c o m m i t t a l . Haley, a c c u s t o m e d to strike the b a l a n c e of probabilities b e t w e e n lies of greater or lesser m a g n i t u d e , t h o u g h t that it lay in favor of the dirt r o a d aforesaid. T h e m e n t i o n of the thing he t h o u g h t he perceived w a s involuntary on S a m ' s part at first, a n d his c o n f u s e d a t t e m p t s to d i s s u a d e h i m h e set down to a d e s p e r a t e lying on s e c o n d t h o u g h t s , a s b e i n g unwilling to i m p l i c a t e Eliza. W h e n , therefore, S a m i n d i c a t e d the r o a d , H a l e y p l u n g e d briskly into it, followed by S a m a n d Andy. N o w , the road, in fact, w a s a n old o n e , that had formerly b e e n a thoro u g h f a r e to the river, but a b a n d o n e d for m a n y years after the laying of the new pike. It w a s o p e n for a b o u t an hour's ride, a n d after that it was cut a c r o s s by various f a r m s a n d f e n c e s . S a m k n e w this fact perfectly w e l l , — i n d e e d , the road h a d b e e n s o long c l o s e d u p , that Andy h a d never h e a r d of it. H e therefore rode a l o n g with an air of dutiful s u b m i s s i o n , only g r o a n i n g

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a n d vociferating o c c a s i o n a l l y that 't w a s "desp't r o u g h , a n d b a d for Jerry's foot." " N o w , I j e s t give yer w a r n i n g , " said Haley, "I know yer; yer won't get m e to turn off this yer road, with all yer f u s s i n ' — s o you shet u p ! " " M a s ' r will go his own way!" said S a m , with rueful s u b m i s s i o n , at the s a m e time winking m o s t portentously to Andy, w h o s e delight w a s now very near the explosive point. S a m w a s in wonderful s p i r i t s , — p r o f e s s e d to keep a very brisk l o o k - o u t , — at o n e time e x c l a i m i n g that h e saw "a gal's b o n n e t " on the top of s o m e distant e m i n e n c e , or calling to Andy "if that thar wasn't 'Lizy' d o w n in the hollow;" always m a k i n g t h e s e e x c l a m a t i o n s in s o m e rough or craggy part of the r o a d , w h e r e the s u d d e n q u i c k e n i n g of s p e e d w a s a s p e c i a l inconveni e n c e to all parties c o n c e r n e d , a n d t h u s k e e p i n g H a l e y in a s t a t e of c o n stant c o m m o t i o n . After riding a b o u t an h o u r in this way, the w h o l e party m a d e a p r e c i p i t a t e a n d t u m u l t u o u s d e s c e n t into a barn-yard b e l o n g i n g to a large f a r m i n g e s t a b l i s h m e n t . N o t a soul was in sight, all the h a n d s being e m p l o y e d in the fields; b u t , a s the barn stood c o n s p i c u o u s l y a n d plainly s q u a r e a c r o s s the road, it w a s evident that their j o u r n e y in that direction h a d r e a c h e d a d e c i d e d finale. " W a n ' t dat ar what I telled M a s ' r ? " said S a m , with an air of injured innoc e n c e . " H o w d o e s s t r a n g e g e n t l e m a n s p e c t to k n o w m o r e a b o u t a country d a n d e natives born a n d r a i s e d ? " "You r a s c a l ! " said Haley, "you knew all a b o u t t h i s . " "Didn't I tell yer I know'd, a n d yer wouldn't believe m e ? I telled M a s ' r ' t w a s all shet u p , a n d f e n c e d u p , a n d I didn't s p e c t we c o u l d get t h r o u g h , — Andy heard m e . " It w a s all too true to be d i s p u t e d , a n d the unlucky m a n h a d to p o c k e t his wrath with the best g r a c e he w a s a b l e , a n d all three f a c e d to the right a b o u t , a n d took up their line of m a r c h for the highway. In c o n s e q u e n c e of all the various delays, it w a s a b o u t three-quarters of a n hour after Eliza h a d laid her child to s l e e p in the village tavern that the party c a m e riding into the s a m e p l a c e . Eliza w a s s t a n d i n g by the window, looking out in a n o t h e r direction, when S a m ' s q u i c k eye c a u g h t a g l i m p s e of her. Haley a n d Andy were two yards b e h i n d . At this crisis, S a m contrived to have his hat blown off, a n d uttered a loud a n d c h a r a c t e r i s t i c e j a c u l a t i o n , which startled her at o n c e ; s h e drew s u d d e n l y b a c k ; the whole train swept by the window, r o u n d to the front door. A t h o u s a n d lives s e e m e d to be c o n c e n t r a t e d in that o n e m o m e n t to Eliza. H e r room o p e n e d by a side door to the river. S h e c a u g h t her child, a n d s p r a n g down the s t e p s towards it. T h e trader c a u g h t a full g l i m p s e of her, j u s t as she was d i s a p p e a r i n g d o w n the bank; a n d throwing himself from his h o r s e , a n d calling loudly on S a m a n d Andy, h e w a s after her like a h o u n d after a deer. In that dizzy m o m e n t her feet to her s c a r c e s e e m e d to t o u c h the g r o u n d , a n d a m o m e n t brought her to the water's e d g e . Right on b e h i n d they c a m e ; a n d , nerved with strength s u c h a s G o d gives only to the d e s p e r a t e , with o n e wild cry a n d flying l e a p , s h e vaulted s h e e r over the turbid c u r r e n t by the s h o r e , on to the raft of ice beyond. It w a s a d e s p e r a t e l e a p — i m p o s s i b l e to anything but m a d n e s s a n d despair; a n d Haley, S a m , a n d Andy, instinctively cried out, a n d lifted up their h a n d s , as s h e did it. T h e h u g e green fragment of ice on which s h e alighted p i t c h e d a n d c r e a k e d

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a s her weight c a m e on it, b u t s h e staid there not a m o m e n t . W i t h wild cries a n d d e s p e r a t e energy s h e l e a p e d to a n o t h e r a n d still a n o t h e r c a k e ; — s t u m b l i n g — l e a p i n g — s l i p p i n g — s p r i n g i n g u p w a r d s a g a i n ! H e r s h o e s are g o n e — her stockings c u t from her f e e t — w h i l e b l o o d m a r k e d every s t e p ; b u t s h e s a w nothing, felt nothing, till dimly, a s in a d r e a m , s h e s a w the O h i o s i d e , a n d a m a n h e l p i n g her up the b a n k . "Yer a brave gal, now, whoever ye ar!" said the m a n , with a n o a t h . Eliza recognized the voice a n d f a c e of a m a n w h o o w n e d a farm not far from her old h o m e . " O , M r . S y m m e s ! — s a v e m e — d o save m e — d o hide m e ! " s a i d Eliza. "Why, what's t h i s ? " said the m a n . "Why, if 'tan't Shelby's g a l ! " " M y c h i l d ! — t h i s b o y ! — h e ' d sold him! T h e r e is his M a s ' r , " s a i d s h e , pointing to the K e n t u c k y s h o r e . " O , M r . S y m m e s , you've got a little b o y ! " " S o I h a v e , " said the m a n , a s he roughly, but kindly, drew her u p the s t e e p b a n k . " B e s i d e s , you're a right brave gal. I like grit, wherever I s e e it." W h e n they h a d g a i n e d the top of the bank, the m a n p a u s e d . "I'd b e glad to do s o m e t h i n g for y e , " said h e ; " b u t then there's nowhar I c o u l d take ye. T h e b e s t I c a n do is to tell ye to go thar," s a i d h e , p o i n t i n g to a large white h o u s e which s t o o d by itself, off the m a i n street of the village. " G o thar; they're kind folks. T h a r ' s no kind o' d a n g e r but they'll help y o u , — they're u p to all that sort o' t h i n g . " " T h e L o r d bless y o u ! " said Eliza, earnestly. " N o 'casion, n o 'casion in the w o r l d , " said the m a n . " W h a t I've d o n e ' s of no ' c o u n t . " "And, o h , surely, sir, you won't tell any o n e ! " " G o to t h u n d e r , gal! W h a t d o you take a feller for? In c o u r s e n o t , " said the m a n . " C o m e , now, go a l o n g like a likely, s e n s i b l e gal, a s you a r e . You've arnt your liberty, a n d you shall have it, for all m e . " T h e w o m a n folded her child to her b o s o m , a n d walked firmly a n d swiftly away. T h e m a n s t o o d a n d looked after her. " S h e l b y , now, m e b b e won't think this yer the m o s t neighborly thing in the world; but what's a feller to d o ? If he c a t c h e s o n e of my gals in the s a m e fix, he's w e l c o m e to pay b a c k . S o m e h o w I never c o u l d s e e no kind o' critter a strivin' a n d pantin', a n d trying to clar theirselves, with the d o g s arter 'em, a n d go agin 'em. B e s i d e s , I don't s e e no kind of 'casion for m e to be h u n t e r a n d c a t c h e r for other folks, n e i t h e r . " S o s p o k e this poor, h e a t h e n i s h K e n t u c k i a n , w h o h a d not b e e n i n s t r u c t e d in his constitutional relations, a n d c o n s e q u e n t l y w a s betrayed into a c t i n g in a sort of C h r i s t i a n i z e d m a n n e r , w h i c h , if he h a d b e e n better s i t u a t e d a n d m o r e e n l i g h t e n e d , h e would not have b e e n left to d o . H a l e y h a d s t o o d a perfectly a m a z e d s p e c t a t o r of the s c e n e , till Eliza h a d d i s a p p e a r e d u p the bank, w h e n h e turned a blank, i n q u i r i n g look on S a m a n d Andy. " T h a t ar w a s a tolable fair stroke of b u s i n e s s , " said S a m . " T h e gal's got seven devils in her, I b e l i e v e ! " s a i d Haley. " H o w like a wildcat she j u m p e d ! " " W a l , n o w , " said S a m , s c r a t c h i n g his h e a d , "I h o p e Mas'r'll ' s c u s e u s tryin' dat ar road. Don't think I feel spry e n o u g h for dat ar, no w a y ! " a n d S a m g a v e a hoarse chuckle. "YOM l a u g h ! " s a i d the trader, with a growl.

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" L o r d b l e s s you, M a s ' r , I couldn't help it, n o w , " said S a m , giving way to the long p e n t - u p delight of his soul. " S h e looked s o curi's, a leapin' a n d s p r i n g i n ' — i c e a c r a c k i n ' — a n d only to hear h e r , — p l u m p ! ker c h u n k ! ker s p l a s h ! S p r i n g ! Lord! how s h e g o e s it!" a n d S a m a n d Andy l a u g h e d till the tears rolled d o w n their c h e e k s . "I'll m a k e ye l a u g h t'other side yer m o u t h s ! " said the trader, laying a b o u t their h e a d s with his riding-whip. B o t h d u c k e d , a n d ran s h o u t i n g u p the b a n k , a n d were o n their h o r s e s before h e w a s u p . " G o o d - e v e n i n g , M a s ' r ! " said S a m , with m u c h gravity. "I berry m u c h s p e c t M i s s i s be a n x i o u s 'bout Jerry. M a s ' r H a l e y won't w a n t u s n o longer. M i s s i s wouldn't h e a r of o u r ridin' the critters over Lizy's bridge to-night;" a n d , with a f a c e t i o u s p o k e into Andy's ribs, he started off, followed by the latter, at full s p e e d , — t h e i r s h o u t s of laughter c o m i n g faintly on the wind. #

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T h e light of the cheerful fire s h o n e on the r u g a n d c a r p e t of a c o s e y parlor, a n d glittered on the sides of the t e a - c u p s a n d well-brightened tea-pot, a s S e n a t o r B i r d 9 w a s drawing off his b o o t s , preparatory to inserting his feet in a pair of n e w h a n d s o m e slippers, which his wife h a d b e e n working for him while away on his senatorial tour. M r s . Bird, looking the very p i c t u r e of delight, w a s s u p e r i n t e n d i n g the a r r a n g e m e n t s of the t a b l e , ever a n d a n o n mingling a d m o n i t o r y r e m a r k s to a n u m b e r of f r o l i c s o m e j u v e n i l e s , w h o were effervescing in all t h o s e m o d e s of untold g a m b o l a n d m i s c h i e f that have a s t o n i s h e d m o t h e r s ever s i n c e the flood. " T o m , let the door-knob a l o n e , — t h e r e ' s a m a n ! Mary! Mary! don't pull the cat's t a i l , — p o o r p u s s y ! J i m , you m u s t n ' t c l i m b o n that t a b l e , — n o , n o ! — Y o u don't know, my d e a r , what a s u r p r i s e it is to u s all, to s e e you here to-night!" said s h e , at last, w h e n she f o u n d a s p a c e to say s o m e t h i n g to her h u s b a n d . "Yes, yes, I t h o u g h t I'd j u s t m a k e a run d o w n , s p e n d the night, a n d have a little c o m f o r t at h o m e . I'm tired to d e a t h , a n d my h e a d a c h e s ! " M r s . Bird c a s t a g l a n c e at a c a m p h o r - b o t t l e , which s t o o d in the halfo p e n closet, a n d a p p e a r e d to m e d i t a t e an a p p r o a c h to it, but her h u s b a n d interposed. " N o , n o , Mary, n o doctoring! a c u p of your g o o d hot tea, a n d s o m e of our g o o d h o m e living, is what I want. It's a t i r e s o m e b u s i n e s s , this legislating!" A n d the s e n a t o r s m i l e d , a s if he rather liked the idea of c o n s i d e r i n g h i m s e l f a sacrifice to his country. "Well," said his wife, after the b u s i n e s s of the tea-table w a s getting rather slack, " a n d what have they b e e n d o i n g in the S e n a t e ? " N o w , it w a s a very u n u s u a l thing for g e n t l e little M r s . Bird ever to trouble her h e a d with what w a s g o i n g on in the h o u s e of the s t a t e , very wisely considering that s h e h a d e n o u g h to do to m i n d her o w n . M r . Bird, therefore, o p e n e d his eyes in s u r p r i s e , a n d said, " N o t very m u c h of i m p o r t a n c e . " 9 . A n O h i o s t a t e s e n a t o r , r e t u r n i n g f r o m a s e s s i o n in C o l u m b u s , t h e s t a t e c a p i t a l .

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"Well; but is it true that they have b e e n p a s s i n g a law forbidding p e o p l e to give m e a t a n d drink to t h o s e p o o r colored folks that c o m e along? I h e a r d they were talking of s o m e s u c h law, but I didn't think any C h r i s t i a n legislature would p a s s it!" "Why, Mary, you are getting to be a politician, all at o n c e . " " N o , n o n s e n s e ! 1 wouldn't give a fip for all your politics, generally, but I think this is s o m e t h i n g downright cruel a n d u n c h r i s t i a n . I h o p e , my d e a r , no s u c h law has b e e n p a s s e d . " " T h e r e has b e e n a law p a s s e d forbidding p e o p l e to help off the slaves that c o m e over from K e n t u c k y , my dear; s o m u c h of that thing h a s b e e n d o n e by t h e s e reckless Abolitionists, that our brethren in K e n t u c k y are very strongly excited, a n d it s e e m s n e c e s s a r y , a n d no m o r e t h a n C h r i s t i a n a n d kind, that s o m e t h i n g s h o u l d b e d o n e by our s t a t e to quiet the e x c i t e m e n t . " "And what is the law? It don't forbid u s to shelter t h e s e p o o r c r e a t u r e s a night, d o e s it, a n d to give 'em s o m e t h i n g c o m f o r t a b l e to e a t , a n d a few old c l o t h e s , a n d s e n d t h e m quietly a b o u t their b u s i n e s s ? " "Why, yes, my dear; that would b e a i d i n g a n d abetting, you k n o w . " M r s . Bird w a s a timid, b l u s h i n g little w o m a n , of a b o u t four feet in height, a n d with mild b l u e e y e s , a n d a p e a c h - b l o w c o m p l e x i o n , a n d the gentlest, sweetest voice in the w o r l d ; — a s for c o u r a g e , a m o d e r a t e - s i z e d cock-turkey had b e e n known to p u t her to rout at the very first g o b b l e , a n d a stout h o u s e d o g , of m o d e r a t e c a p a c i t y , would bring her into s u b j e c t i o n merely by a s h o w of his teeth. H e r h u s b a n d and children were her entire world, a n d in t h e s e s h e ruled m o r e by entreaty a n d p e r s u a s i o n t h a n by c o m m a n d or a r g u m e n t . T h e r e w a s only o n e thing that w a s c a p a b l e of a r o u s i n g her, a n d that provoc a t i o n c a m e in on the side of her u n u s u a l l y g e n t l e a n d s y m p a t h e t i c n a t u r e ; — anything in the s h a p e of cruelty would throw her into a p a s s i o n , which was the m o r e a l a r m i n g a n d inexplicable in proportion to the general s o f t n e s s of her n a t u r e . G e n e r a l l y the m o s t i n d u l g e n t a n d e a s y to be e n t r e a t e d of all m o t h e r s , still her boys h a d a very reverent r e m e m b r a n c e of a m o s t v e h e m e n t c h a s t i s e m e n t s h e o n c e b e s t o w e d on t h e m , b e c a u s e she f o u n d t h e m l e a g u e d with several g r a c e l e s s boys of the n e i g h b o r h o o d , s t o n i n g a d e f e n c e l e s s kitten. "I'll tell you w h a t , " M a s t e r Bill u s e d to say, "I w a s s c a r e d that t i m e . M o t h e r c a m e at m e so that I t h o u g h t s h e w a s crazy, a n d I w a s w h i p p e d a n d t u m b l e d off to b e d , without any s u p p e r , b e f o r e I c o u l d get over w o n d e r i n g what h a d c o m e a b o u t ; a n d , after that, I h e a r d m o t h e r crying o u t s i d e the door, which m a d e m e feel w o r s e than all the rest. I'll tell you w h a t , " he'd say, "we boys never s t o n e d a n o t h e r kitten!" O n the p r e s e n t o c c a s i o n , M r s . Bird rose quickly, with very red c h e e k s , which q u i t e improved her general a p p e a r a n c e , a n d walked up to her h u s b a n d , with q u i t e a r e s o l u t e air, a n d said, in a d e t e r m i n e d t o n e , " N o w , J o h n , I want to know if you think s u c h a law a s that is right a n d Christian?" "You won't s h o o t m e , now, Mary, if I say I d o ! " "I never c o u l d have t h o u g h t it of you, J o h n ; you didn't vote for i t ? " " E v e n s o , my fair p o l i t i c i a n . " "You o u g h t to be a s h a m e d , J o h n ! Poor, h o m e l e s s , h o u s e l e s s c r e a t u r e s ! It's a s h a m e f u l , w i c k e d , a b o m i n a b l e law, a n d I'll b r e a k it, for o n e , the first time I get a c h a n c e ; a n d I h o p e I shall have a c h a n c e , I do! T h i n g s have got to a pretty p a s s , if a w o m a n can't give a w a r m s u p p e r a n d a b e d to poor, starving

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c r e a t u r e s , j u s t b e c a u s e they are slaves, a n d have b e e n a b u s e d a n d o p p r e s s e d all their lives, p o o r t h i n g s ! " " B u t , Mary, j u s t listen to m e . Your feelings are all q u i t e right, d e a r , a n d interesting, a n d I love you for t h e m ; b u t , t h e n , dear, we m u s t n ' t suffer our feelings to run away with our j u d g m e n t ; you m u s t c o n s i d e r it's not a m a t t e r of private f e e l i n g , — t h e r e are great public interests i n v o l v e d , — t h e r e is s u c h a state of public agitation rising, that we m u s t put a s i d e o u r private f e e l i n g s . " " N o w , J o h n , I don't know anything a b o u t politics, but I c a n r e a d my B i b l e ; a n d there I see that I m u s t feed the hungry, c l o t h e the n a k e d , a n d c o m f o r t the d e s o l a t e ; a n d that Bible I m e a n to follow." " B u t in c a s e s w h e r e your d o i n g s o would involve a great p u b l i c e v i l — " " O b e y i n g G o d never brings on public evils. I know it can't. It's always safest, all r o u n d , to do as He bids u s . " " N o w , listen to m e , M a r y , a n d I c a n state to you a very clear a r g u m e n t , to show—" " O , n o n s e n s e , J o h n ! you c a n talk all night, but you wouldn't d o it. I put it to you, J o h n , — w o u l d you now turn away a poor, shivering, h u n g r y c r e a t u r e from your door, b e c a u s e h e w a s a runaway? Would you, n o w ? " N o w , if the truth m u s t be told, our s e n a t o r h a d the m i s f o r t u n e to be a m a n who h a d a particularly h u m a n e a n d a c c e s s i b l e n a t u r e , a n d turning away anybody that w a s in trouble never h a d b e e n his forte; a n d what w a s w o r s e for him in this particular p i n c h of the a r g u m e n t w a s , that his wife knew it, a n d , of c o u r s e , w a s m a k i n g an a s s a u l t on rather an i n d e f e n s i b l e point. S o he h a d r e c o u r s e to the u s u a l m e a n s of g a i n i n g time for s u c h c a s e s m a d e a n d provided; he said " a h e m , " a n d c o u g h e d several t i m e s , took out his pockethandkerchief, a n d b e g a n to wipe his g l a s s e s . M r s . Bird, s e e i n g the d e f e n c e l e s s condition of the enemy's territory, h a d no m o r e c o n s c i e n c e than to p u s h her a d v a n t a g e . "I s h o u l d like to s e e you doing that, J o h n — I really s h o u l d ! T u r n i n g a w o m a n o u t of d o o r s in a s n o w - s t o r m , for i n s t a n c e ; or, m a y b e you'd take her u p a n d put her in jail, wouldn't you? You would m a k e a great h a n d at t h a t ! " " O f c o u r s e , it would be a very painful d u t y , " b e g a n M r . Bird, in a m o d e r a t e tone. " D u t y , J o h n ! don't u s e that word! You know it isn't a d u t y — i t can't be a duty! If folks want to keep their slaves from r u n n i n g away, let 'em treat 'em well,—that's my d o c t r i n e . If I h a d slaves (as I h o p e I never shall h a v e ) , I'd risk their w a n t i n g to run away from m e , or you either, J o h n . I tell you folks don't run away when they are happy; a n d when they do r u n , p o o r c r e a t u r e s ! they suffer e n o u g h with cold a n d h u n g e r a n d fear, without everybody's turning a g a i n s t t h e m ; a n d , law or no law, I never will, so help m e G o d ! " " M a r y ! Mary! My dear, let m e r e a s o n with y o u . " "I hate r e a s o n i n g , J o h n , — e s p e c i a l l y r e a s o n i n g on s u c h s u b j e c t s . T h e r e ' s a way you political folks have of c o m i n g r o u n d a n d r o u n d a plain right thing; a n d you don't believe in it yourselves, w h e n it c o m e s to p r a c t i c e . I knowyow well e n o u g h , J o h n . You don't believe it's right any m o r e than I d o ; a n d you wouldn't do it any s o o n e r than I." At this critical j u n c t u r e , old C u d j o e , the black man-of-all-work, p u t his h e a d in at the door, a n d wished " M i s s i s would c o m e into the k i t c h e n ; " a n d our senator, tolerably relieved, looked after his little wife with a w h i m s i c a l

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mixture of a m u s e m e n t a n d vexation, a n d , s e a t i n g h i m s e l f in the a r m - c h a i r , b e g a n to read the p a p e r s . After a m o m e n t , his wife's voice w a s h e a r d at the door, in a q u i c k , e a r n e s t t o n e , — " J o h n ! J o h n ! I do wish you'd c o m e h e r e , a m o m e n t . " H e laid down his p a p e r , a n d went into the k i t c h e n , a n d s t a r t e d , q u i t e a m a z e d at the sight that p r e s e n t e d i t s e l f : — A y o u n g a n d s l e n d e r w o m a n , with g a r m e n t s torn a n d frozen, with o n e s h o e g o n e , a n d the s t o c k i n g torn a w a y from the c u t a n d b l e e d i n g foot, w a s laid b a c k in a deadly s w o o n u p o n two c h a i r s . T h e r e w a s the i m p r e s s of the d e s p i s e d r a c e o n her f a c e , yet n o n e c o u l d help feeling its m o u r n f u l a n d p a t h e t i c b e a u t y , while its stony s h a r p n e s s , its cold, fixed, deathly a s p e c t , s t r u c k a s o l e m n chill over h i m . H e d r e w his b r e a t h short, a n d s t o o d in s i l e n c e . H i s wife, a n d their only c o l o r e d d o m e s tic, old A u n t D i n a h , were busily e n g a g e d in restorative m e a s u r e s ; while old C u d j o e h a d got the boy on his k n e e , a n d w a s b u s y p u l l i n g off his s h o e s a n d s t o c k i n g s , a n d chafing his little c o l d feet. " S u r e , now, if s h e an't a sight to b e h o l d ! " said old D i n a h , c o m p a s s i o n a t e l y ; " 'pears like 'twas the heat that m a d e her faint. S h e w a s tol'able p e a r t w h e n s h e c u m in, a n d a s k e d if s h e couldn't w a r m herself here a spell; a n d I w a s j u s t a askin' her w h e r e s h e c u m from, a n d s h e fainted right d o w n . N e v e r d o n e m u c h h a r d work, g u e s s , by the looks of her h a n d s . " " P o o r c r e a t u r e ! " said M r s . Bird, c o m p a s s i o n a t e l y , a s the w o m a n slowly u n c l o s e d her large, d a r k eyes, a n d looked vacantly at her. S u d d e n l y a n expression of a g o n y c r o s s e d her f a c e , a n d s h e s p r a n g u p , saying, " O , my Harry! H a v e they got h i m ? " T h e boy, at this, j u m p e d from C u d j o e ' s k n e e , a n d , r u n n i n g to her s i d e , p u t u p his a r m s . " O , he's h e r e ! he's h e r e ! " s h e e x c l a i m e d . " O , m a ' a m ! " said s h e , wildly, to M r s . Bird, " d o protect u s ! don't let t h e m get h i m ! " " N o b o d y shall hurt you h e r e , p o o r w o m a n , " s a i d M r s . Bird, e n c o u r a g i n g l y . "You are s a f e ; don't b e a f r a i d . " " G o d b l e s s y o u ! " said the w o m a n , covering her f a c e a n d s o b b i n g ; while the little boy, s e e i n g her crying, tried to get into her l a p . W i t h m a n y g e n t l e a n d w o m a n l y offices, w h i c h n o n e k n e w better h o w to r e n d e r than M r s . Bird, the p o o r w o m a n w a s , in t i m e , r e n d e r e d m o r e c a l m . A t e m p o r a r y b e d w a s provided for her o n the settle, n e a r the fire; a n d , after a short t i m e , s h e fell into a heavy s l u m b e r , with the c h i l d , w h o s e e m e d no less weary, s o u n d l y s l e e p i n g o n her a r m ; for the m o t h e r r e s i s t e d , with nervous anxiety, the kindest a t t e m p t s to take h i m from her; a n d , even in s l e e p , her a r m e n c i r c l e d him with a n unrelaxing c l a s p , a s if s h e c o u l d n o t even t h e n b e b e g u i l e d of her vigilant hold. Mr. a n d M r s . Bird h a d g o n e b a c k to the parlor, w h e r e , s t r a n g e a s it m a y a p p e a r , n o r e f e r e n c e w a s m a d e , o n either s i d e , to the p r e c e d i n g c o n v e r s a t i o n ; b u t M r s . Bird b u s i e d herself with her knitting-work, a n d M r . B i r d p r e t e n d e d to be r e a d i n g the p a p e r . "I w o n d e r w h o a n d what s h e i s ! " said M r . Bird, at last, a s h e laid it d o w n . " W h e n s h e w a k e s u p a n d feels a little r e s t e d , w e will s e e , " s a i d M r s . Bird. "I say, w i f e ! " said M r . Bird, after m u s i n g in s i l e n c e over his n e w s p a p e r . "Well, d e a r ! " " S h e c o u l d n ' t wear o n e of your g o w n s , c o u l d s h e , by any letting d o w n , or s u c h m a t t e r ? S h e s e e m s to be rather larger than you a r e . "

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A q u i t e p e r c e p t i b l e smile g l i m m e r e d on M r s . Bird's f a c e , a s s h e a n s w e r e d , "We'll s e e . " A n o t h e r p a u s e , a n d M r . Bird again broke o u t , "I say, w i f e ! " "Well! W h a t n o w ? " "Why, there's that old b o m b a z i n 1 cloak, that you k e e p on p u r p o s e to put over m e w h e n I take my afternoon's n a p ; you might a s well give her t h a t , — she needs clothes." At this i n s t a n t , D i n a h looked in to say that the w o m a n w a s a w a k e , a n d w a n t e d to s e e M i s s i s . Mr. a n d M r s . Bird went into the kitchen, followed by the two eldest boys, the s m a l l e r fry having, by this t i m e , b e e n safely d i s p o s e d of in b e d . T h e w o m a n w a s now sitting u p on the s e t t l e , 2 by the fire. S h e w a s looking steadily into the blaze, with a c a l m , h e a r t b r o k e n expression, very different from her former agitated w i l d n e s s . " D i d you w a n t m e ? " said M r s . Bird, in g e n t l e t o n e s . "I h o p e you feel better now, p o o r w o m a n ! " A long-drawn, shivering sigh w a s the only a n s w e r ; but s h e lifted her dark eyes, a n d fixed t h e m on her with s u c h a forlorn a n d i m p l o r i n g e x p r e s s i o n , that the tears c a m e into the little w o m a n ' s eyes. "You needn't be afraid of anything; we are friends h e r e , p o o r w o m a n ! Tell m e w h e r e you c a m e f r o m , a n d what you w a n t , " said s h e . "I c a m e from K e n t u c k y , " said the w o m a n . " W h e n ? " s a i d M r . Bird, taking u p the interrogatory. "To-night." " H o w did you c o m e ? " "I c r o s s e d on the i c e . " " C r o s s e d on the i c e ! " s a i d every o n e p r e s e n t . " Y e s , " said the w o m a n , slowly, "I did. G o d h e l p i n g m e , I c r o s s e d o n the ice; for they were b e h i n d m e — r i g h t b e h i n d — a n d there w a s no other way!" " L a w , M i s s i s , " said C u d j o e , "the ice is all in b r o k e n - u p b l o c k s , a swinging a n d a tetering u p a n d d o w n in the w a t e r ! " "I know it w a s — I know it!" said s h e , wildly; " b u t I did it! I wouldn't have thought I c o u l d , — I didn't think I s h o u l d get over, but I didn't c a r e ! I c o u l d b u t die, if I didn't. T h e L o r d h e l p e d m e ; n o b o d y knows h o w m u c h the L o r d c a n help ' e m , till they try," said the w o m a n , with a flashing eye. " W e r e you a s l a v e ? " said M r . Bird. "Yes, sir; I b e l o n g e d to a m a n in K e n t u c k y . " " W a s he unkind to y o u ? " " N o , sir; h e w a s a g o o d m a s t e r . " " A n d w a s your m i s t r e s s u n k i n d to y o u ? " " N o , s i r — n o ! my m i s t r e s s w a s always g o o d to m e . " " W h a t c o u l d i n d u c e you to leave a g o o d h o m e , t h e n , a n d run away, a n d go t h r o u g h s u c h d a n g e r s ? " T h e w o m a n looked u p at M r s . Bird, with a k e e n , scrutinizing g l a n c e , a n d it did not e s c a p e her that s h e w a s d r e s s e d in d e e p m o u r n i n g . " M a ' a m , " s h e said, suddenly, "have you ever lost a c h i l d ? " T h e q u e s t i o n w a s u n e x p e c t e d , a n d it w a s a thrust on a n e w w o u n d ; for it 1. T w i l l f a b r i c w o v e n o f s i l k a n d w o o l .

2.

A small sofa.

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w a s only a m o n t h s i n c e a darling child of the family h a d b e e n laid in the grave. Mr. Bird t u r n e d a r o u n d a n d walked to the window, a n d M r s . Bird b u r s t into t e a r s ; b u t , recovering her voice, s h e said, "Why do you a s k that? I have lost a little o n e . " " T h e n you will feel for m e . I have lost two, o n e after a n o t h e r , — l e f t 'em buried there w h e n I c a m e away; a n d I h a d only this o n e left. I never slept a night without h i m ; h e w a s all I h a d . H e w a s my c o m f o r t a n d pride, day a n d night; a n d , m a ' a m , they were going to take him away from m e , — t o sell h i m , — s e l l him d o w n s o u t h , m a ' a m , to go all a l o n e , — a b a b y that h a d never b e e n away from his m o t h e r in his life! I couldn't s t a n d it, m a ' a m . I k n e w I never s h o u l d be g o o d for anything, if they did; a n d w h e n I knew the p a p e r s were s i g n e d , a n d he w a s sold, I took him a n d c a m e off in the night; a n d they c h a s e d m e , — t h e m a n that b o u g h t him, a n d s o m e of M a s ' r ' s f o l k s , — a n d they were c o m i n g d o w n right b e h i n d m e , a n d I h e a r d 'em. I j u m p e d right on to the i c e ; a n d how I got a c r o s s , I don't k n o w , — b u t , first I knew, a m a n w a s helping m e u p the b a n k . " T h e w o m a n did not s o b nor w e e p . S h e h a d g o n e to a p l a c e w h e r e tears are dry; but every o n e a r o u n d her w a s , in s o m e way c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of t h e m selves, s h o w i n g signs of hearty sympathy. T h e two little boys, after a d e s p e r a t e r u m m a g i n g in their p o c k e t s , in s e a r c h of t h o s e p o c k e t - h a n d k e r c h i e f s which m o t h e r s know a r e never to be f o u n d there, h a d thrown t h e m s e l v e s d i s c o n s o l a t e l y into the skirts of their m o t h e r ' s g o w n , where they were s o b b i n g , a n d wiping their eyes a n d n o s e s , to their hearts' c o n t e n t ; — M r s . Bird h a d her f a c e fairly h i d d e n in her pockethandkerchief; a n d old D i n a h , with tears s t r e a m i n g down her b l a c k , h o n e s t f a c e , w a s e j a c u l a t i n g , " L o r d have mercy on u s ! " with all the fervor of a c a m p m e e t i n g ; — w h i l e old C u d j o e , r u b b i n g his eyes very hard with his cuffs, a n d m a k i n g a m o s t u n c o m m o n variety of wry f a c e s , o c c a s i o n a l l y r e s p o n d e d in the s a m e key, with great fervor. O u r s e n a t o r w a s a s t a t e s m a n , a n d of c o u r s e c o u l d not b e e x p e c t e d to cry, like other m o r t a l s ; a n d s o h e t u r n e d his b a c k to the c o m p a n y , a n d looked out of the window, a n d s e e m e d particularly busy in clearing his throat a n d wiping his s p e c t a c l e - g l a s s e s , o c c a s i o n a l l y blowing his n o s e in a m a n n e r that w a s c a l c u l a t e d to excite s u s p i c i o n , h a d any o n e b e e n in a state to observe critically. " H o w c a m e you to tell m e you h a d a kind m a s t e r ? " h e s u d d e n l y e x c l a i m e d , g u l p i n g down very resolutely s o m e kind of rising in his throat, a n d turning s u d d e n l y r o u n d u p o n the w o m a n . " B e c a u s e h e was a kind m a s t e r ; I'll say that of him, any w a y ; — a n d my m i s t r e s s w a s kind; but they couldn't help t h e m s e l v e s . T h e y were owing money; a n d there w a s s o m e way, I can't tell how, that a m a n h a d a hold on t h e m , a n d they were obliged to give him his will. I listened, a n d h e a r d him telling m i s t r e s s that, a n d s h e b e g g i n g a n d p l e a d i n g for m e , — a n d h e told her he couldn't help himself, a n d that the p a p e r s were all d r a w n ; — a n d then it w a s I took him a n d left my h o m e , a n d c a m e away. I k n e w 'twas no u s e of my trying to live, if they did it; f o r ' t 'pears like this child is all I h a v e . " " H a v e you n o h u s b a n d ? " "Yes, but h e b e l o n g s to a n o t h e r m a n . H i s m a s t e r is real hard to him, a n d won't let him c o m e to s e e m e , hardly ever; a n d he's grown h a r d e r a n d harder u p o n u s , a n d he t h r e a t e n s to sell him d o w n s o u t h ; — i t ' s like I'll never s e e him a g a i n ! "

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T h e quiet t o n e in which the w o m a n p r o n o u n c e d t h e s e w o r d s might have led a superficial observer to think that she w a s entirely a p a t h e t i c ; b u t there w a s a c a l m , settled depth of a n g u i s h in her large, d a r k eye, that s p o k e of s o m e t h i n g far otherwise. "And w h e r e d o you m e a n to g o , my p o o r w o m a n ? " s a i d M r s . Bird. " T o C a n a d a , if I only k n e w where that w a s . Is it very far off, is C a n a d a ? " said s h e , looking u p , with a s i m p l e , confiding air, to M r s . Bird's f a c e . " P o o r thing!" said M r s . Bird, involuntarily. "Is't a very great way off, t h i n k ? " said the w o m a n , earnestly. " M u c h further than you think, p o o r c h i l d ! " said M r s . B i r d ; " b u t we will try to think what c a n be d o n e for you. H e r e , D i n a h , m a k e her u p a b e d in your own r o o m , c l o s e by the kitchen, a n d I'll think what to d o for her in the m o r n i n g . M e a n w h i l e , never fear, poor w o m a n ; p u t your trust in G o d ; h e will protect y o u . " M r s . Bird a n d her h u s b a n d reentered the parlor. S h e sat d o w n in her little rocking-chair before the fire, swaying thoughtfully to a n d fro. M r . Bird strode u p a n d down the r o o m , g r u m b l i n g to himself, " P i s h ! p s h a w ! c o n f o u n d e d awkward b u s i n e s s ! " At length, striding up to his wife, he said, "I say, wife, she'll have to get away from h e r e , this very night. T h a t fellow will b e down o n the s c e n t bright a n d early to-morrow m o r n i n g ; if 'twas only the w o m a n , s h e c o u l d lie quiet till it w a s over; but that little c h a p can't b e kept still by a troop of h o r s e a n d foot, I'll warrant m e ; he'll bring it all out, p o p p i n g his h e a d o u t of s o m e window or door. A pretty kettle of fish it w o u l d be for m e , too, to be c a u g h t with t h e m both h e r e , j u s t now! N o ; they'll have to be got off to-night." "To-night! H o w is it p o s s i b l e ? — w h e r e t o ? " "Well, I know pretty well w h e r e t o , " s a i d the s e n a t o r , b e g i n n i n g to p u t o n his b o o t s , with a reflective air; a n d , s t o p p i n g w h e n his leg w a s half in, he e m b r a c e d his knee with both h a n d s , a n d s e e m e d to go off in d e e p m e d i t a t i o n . "It's a c o n f o u n d e d awkward, ugly b u s i n e s s , " said h e , at last, b e g i n n i n g to t u g at his boot-straps a g a i n , " a n d that's a f a c t ! " After o n e b o o t w a s fairly o n , the s e n a t o r sat with the other in his h a n d , profoundly studying the figure of the c a r p e t . "It will have to be d o n e , t h o u g h , for a u g h t I s e e , — h a n g it all!" a n d h e drew the other boot anxiously o n , a n d looked o u t of the window. N o w , little M r s . Bird w a s a discreet w o m a n , — a w o m a n w h o never in her life said, "I told you s o ! " a n d , on the p r e s e n t o c c a s i o n , t h o u g h pretty well aware of the s h a p e her h u s b a n d ' s m e d i t a t i o n s were taking, s h e very prudently forbore to m e d d l e with t h e m , only sat very quietly in her chair, a n d looked quite ready to hear her liege lord's intentions, w h e n he s h o u l d think p r o p e r to utter t h e m . "You s e e , " h e said, "there's my old client, V a n T r o m p e , has c o m e over from Kentucky, a n d set all his slaves free; a n d he h a s b o u g h t a p l a c e seven miles up the creek, h e r e , b a c k in the w o o d s , w h e r e nobody g o e s , u n l e s s they g o on p u r p o s e ; a n d it's a p l a c e that isn't f o u n d in a hurry. T h e r e she'd b e s a f e e n o u g h ; but the p l a g u e of the thing is, n o b o d y c o u l d drive a c a r r i a g e there to-night, but me." "Why not? C u d j o e is a n excellent driver." "Ay, ay, but here it is. T h e c r e e k has to b e c r o s s e d twice; a n d the s e c o n d c r o s s i n g is q u i t e d a n g e r o u s , u n l e s s o n e knows it a s I d o . I have c r o s s e d it a h u n d r e d times o n h o r s e b a c k , a n d know exactly the t u r n s to take. A n d s o , you s e e , there's no help for it. C u d j o e m u s t p u t in the h o r s e s , a s quietly a s

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m a y b e , a b o u t twelve o'clock, a n d I'll take her over; a n d t h e n , to give color to the matter, he m u s t carry m e on to the next tavern, to take the s t a g e ' for C o l u m b u s , that c o m e s by a b o u t three or four, a n d s o it will look a s if I h a d had the carriage only for that. I shall get into b u s i n e s s bright a n d early in the m o r n i n g . B u t I'm thinking I shall feel rather c h e a p there, after all that's b e e n said a n d d o n e ; b u t , h a n g it, I can't help it!" "Your heart is better than your h e a d , in this c a s e , J o h n , " said the wife, laying her little white h a n d on his. " C o u l d I ever have loved you, h a d I not known you better than you know y o u r s e l f ? " And the little w o m a n looked so h a n d s o m e , with the tears sparkling in her eyes, that the s e n a t o r thought he m u s t be a decidedly clever fellow, to get s u c h a pretty c r e a t u r e into s u c h a p a s s i o n a t e a d m i r a t i o n of him; a n d s o , what c o u l d he d o but walk off soberly, to s e e a b o u t the c a r r i a g e . At the door, however, he s t o p p e d a m o m e n t , a n d then c o m i n g b a c k , he said, with s o m e hesitation, " M a r y , I don't know how you'd feel a b o u t it, but there's that drawer full of t h i n g s — o f — o f — p o o r little H e n r y ' s . " S o saying, h e t u r n e d quickly on his heel, a n d shut the door after him. His wife o p e n e d the little b e d - r o o m d o o r a d j o i n i n g her r o o m , a n d , taking the c a n d l e , set it d o w n o n the top of a b u r e a u there; then from a small r e c e s s she took a key, a n d put it thoughtfully in the lock of a drawer, a n d m a d e a s u d d e n p a u s e , while two boys, w h o , boy like, h a d followed c l o s e on her h e e l s , stood looking, with silent, significant g l a n c e s , at their m o t h e r . A n d oh! m o t h e r that r e a d s this, has there never b e e n in your h o u s e a drawer, or a closet, the o p e n i n g of which has b e e n to you like the o p e n i n g a g a i n of a little grave? Ah! happy m o t h e r that you a r e , if it h a s not b e e n s o . M r s . Bird slowly o p e n e d the drawer. T h e r e were little c o a t s of m a n y a form a n d pattern, piles of a p r o n s , a n d rows of small s t o c k i n g s ; a n d even a pair of little s h o e s , worn a n d r u b b e d at the toes, were p e e p i n g from the folds of a paper. T h e r e w a s a toy horse a n d w a g o n , a t o p , a b a l l , — m e m o r i a l s g a t h e r e d with m a n y a tear a n d m a n y a heart-break! S h e sat down by the drawer, a n d , leaning her h e a d on her h a n d s over it, wept till the tears fell t h r o u g h her fingers into the drawer; then s u d d e n l y raising her h e a d , s h e b e g a n , with nervous h a s t e , selecting the p l a i n e s t a n d m o s t s u b s t a n t i a l articles, a n d gathering them into a b u n d l e . " M a m m a , " said o n e of the boys, gently t o u c h i n g her a r m , " a r e you g o i n g to give away those t h i n g s ? " " M y dear b o y s , " s h e said, softly a n d earnestly, "if o u r d e a r , loving little Henry looks d o w n from h e a v e n , he would b e glad to have u s d o this. I c o u l d not find it in my heart to give t h e m away to any c o m m o n p e r s o n — t o anybody that was happy; but I give t h e m to a m o t h e r m o r e heart-broken a n d sorrowful than I a m ; a n d I h o p e G o d will s e n d his b l e s s i n g s with t h e m ! " T h e r e a r e in this world b l e s s e d s o u l s , w h o s e sorrows all s p r i n g u p into joys for o t h e r s ; w h o s e earthly h o p e s , laid in the grave with m a n y tears, are the seed from which spring healing flowers a n d b a l m for the d e s o l a t e a n d the d i s t r e s s e d . A m o n g s u c h w a s the delicate w o m a n w h o sits t h e r e bv the l a m p , d r o p p i n g slow tears, while she p r e p a r e s the m e m o r i a l s of her own lost o n e for the o u t c a s t w a n d e r e r . After a while, M r s . Bird o p e n e d a w a r d r o b e , a n d , taking from t h e n c e a 3.

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plain, serviceable d r e s s or two, s h e sat down busily to her work-table, a n d , with n e e d l e , s c i s s o r s , a n d thimble, at h a n d , quietly c o m m e n c e d the "letting d o w n " p r o c e s s which her h u s b a n d had r e c o m m e n d e d , a n d c o n t i n u e d busily at it till the old c l o c k in the corner s t r u c k twelve, a n d s h e h e a r d the low rattling of wheels at the door. " M a r y , " said her h u s b a n d , c o m i n g in, with his overcoat in his h a n d , "you m u s t wake her u p now; we m u s t be off." M r s . Bird hastily d e p o s i t e d the various articles s h e h a d c o l l e c t e d in a small plain trunk, a n d locking it, desired her h u s b a n d to s e e it in the c a r r i a g e , a n d then p r o c e e d e d to call the w o m a n . S o o n , arrayed in a cloak, b o n n e t , a n d shawl, that h a d b e l o n g e d to her b e n e f a c t r e s s , s h e a p p e a r e d at the d o o r with her child in her a r m s . M r . Bird hurried her into the c a r r i a g e , a n d M r s . Bird p r e s s e d on after her to the c a r r i a g e s t e p s . Eliza l e a n e d out of the c a r r i a g e , a n d put out her h a n d , — a h a n d a s soft a n d beautiful a s w a s given in return. S h e fixed her large, dark eyes, full of e a r n e s t m e a n i n g , on M r s . Bird's f a c e , a n d s e e m e d going to s p e a k . H e r lips m o v e d , — s h e tried o n c e or twice, but there w a s no s o u n d , — a n d p o i n t i n g u p w a r d , with a look never to be forgotten, she fell b a c k in the s e a t , a n d covered her f a c e . T h e d o o r w a s s h u t , a n d the carriage drove on. W h a t a situation, now, for a patriotic s e n a t o r , that h a d b e e n all the w e e k before s p u r r i n g up the legislature of his native state to p a s s m o r e stringent resolutions a g a i n s t e s c a p i n g fugitives, their harborers a n d a b e t t o r s ! O u r good s e n a t o r in his native state h a d not b e e n e x c e e d e d by any of his brethren at W a s h i n g t o n , in the sort of e l o q u e n c e which h a s won for t h e m immortal renown! H o w sublimely he h a d sat with his h a n d s in his p o c k e t s , a n d s c o u t e d all s e n t i m e n t a l w e a k n e s s of t h o s e who would p u t the welfare of a few m i s e r a b l e fugitives before great state interests! H e w a s a s bold a s a lion a b o u t it, a n d "mightily c o n v i n c e d " not only himself, but everybody that h e a r d h i m ; — b u t then his idea of a fugitive w a s only a n idea of the letters that spell the w o r d , — o r , at the m o s t , the i m a g e of a little n e w s p a p e r p i c t u r e of a m a n with a stick a n d b u n d l e , with " R a n away from the s u b s c r i b e r " u n d e r it. T h e m a g i c of the real p r e s e n c e of d i s t r e s s , — the imploring h u m a n eye, the frail, trembling h u m a n h a n d , the d e s p a i r i n g appeal of helpless a g o n y , — t h e s e he had never tried. H e h a d never t h o u g h t that a fugitive might be a h a p l e s s m o t h e r , a d e f e n c e l e s s c h i l d , — l i k e that o n e which w a s now w e a r i n g his lost boy's little well-known c a p ; a n d s o , a s our poor s e n a t o r w a s not s t o n e or s t e e l , — a s h e w a s a m a n , a n d a downright n o b l e h e a r t e d o n e , t o o , — h e w a s , a s everybody m u s t s e e , in a s a d c a s e for his patriotism. A n d you n e e d not exult over him, g o o d brother of the S o u t h e r n S t a t e s ; for we have s o m e inklings that m a n y of you, u n d e r similar c i r c u m s t a n c e s , would not do m u c h better. W e have r e a s o n to know, in K e n t u c k y , a s in M i s s i s s i p p i , are noble a n d g e n e r o u s h e a r t s , to w h o m never w a s tale of suffering told in vain. Ah, good brother! is it fair for you to expect of u s services which your own brave, h o n o r a b l e heart would not allow you to render, were you in our p l a c e ? B e that as it may, if our good s e n a t o r w a s a political sinner, h e w a s in a fair way to expiate it by his night's p e n a n c e . T h e r e h a d b e e n a long continu o u s period of rainy weather, a n d the soft, rich earth of O h i o , a s every o n e knows, is admirably suited to the m a n u f a c t u r e of m u d , — a n d the road w a s an O h i o railroad of the g o o d old times.

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" A n d pray, what sort of a r o a d m a y that b e ? " says s o m e e a s t e r n traveller, w h o h a s b e e n a c c u s t o m e d to c o n n e c t no ideas with a railroad, but t h o s e of s m o o t h n e s s or s p e e d . K n o w , t h e n , i n n o c e n t e a s t e r n friend, that in b e n i g h t e d regions of the w e s t , where the m u d is of u n f a t h o m a b l e a n d s u b l i m e d e p t h , roads a r e m a d e of r o u n d rough logs, a r r a n g e d transversely side by s i d e , a n d c o a t e d over in their pristine f r e s h n e s s with earth, turf, a n d w h a t s o e v e r m a y c o m e to h a n d , a n d then the rejoicing native calleth it a r o a d , a n d straightway e s s a y e t h to ride t h e r e u p o n . In p r o c e s s of t i m e , the rains w a s h off all the turf a n d g r a s s aforesaid, m o v e the logs hither a n d thither, in p i c t u r e s q u e p o s i t i o n s , u p , d o w n a n d c r o s s w i s e , with divers c h a s m s a n d ruts of black m u d intervening. Over s u c h a r o a d a s this our s e n a t o r went s t u m b l i n g along, m a k i n g m o r a l reflections a s c o n t i n u o u s l y a s u n d e r the c i r c u m s t a n c e s c o u l d be e x p e c t e d , — the carriage p r o c e e d i n g a l o n g m u c h a s f o l l o w s , — b u m p ! b u m p ! b u m p ! s l u s h ! d o w n in the m u d ! — t h e s e n a t o r , w o m a n a n d child, reversing their p o s i t i o n s s o s u d d e n l y a s to c o m e , without any very a c c u r a t e a d j u s t m e n t , a g a i n s t the windows of the down-hill s i d e . C a r r i a g e sticks fast, while C u d j o e on the o u t s i d e is h e a r d m a k i n g a great m u s t e r a m o n g the h o r s e s . After various ineffectual pullings a n d twitchings, j u s t a s the s e n a t o r is l o s i n g all p a t i e n c e , the carriage s u d d e n l y rights itself with a b o u n c e , — t w o front w h e e l s go d o w n into a n o t h e r a b y s s , a n d s e n a t o r , w o m a n , a n d child, all t u m b l e p r o m i s c u o u s l y on to the front s e a t , — s e n a t o r ' s hat is j a m m e d over his eyes a n d n o s e q u i t e u n c e r e m o n i o u s l y , a n d he c o n s i d e r s h i m s e l f fairly e x t i n g u i s h e d ; — c h i l d c r i e s , a n d C u d j o e on the o u t s i d e delivers a n i m a t e d a d d r e s s e s to the h o r s e s , w h o are kicking, a n d floundering, a n d straining, u n d e r r e p e a t e d c r a c k s of the whip. C a r r i a g e springs u p , with a n o t h e r b o u n c e , — d o w n go the hind w h e e l s , — s e n a t o r , w o m a n , a n d child, fly over on to the b a c k s e a t , his elbows e n c o u n t e r i n g her b o n n e t , a n d both her feet b e i n g j a m m e d into his hat, which flies off in the c o n c u s s i o n . After a few m o m e n t s the " s l o u g h " is p a s s e d , a n d the h o r s e s s t o p , p a n t i n g ; — t h e s e n a t o r finds his hat, the w o m a n straightens her b o n n e t a n d h u s h e s her child, a n d they b r a c e t h e m s e l v e s firmly for what is yet to c o m e . F o r a while only the c o n t i n u o u s b u m p ! b u m p ! i n t e r m i n g l e d , j u s t by way of variety, with divers side p l u n g e s a n d c o m p o u n d s h a k e s ; a n d they begin to flatter t h e m s e l v e s that they are not s o badly off, after all. At last, with a s q u a r e p l u n g e , which p u t s all o n to their feet a n d then d o w n into their s e a t s with incredible q u i c k n e s s , the c a r r i a g e s t o p s , — a n d , after m u c h o u t s i d e c o m m o t i o n , C u d j o e a p p e a r s at the door. " P l e a s e , sir, it's powerful b a d s p o t , this yer. I don't know h o w we's to get clar out. I'm a thinkin' we'll have to b e a gettin' r a i l s . " 4 T h e s e n a t o r despairingly s t e p s out, p i c k i n g gingerly for s o m e firm foothold; d o w n g o e s o n e foot a n i m m e a s u r a b l e d e p t h , — h e tries to pull it u p , l o s e s his b a l a n c e , a n d t u m b l e s over into the m u d , a n d is fished o u t , in a very despairing c o n d i t i o n , by C u d j o e . B u t we forbear, o u t of s y m p a t h y to our r e a d e r s ' b o n e s . W e s t e r n travellers, w h o have b e g u i l e d the m i d n i g h t hour in the i n t e r e s t i n g p r o c e s s of p u l l i n g d o w n rail f e n c e s , to pry their c a r r i a g e s out of m u d h o l e s , will have a r e s p e c t 4 . A r e f e r e n c e t o t h e c o m m o n p r a c t i c e o f r e m o v i n g b o a r d s f r o m rail f e n c e s t o m a k e t r a c k s t h a t a c a r r i a g e or cart c o u l d ride o n to get o u t of t h e m u d .

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ful a n d m o u r n f u l sympathy with our u n f o r t u n a t e hero. W e b e g t h e m to drop a silent tear, a n d p a s s on. It was full late in the night when the carriage e m e r g e d , d r i p p i n g a n d b e s p a t t e r e d , out of the creek, a n d s t o o d at the d o o r of a large f a r m - h o u s e . It took no i n c o n s i d e r a b l e p e r s e v e r a n c e to a r o u s e the i n m a t e s ; but at last the r e s p e c t a b l e proprietor a p p e a r e d , a n d u n d i d the door. H e w a s a great, tall, bristling O r s o n of a fellow, 5 full six feet a n d s o m e i n c h e s in his s t o c k i n g s , a n d arrayed in a red flannel hunting-shirt. A very heavy mat of s a n d y hair, in a decidedly tousled c o n d i t i o n , a n d a b e a r d of s o m e days' growth, gave the worthy m a n an a p p e a r a n c e , to say the least, not particularly p r e p o s s e s s i n g . H e stood for a few m i n u t e s holding the c a n d l e aloft, a n d blinking on o u r travellers with a d i s m a l a n d mystified expression that w a s truly l u d i c r o u s . It c o s t s o m e effort of o u r s e n a t o r to i n d u c e him to c o m p r e h e n d the c a s e fully; a n d while he is d o i n g his b e s t at that, we shall give him a little i n t r o d u c t i o n to our r e a d e r s . H o n e s t old J o h n V a n T r o m p e was o n c e quite a c o n s i d e r a b l e land-holder a n d slave-owner in the S t a t e of Kentucky. H a v i n g " n o t h i n g of the b e a r a b o u t him but the s k i n , " a n d b e i n g gifted by n a t u r e with a great, h o n e s t , j u s t heart, q u i t e e q u a l to his gigantic f r a m e , he had b e e n for s o m e years w i t n e s s i n g with r e p r e s s e d u n e a s i n e s s the workings of a system equally b a d for o p p r e s s o r a n d o p p r e s s e d . At last, o n e day, J o h n ' s great heart h a d swelled a l t o g e t h e r too big to wear his b o n d s any longer; so he j u s t took his p o c k e t - b o o k o u t of his d e s k , a n d went over into O h i o , a n d b o u g h t a q u a r t e r of a t o w n s h i p of g o o d , rich land, m a d e out free p a p e r s for all his p e o p l e , — m e n , w o m e n , a n d c h i l d r e n , — p a c k e d t h e m u p in w a g o n s , a n d sent t h e m off to settle d o w n ; a n d then h o n e s t J o h n turned his f a c e up the creek, a n d sat quietly d o w n on a s n u g , retired farm, to enjoy his c o n s c i e n c e a n d his reflections. "Are you the m a n that will shelter a p o o r w o m a n a n d child from slavec a t c h e r s ? " said the senator, explicitly. "I rather think I a m , " said h o n e s t J o h n , with s o m e c o n s i d e r a b l e e m p h a s i s . "I thought s o , " said the senator. "If there's anybody c o m e s , " said the g o o d m a n , s t r e t c h i n g his tall, m u s c u l a r form u p w a r d , "why here I'm ready for him: a n d I've got seven s o n s , e a c h six foot high, a n d they'll be ready for 'em. Give o u r r e s p e c t s to ' e m , " said J o h n ; "tell 'em it's no m a t t e r h o w s o o n they c a l l , — m a k e no kinder difference to u s , " said J o h n , r u n n i n g his fingers through the s h o c k of hair that t h a t c h e d his h e a d , a n d b u r s t i n g o u t into a great l a u g h . Weary, j a d e d , a n d spiritless, Eliza d r a g g e d herself u p to the door, with her child lying in a heavy s l e e p on her a r m . T h e r o u g h m a n held the c a n d l e to her f a c e , a n d uttering a kind of c o m p a s s i o n a t e grunt, o p e n e d the d o o r of a small b e d r o o m adjoining to the large kitchen w h e r e they were s t a n d i n g , a n d m o t i o n e d her to g o in. H e took d o w n a c a n d l e , a n d lighting it, set it u p o n the t a b l e , a n d then a d d r e s s e d h i m s e l f to Eliza. " N o w , I say, gal, you needn't be a bit a f e a r d , let w h o will c o m e h e r e . I'm u p to all that sort o' t h i n g , " said h e , p o i n t i n g to two or three goodly rifles over the m a n t e l - p i e c e ; " a n d m o s t p e o p l e that k n o w m e k n o w t h a t ' t wouldn't b e healthy to try to get anybody out o' my h o u s e w h e n I'm agin it. S o now 5. A strong, wild m a n . F r o m the story of " O r s o n a n d V a l e n t i n e , " a n early F r e n c h r o m a n c e that a p p e a r e d in E n g l i s h a r o u n d 1 5 5 0 . O r s o n i s t h e l o s t s o n o f a k i n g ; a b a n d o n e d in t h e w o o d s , h e w a s r a i s e d b y a b e a r .

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you jist go to sleep now, a s quiet a s if yer m o t h e r w a s a rockin' y e , " said h e , a s h e shut the door. "Why, this is an u n c o m m o n h a n d s o m e u n , " he said to the s e n a t o r . " A h , well; h a n d s o m e u n s has the greatest c a u s e to run, s o m e t i m e s , if they has any kind o' feelin, s u c h as d e c e n t w o m e n s h o u l d . I k n o w all a b o u t t h a t . " T h e s e n a t o r , in a few w o r d s , briefly explained Eliza's history. " O ! o u ! aw! now, I w a n t to k n o w ? " said the g o o d m a n , pitifully; " s h o ! now sho! T h a t ' s n a t u r now, p o o r crittur! h u n t e d d o w n now like a d e e r , — h u n t e d d o w n , j e s t for havin' natural feelin's, a n d doin' what no kind o' m o t h e r c o u l d help a doin'! I tell ye what, t h e s e yer things m a k e m e c o m e the nighest to swearin', now, o' m o s t anything," said h o n e s t J o h n , a s h e wiped his eyes with the b a c k of a great, freckled, yellow h a n d . "I tell yer what, stranger, it w a s years a n d years b e f o r e I'd j i n e the c h u r c h , ' c a u s e the m i n i s t e r s r o u n d in our p a r t s u s e d to p r e a c h that the Bible went in for t h e s e ere c u t t i n g s u p , — a n d I couldn't be u p to 'em with their G r e e k a n d H e b r e w , a n d s o I took u p agin 'em, Bible a n d all. I never j i n e d the c h u r c h till I found a minister that w a s up to 'em all in G r e e k a n d all that, a n d he said right the contrary; a n d then I took right hold, a n d j i n e d the c h u r c h , — I did now, f a c t , " said J o h n , w h o h a d b e e n all this time u n c o r k i n g s o m e very frisky bottled cider, which at this juncture he presented. "Ye'd better j e s t p u t u p h e r e , now, till daylight," said h e , heartily, " a n d I'll call up the old w o m a n , a n d have a b e d got ready for you in no t i m e . " " T h a n k you, my g o o d friend," said the s e n a t o r , "I m u s t be a l o n g , to take the night s t a g e for C o l u m b u s . " "Ah! well, t h e n , if you m u s t , I'll go a p i e c e with you, a n d s h o w you a c r o s s road that will take you there better than the r o a d you c a m e on. T h a t road's mighty b a d . " J o h n e q u i p p e d himself, a n d , with a lantern in h a n d , w a s s o o n s e e n g u i d i n g the senator's c a r r i a g e towards a road that ran d o w n in a hollow, b a c k of his dwelling. W h e n they p a r t e d , the s e n a t o r put into his h a n d a ten-dollar bill. "It's for h e r , " h e said, briefly. "Ay, ay," s a i d J o h n , with e q u a l c o n c i s e n e s s . They shook hands, and parted. *

*

Chapter S E L E C T

INCIDENT

OF

*

XII LAWFUL

TRADE

"In Ramah there was a voice heard,—weeping, and lamentation, and great mourning; Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted." 6

M r . Haley a n d T o m j o g g e d o n w a r d in their w a g o n , e a c h , for a t i m e , a b s o r b e d in his own reflections. N o w , the reflections of two m e n sitting side by side are a c u r i o u s t h i n g , — s e a t e d on the s a m e s e a t , having the s a m e e y e s , e a r s , h a n d s a n d o r g a n s of all sorts, a n d having p a s s b e f o r e their eyes the s a m e o b j e c t s , — i t is wonderful what a variety we shall find in t h e s e s a m e reflections!

6.

Paraphrase of J e r e m i a h 3 1 . 1 5 .

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As, for e x a m p l e , Mr. Haley: h e thought first of T o m ' s length, a n d b r e a d t h , and height, a n d what he would sell for, if he w a s kept fat a n d in g o o d c a s e till he got him into market. H e thought of how he s h o u l d m a k e out his g a n g ; he thought of the respective market value of certain s u p p o s i t i t i o u s m e n a n d w o m e n a n d children w h o were to c o m p o s e it, a n d other kindred topics of the b u s i n e s s ; then he thought of himself, a n d how h u m a n e h e w a s , that w h e r e a s other m e n c h a i n e d their " n i g g e r s " h a n d a n d foot b o t h , he only put fetters on the feet, a n d left T o m the u s e of his h a n d s , a s long a s he b e h a v e d well; a n d he sighed to think how ungrateful h u m a n n a t u r e w a s , s o that there was even r o o m to d o u b t w h e t h e r T o m a p p r e c i a t e d his m e r c i e s . H e had b e e n taken in s o by " n i g g e r s " w h o m he had favored; but still he w a s a s t o n i s h e d to c o n s i d e r how g o o d - n a t u r e d he yet r e m a i n e d ! As to T o m , he was thinking over s o m e words of an u n f a s h i o n a b l e old book, which kept r u n n i n g through his h e a d again a n d a g a i n , a s follows: " W e have here no c o n t i n u i n g city, but we s e e k o n e to c o m e ; wherefore G o d himself is not a s h a m e d to be called our G o d ; for he hath p r e p a r e d for u s a city." 7 T h e s e words of an ancient v o l u m e , got up principally by "ignorant a n d u n l e a r n e d m e n , " have, through all t i m e , kept u p , s o m e h o w , a s t r a n g e sort of p o w e r over the m i n d s of poor, s i m p l e fellows, like T o m . T h e y stir up the soul from its d e p t h s , a n d r o u s e , a s with t r u m p e t call, c o u r a g e , energy, a n d e n t h u s i a s m , where before w a s only the b l a c k n e s s of despair. Mr. H a l e y pulled o u t of his pocket sundry n e w s p a p e r s , a n d b e g a n looking over their a d v e r t i s e m e n t s , with a b s o r b e d interest. H e w a s not a remarkably fluent reader, a n d was in the habit of r e a d i n g in a sort of recitative halfa l o u d , by way of calling in his ears to verify the d e d u c t i o n s of his eyes. In this tone he slowly recited the following p a r a g r a p h : " E X E C U T O R ' S S A L E , — N E G R O E S ! — A g r e e a b l y to order of c o u r t , will b e sold, on T u e s d a y , F e b r u a r y 2 0 , before the C o u r t - h o u s e door, in the town of W a s h i n g t o n , Kentucky, the following n e g r o e s : H a g a r , a g e d 6 0 ; J o h n , a g e d 3 0 ; B e n , a g e d 2 1 ; S a u l , a g e d 2 5 ; Albert, a g e d 14. S o l d for the benefit of the creditors a n d heirs of the e s t a t e of J e s s e B l u t c h f o r d , E s q . SAMUEL MORRIS, THOMAS FLINT,

Executors." " T h i s yer I m u s t look a t , " said he to T o m , for want of s o m e b o d y else to talk to. "Ye s e e , I'm going to get up a p r i m e g a n g to take d o w n with ye, T o m ; it'll m a k e it s o c i a b l e a n d p l e a s a n t l i k e , — g o o d c o m p a n y will, ye know. W e m u s t drive right to W a s h i n g t o n 8 first a n d f o r e m o s t , a n d then I'll c l a p you into jail, while I d o e s the b u s i n e s s . " T o m received this a g r e e a b l e intelligence q u i t e meekly; simply wondering, in his own heart, how many of these d o o m e d m e n had wives a n d children, a n d whether they would feel a s he did a b o u t leaving t h e m . It is to be conf e s s e d , too, that the naive, off-hand information that he w a s to be thrown into jail by no m e a n s p r o d u c e d an a g r e e a b l e i m p r e s s i o n o n a p o o r fellow who h a d always prided himself on a strictly h o n e s t a n d upright c o u r s e of life. /. A m a l g a m of 13.14. 8. W a s h i n g t o n ,

Hebrews Louisiana,

11.16

and

upriver

Hebrews

from

New

O r l e a n s ; t h e t o w n is c e r t a i n l y c h o s e n f o r name's echoes of George Washington and nation's capital.

the the

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Yes, T o m , we m u s t c o n f e s s it, w a s rather p r o u d of his honesty, p o o r f e l l o w , — not having very m u c h e l s e to be p r o u d o f ; — i f he h a d b e l o n g e d to s o m e of the higher walks of society, h e , p e r h a p s , would never have b e e n r e d u c e d to s u c h straits. However, the day wore o n , a n d the e v e n i n g s a w H a l e y a n d T o m comfortably a c c o m m o d a t e d in W a s h i n g t o n , — t h e o n e in a tavern, a n d the other in a jail. A b o u t eleven o'clock the next day, a mixed throng w a s g a t h e r e d a r o u n d the c o u r t - h o u s e s t e p s , — s m o k i n g , c h e w i n g , spitting, s w e a r i n g , a n d c o n v e r s i n g , a c c o r d i n g to their respective t a s t e s a n d t u r n s , — w a i t i n g for the a u c t i o n to c o m m e n c e . T h e m e n a n d w o m e n to be sold sat in a g r o u p a p a r t , talking in a low tone to e a c h other. T h e w o m a n who h a d b e e n advertised by the n a m e of H a g a r w a s a regular African in feature a n d figure. S h e might have b e e n sixty, b u t w a s older than that by hard work a n d d i s e a s e , w a s partially blind, a n d s o m e w h a t crippled with r h e u m a t i s m . By her side s t o o d her only r e m a i n i n g s o n , Albert, a bright-looking little fellow of f o u r t e e n years. T h e boy w a s the only survivor of a large family, w h o h a d b e e n s u c c e s s i v e l y sold away from her to a s o u t h e r n market. T h e m o t h e r held on to him with both her s h a k i n g h a n d s , a n d eyed with i n t e n s e trepidation every o n e w h o walked u p to e x a m i n e him. " D o n ' t b e feard, A u n t H a g a r , " s a i d the oldest of the m e n , "I s p o k e to M a s ' r T h o m a s 'bout it, a n d h e t h o u g h t h e might m a n a g e to sell you in a lot both together." " D e y needn't call m e worn out yet," said s h e , lifting her s h a k i n g h a n d s . "I c a n c o o k yet, a n d s c r u b , a n d s c o u r , — I ' m w u t h a buying, if I do c o m e c h e a p ; —tell e m dat a r , — y o u tell e m , " s h e a d d e d , earnestly. H a l e y here f o r c e d his way into the g r o u p , walked u p to the old m a n , pulled his m o u t h o p e n a n d looked in, felt of his teeth, m a d e him s t a n d a n d straighten himself, b e n d his back, a n d p e r f o r m various e v o l u t i o n s to s h o w his m u s c l e s ; a n d then p a s s e d o n to the next, a n d p u t him t h r o u g h the s a m e trial. W a l k i n g u p last to the boy, he felt of his a r m s , s t r a i g h t e n e d his h a n d s , a n d looked at his fingers, a n d m a d e him j u m p , to s h o w his agility. " H e an't gwine to be sold widout m e ! " said the old w o m a n , with p a s s i o n a t e e a g e r n e s s ; " h e a n d I g o e s in a lot together; I's rail s t r o n g yet, M a s ' r , a n d c a n do h e a p s o' w o r k , — h e a p s o n it, M a s ' r . " " O n p l a n t a t i o n ? " said Haley, with a c o n t e m p t u o u s g l a n c e . "Likely story!" a n d , as if satisfied with his e x a m i n a t i o n , h e walked out a n d looked, a n d s t o o d with his h a n d s in his p o c k e t , his cigar in his m o u t h , a n d his hat c o c k e d on o n e s i d e , ready for a c t i o n . " W h a t think of e m ? " said a m a n w h o h a d b e e n following Haley's examination, a s if to m a k e up his own m i n d from it. " W a l , " said H a l e y , spitting, "I shall put in, I think, for the youngerly o n e s a n d the b o y . " " T h e y want to sell the boy a n d the old w o m a n t o g e t h e r , " s a i d the m a n . " F i n d it a tight p u l l ; — w h y , she's a n old rack o' b o n e s , — n o t worth her salt." "You wouldn't, t h e n ? " said the m a n . "Anybody'd b e a f o o l ' t w o u l d . S h e ' s half blind, c r o o k e d with r h e u m a t i s , a n d foolish to b o o t . " " S o m e b u y s up t h e s e yer old critturs, a n d s e s there's a sight m o r e wear in 'em than a body'd think," said the m a n , reflectively. " N o g o , 't all," said Haley; "wouldn't take her for a p r e s e n t , — f a c t , — I ' v e seen, n o w . "

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"Wal, 'tis kinder pity, now, not to buy her with her s o n , — h e r heart s e e m s so sot o n h i m , — s ' p o s e they fling her in c h e a p . " " T h e m that's got m o n e y to s p e n d that ar way, it's all well e n o u g h . I shall bid off on that ar boy for a p l a n t a t i o n - h a n d ; — w o u l d n ' t b e b o t h e r e d with her, n o w a y , — n o t if they'd give her to m e , " said Haley. "She'll take on d e s p ' t , " said the m a n . "Nat'lly, s h e will," said the trader, coolly. T h e c o n v e r s a t i o n w a s here interrupted by a busy h u m in the a u d i e n c e ; a n d the a u c t i o n e e r , a short, bustling, important fellow, e l b o w e d his way into the crowd. T h e old w o m a n drew in her b r e a t h , a n d c a u g h t instinctively at her s o n . " K e e p c l o s e to yer m a m m y , A l b e r t , — c l o s e , — d e y ' l l p u t u s u p t o g e d d e r , " she s a i d . " O , m a m m y , I'm feared they won't," said the boy. " D e y m u s t , child; I can't live, n o ways, if they d o n ' t , " s a i d the old c r e a t u r e , vehemently. T h e stentorian tones of the a u c t i o n e e r , calling o u t to c l e a r the way, now a n n o u n c e d that the sale w a s a b o u t to c o m m e n c e . A p l a c e w a s c l e a r e d , a n d the b i d d i n g b e g a n . T h e different m e n on the list were s o o n k n o c k e d off at prices which s h o w e d a pretty brisk d e m a n d in the m a r k e t ; two of t h e m fell to Haley. " C o m e , now, y o u n g u n , " s a i d the a u c t i o n e e r , giving the boy a t o u c h with his h a m m e r , " b e u p a n d s h o w your s p r i n g s , n o w . " " P u t u s two u p t o g e d d e r , t o g e d d e r , — d o p l e a s e , M a s ' r , " s a i d the old w o m a n , holding fast to her boy. " B e off," said the m a n , gruffy, p u s h i n g her h a n d s away; "you c o m e last. N o w , darkey, s p r i n g ; " a n d , with the word, h e p u s h e d the boy toward the block, while a d e e p , heavy g r o a n rose b e h i n d h i m . T h e boy p a u s e d , a n d looked back; b u t there w a s no time to stay, a n d , d a s h i n g the tears from his large, bright eyes, h e w a s u p in a m o m e n t . H i s fine figure, alert l i m b s , a n d bright f a c e , raised a n instant c o m p e t i t i o n , a n d half a dozen bids s i m u l t a n e o u s l y m e t the ear of the a u c t i o n e e r . A n x i o u s , half-frightened, h e looked from side to s i d e , a s h e h e a r d the clatter of cont e n d i n g b i d s , — n o w h e r e , now there,—till the h a m m e r fell. H a l e y h a d got him. H e w a s p u s h e d from the block toward his n e w m a s t e r , b u t s t o p p e d o n e m o m e n t , a n d looked b a c k , w h e n his p o o r old m o t h e r , t r e m b l i n g in every limb, held out her s h a k i n g h a n d s toward h i m . " B u y m e too, M a s ' r , for de d e a r Lord's s a k e ! — b u y m e , — I shall die if you don't!" "You'll die if I d o , that's the kink of it," said H a l e y , — " n o ! " A n d h e turned on his heel. T h e b i d d i n g for the p o o r old c r e a t u r e w a s s u m m a r y . T h e m a n w h o h a d a d d r e s s e d Haley, a n d w h o s e e m e d not d e s t i t u t e of c o m p a s s i o n , b o u g h t her for a trifle, a n d the s p e c t a t o r s b e g a n to d i s p e r s e . T h e p o o r victims of the s a l e , w h o h a d b e e n b r o u g h t u p in o n e p l a c e together for years, g a t h e r e d r o u n d the d e s p a i r i n g old m o t h e r , w h o s e a g o n y w a s pitiful to s e e . " C o u l d n ' t dey leave m e o n e ? M a s ' r allers said I s h o u l d have o n e , — h e d i d , " she r e p e a t e d over a n d over, in h e a r t b r o k e n t o n e s . " T r u s t in the L o r d , A u n t H a g a r , " said the oldest of the m e n , sorrowfully. " W h a t g o o d will it d o ? " said s h e , s o b b i n g p a s s i o n a t e l y .

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" M o t h e r , m o t h e r , — d o n ' t ! don't!" said the boy. " T h e y say you's got a g o o d master." "I don't c a r e , — I don't c a r e . O, Albert! oh, my boy! you's my last baby. L o r d , how ken I ? " " C o m e , take her off, can't s o m e of y e ? " said Haley, dryly; "don't do no g o o d for her to go on that ar w a y . " T h e old m e n of the c o m p a n y , partly by p e r s u a s i o n a n d partly by force, l o o s e d the p o o r creature's last d e s p a i r i n g hold, a n d , as they led her off to her new m a s t e r ' s w a g o n , strove to comfort her. " N o w ! " said Haley, p u s h i n g his three p u r c h a s e s together, a n d p r o d u c i n g a b u n d l e of h a n d c u f f s , which h e p r o c e e d e d to put on their wrists; a n d fastening e a c h h a n d c u f f to a long c h a i n , he drove t h e m before h i m to the jail. A few days s a w Haley, with his p o s s e s s i o n s , safely d e p o s i t e d o n o n e of the O h i o b o a t s . It w a s the c o m m e n c e m e n t of his g a n g , to be a u g m e n t e d , as the boat m o v e d o n , by various other m e r c h a n d i s e of the s a m e kind, which h e , or his agent, h a d stored for him in v a r i o u s points a l o n g s h o r e . T h e L a Belle Riviere, a s brave a n d beautiful a b o a t a s ever walked the waters of her n a m e s a k e river, w a s floating gayly d o w n the s t r e a m , u n d e r a brilliant sky, the stripes a n d stars of free A m e r i c a waving a n d fluttering over h e a d ; the g u a r d s c r o w d e d with well-dressed ladies a n d g e n t l e m e n walking a n d enjoying the delightful day. All w a s full of life, b u o y a n t a n d r e j o i c i n g ; — all but Haley's g a n g , w h o were stored, with other freight, on the lower d e c k , a n d w h o , s o m e h o w , did not s e e m to a p p r e c i a t e their various privileges, as they sat in a knot, talking to e a c h other in low t o n e s . " B o y s , " said Haley, c o m i n g u p , briskly, "I h o p e you k e e p u p good heart, a n d a r e cheerful. N o w , n o s u l k s , ye s e e ; keep stiff u p p e r lip, boys; do well by m e , a n d I'll d o well by y o u . " T h e boys a d d r e s s e d r e s p o n d e d the invariable "Yes, M a s ' r , " for a g e s the watchword of p o o r Africa; b u t it's to be o w n e d they did not look particularly cheerful; they h a d their various little p r e j u d i c e s in favor of wives, m o t h e r s , sisters, a n d children, s e e n for the last t i m e , — a n d t h o u g h "they that w a s t e d t h e m r e q u i r e d of t h e m m i r t h , " 9 it w a s not instantly f o r t h c o m i n g . "I've got a w i f e , " s p o k e out the article e n u m e r a t e d a s " J o h n , a g e d thirty," a n d h e laid his c h a i n e d hand on T o m ' s k n e e , — " a n d s h e don't know a word a b o u t this, p o o r girl!" " W h e r e d o e s s h e live?" said T o m . "In a tavern a p i e c e d o w n h e r e , " said J o h n ; "I wish, now, I could s e e her o n c e m o r e in this w o r l d , " he a d d e d . P o o r J o h n ! It was rather n a t u r a l ; a n d the tears that fell, a s he s p o k e , c a m e a s naturally a s if he h a d b e e n a white m a n . T o m drew a long b r e a t h from a sore heart, a n d tried, in his p o o r way, to c o m f o r t h i m . A n d over h e a d , in the c a b i n , sat fathers a n d m o t h e r s , h u s b a n d s a n d wives; a n d merry, d a n c i n g children m o v e d r o u n d a m o n g t h e m , like so m a n y little butterflies, a n d everything w a s g o i n g on q u i t e easy a n d c o m f o r t a b l e . " O , m a m m a , " said a boy, w h o h a d j u s t c o m e u p from below, "there's a negro trader on b o a r d , a n d he's b r o u g h t four or five slaves d o w n t h e r e . " " P o o r c r e a t u r e s ! " said the m o t h e r , in a t o n e b e t w e e n grief a n d i n d i g n a t i o n . " W h a t ' s t h a t ? " said a n o t h e r lady. 9.

P a r a p h r a s e o f P s a l m 1 37.3.

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" S o m e poor slaves b e l o w , " said the mother. "And they've got c h a i n s o n , " said the boy. " W h a t a s h a m e to our country that s u c h sights are to be s e e n ! " said a n o t h e r lady. " O , there's a great deal to be said on both s i d e s of the s u b j e c t , " said a genteel w o m a n , w h o sat at her state-room door sewing, while her little girl a n d boy were playing r o u n d her. "I've b e e n s o u t h , a n d I m u s t say I think the n e g r o e s are better off than they would be to be f r e e . " "In s o m e r e s p e c t s , s o m e of t h e m are well off, I g r a n t , " s a i d the lady to w h o s e r e m a r k s h e h a d a n s w e r e d . " T h e m o s t dreadful part of slavery, to my m i n d , is its o u t r a g e s on the feelings a n d a f f e c t i o n s , — t h e s e p a r a t i n g of families, for e x a m p l e . " " T h a t is a b a d thing, certainly," said the other lady, holding u p a baby's d r e s s she had j u s t c o m p l e t e d , a n d looking intently o n its t r i m m i n g s ; " b u t then, I fancy, it don't o c c u r o f t e n . " " O , it d o e s , " said the first lady, eagerly; "I've lived m a n y years in K e n t u c k y a n d Virginia b o t h , a n d I've s e e n e n o u g h to m a k e any one's heart sick. S u p p o s e , m a ' a m , your two children, there, s h o u l d be taken from you, a n d s o l d ? " " W e can't r e a s o n from our feelings to t h o s e of this c l a s s of p e r s o n s , " said the other lady, sorting out s o m e worsteds on her lap. " I n d e e d , m a ' a m , you c a n know nothing of t h e m , if you say s o , " a n s w e r e d the first lady, warmly. "I w a s born a n d b r o u g h t up a m o n g t h e m . I know they do feel, j u s t a s k e e n l y , — e v e n m o r e s o , p e r h a p s , — a s w e d o . " T h e lady said " I n d e e d ! " y a w n e d , a n d looked out the c a b i n window, a n d finally r e p e a t e d , for a finale, the r e m a r k with which s h e h a d b e g u n , — " A f t e r all, I think they are better off than they would be to b e f r e e . " "It's u n d o u b t e d l y the intention of Providence that the African r a c e s h o u l d be s e r v a n t s , — k e p t in a low c o n d i t i o n , " said a grave-looking g e n t l e m a n in black, a c l e r g y m a n , s e a t e d by the c a b i n door. " ' C u r s e d be C a n a a n ; a servant of servants shall h e b e , ' the scripture s a y s . " 1 "I say, stranger, is that ar what that text m e a n s ? " said a tall m a n , s t a n d i n g by" U n d o u b t e d l y . It p l e a s e d P r o v i d e n c e , for s o m e i n s c r u t a b l e r e a s o n , to d o o m the r a c e to b o n d a g e , a g e s a g o ; a n d we m u s t not set up our o p i n i o n a g a i n s t that." "Well, t h e n , we'll all g o a h e a d a n d buy up n i g g e r s , " said the m a n , "if that's the way of P r o v i d e n c e , — w o n ' t w e , S q u i r e ? " said h e , turning to Haley, w h o had b e e n s t a n d i n g , with his h a n d s in his p o c k e t s , by the stove, a n d intently listening to the c o n v e r s a t i o n . " Y e s , " c o n t i n u e d the tall m a n , "we m u s t all be r e s i g n e d to the d e c r e e s of P r o v i d e n c e . Niggers m u s t be sold, a n d trucked r o u n d , a n d kept u n d e r ; it's what they's m a d e for. 'Pears like this yer view's q u i t e refreshing, an't it, s t r a n g e r ? " said he to Haley. "I never thought o n ' t , " said Haley. "I couldn't have said a s m u c h , myself; I ha'nt no l a m i n g . I took up the trade j u s t to m a k e a living; i f ' t an't right, I c a l c u l a t e d to 'pent o n ' t in t i m e , ye k n o w . " "And now you'll save yerself the trouble, won't y e ? " said the tall m a n . " S e e 1. G e n e s i s 9 . 2 5 , f r o m t h e s t o r y o f N o a h a n d h i s s o n H a m ; a p a s s a g e c i t e d t o j u s t i f y s l a v e r y o n t h e a s s u m p tion that Africans w e r e H a m ' s d e s c e n d a n t s .

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w h a t ' t is, now, to know scripture. If ye'd only s t u d i e d yer B i b l e , like this yer good m a n , ye might have know'd it b e f o r e , a n d s a v e d ye a h e a p o' trouble. Ye c o u l d jist have said, ' C u s s e d b e ' — w h a t ' s his n a m e ? — ' a n d 't would all have c o m e right.' " A n d the stranger, w h o w a s n o other than the h o n e s t drover w h o m we i n t r o d u c e d to our r e a d e r s in the K e n t u c k y t a v e r n , 2 sat d o w n , a n d b e g a n s m o k i n g , with a c u r i o u s s m i l e on his long, dry f a c e . A tall, slender y o u n g m a n , with a f a c e expressive of great feeling a n d intell i g e n c e , here b r o k e in, a n d r e p e a t e d the w o r d s , " 'All things w h a t s o e v e r ye would that m e n s h o u l d do u n t o you, d o ye even s o u n t o them.'* I s u p p o s e , " he a d d e d , "that is s c r i p t u r e , a s m u c h a s ' C u r s e d b e C a n a a n . ' " "Wal, it s e e m s quite as plain a text, s t r a n g e r , " said J o h n the drover, "to poor fellows like u s , n o w ; " a n d J o h n s m o k e d o n like a v o l c a n o . T h e y o u n g m a n p a u s e d , looked a s if h e w a s g o i n g to say m o r e , w h e n s u d d e n l y the b o a t s t o p p e d , a n d the c o m p a n y m a d e the u s u a l s t e a m b o a t r u s h , to s e e w h e r e they were landing. " B o t h t h e m ar c h a p s p a r s o n s ? " said J o h n to o n e of the m e n , a s they were g o i n g out. The man nodded. As the b o a t s t o p p e d , a b l a c k w o m a n c a m e r u n n i n g wildly u p the plank, darted into the crowd, flew u p to w h e r e the slave g a n g sat, a n d threw her a r m s r o u n d that u n f o r t u n a t e p i e c e of m e r c h a n d i s e before e n u m e r a t e d — " J o h n , a g e d thirty," a n d with s o b s a n d tears b e m o a n e d him a s her h u s b a n d . B u t w h a t n e e d s tell the story, told too oft,—every day t o l d , — o f heartstrings rent a n d b r o k e n , — t h e w e a k broken a n d torn for the profit a n d c o n v e n i e n c e of the strong! It n e e d s not to b e told;—every day is telling it,—telling it, too, in the ear of O n e w h o is not deaf, t h o u g h h e be long silent. T h e y o u n g m a n w h o h a d s p o k e n for the c a u s e of h u m a n i t y a n d G o d before stood with folded a r m s , looking on this s c e n e . H e t u r n e d , a n d H a l e y w a s s t a n d i n g at his s i d e . " M y f r i e n d , " he said, s p e a k i n g with thick u t t e r a n c e , " h o w c a n you, how d a r e you, carry on a t r a d e like this? L o o k at t h o s e p o o r creatures! H e r e I a m , rejoicing in my heart that I a m g o i n g h o m e to my wife a n d child; a n d the s a m e bell which is a signal to carry m e o n w a r d t o w a r d s t h e m will part this p o o r m a n a n d his wife forever. D e p e n d u p o n it, G o d will b r i n g you into j u d g m e n t for t h i s . " T h e trader t u r n e d away in s i l e n c e . "I say, n o w , " said the drover, t o u c h i n g his elbow, "there's differences in p a r s o n s , an't there? ' C u s s e d be C a n a a n ' don't s e e m to go d o w n with this 'un, does it?" H a l e y gave a n u n e a s y growl. "And that ar an't the worse o n ' t , " s a i d J o h n ; " m a b b e it won't go d o w n with the L o r d , neither, w h e n ye c o m e to settle with H i m , o n e o' t h e s e d a y s , a s all on u s m u s t , I r e c k o n . " H a l e y walked reflectively to the other e n d of the b o a t . "If I m a k e pretty h a n d s o m e l y o n o n e or two next g a n g s , " h e t h o u g h t , "I reckon I'll s t o p off this yer; it's really getting d a n g e r o u s . " A n d h e took o u t his p o c k e t - b o o k , a n d b e g a n a d d i n g over his a c c o u n t s , — a p r o c e s s which m a n y g e n t l e m e n b e s i d e s M r . H a l e y have f o u n d a s p e c i f i c 4 for a n u n e a s y conscience. 2. Mr. S y m m e s ; see ch. VI, "The Mother's Struggle." 3. F r o m C h r i s t ' s S e r m o n o n t h e M o u n t ; M a t t h e w

7.12. 4. H e a l i n g tonic.

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN, CHAPTER XII

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801

T h e boat swept proudly away from the s h o r e , a n d all went on merrily, a s before. M e n talked, a n d loafed, a n d r e a d , a n d s m o k e d . W o m e n s e w e d , a n d children played, a n d the boat p a s s e d on her way. O n e day, w h e n s h e lay to for a while at a small town in K e n t u c k y , H a l e y went u p into the p l a c e on a little m a t t e r of b u s i n e s s . T o m , w h o s e fetters did not prevent his taking a m o d e r a t e circuit, h a d drawn n e a r the side of the boat, a n d stood listlessly gazing over the railings. After a t i m e , he saw the trader returning, with a n alert s t e p , in c o m p a n y with a c o l o r e d w o m a n , b e a r i n g in her a r m s a y o u n g child. S h e w a s d r e s s e d q u i t e respectably, a n d a colored m a n followed her, bringing a l o n g a small trunk. T h e w o m a n c a m e cheerfully o n w a r d , talking, a s she c a m e , with the m a n w h o bore her trunk, a n d so p a s s e d up the plank into the b o a t . T h e bell rung, the s t e a m e r whizzed, the e n g i n e g r o a n e d a n d c o u g h e d , a n d away swept the b o a t down the river. T h e w o m a n walked forward a m o n g the boxes a n d b a l e s of the lower d e c k , a n d , sitting d o w n , b u s i e d herself with chirruping to her baby. H a l e y m a d e a turn or two a b o u t the b o a t , a n d then, c o m i n g u p , s e a t e d himself near her, a n d b e g a n saying s o m e t h i n g to her in a n indifferent undertone. T o m s o o n noticed a heavy c l o u d p a s s i n g over the w o m a n ' s brow; a n d that s h e a n s w e r e d rapidly, a n d with great v e h e m e n c e . "I don't believe it,—I won't believe it!" h e h e a r d her say. "You're jist a foolin with m e . " "If you won't believe it, look h e r e ! " said the m a n , drawing o u t a p a p e r ; "this yer's the bill of s a l e , a n d there's your m a s t e r ' s n a m e to it; a n d I p a i d d o w n g o o d solid c a s h for it, too, I c a n tell y o u , — s o , n o w ! " "I don't believe M a s ' r would c h e a t m e s o ; it can't be t r u e ! " said the w o m a n , with i n c r e a s i n g agitation. "You c a n a s k any of t h e s e m e n h e r e , that c a n read writing. H e r e ! " h e said, to a m a n that w a s p a s s i n g by, "jist read this yer, won't you! T h i s yer gal won't believe m e , w h e n I tell her w h a t ' t i s . " "Why, it's a bill of s a l e , signed by J o h n F o s d i c k , " said the m a n , " m a k i n g over to you the girl L u c y a n d her child. It's all straight e n o u g h , for a u g h t I see." T h e w o m a n ' s p a s s i o n a t e e x c l a m a t i o n s collected a crowd a r o u n d her, a n d the trader briefly explained to t h e m the c a u s e of the agitation. " H e told m e that I w a s g o i n g down to Louisville, to hire o u t a s c o o k to the s a m e tavern w h e r e my h u s b a n d w o r k s , — t h a t ' s what M a s ' r told m e , his own self; a n d I can't believe he'd lie to m e , " said the w o m a n . " B u t he h a s sold you, my p o o r w o m a n , there's no d o u b t a b o u t it," said a g o o d - n a t u r e d looking m a n , w h o h a d b e e n e x a m i n i n g the p a p e r s ; " h e has d o n e it, a n d no m i s t a k e . " " T h e n it's no a c c o u n t talking," said the w o m a n , s u d d e n l y growing q u i t e c a l m ; a n d , c l a s p i n g her child tighter in her a r m s , s h e sat d o w n on her box, turned her b a c k r o u n d , a n d gazed listlessly into the river. " G o i n g to take it easy, after all!" said the trader. " G a l ' s got grit, I s e e . " T h e w o m a n looked c a l m , a s the boat went o n ; a n d a beautiful soft s u m m e r b r e e z e p a s s e d like a c o m p a s s i o n a t e spirit over her h e a d , — t h e gentle b r e e z e , that never inquires w h e t h e r the brow is dusky or fair that it f a n s . A n d s h e saw s u n s h i n e sparkling o n the water, in golden ripples, a n d h e a r d gay v o i c e s , full of e a s e a n d p l e a s u r e , talking a r o u n d her everywhere; but her heart lay

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a s if a great s t o n e h a d fallen on it. H e r baby raised h i m s e l f u p a g a i n s t her, a n d stroked her c h e e k s with his little h a n d s ; a n d , s p r i n g i n g u p a n d d o w n , crowing a n d chatting, s e e m e d d e t e r m i n e d to a r o u s e her. S h e s t r a i n e d him s u d d e n l y a n d tightly in her a r m s , a n d slowly o n e tear after a n o t h e r fell on his wondering, u n c o n s c i o u s f a c e ; a n d gradually s h e s e e m e d , a n d little by little, to grow c a l m e r , a n d b u s i e d herself with t e n d i n g a n d n u r s i n g him. T h e child, a boy of ten m o n t h s , w a s u n c o m m o n l y large a n d s t r o n g of his a g e , a n d very vigorous in his limbs. N e v e r , for a m o m e n t , still, h e kept his m o t h e r constantly b u s y in holding him, a n d g u a r d i n g his s p r i n g i n g activity. " T h a t ' s a fine c h a p ! " said a m a n , s u d d e n l y s t o p p i n g o p p o s i t e to h i m , with his h a n d s in his p o c k e t s . " H o w old is h e ? " " T e n m o n t h s a n d a half," said the mother. T h e m a n whistled to the boy, a n d offered him part of a stick of c a n d y , which he eagerly g r a b b e d at, a n d very s o o n h a d it in a baby's g e n e r a l d e p o s itory, to wit, his m o u t h . " R u m fellow!" said the m a n . " K n o w s what's w h a t ! " a n d h e whistled, a n d walked on. W h e n he h a d got to the other side of the boat, h e c a m e a c r o s s Haley, w h o w a s s m o k i n g on top of a pile of b o x e s . T h e stranger p r o d u c e d a m a t c h , a n d lighted a cigar, saying, a s h e did s o , " D e c e n t i s h kind o' w e n c h you've got r o u n d there, s t r a n g e r . " "Why, I reckon s h e is tol'able fair," said Haley, blowing the s m o k e o u t of his m o u t h . " T a k i n g her down s o u t h ? " said the m a n . Haley nodded, and smoked on. " P l a n t a t i o n h a n d ? " said the m a n . " W a l , " said Haley, "I'm fillin' o u t a n order for a p l a n t a t i o n , a n d I think I shall p u t her in. T h e y telled m e s h e w a s a g o o d c o o k ; a n d they c a n u s e her for that, or set her at the cotton-picking. S h e ' s got the right fingers for that; I looked at 'em. Sell well, either way;" a n d H a l e y r e s u m e d his cigar. " T h e y won't want the y o u n g 'un on a p l a n t a t i o n , " s a i d the m a n . "I shall sell him, first c h a n c e I find," s a i d Haley, lighting a n o t h e r cigar. " S ' p o s e you'd be selling him tol'able c h e a p , " said the stranger, m o u n t i n g the pile of boxes, a n d sitting d o w n c o m f o r t a b l y . " D o n ' t know 'bout t h a t , " s a i d H a l e y ; "he's a pretty s m a r t y o u n g ' u n , — straight, fat, strong; flesh a s hard a s a brick!" "Very true, b u t then there's all the b o t h e r a n d e x p e n s e of raisin'." " N o n s e n s e ! " said Haley; "they is raised a s e a s y a s any kind of critter there is going; they an't a bit m o r e trouble than p u p s . T h i s yer c h a p will be r u n n i n g all r o u n d , in a m o n t h . " "I've got a g o o d p l a c e for raisin', a n d I t h o u g h t of takin' in a little m o r e s t o c k , " said the m a n . " O n e c o o k lost a y o u n g 'un last w e e k , — g o t d r o w n d e d in a w a s h - t u b , while s h e w a s a h a n g i n ' out c l o t h e s , — a n d I reckon it would be well e n o u g h to set her to raisin' this yer." H a l e y a n d the stranger s m o k e d a while in s i l e n c e , neither s e e m i n g willing to b r o a c h the test q u e s t i o n of the interview. At last the m a n r e s u m e d : "You wouldn't think of wantin' m o r e t h a n ten dollars for that ar c h a p , s e e i n g you rawst get him off yer h a n d , any h o w ? " H a l e y s h o o k his h e a d , a n d spit impressively. " T h a t won't d o , no w a y s , " h e s a i d , a n d b e g a n his s m o k i n g a g a i n . "Well, stranger, what will you t a k e ? "

U N C L E T O M ' S C A B I N , C H A P T E R XII

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"Well, n o w , " s a i d Haley, "I could raise that ar c h a p myself, or get him raised; he's o n c o m m o n likely a n d healthy, a n d he'd fetch a h u n d r e d dollars, six m o n t h s h e n c e ; a n d , in a year or two, he'd bring two h u n d r e d , if I h a d him in the right s p o t ; — s o I shan't take a cent less nor fifty for him n o w . " " O , stranger! that's r e d i c u l o u s , a l t o g e t h e r , " said the m a n . " F a c t ! " said Haley, with a decisive nod of his h e a d . "I'll give thirty for h i m , " said the stranger, "but not a cent m o r e . " " N o w , I'll tell ye what I will d o , " said Haley, spitting a g a i n , with r e n e w e d decision. "I'll split the difference, a n d say forty-five; a n d that's the m o s t I will d o . " "Well, a g r e e d ! " said the m a n , after an interval. " D o n e ! " said Haley. " W h e r e do you l a n d ? " "At L o u i s v i l l e , " said the m a n . " L o u i s v i l l e , " s a i d Haley. "Very fair, we get there a b o u t d u s k . C h a p will be a s l e e p , — a l l fair,—get him off quietly, a n d no s c r e a m i n g , — h a p p e n s b e a u t i f u l , — I like to do everything quietly,—I h a t e s all kind of agitation a n d fluster." A n d s o , after a transfer of certain bills h a d p a s s e d from the m a n ' s p o c k e t - b o o k to the trader's, he r e s u m e d his cigar. It w a s a bright, tranquil evening w h e n the boat s t o p p e d at the w h a r f at Louisville. T h e w o m a n had b e e n sitting with her baby in her a r m s , n o w w r a p p e d in a heavy s l e e p . W h e n she heard the n a m e of the p l a c e called out, s h e hastily laid the child d o w n in a little c r a d l e formed by the hollow a m o n g the boxes, first carefully s p r e a d i n g u n d e r it her cloak; a n d then s h e s p r u n g to the side of the boat, in h o p e s that, a m o n g the various hotel-waiters w h o t h r o n g e d the wharf, s h e might s e e her h u s b a n d . In this h o p e , s h e p r e s s e d forward to the front rails, a n d , stretching far over t h e m , strained her eyes intently on the moving h e a d s o n the s h o r e , a n d the crowd p r e s s e d in between her a n d the child. " N o w ' s your t i m e , " said Haley, taking the s l e e p i n g child u p , a n d h a n d i n g him to the stranger. " D o n ' t wake him u p , a n d set him to crying, now; it would m a k e a devil of a fuss with the g a l . " T h e m a n took the b u n d l e carefully, a n d w a s soon lost in the crowd that went up the wharf. W h e n the boat, c r e a k i n g , a n d g r o a n i n g , a n d puffing, h a d l o o s e d from the wharf, a n d w a s b e g i n n i n g slowly to strain herself along, the w o m a n returned to her old seat. T h e trader w a s sitting t h e r e , — t h e child was g o n e ! "Why, w h y , — w h e r e ? " she b e g a n , in bewildered s u r p r i s e . " L u c y , " said the trader, "your child's g o n e ; you may a s well know it first a s last. You s e e , I know'd you couldn't take him d o w n s o u t h ; a n d I got a c h a n c e to sell him to a first-rate family, that'll raise him better than you c a n . " T h e trader had arrived at that s t a g e of C h r i s t i a n a n d political perfection which has b e e n r e c o m m e n d e d by s o m e p r e a c h e r s a n d politicians of the north, lately, in which he had c o m p l e t e l y o v e r c o m e every h u m a n e w e a k n e s s a n d prejudice. His heart w a s exactly where yours, sir, a n d m i n e c o u l d be brought, with p r o p e r effort a n d cultivation. T h e wild look of a n g u i s h a n d utter d e s p a i r that the w o m a n c a s t on him might have d i s t u r b e d o n e less p r a c t i s e d ; but he w a s u s e d to it. H e h a d s e e n that s a m e look h u n d r e d s of t i m e s . You can get u s e d to s u c h things, too, my friend; a n d it is the great object of recent efforts to m a k e our whole northern c o m m u n i t y u s e d to t h e m , for the glory of the U n i o n . S o the trader only regarded the mortal a n g u i s h which he saw working in t h o s e dark f e a t u r e s , t h o s e c l e n c h e d h a n d s , a n d

804

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HARRIET BEECHER

STOWE

s u f f o c a t i n g b r e a t h i n g s , a s n e c e s s a r y incidents of the t r a d e , a n d merely calc u l a t e d w h e t h e r s h e w a s g o i n g to s c r e a m , a n d get u p a c o m m o t i o n on the b o a t ; for, like other s u p p o r t e r s of o u r peculiar institution, h e decidedly disliked agitation. B u t the w o m a n did not s c r e a m . T h e shot had p a s s e d too straight a n d direct t h r o u g h the heart, for cry or tear. Dizzily s h e sat d o w n . H e r slack h a n d s fell lifeless by her s i d e . H e r eyes looked straight forward, b u t she s a w n o t h i n g . All the n o i s e a n d h u m of the boat, the g r o a n i n g of the m a c h i n e r y , mingled dreamily to her bewildered ear; a n d the poor, d u m b - s t r i c k e n heart h a d neither cry nor tear to s h o w for its utter misery. S h e w a s q u i t e c a l m . T h e trader, w h o , c o n s i d e r i n g his a d v a n t a g e s , w a s a l m o s t a s h u m a n e a s s o m e of our politicians, s e e m e d to feel called o n to a d m i n i s t e r s u c h c o n s o lation as the c a s e a d m i t t e d of. "I know this yer c o m e s kinder h a r d , at first, L u c y , " s a i d h e ; " b u t s u c h a s m a r t , s e n s i b l e gal a s you a r e , won't give way to it. You s e e it's necessary, a n d can't b e h e l p e d ! " " O ! don't, M a s ' r , d o n ' t ! " said the w o m a n , with a voice like o n e that is smothering. "You're a s m a r t w e n c h , L u c y , " he p e r s i s t e d ; "I m e a n to d o well by ye, a n d get ye a nice p l a c e d o w n river; a n d you'll s o o n get a n o t h e r h u s b a n d , — s u c h a likely gal a s y o u — " " O ! M a s ' r , if you only won't talk to m e n o w , " s a i d the w o m a n , in a voice of s u c h q u i c k a n d living a n g u i s h that the trader felt that there w a s s o m e t h i n g at p r e s e n t in the c a s e b e y o n d his style of o p e r a t i o n . H e got u p , a n d the w o m a n turned away, a n d buried her h e a d in her cloak. T h e trader walked u p a n d d o w n for a t i m e , a n d o c c a s i o n a l l y s t o p p e d a n d looked at her. " T a k e s it h a r d , r a t h e r , " he soliloquized, " b u t quiet, t h o ' ; — l e t her s w e a t a while; she'll c o m e right, by a n d b y ! " T o m h a d w a t c h e d the w h o l e t r a n s a c t i o n from first to last, a n d h a d a perfect u n d e r s t a n d i n g of its results. T o h i m , it looked like s o m e t h i n g u n u t t e r a b l y horrible a n d c r u e l , b e c a u s e , poor, ignorant b l a c k soul! he h a d not learned to generalize, a n d to take e n l a r g e d views. If he h a d only b e e n instructed by certain m i n i s t e r s of Christianity, h e might have t h o u g h t better of it, a n d s e e n in it a n every-day incident of a lawful t r a d e ; a t r a d e which is the vital s u p p o r t of an institution w h i c h s o m e A m e r i c a n divines tell u s has n o evils but s u c h a s are i n s e p a r a b l e from any other relations in social a n d d o m e s t i c life. B u t T o m , a s we s e e , b e i n g a poor, ignorant fellow, w h o s e r e a d i n g h a d b e e n c o n fined entirely to the N e w T e s t a m e n t , c o u l d not c o m f o r t a n d s o l a c e h i m s e l f with views like t h e s e . H i s very soul bled within h i m for w h a t s e e m e d to h i m the wrongs of the p o o r suffering thing that lay like a c r u s h e d r e e d o n the b o x e s ; the feeling, living, b l e e d i n g , yet i m m o r t a l thing, w h i c h A m e r i c a n state law coolly c l a s s e s with the b u n d l e s , a n d b a l e s , a n d b o x e s , a m o n g which s h e is lying. T o m drew near, a n d tried to say s o m e t h i n g ; but s h e only g r o a n e d . H o n estly, a n d with tears r u n n i n g d o w n his own c h e e k s , he s p o k e of a heart of love in the s k i e s , of a pitying J e s u s , a n d an eternal h o m e ; b u t the ear was d e a f with a n g u i s h , a n d the p a l s i e d heart c o u l d not feel. Night c a m e o n , — n i g h t c a l m , u n m o v e d , a n d glorious, s h i n i n g down with her i n n u m e r a b l e a n d s o l e m n a n g e l eyes, twinkling, b e a u t i f u l , but silent.

U N C L E T O M ' S C A B I N , C H A P T E R XII

/

805

T h e r e w a s no s p e e c h nor l a n g u a g e , no pitying voice nor h e l p i n g h a n d , from that distant sky. O n e after another, the voices of b u s i n e s s or p l e a s u r e died away; all on the boat were sleeping, a n d the ripples at the prow were plainly h e a r d . T o m s t r e t c h e d h i m s e l f o u t o n a box, a n d there, a s he lay, h e h e a r d , ever a n d a n o n , a s m o t h e r e d s o b or cry from the p r o s t a t e c r e a t u r e , — " O ! what shall I do? O Lord! O g o o d L o r d , do help m e ! " a n d s o , ever a n d a n o n , until the m u r m u r died away in s i l e n c e . At midnight, T o m w a k e d , with a s u d d e n start. S o m e t h i n g black p a s s e d quickly by him to the side of the boat, a n d he h e a r d a s p l a s h in the water. N o o n e else s a w or h e a r d anything. H e raised his h e a d , — t h e w o m a n ' s p l a c e w a s vacant! H e got u p , a n d s o u g h t a b o u t him in vain. T h e p o o r b l e e d i n g heart w a s still, at last, a n d the river rippled a n d d i m p l e d j u s t a s brightly as if it had not c l o s e d a b o v e it. P a t i e n c e ! p a t i e n c e ! ye w h o s e hearts swell indignant at w r o n g s like t h e s e . N o t o n e throb of a n g u i s h , not o n e tear of the o p p r e s s e d , is forgotten by the M a n of S o r r o w s , the L o r d of Glory. In his patient, g e n e r o u s b o s o m he b e a r s the a n g u i s h of a world. B e a r t h o u , like him, in p a t i e n c e , a n d labor in love; for s u r e a s he is G o d , "the year of his r e d e e m e d shall c o m e . " 5 T h e trader w a k e d u p bright a n d early, a n d c a m e out to s e e to his live stock. It w a s now his turn to look a b o u t in perplexity. " W h e r e alive is that g a l ? " he said to T o m . T o m , who h a d l e a r n e d the w i s d o m of k e e p i n g c o u n s e l , did not feel called on to state his observations a n d s u s p i c i o n s , but said he did not know. " S h e surely couldn't have got off in the night at any of the l a n d i n g s , for I was a w a k e , a n d on the look-out, whenever the boat s t o p p e d . I never trust these yer things to other f o l k s . " T h i s s p e e c h was a d d r e s s e d to T o m quite confidentially, a s if it was s o m e thing that would be specially interesting to h i m . T o m m a d e n o a n s w e r . T h e trader s e a r c h e d the boat from s t e m to stern, a m o n g boxes, bales a n d barrels, a r o u n d the m a c h i n e r y , by the c h i m n e y s , in vain. " N o w , I say, T o m , be fair a b o u t this yer," h e said, w h e n , after a fruitless s e a r c h , he c a m e where T o m w a s s t a n d i n g . "You know s o m e t h i n g a b o u t it, now. Don't tell m e , — I know you d o . I s a w the gal s t r e t c h e d o u t here a b o u t ten o'clock, a n d ag'in at twelve, a n d ag'in b e t w e e n o n e a n d two; a n d then at four s h e was g o n e , a n d you w a s s l e e p i n g right there all the t i m e . N o w , you know s o m e t h i n g , — y o u can't help it." "Well, M a s ' r , " said T o m , " t o w a r d s m o r n i n g s o m e t h i n g b r u s h e d by m e , a n d I kinder half woke; a n d then I h e a r n a great s p l a s h , a n d then I clare woke u p , a n d the gal w a s g o n e . T h a t ' s all I know o n ' t . " T h e trader w a s not s h o c k e d nor a m a z e d ; b e c a u s e , a s w e said b e f o r e , he w a s u s e d to a great m a n y things that you are not u s e d to. E v e n the awful p r e s e n c e of D e a t h struck no s o l e m n chill u p o n h i m . H e h a d s e e n D e a t h m a n y t i m e s , — m e t him in the way of trade, a n d got a c q u a i n t e d with h i m , — a n d he only thought of him a s a hard c u s t o m e r , that e m b a r r a s s e d his property o p e r a t i o n s very unfairly; a n d so he only swore that the gal w a s a b a g g a g e , a n d that he was devilish unlucky, a n d that, if things went o n in this way, he s h o u l d not m a k e a cent on the trip. In short, he s e e m e d to c o n s i d e r h i m s e l f an ill-used m a n , decidedly; but there w a s no help for it, a s the w o m a n h a d e s c a p e d into a state which never will give up a fugitive,—not even at the 5.

P a r a p h r a s e of Isaiah

63.4.

806

/

FANNY F E R N (SARAH W I L L I S

PARTON)

d e m a n d of the w h o l e glorious U n i o n . T h e trader, therefore, sat d i s c o n t e n t edly d o w n , with his little a c c o u n t - b o o k , a n d p u t d o w n the m i s s i n g b o d y a n d soul u n d e r t h e h e a d of losses! " H e ' s a s h o c k i n g c r e a t u r e , isn't h e , — t h i s trader? s o unfeeling! It's d r e a d ful, really!" " O , b u t n o b o d y thinks anything of t h e s e traders! T h e y are universally d e s p i s e d , — n e v e r received into any d e c e n t society." B u t w h o , sir, m a k e s the trader? W h o is m o s t to b l a m e ? T h e e n l i g h t e n e d , cultivated, intelligent m a n , w h o s u p p o r t s the system of w h i c h t h e trader is the inevitable result, or the p o o r trader h i m s e l f ? Y o u m a k e the p u b l i c s e n t i m e n t that calls for his t r a d e , that d e b a u c h e s a n d d e p r a v e s h i m , till h e feels n o s h a m e in it; a n d in what a r e you better than he? Are you e d u c a t e d a n d he i g n o r a n t , you high a n d h e low, you refined a n d he c o a r s e , you talented a n d he s i m p l e ? In t h e day of a future J u d g m e n t , t h e s e very c o n s i d e r a t i o n s m a y m a k e it m o r e tolerable for him t h a n for y o u . In c o n c l u d i n g t h e s e little i n c i d e n t s of lawful t r a d e , w e m u s t b e g the world not to think that A m e r i c a n legislators are entirely d e s t i t u t e o f h u m a n i t y , a s might, p e r h a p s , b e unfairly inferred from the great efforts m a d e in o u r national body to p r o t e c t a n d p e r p e t u a t e this s p e c i e s of traffic. W h o d o e s not know how o u r great m e n a r e o u t d o i n g t h e m s e l v e s , in d e c l a i m i n g a g a i n s t the foreign slave-trade. T h e r e are a p e r f e c t h o s t of Clarks o n s a n d W i l b e r f o r c e s 6 risen u p a m o n g u s o n that s u b j e c t , m o s t edifying to hear a n d b e h o l d . T r a d i n g n e g r o e s from Africa, d e a r r e a d e r , is so horrid! It is not to be t h o u g h t of! B u t trading t h e m from K e n t u c k y , — t h a t ' s q u i t e a n o t h e r thing!

*

*

* 1852

6. T h o m a s C l a r k s o n ( 1 7 6 0 — 1 8 4 6 ) a n d W i l l i a m Wilberforce ( 1 7 5 9 - 1 8 3 3 ) : English abolitionists, architects of the 1807 act of Parliament abolishing the slave trade. A similar act was p a s s e d by the U . S .

C o n g r e s s t h e s a m e y e a r ; it p r o h i b i t e d i m p o r t a t i o n of slaves from a b r o a d but allowed the trade within the United States,

FANNY F E R N (SARAH W I L L I S 1811-1872

PARTON)

S a r a h P a y s o n Willis w a s b o r n in P o r t l a n d , M a i n e , o n J u l y 9 , 1 8 1 1 , t h e fifth of n i n e c h i l d r e n of N a t h a n i e l Willis a n d H a n n a h P a r k e r W i l l i s . T w o o f t h e Willis s o n s r o s e to p r o m i n e n c e , N a t h a n i e l P a r k e r a s a p o e t a n d later a n i n f l u e n t i a l j o u r n a l i s t , a n d B i c h a r d S t o r r s a s a m u s i c critic. S a r a h Willis b e c a m e o n e of t h e first w o m e n in t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s to h a v e her o w n n e w s p a p e r c o l u m n ; a n d for y e a r s , f a m o u s a s " F a n n y F e r n , " s h e w a s a m o n g t h e n a t i o n ' s b e s t - p a i d a u t h o r s . In t h e 1 8 4 0 s B a l p h W a l d o E m e r s o n s t r u c k a n e s s e n t i a l l y A m e r i c a n vein in c e l e b r a t i n g s e l f - r e l i a n c e ; a d e c a d e later F a n n y F e r n s t r u c k a m o r e d e e p l y b u r i e d vein in her p r o t e s t s a g a i n s t u n e q u a l t r e a t m e n t of w o m e n , b o t h in h e r c o l u m n s a n d , very powerfully, in h e r novel Ruth Hall ( 1 8 5 4 ) , w h i c h J o y c e W . W a r r e n c a l l s " n e a r l y u n i q u e " in its t i m e for a portrait

FANNY F E R N (SARAH W I L L I S PARTON)

/

807

"of a w o m a n a s t h e self-reliant A m e r i c a n i n d i v i d u a l i s t . " At h o m e t h e self-reliant S a r a h Willis resisted her father's C a l v i n i s t t h e o l o g y , a n d a s a girl s h e r e s i s t e d t h e religious i n d o c t r i n a t i o n at the A d a m s F e m a l e A c a d e m y in D e n y , N e w H a m p s h i r e , a n d the H a r t f o r d F e m a l e S e m i n a r y c o n d u c t e d by C a t h a r i n e B e e c h e r . In 1 8 3 7 S a r a h Willis m a r r i e d C h a r l e s H a r r i n g t o n E l d r e d g e , a c a s h i e r in a B o s t o n b a n k . T h e y h a d t h r e e d a u g h t e r s in a d o m e s t i c life m a r k e d by d e b t a n d t r a g e d y ; t h e e l d e s t child, M a r y , d i e d in c h i l d h o o d , a n d her h u s b a n d , w h o h a d o v e r b o r r o w e d d i s a s t r o u s l y , lost their h o u s e b e f o r e h e d i e d s u d d e n l y in 1 8 4 6 , at thirty-five. N e i t h e r her own father, r e c e n t l y r e m a r r i e d , n o r h e r in-laws w e r e willing to s u p p o r t her in a h o u s e of her o w n . Willis o p t i m i s t i c a l l y set o u t to s u p p o r t h e r s e l f a n d her d a u g h t e r s by s e w i n g , s o m e t h i n g the older a n d w e a l t h i e r C a t h a r i n e S e d g w i c k h a d b e e n s u r e any c o m p e t e n t w o m a n c o u l d d o . Living in b o a r d i n g h o u s e s a n d e n d u r i n g sexual h a r a s s m e n t , Willis c o u l d not k e e p b o t h c h i l d r e n with her. F o r c e d to p u t h e r o l d e r d a u g h t e r in t h e c a r e of t h e i n c r e a s i n g l y h o s t i l e E l d r e d g e s , s h e at l a s t t o o k h e r father's a d v i c e that r e m a r r i a g e w a s her only o p t i o n a n d in 1 8 4 9 m a r r i e d S a m u e l P. F a r r i n g t o n , a B o s t o n w i d o w e r with two d a u g h t e r s . T o j u d g e f r o m surviving d o c u m e n t s a n d f r o m her portrayal of t h e c h a r a c t e r J o h n S t a h l e in Rose

Clark,

she quickly found Farrington

j e a l o u s , tyrannical, a n d sexually r e p u l s i v e . S h e left h i m after t w o y e a r s , a r e v o l u t i o n a r y act for w h i c h s h e w a s left i m p o v e r i s h e d a n d o s t r a c i z e d . In 1 8 5 1 , u n d e r p s e u d o n y m s , S a r a h P a y s o n Willis E l d r e d g e F a r r i n g t o n b e c a m e a j o u r n a l i s t , for pay, at first for fifty c e n t s a n a r t i c l e . O v e r the c o u r s e of t h e year, writing for the B o s t o n Olive

Branch,

she found her tone (colloquial,

often o u t r a g e o u s ) a n d a n e w n a m e . A s " F a n n y F e r n " in the Olive N e w York Musical

World

and

Times

flippant,

ironic, a n d

Branch

a n d in t h e

s h e quickly b e c a m e a n a t i o n a l i n s t i t u t i o n , a n

e m b o d i m e n t of t h e n e w A m e r i c a n w o m a n . N e g o t i a t i n g a s e r i e s of ever m o r e f a v o r a b l e c o n t r a c t s , s h e c o l l e c t e d her c o l u m n s in Fern Ferns

for Fanny's

Little

Friends

Leaves

( 1 8 5 3 ) , t h e n Fern

D e c e m b e r 1 8 5 4 s h e p u b l i s h e d Ruth

Hall:

from

Fanny's

Leaves,

A Domestic

Port-Folio

and

Little

s e c o n d s e r i e s ( 1 8 5 4 ) . In

Tale

of the Present

Time,

a

s e n s a t i o n b e c a u s e r e a d e r s k n e w it w a s in l a r g e p a r t a u t o b i o g r a p h i c a l a n d b e c a u s e it involved a n e w f e m i n i s t h e r o i n e w h o s t r u g g l e d s u c c e s s f u l l y for o p p o r t u n i t i e s in a s o c i e t y w h e r e l a w s g a v e h u s b a n d s rights over their wives' p r o p e r t y . O n the s t r e n g t h of her m i n g l e d f a m e a n d notoriety, in 1 8 5 5 s h e s i g n e d a n e a r - f a b u l o u s c o n t r a c t with R o b e r t B o n n e r , the editor of the weekly N e w York Ledger

for o n e h u n d r e d d o l l a r s

p e r c o l u m n . H e r p o p u l a r i t y w a s s u c h that B o n n e r p r o s p e r e d u n d e r t h e s e h i t h e r t o u n t h i n k a b l e t e r m s , s e e i n g the c i r c u l a t i o n of the Ledger

reach four hundred thousand

in 1 8 6 0 , at a t i m e w h e n t h e p o p u l a t i o n of N e w York S t a t e w a s fewer t h a n f o u r million. S i n c e the Ledger

w a s s h a r e d in m a n y h o u s e h o l d s , m o r e like a weekly m a g a z i n e t h a n

a newspaper, Fern's readership was enormous. In t h e flush of her s u c c e s s , in 1 8 5 6 s h e m a r r i e d the j o u r n a l i s t J a m e s P a r t o n , t h e a u t h o r of a s u c c e s s f u l b i o g r a p h y of H o r a c e G r e e l e y , a n d m o v e d to B r o o k l y n , a ferry ride away f r o m the p u b l i s h i n g c e n t e r , the s o u t h e r n tip of M a n h a t t a n . ( P a r t o n ' s b e i n g a d e c a d e her j u n i o r w a s rightly p e r c e i v e d a s a bold s t a t e m e n t in F e r n ' s p o l i t i c s of sexuality.) F e r n ' s s e c o n d novel, Rose

Clark,

a d e p i c t i o n of a w o m a n ' s d i s a s t r o u s s e c -

o n d m a r r i a g e , w a s p u b l i s h e d later in 1 8 5 6 , a n d Fresh

Leaves

in 1 8 5 9 , t h e y e a r in

w h i c h s h e a n d h e r h u s b a n d a n d d a u g h t e r s s e t t l e d in M a n h a t t a n o n E a s t E i g h t e e n t h S t r e e t , a m o r e p r a c t i c a l l o c a t i o n for her. A s e c o n d - g e n e r a t i o n f e m i n i s t , F e r n w a s n o t a n o r g a n i z e r or j o i n e r like L. M a r i a C h i l d or C a r o l i n e K i r k l a n d . H a v i n g e n d u r e d h a r s h e r e x p e r i e n c e t h a n m o s t of the w o m e n writers w h o p r e c e d e d her, s h e p r o t e s t e d

first

against obstacles she had

e n c o u n t e r e d herself. O n l y later did s h e c o m m e n t o n g e n e r a l t o p i c s s u c h a s t h e c o n n e c t i o n b e t w e e n poverty a n d vice, a s u b j e c t o n w h i c h h e r views, u n l i k e S e d g w i c k ' s , w e r e b a s e d o n p e r s o n a l e x p e r i e n c e . U p until her d e a t h f r o m c a n c e r in 1 8 7 2 s h e c o n t i n u e d to play a u n i q u e a n d e x p a n d i n g role in A m e r i c a n j o u r n a l i s m a n d l i t e r a t u r e .

808

/

FANNY FERN (SARAH W I L L I S

PARTON)

Male Criticism on Ladies' Books' Courtship and marriage, servants and children, these are the great objects of a woman's thoughts, and they necessarily form the staple topics of their writings and their conversation. We have no right to expect anything else in a woman's book. —N.Y. TIMES

Is it in f e m i n i n e novels only that c o u r t s h i p , m a r r i a g e , s e r v a n t s , a n d children are the s t a p l e ? Is not this true of all n o v e l s ? — o f D i c k e n s , of T h a c k e r a y , of BulweH a n d a host of others? Is it p e c u l i a r to f e m i n i n e p e n s , m o s t a s t u t e a n d liberal of critics? W o u l d a novel b e a novel if it did not treat of c o u r t s h i p a n d m a r r i a g e ? a n d if it c o u l d be so r e c o g n i z e d , would it find r e a d e r s ? W h e n I s e e s u c h a narrow, snarling criticism a s the a b o v e , I always say to myself, the writer is s o m e u n h a p p y m a n , w h o h a s c o m e u p without the refining influence of m o t h e r , or sister, or r e p u t a b l e f e m a l e friends; w h o h a s divided his migratory life b e t w e e n b o a r d i n g - h o u s e s , r e s t a u r a n t s , a n d the outskirts of editorial s a n c t u m s ; a n d w h o knows a s m u c h a b o u t reviewing a w o m a n ' s book, as I do a b o u t navigating a s h i p , or e n g i n e e r i n g a n o m n i b u s from the S o u t h Ferry, t h r o u g h B r o a d w a y , to U n i o n Park.* I think I s e e h i m writing that p a r a g r a p h in a fit of s p l e e n — o f male s p l e e n — i n his s m a l l b o a r d i n g h o u s e u p p e r c h a m b e r , by the cheerful light of a solitary c a n d l e , flickering alternately on c o b w e b b e d walls, dusty w a s h - s t a n d , b e g r i m e d bowl a n d pitcher, refuse cigar s t u m p s , boot-jacks, old h a t s , b u t t o n l e s s c o a t s , m u d d y t r o u s e r s , a n d all the w r e t c h e d a c c o m p a n i m e n t s of solitary, selfish m a l e exist e n c e , not to s p e a k of his own p u c k e r e d , u n k i s s a b l e f a c e ; p e r h a p s , in addition, his b o o t s hurt, his cravat-bow 4 p e r s i s t s in slipping u n d e r his ear for want of a pin, a n d a wife to pin it, (poor wretch!) or h e h a s b e e n refused by s o m e pretty girl, a s h e deserved to b e , (narrow-minded old vinegar-cruet!) or s n u b b e d by s o m e lady a u t h o r e s s ; or, m o r e trying than all to the m a l e constitution, h a s h a d a w e a k c u p of coffee for that m o r n i n g ' s b r e a k f a s t . B u t s e r i o u s l y — w e have h a d q u i t e e n o u g h of this shallow criticism (?) on lady-books. W h e t h e r the b o o k which called forth the r e m a r k a b o v e q u o t e d , w a s a g o o d b o o k or a b a d o n e , I know not: I s h o u l d b e inclined to think the former from the d i s p r a i s e of s u c h a p e n . W h e t h e r ladies c a n write novels or not, is a q u e s t i o n I do not intend to d i s c u s s ; but that s o m e of t h e m have no difficulty in finding either p u b l i s h e r s or r e a d e r s , is a m a t t e r of history; a n d that g e n t l e m e n often write over f e m i n i n e s i g n a t u r e s w o u l d s e e m a l s o to a r g u e that f e m i n i n e literature is, after all, in g o o d o d o r with the r e a d i n g p u b l i c . G r a n t i n g that lady-novels are not all that they s h o u l d b e — i s s u c h shallow, unfair, w h o l e s a l e , s n e e r i n g criticism (?) the way to reform t h e m ? W o u l d it not be better a n d m o r e manly to point out a better way kindly, justly, and, above all, respectfully? o r — w h a t would be a m u c h h a r d e r task for s u c h c r i t i c s — w r i t e a better book! 1857 1. F i r s t p r i n t e d in t h e N e w Y o r k Ledger on May 2 3 , 1 8 5 7 , t h e s o u r c e of t h e p r e s e n t text. 2. English novelists: C h a r l e s D i c k e n s (1812— 1870), William Makepeace Thackeray (18111863), and Edward George Earle Lvtton BulwerLytton ( 1 8 0 3 - 1 8 7 3 ) . 3.

A line of o m n i b u s e s (horse-drawn p u b l i c vehi-

c l e s ) that s t a r t e d at t h e S o u t h F e r r y t e r m i n a l at t h e Battery, the e x t r e m e s o u t h e r n tip of M a n h a t t a n (the S o u t h Ferry ran to Brooklyn a n d back), a n d r a n north o n B r o a d w a y to U n i o n P a r k at F o u r t e e n t h S t r e e t , t h e n c o n s i d e r e d far u p t o w n . 4. A form of bowtie.

" F R E S H L E A V E S , BY F A N N Y F E R N "

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"Fresh Leaves, by Fanny Fern"' T h i s little v o l u m e has j u s t b e e n laid upon our table. T h e p u b l i s h e r s have d o n e all they c o u l d for it, with regard to o u t w a r d a d o r n i n g . N o d o u b t it will be w e l c o m e d by those w h o admire this lady's style of writing: we c o n f e s s ourselves not to be of that n u m b e r . W e have never seen F a n n y F e r n , nor do we desire to do s o . W e i m a g i n e her, from her writings, to be a m u s c u l a r , black-browed, grenadier-looking f e m a l e , w h o would be m o r e at h o m e in a boxing gallery than in a p a r l o r , — a vociferous, d e m o n s t r a t i v e , s t r o n g - m i n d e d h o r r o r , — a w o m a n only by virtue of her d r e s s . B a h ! the very thought sickens u s . W e have r e a d , or, rather, tried to read, her halloo-there e f f u s i o n s . 2 W h e n we take u p a w o m a n ' s b o o k we expect to find g e n t l e n e s s , timidity, a n d that lovely reliance on the p a t r o n a g e of our sex which c o n s t i t u t e s a w o m a n ' s greatest c h a r m . W e do not wish to be startled by bold e x p r e s s i o n s , or disg u s t e d with exhibitions of m a s c u l i n e w e a k n e s s e s . W e do not desire to s e e a w o m a n wielding the s c i m e t a r blade of s a r c a s m . If s h e b e , unfortunately, e n d o w e d with a gift so d a n g e r o u s , let h e r — a s s h e v a l u e s the a p p r o b a t i o n of our sex—fold it in a n a p k i n . Fanny's s t r o n g - m i n d e d n o s e would probably turn u p at this i n d u c e m e n t . T h a n k heaven! there are still w o m e n w h o are w o m e n — w h o know the p l a c e H e a v e n a s s i g n e d t h e m , a n d keep i t — w h o do not waste floods of ink a n d p a p e r , brow-beating m e n a n d stirring u p silly w o m e n ; — w h o do not t e a c h children that a g a m e of r o m p s is of a s m u c h i m p o r t a n c e a s Blair's P h i l o s o p h y ; * — w h o have not the p r e s u m p t i o n to advise clergymen a s to their d u t i e s , or lecture d o c t o r s , a n d s a v a n s ; — w h o live for s o m e t h i n g else than to a s t o n i s h a g a p i n g , idiotic crowd. T h a n k heaven! there are w o m e n writers w h o do not disturb our c o m p l a c e n c e or serenity; w h o s e books lull o n e to sleep like a strain of gentle m u s i c ; w h o excite no a n t a g o nism, or angry feeling. W o m a n never w a s i n t e n d e d for a n irritant: s h e s h o u l d be oil upon the troubled w a t e r s of m a n h o o d — s o f t a n d a m a l g a m a t i n g , a n e c essary but u n o b t r u s i v e i n g r e d i e n t ; — n e v e r c h a l l e n g i n g a t t e n t i o n — n e v e r throwing the gauntlet of d e f i a n c e to a b e a r d , but softly p u r r i n g b e s i d e it lest it bristle a n d s c r a t c h . T h e very fact that F a n n y F e r n h a s , in the l a n g u a g e of her a d m i r e r s , "elbowed her way t h r o u g h u n h e a r d of difficulties," s h o w s that s h e is a n a n t a g o n i s t i c , pugilistic f e m a l e . O n e m u s t n e e d s , f o r s o o t h , get out of her way, or be p u s h e d o n e side, or t r a m p l e d down. H o w m u c h m o r e w o m a n l y to have allowed herself to be d o u b l e d up by adversity, a n d quietly laid away on the shelf of fate, than to have rolled up her sleeves, a n d g o n e to fisticuffs with it. S u c h a w o m a n may c o n q u e r , it is true, but her victory will c o s t her dear; it will neither be forgotten nor forgiven—let her p u t that in her a p r o n p o c k e t . As to F a n n y Fern's g r a m m a r , rhetoric, a n d p u n c t u a t i o n , they are b e n e a t h criticism. It is all very well for her to say, t h o s e w h o wish c o m m a s , s e m i c o l o n s a n d p e r i o d s , m u s t look for them in the printer's c a s e , or that s h e w h o finds ideas m u s t not be e x p e c t e d to find rhetoric or g r a m m a r ; for our part, we s h o u l d be gratified if we had even found any i d e a s ! I. F i r s t p r i n t e d in t h e N e w Y o r k Ledger o n O c t o b e r 1 0 , 1 8 5 7 , t h e s o u r c e o f t h e t e x t . In t h i s p i e c e Fern parodies the tone and content of reviews she may have anticipated.

2.

Bold, attention-getting articles.

3 . Moral Philosophy, etc.; On the Ditties of Young ( 1 7 9 8 ) , b y H u g h B l a i r ( 1 7 1 8 - 1 8 0 0 ) .

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W e regret to b e obliged to s p e a k t h u s of a lady's b o o k : it gives u s p l e a s u r e , w h e n w e can do so conscientiously, to p a t lady writers o n the h e a d ; b u t we owe a duty to the public which will not permit u s to r e c o m m e n d to their favorable notice an a s p i r a n t w h o h a s b e e n u n w o m a n l y e n o u g h s o boldly to c o n t e s t every inch of g r o u n d in order to r e a c h t h e m — a n a s p i r a n t at o n c e s o h i g h - s t e p p i n g a n d s o ignorant, so p l a u s i b l e , yet s o p e r n i c i o u s . W e have a conservative horror of this p o p - g u n , t o r p e d o f e m a l e ; we p r e d i c t for F a n n y Fern's " L e a v e s " only a fleeting a u t u m n a l flutter. 1857

A Law More Nice Than Just 1 H e r e I have b e e n sitting twiddling the m o r n i n g p a p e r b e t w e e n my fingers this half hour, reflecting u p o n the following p a r a g r a p h in it: " E m m a W i l s o n w a s a r r e s t e d yesterday for w e a r i n g m a n ' s a p p a r e l . " N o w , why this s h o u l d b e a n a c t i o n a b l e offense is p a s t my finding o u t , or where's the h a r m in it, I a m a s m u c h at a loss to s e e . T h i n k of the old m a i d s (and w e e p ) w h o have to stay at h o m e e v e n i n g after evening, w h e n , if they provided t h e m s e l v e s with a c o a t , p a n t s a n d hat, they might go a b r o a d , instead of sitting there with their n o s e s flattened a g a i n s t the w i n d o w - p a n e , looking vainly for "the C o m i n g M a n . " 2 T h i n k of the m a r r i e d w o m e n w h o stay at h o m e after their day's toil is d o n e , waiting wearily for their t h o u g h t l e s s , truant h u s b a n d s , w h e n they m i g h t b e taking the m u c h n e e d e d i n d e p e n d e n t walk in trowsers, w h i c h c u s t o m forbids to p e t t i c o a t s . A n d this, I fancy, may be the secret of this f a m o u s l a w — w h o k n o w s ? It wouldn't be p l e a s a n t for s o m e of t h e m to be s u r p r i s e d by a t o u c h o n the s h o u l d e r from s o m e d a p p e r y o u n g fellow, w h o s e familiar treble voice belied his c o r d u r o y s . T h a t ' s it, now. W h a t a fool I w a s not to think of i t — n o t to r e m e m b e r that m e n w h o m a k e the laws, m a k e t h e m to m e e t all t h e s e little e m e r g e n c i e s . Everybody knows what a n everlasting drizzle of rain we have h a d lately, but nobody but a w o m a n , a n d a w o m a n w h o lives on fresh air a n d o u t - d o o r e x e r c i s e , knows the t h r a l d o m of taking her daily walk t h r o u g h a t h r e e w e e k s ' rain, with skirts to hold u p , a n d u m b r e l l a to hold d o w n , a n d p u d d l e s to skip over, a n d g u t t e r s to walk r o u n d , a n d all the time in a fright lest, in a n u n g u a r d e d m o m e n t , her calves s h o u l d b e c o m e visible to s o m e o n e of t h o s e rainy-day p h i l a n t h r o p i s t s w h o are interested in the p u b l i c s t u d y of f e m a l e anatomy. O n e evening, after a long rainy day of scribbling, w h e n my nerves were in double-twisted k n o t s , a n d I felt as if myriads of little a n t s were leisurely traveling over m e , a n d all for w a n t of the walk which is my daily salvation, I s t o o d at the window, looking at the s l a n t i n g , p e r s i s t e n t rain, a n d t o o k my resolve. "I'll do it," said I, audibly, p l a n t i n g my slipper u p o n the c a r p e t . " D o w h a t ? " a s k e d M r . F e r n , looking u p from a big b o o k . " P u t o n a suit of your c l o t h e s a n d take a t r a m p with y o u , " w a s the a n s w e r . "You d a r e n o t , " w a s the 1. F i r s t p r i n t e d in t h e N e w Y o r k Ledger 10, 1 8 5 8 , t h e s o u r c e o f t h e text. " N i c e " : exacting.

on July finically

2. A suitor with g o o d p r o s p e c t s for financial professional advancement.

or

A LAW M O R E N I C E T H A N J U S T

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rejoinder; "you are a little c o w a r d , only s a u c y o n p a p e r . " It w a s the work of a m o m e n t , with s u c h a c h a l l e n g e , to fly up stairs a n d overhaul my philosopher's w a r d r o b e . O f c o u r s e we h a d fun. Tailors m u s t b e a stingy set, I r e m a r k e d , to be s o s p a r i n g of their cloth, a s I struggled into a pair of their handiwork, u n d e t e r r e d by the vociferous laughter of the wretch w h o h a d solemnly vowed to " c h e r i s h m e " t h r o u g h all my tribulations. " U p o n my word, everything s e e m s to be narrow where it o u g h t to be b r o a d , a n d the waist of this c o a t might be m a d e for a h o g s h e a d ; a n d , u g h ! this shirt-collar is c u t t i n g my e a r s off, a n d you have not a d e c e n t cravat in the whole lot, a n d your vests are frights, a n d w h a t a m I to d o with my h a i r ? " Still no reply from M r . F e r n , who lay on the floor, faintly e j a c u l a t i n g , b e t w e e n his fits of laughter, " O h , my! by J o v e ! — o h ! by J u p i t e r ! " W a s that to hinder m e ? O f c o u r s e not. S t r i n g s a n d p i n s , w o m a n ' s neverfailing resort, s o o n brought b r o a d c l o t h a n d k e r s e y m e r e ' to t e r m s . I p a r t e d my hair on o n e s i d e , rolled it u n d e r , a n d then s e c u r e d it with hair-pins; c h o s e the best fitting c o a t , a n d c a p - p i n g the climax with o n e of t h o s e soft, c o s y h a t s , looked in the g l a s s , w h e r e I b e h e l d the very fac-simile of a certain m u s i c a l g e n t l e m a n , w h o s e p h o t o g r a p h h a n g s this m i n u t e in Brady's entry. 4 Well, M r . F e r n seized his hat, a n d out we went together. " F a n n y , " said h e , "you m u s t not take my a r m ; you are a fellow." " T r u e , " s a i d I, "I forgot; " a n d you m u s t not help m e over the p u d d l e s , a s you did j u s t now, a n d d o , for mercy's s a k e , s t o p laughing. T h e r e , there g o e s your h a t — I m e a n my hat; c o n f o u n d the wind! a n d down c o m e s my hair; lucky 'tis dark, isn't i t ? " B u t oh, the delicious f r e e d o m of that walk, after w e were well started! N o skirts to hold u p , or to draggle their wet folds a g a i n s t my a n k l e s ; no stifling vail flapping in my f a c e , a n d blinding my eyes; n o u m b r e l l a to turn inside o u t , but i n s t e a d , the cool rain driving slap into my f a c e , a n d the r e s u r r e c t i o n i z e d b l o o d c o u r s i n g through my veins, a n d tingling in my c h e e k s . T o b e s u r e , M r . F e r n o c c a s i o n a l l y loitered b e h i n d , a n d leaned up a g a i n s t the s i d e of a h o u s e to enjoy a little private " g u f f a w , " a n d I c o u l d now a n d then h e a r a g a s p i n g " O h , F a n n y ! " " o h , m y ! " but n o n e of t h e s e things m o v e d m e , a n d if I don't have a nicely-fitting suit of my own to wear rainy e v e n i n g s , it is b e c a u s e — well, there are difficulties in the way. W h o ' s the b e s t tailor? N o w , if any m a l e or f e m a l e M i s s N a n c y 5 w h o r e a d s this feels s h o c k e d , let 'em! Any w o m a n w h o likes, m a y stay at h o m e d u r i n g a t h r e e w e e k s ' rain, till her skin looks like p a r c h m e n t , a n d her eyes like t h o s e of a d e a d fish, or s h e may go out a n d get a c o n s u m p t i o n d r a g g i n g r o u n d wet p e t t i c o a t s ; I w o n ' t — I positively d e c l a r e I won't. I shall begin evenings w h e n that suit is m a d e , a n d take private walking l e s s o n s with M r . F e r n , a n d they w h o c h o o s e m a y c r o o k their b a c k s at h o m e for fashion, a n d then s e n d for the d o c t o r to straighten t h e m ; I prefer to patronize my s h o e - m a k e r a n d tailor. I've a s g o o d a right to preserve the healthy body G o d gave m e , a s if I were not a w o m a n . 1858

3 . C a s s i m e r e , w o o l e n c l o t h u s e d in m e n ' s a p p a r e l . 4. P h o t o g r a p h e r M a t h e w Brady's studio w a s at 2 0 7 B r o a d w a y , at the corner of F u l t o n . T h e " m u s i cal g e n t l e m a n " m a y have b e e n the great Italian baritone Giorgio Ronconi (1810—1890), famous

f o r c r e a t i n g r o l e s in o p e r a s b y G a e t a n o D o n i z e t t i ; several w e e k s before F e r n p u b l i s h e d this article, N e w Y o r k e r s l a m e n t e d his d e p a r t u r e for E u r o p e . 5. A prude.

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HARRIET JACOBS c. 1 8 1 3 - 1 8 9 7 H a r r i e t J a c o b s w a s b o r n into slavery in E d e n t o n , N o r t h C a r o l i n a . H e r f a t h e r w a s a skilled c a r p e n t e r w h o w a s p e r m i t t e d to hire h i m s e l f out, a n d her p a r e n t s w e r e a l l o w e d to live t o g e t h e r even t h o u g h they h a d different m a s t e r s ; t h e r e f o r e , a s a child J a c o b s w a s u n a w a r e that s h e w a s a slave. H e r m o t h e r ' s d e a t h a n d a c h a n g e of o w n e r s for b o t h J a c o b s a n d her f a t h e r b r o u g h t her into the family of Dr. a n d M r s . J a m e s N o r c o m in 1 8 2 5 . T h e r e , a s s h e g r e w to a d u l t h o o d , s h e w a s sexually t h r e a t e n e d by the d o c t o r a n d a b u s e d by his j e a l o u s wife. As a d e f e n s e a g a i n s t this t r e a t m e n t , J a c o b s involved h e r s e l f with an u n m a r r i e d w h i t e attorney, S a m u e l T r e d w e l l S a w y e r , by w h o m s h e h a d two c h i l d r e n : J o s e p h , b o r n in 1 8 2 9 , a n d L o u i s a M a t i l d a , b o r n in 1 8 3 3 . W h e n N o r c o m s e n t her to a c o u n t r y p l a n t a t i o n in 1 8 3 5 , s h e e s c a p e d b a c k to E d e n t o n , h i d i n g for p e r h a p s seven y e a r s in t h e h o m e of her m a t e r n a l g r a n d m o t h e r , w h o h a d b e e n e m a n c i p a t e d s o m e y e a r s earlier. W h i l e J a c o b s w a s in hiding, S a w y e r p u r c h a s e d , b u t did not e m a n c i p a t e , their two c h i l d r e n . J a c o b s finally e s c a p e d to the N o r t h in 1 8 4 2 , a n d later b o t h her c h i l d r e n c a m e N o r t h a l s o . Life in the N o r t h w a s i n s e c u r e a n d p e r i l o u s , however, b e c a u s e slave c a t c h e r s were c o n s t a n t l y h u n t i n g d o w n e s c a p e d s l a v e s to return t h e m S o u t h , w h i c h they c o u l d d o m o r e a g g r e s s i v e l y after 1 8 5 0 with t h e Fugitive S l a v e L a w o n their s i d e . F o r m u c h of t h e next two d e c a d e s J a c o b s w o r k e d in t h e family of N a t h a n i e l P a r k e r Willis, o n e of the era's m o s t p o p u l a r writers a n d editors. S h e t o o k c a r e of his c h i l d r e n a n d b e c a m e p a r t i c u l a r l y c l o s e to his s e c o n d wife, C o r n e l i a G r i n n e l l Willis, a s t a u n c h a b o l i t i o n i s t . In 1 8 5 3 C o r n e l i a Willis a r r a n g e d to p u r c h a s e J a c o b s from N o r c o m ' s d a u g h t e r , J a c o b s ' s legal o w n e r ; t h e n s h e e m a n c i p a t e d J a c o b s , w h o c o n t i n u e d to work for Willis after he b e c a m e a widower. J a c o b s s p e n t m o s t of 1 8 4 9 in R o c h e s t e r , N e w York, w o r k i n g for the Anti-Slavery Office run by her y o u n g e r b r o t h e r , w h o h a d a l s o e s c a p e d slavery. S h e r e a d t h r o u g h a large b o d y of antislavery writings a n d a l s o c a m e to k n o w a n u m b e r o f a b o l i t i o n i s t s , i n c l u d i n g m a n y white w o m e n , a m o n g t h e m t h e Q u a k e r A m y P o s t , w h o b e c a m e a m e n t o r to her a n d in w h o s e h o u s e s h e lived for n i n e m o n t h s while h e r b r o t h e r w a s a w a y on l e c t u r e t o u r s . J a c o b s w a n t e d to c o n t r i b u t e h e r life story to t h e a b o l i t i o n i s t c a u s e in a way that w o u l d c a p t u r e the a t t e n t i o n of N o r t h e r n white w o m e n in particular, to s h o w t h e m h o w slavery d e b a s e d a n d d e m o r a l i z e d w o m e n , at o n c e s u b j e c t i n g t h e m to white m a l e lust a n d d e p r i v i n g t h e m of the right to m a k e h o m e s for a n d with their c h i l d r e n . Yet this topic w a s difficult to d i s c u s s in a n era w h e n e x t r e m e sexual prudery w a s t h e n o r m , w h e n s t a n d a r d s of f e m a l e sexual " p u r i t y " c o u l d result in b l a m ing the u n m a r r i e d slave m o t h e r rather t h a n t h e m a n w h o s e victim s h e w a s . In Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl J a c o b s tried to d o m o r e than c r e a t e s y m p a t h y for her plight; s h e s o u g h t to win t h e r e s p e c t a n d a d m i r a t i o n of her r e a d e r s for the c o u r a g e with w h i c h s h e forestalled a b u s e a n d for the i n d e p e n d e n c e with w h i c h s h e c h o s e a lover r a t h e r than h a v i n g o n e forced on her. H e r d e s c r i p t i o n of h i d i n g in t h e a t t i c , her e m p h a s i s o n family life a n d m a t e r n a l v a l u e s , a n d her a c c o u n t of t h e difficulties of fugitive s l a v e s in t h e N o r t h differentiate the b o o k from the n u m e r o u s s l a v e narratives p r o d u c e d in t h e twenty y e a r s b e f o r e t h e Civil W a r . Incidents is a l s o d i s t i n g u i s h e d by its a w a r e n e s s of the kinds of s t o r i e s written by a n d a b o u t w h i t e w o m e n in the s a m e e r a , for it s e l f - c o n s c i o u s l y a d d r e s s e s w o m e n r e a d e r s a n d carefully d i s t i n g u i s h e s the slave w o m a n ' s e x p e r i e n c e s from theirs. F r e e at last, a n d e n c o u r a g e d by the s u c c e s s of H a r r i e t B e e c h e r S t o w e ' s Uncle Tom's Cabin ( 1 8 5 2 ) — o n e of w h o s e h e r o i n e s is the slave c o n c u b i n e C a s s y — J a c o b s b e g a n work o n her narrative a r o u n d 1 8 5 3 a n d finished it by 1 8 5 8 . S h e w a s not s u c c e s s f u l in finding a p u b l i s h e r for it, however, until Lydia M a r i a C h i l d ( 1 8 0 2 - 1 8 8 0 ) , t h e wellk n o w n w o m a n of letters a n d a b o l i t i o n i s t , a g r e e d to write a p r e f a c e for it. C h i l d b e c a m e very i n t e r e s t e d in the p r o j e c t , p u t t i n g m u c h editorial work into t h e m a n u s c r i p t ; a n d

I N C I D E N T S IN T H E L I F E OF A S L A V E G I R L ,

CHAPTER

I

/

8 1 3

w h e n t h e c o n t r a c t e d p u b l i s h e r s w e n t b a n k r u p t , s h e a r r a n g e d for its p u b l i c a t i o n . T h e b o o k c a m e o u t u n d e r t h e p s e u d o n y m L i n d a B r e n t in 1 8 6 1 ; it w a s s o l d a t A n t i - S l a v e r y Offices a r o u n d t h e c o u n t r y , w a s p u b l i s h e d in E n g l a n d in 1 8 6 2 , a n d r e c e i v e d s e v e r a l f a v o r a b l e reviews. T h e o u t b r e a k o f t h e Civil W a r m a d e its m e s s a g e l e s s p r e s s i n g , h o w e v e r ; a n d it s a n k f r o m n o t i c e until t h e 1 9 8 0 s , w h e n i n t e r e s t in early writings by A f r i c a n - A m e r i c a n w o m e n a n d s u p e r b b i o g r a p h i c a l s c h o l a r s h i p by J e a n F a g i n Yellin, e s t a b l i s h i n g that this w a s a n a u t o b i o g r a p h i c a l n a r r a t i v e , not a novel, b r o u g h t b e l a t e d a c c l a i m to t h e work. D u r i n g a n d after t h e w a r J a c o b s w o r k e d with t h e Q u a k e r s in their efforts to h e l p freed s l a v e s with direct aid a n d by o r g a n i z i n g s c h o o l s , o r p h a n a g e s , a n d n u r s i n g h o m e s . S h e r a n a b o a r d i n g h o u s e in C a m b r i d g e , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , a n d later m o v e d to W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . , with h e r d a u g h t e r . S h e is b u r i e d in M o u n t A u b u r n C e m e t e r y in Cambridge. C r i t i c s a n d s t u d e n t s o f Incidents

h a v e d i s a g r e e d o n w h e t h e r it is truth or

fiction

a n d w h e t h e r it is primarily J a c o b s ' s work or C h i l d ' s . Yellin h a s s h o w n that all t h e c h a r a c t e r s a n d e v e n t s in Incidents

a r e b a s e d in reality, a n d C h i l d ' s c o r r e s p o n d e n c e

c l a i m s that a s editor s h e a d d e d n o t h i n g a n d a l t e r e d fewer t h a n fifty w o r d s in t h e m a n u s c r i p t . B u t C h i l d did take w h a t s h e d e s c r i b e d a s " m u c h p a i n s " with it, " t r a n s p o s i n g s e n t e n c e s a n d p a g e s , s o a s t o b r i n g t h e story into c o n t i n u o u s order, r e m a r k s into appropriate

a n d the

p l a c e s , " t h e r e b y m a k i n g t h e story " m u c h m o r e c l e a r a n d

e n t e r t a i n i n g . " S h e divided t h e n a r r a t i v e into c h a p t e r s a n d s u p p l i e d c h a p t e r titles. S h e a l s o a s k e d J a c o b s for i n s t a n c e s o f slave a b u s e a p a r t from t h e a u t h o r ' s o w n e x p e r i e n c e s , w h i c h J a c o b s s u p p l i e d a n d s h e i n s e r t e d . L a c k i n g t h e m a n u s c r i p t of Incidents,

one

c a n n o t s p e c u l a t e o n C h i l d ' s specific c h a n g e s . T o t h e extent that C h i l d ' s r e o r g a n i z a t i o n g a v e t h e b o o k a m o r e literary s h a p e , Incidents S o , t o o , a r e T . S . Eliot's The Waste m a s Wolfe's Look

Homeward,

Land,

Angel,

is i n d e e d a c o l l a b o r a t i v e p r o d u c t i o n .

T h e o d o r e D r e i s e r ' s Sister

Carrie,

and Tho-

t o n a m e only a few w e l l - k n o w n e x a m p l e s . J a c o b s

e x p r e s s e d n o d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with C h i l d ' s w o r k a n d clearly r e g a r d e d it a s h e r own book, t a k i n g a n a c t i v e role in p r o m o t i n g a n d selling it. N o t for a n o t h e r thirty years after Incidents

w o u l d A f r i c a n - A m e r i c a n w o m e n ' s wTiting e m e r g e a s a s i g n i f i c a n t s t r a n d in

A m e r i c a n l i t e r a t u r e ; w h e n it did, m a n y o f t h e t h e m e s that J a c o b s i n t r o d u c e d w o u l d b e c o m e c e n t r a l to s u c h writing. T h e text is that of t h e 1 8 6 1 e d i t i o n , e d i t e d by Yellin ( 1 9 8 7 ) .

From

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl /.

Childhood

I w a s b o r n a s l a v e ; b u t I never k n e w it till six y e a r s of h a p p y c h i l d h o o d h a d p a s s e d away. M y f a t h e r w a s a c a r p e n t e r , a n d c o n s i d e r e d s o intelligent a n d skilful in his t r a d e , t h a t , w h e n b u i l d i n g s o u t of t h e c o m m o n line w e r e to b e e r e c t e d , h e w a s s e n t for f r o m l o n g d i s t a n c e s , to b e h e a d w o r k m a n . O n c o n dition of p a y i n g his m i s t r e s s two h u n d r e d d o l l a r s a year, a n d

supporting

himself, h e w a s a l l o w e d to work at his t r a d e , a n d m a n a g e his o w n a f f a i r s . H i s s t r o n g e s t w i s h w a s to p u r c h a s e his c h i l d r e n ; b u t , t h o u g h h e several t i m e s offered his hard e a r n i n g s for t h a t p u r p o s e , h e n e v e r s u c c e e d e d . In c o m p l e x ion my p a r e n t s w e r e a light s h a d e of b r o w n i s h yellow, a n d w e r e

termed

m u l a t t o e s . T h e y lived t o g e t h e r in a c o m f o r t a b l e h o m e ; a n d , t h o u g h w e w e r e all s l a v e s , I w a s s o fondly s h i e l d e d that I n e v e r d r e a m e d I w a s a p i e c e of m e r c h a n d i s e , t r u s t e d to t h e m for s a f e k e e p i n g , a n d liable to b e d e m a n d e d of t h e m at any m o m e n t . I h a d o n e b r o t h e r , W i l l i a m , w h o w a s two y e a r s y o u n g e r t h a n m y s e l f — a bright, a f f e c t i o n a t e c h i l d . I h a d a l s o a g r e a t t r e a s u r e in

my

maternal

grandmother,

who

was

a

remarkable

woman

in

many

814

/

HARRIET JACOBS

r e s p e c t s . S h e w a s the d a u g h t e r of a planter in S o u t h C a r o l i n a , who, at his d e a t h , left her m o t h e r a n d his three children free, with m o n e y to g o to S t . A u g u s t i n e , w h e r e they h a d relatives. It w a s d u r i n g the Revolutionary W a r ; a n d they were c a p t u r e d on their p a s s a g e , carried b a c k , a n d sold to different p u r c h a s e r s . S u c h w a s the story my g r a n d m o t h e r u s e d to tell m e ; b u t I do not r e m e m b e r all the p a r t i c u l a r s . S h e w a s a little girl w h e n s h e w a s c a p t u r e d a n d sold to the k e e p e r of a large hotel. 1 I have often h e a r d her tell h o w h a r d s h e fared d u r i n g c h i l d h o o d . B u t a s s h e grew older she evinced so m u c h intelligence, a n d w a s s o faithful, that her m a s t e r a n d m i s t r e s s c o u l d not help s e e i n g it w a s for their interest to take c a r e of s u c h a v a l u a b l e p i e c e of p r o p erty. S h e b e c a m e a n i n d i s p e n s a b l e p e r s o n a g e in the h o u s e h o l d , officiating in all c a p a c i t i e s , from c o o k a n d wet n u r s e to s e a m s t r e s s . S h e w a s m u c h p r a i s e d for her c o o k i n g ; a n d her n i c e c r a c k e r s b e c a m e s o f a m o u s in the n e i g h b o r h o o d that m a n y p e o p l e were d e s i r o u s of o b t a i n i n g t h e m . In c o n s e q u e n c e of n u m e r o u s r e q u e s t s of this kind, s h e a s k e d p e r m i s s i o n of her mistress to b a k e c r a c k e r s at night, after all the h o u s e h o l d work w a s d o n e ; a n d s h e o b t a i n e d leave to do it, provided s h e would c l o t h e herself a n d her children from the profits. U p o n t h e s e t e r m s , after working hard all day for her m i s t r e s s , s h e b e g a n her midnight b a k i n g s , a s s i s t e d by her two o l d e s t children. T h e b u s i n e s s proved profitable; a n d e a c h year s h e laid by a little, which w a s saved for a fund to p u r c h a s e her children. H e r m a s t e r d i e d , a n d the property w a s divided a m o n g his heirs. T h e widow h a d her dower in the hotel, which s h e c o n t i n u e d to k e e p o p e n . M y g r a n d m o t h e r r e m a i n e d in her service a s a slave; but her children were divided a m o n g her m a s t e r ' s children. A s s h e h a d five, B e n j a m i n , the y o u n g e s t o n e , w a s sold, in order that e a c h heir might have an e q u a l portion of dollars a n d c e n t s . T h e r e w a s s o little difference in our a g e s that he s e e m e d m o r e like my brother t h a n my u n c l e . H e w a s a bright, h a n d s o m e lad, nearly white; for h e inherited the c o m p l e x i o n my g r a n d m o t h e r h a d derived from A n g l o - S a x o n a n c e s t o r s . T h o u g h only ten years old, seven h u n d r e d a n d twenty dollars were paid for h i m . His s a l e s w a s a terrible blow to my g r a n d m o t h e r ; b u t s h e w a s naturally hopeful, a n d s h e went to work with r e n e w e d energy, trusting in t i m e to b e a b l e to p u r c h a s e s o m e of her children. S h e h a d laid u p three h u n d r e d dollars, which her m i s t r e s s o n e day b e g g e d a s a l o a n , p r o m i s i n g to pay her s o o n . T h e r e a d e r probably knows that n o p r o m i s e or writing given to a slave is legally b i n d i n g ; for, a c c o r d i n g to S o u t h e r n laws, a slave, being property, c a n hold no property. W h e n my g r a n d m o t h e r lent her hard e a r n i n g s to her m i s t r e s s , s h e t r u s t e d solely to her honor. T h e h o n o r of a slaveholder to a slave! T o this g o o d g r a n d m o t h e r I w a s indebted for m a n y c o m f o r t s . M y brother Willie a n d I often received p o r t i o n s of the c r a c k e r s , c a k e s , a n d p r e s e r v e s , s h e m a d e to sell; a n d after we c e a s e d to be children we w e r e i n d e b t e d to her for m a n y m o r e i m p o r t a n t services. S u c h were the u n u s u a l l y f o r t u n a t e c i r c u m s t a n c e s of my early c h i l d h o o d . W h e n I w a s six years old, my m o t h e r d i e d , a n d t h e n , for the first t i m e , I l e a r n e d , by the talk a r o u n d m e , that I w a s a slave. M y m o t h e r ' s m i s t r e s s w a s the d a u g h t e r of my g r a n d m o t h e r ' s m i s t r e s s . S h e w a s the foster sister of my 1. J o h n H o r n i b l o w , w h o r a n t h e K i n g ' s A r m s h o t e l in E d e n t o n , North Carolina. Jacobs's grandmother's legal n a m e w a s M a r g a r e t (Molly) Hornib l o w (c. 1 7 7 1 — 1 8 5 3 ) ; a s w a s typical for t h e e r a ,

M o l l y r e c e i v e d t h e s u r n a m e o f h e r o w n e r . Incidents n e v e r m e n t i o n s a g r a n d f a t h e r , a n d n o i n f o r m a t i o n has b e e n recovered relating to the paternal p a r e n t a g e of Molly's children.

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m o t h e r ; they were both n o u r i s h e d at my g r a n d m o t h e r ' s b r e a s t . In fact, my m o t h e r h a d b e e n w e a n e d at three m o n t h s old, that the b a b e of the m i s t r e s s might obtain sufficient food. T h e y played together a s c h i l d r e n ; a n d , w h e n they b e c a m e w o m e n , my m o t h e r w a s a m o s t faithful servant to her whiter foster sister. O n her d e a t h - b e d her m i s t r e s s p r o m i s e d that her children s h o u l d never suffer for any thing; a n d d u r i n g her lifetime s h e kept her word. T h e y all s p o k e kindly of my d e a d m o t h e r , w h o h a d b e e n a slave merely in n a m e , b u t in n a t u r e w a s n o b l e a n d w o m a n l y . I grieved for her, a n d my y o u n g m i n d w a s troubled with the t h o u g h t w h o would n o w take c a r e of m e a n d my little brother. I w a s told that my h o m e was now to b e with her m i s t r e s s ; a n d I found it a h a p p y o n e . N o t o i l s o m e or d i s a g r e e a b l e d u t i e s were i m p o s e d u p o n m e . M y m i s t r e s s w a s s o kind to m e that I w a s always g l a d to d o her bidding, a n d p r o u d to labor for her a s m u c h a s my y o u n g years w o u l d permit. I would sit by her side for h o u r s , s e w i n g diligently, with a heart a s free from c a r e a s that of any free-born white child. W h e n s h e t h o u g h t I w a s tired, s h e would s e n d m e o u t to run a n d j u m p ; a n d away I b o u n d e d , to g a t h e r berries or flowers to d e c o r a t e her r o o m . T h o s e were h a p p y d a y s — t o o h a p p y to last. T h e slave child h a d no t h o u g h t for the m o r r o w ; but there c a m e that blight, which too surely waits on every h u m a n b e i n g born to b e a chattel. W h e n I w a s nearly twelve years old, my kind m i s t r e s s s i c k e n e d a n d died. A s I saw the c h e e k grow paler, a n d the eye m o r e glassy, h o w earnestly I prayed in my heart that s h e might live! I loved her; for s h e h a d b e e n a l m o s t like a m o t h e r to m e . M y prayers were not a n s w e r e d . S h e d i e d , a n d they b u r i e d her in the little c h u r c h y a r d , w h e r e , day after day, my tears fell u p o n her grave. I w a s sent to s p e n d a w e e k with my g r a n d m o t h e r . I w a s n o w old e n o u g h to begin to think of the future; a n d again a n d again I a s k e d myself w h a t they w o u l d do with m e . I felt s u r e I s h o u l d never find a n o t h e r m i s t r e s s s o kind a s the o n e w h o w a s g o n e . S h e h a d p r o m i s e d my dying m o t h e r that her children s h o u l d never suffer for any thing; a n d w h e n I r e m e m b e r e d that, a n d recalled her m a n y proofs of a t t a c h m e n t to m e , I c o u l d not help having s o m e h o p e s that s h e h a d left m e free. M y friends were a l m o s t certain it w o u l d be s o . T h e y thought s h e would b e s u r e to d o it, on a c c o u n t of my m o t h e r ' s love a n d faithful service. B u t , a l a s ! we all know that the m e m o r y of a faithful slave d o e s not avail m u c h to save her children from the a u c t i o n block. After a brief period of s u s p e n s e , the will of my m i s t r e s s w a s r e a d , a n d we learned that s h e h a d b e q u e a t h e d m e to her sister's d a u g h t e r , a child of five years old. S o v a n i s h e d o u r h o p e s . M y m i s t r e s s h a d t a u g h t m e the p r e c e p t s of G o d ' s W o r d : " T h o u shalt love thy n e i g h b o r a s thyself." 2 " W h a t s o e v e r ye would that m e n s h o u l d do u n t o you, do ye even s o u n t o t h e m . " 3 B u t I w a s her slave, a n d I s u p p o s e s h e did not recognize m e a s her neighbor. I would give m u c h to blot o u t from my m e m o r y that o n e great w r o n g . As a child, I loved my m i s t r e s s ; a n d , looking b a c k on the h a p p y days I s p e n t with her, I try to think with less bitterness of this a c t of i n j u s t i c e . W h i l e I w a s with her, s h e t a u g h t m e to read a n d spell; a n d for this privilege, which s o rarely falls to the lot of a slave, I b l e s s her m e m o r y . S h e p o s s e s s e d b u t few slaves; a n d at her d e a t h t h o s e were all distributed a m o n g her relatives. Five of t h e m were my g r a n d m o t h e r ' s children, a n d h a d 2.

Mark

12.31.

3.

Matthew 7.12.

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s h a r e d the s a m e milk that n o u r i s h e d her m o t h e r ' s children. N o t w i t h s t a n d i n g my g r a n d m o t h e r ' s long a n d faithful service to her o w n e r s , not o n e of her children e s c a p e d the a u c t i o n block. T h e s e G o d - b r e a t h i n g m a c h i n e s are no m o r e , in the sight of their m a s t e r s , than the cotton they plant, or the h o r s e s they t e n d . *

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VII. The

Lover

W h y d o e s the slave ever love? W h y allow the tendrils of the heart to twine a r o u n d o b j e c t s which m a y at any m o m e n t b e w r e n c h e d away by the h a n d of violence? W h e n s e p a r a t i o n s c o m e by the h a n d of d e a t h , the p i o u s soul c a n bow in resignation, a n d say, " N o t my will, b u t thine b e d o n e , O L o r d ! " 4 B u t when the ruthless h a n d of m a n strikes the blow, r e g a r d l e s s of the misery h e c a u s e s , it is hard to be s u b m i s s i v e . I did not r e a s o n t h u s w h e n I w a s a y o u n g girl. Youth will be youth. I loved, a n d I i n d u l g e d the h o p e that the dark c l o u d s a r o u n d m e would turn o u t a bright lining. I forgot that in the land of my birth the s h a d o w s are too d e n s e for light to p e n e t r a t e . A land " W h e r e l a u g h t e r is not mirth; nor t h o u g h t the m i n d ; N o r w o r d s a l a n g u a g e ; no e'en m e n m a n k i n d . W h e r e cries reply to c u r s e s , shrieks to b l o w s , A n d e a c h is tortured in his s e p a r a t e hell." 5 T h e r e w a s in the n e i g h b o r h o o d a y o u n g c o l o r e d c a r p e n t e r ; a free b o r n m a n . W e h a d b e e n well a c q u a i n t e d in c h i l d h o o d , a n d frequently m e t together afterwards. W e b e c a m e mutually a t t a c h e d , a n d h e p r o p o s e d to marry m e . I loved him with all the a r d o r of a y o u n g girl's first love. B u t w h e n I reflected that I w a s a slave, a n d that the laws g a v e n o s a n c t i o n to the m a r r i a g e of s u c h , my heart s a n k within m e . M y lover w a n t e d to buy m e ; but I knew that Dr. Flint w a s too wilful a n d arbitrary a m a n to c o n s e n t to that a r r a n g e m e n t . F r o m h i m , I w a s s u r e of e x p e r i e n c i n g all sorts of o p p o s i t i o n , a n d I h a d n o t h i n g to h o p e from my m i s t r e s s . 6 S h e would have b e e n delighted to have got rid of m e , but not in that way. It w o u l d have relieved her m i n d of a b u r d e n if s h e c o u l d have seen m e sold to s o m e distant s t a t e , but if I w a s married near h o m e I s h o u l d be j u s t a s m u c h in her h u s b a n d ' s power a s I h a d previously b e e n , — f o r the h u s b a n d of a slave h a s no power to p r o t e c t h e r . 7 Moreover, my m i s t r e s s , like m a n y o t h e r s , s e e m e d to think that slaves h a d n o right to any family ties of their o w n ; that they were c r e a t e d merely to wait u p o n the family of the m i s t r e s s . I o n c e h e a r d her a b u s e a y o u n g slave girl, w h o told her that a colored m a n w a n t e d to m a k e her his wife. "I will have you p e e l e d a n d pickled, my lady," said s h e , "if I ever h e a r you m e n t i o n that s u b j e c t a g a i n . D o you s u p p o s e that I will have you t e n d i n g my children with the children of that n i g g e r ? " T h e girl to w h o m s h e said this h a d a m u l a t t o child, of c o u r s e not a c k n o w l e d g e d by its father. T h e p o o r b l a c k m a n w h o loved her would have b e e n p r o u d to a c k n o w l e d g e his h e l p l e s s offspring. M a n y a n d anxious were the t h o u g h t s I revolved in my m i n d . I w a s at a loss what to d o . Above all things, I w a s d e s i r o u s to s p a r e my lover the in4. M a t t h e w 2 6 . 3 9 . 5 . F r o m The Lament of Tusso 4 . 7 - 1 0 ( 1 8 1 7 ) , b y the English poet G e o r g e G o r d o n , Lord Byron (1788-1824). 6 . D r . F l i n t is t h e f a t h e r o f B r e n t ' s o w n e r , E m i l v

F l i n t , w h o h o w e v e r is a c h i l d a t t h i s t i m e , g i v i n g Flint a n d his wife ( w h o m B r e n t refers to a s h e r m i s t r e s s ) legal p o w e r . 7. F o r s o m e t i m e F l i n t h a s b e e n a t t e m p t i n g t o coerce Brent into sexual relations.

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suits that h a d cut s o deeply into my own s o u l . I talked with my grandm o t h e r a b o u t it, a n d partly told her my f e a r s . I did not d a r e to tell her the worst. S h e h a d long s u s p e c t e d all was not right, a n d if I c o n f i r m e d her s u s p i c i o n s I knew a storm would rise that would prove the overthrow of all my hopes. T h i s love-dream h a d b e e n my s u p p o r t t h r o u g h m a n y trials; a n d I c o u l d not b e a r to run the risk of having it s u d d e n l y d i s s i p a t e d . T h e r e w a s a lady in the n e i g h b o r h o o d , a particular friend of Dr. Flint's, w h o often visited the h o u s e . I h a d a great r e s p e c t for her, a n d she h a d always m a n i f e s t e d a friendly interest in m e . G r a n d m o t h e r thought s h e would have great i n f l u e n c e with the doctor. I went to this lady, a n d told her my story. I told her I w a s a w a r e that my lover's b e i n g a free-born m a n would prove a great o b j e c t i o n ; b u t h e w a n t e d to buy m e ; a n d if Dr. Flint would c o n s e n t to that a r r a n g e m e n t , I felt s u r e he would b e willing to pay any r e a s o n a b l e p r i c e . S h e knew that M r s . Flint disliked m e ; therefore, I v e n t u r e d to s u g g e s t that p e r h a p s my m i s t r e s s would a p p r o v e of my b e i n g sold, a s that would rid her of m e . T h e lady listened with kindly sympathy, a n d p r o m i s e d to do her u t m o s t to p r o m o t e my w i s h e s . S h e h a d an interview with the doctor, a n d I believe s h e p l e a d e d my c a u s e earnestly; but it w a s all to no p u r p o s e . H o w I d r e a d e d my m a s t e r now! Every m i n u t e I e x p e c t e d to be s u m m o n e d to his p r e s e n c e ; but the day p a s s e d , a n d I h e a r d nothing from h i m . T h e next m o r n i n g , a m e s s a g e w a s b r o u g h t to m e : " M a s t e r w a n t s you in his s t u d y . " I f o u n d the d o o r ajar, a n d I stood a m o m e n t gazing at the hateful m a n w h o c l a i m e d a right to rule m e , body a n d s o u l . I e n t e r e d , a n d tried to a p p e a r c a l m . I did not want him to know how my heart w a s bleeding. H e looked fixedly at m e , with a n expression which s e e m e d to say, "I have half a mind to kill you on the s p o t . " At last he broke the s i l e n c e , a n d that w a s a relief to both of u s . " S o you want to b e m a r r i e d , d o y o u ? " said h e , " a n d to a free nigger." "Yes, sir." "Well, I'll s o o n c o n v i n c e you w h e t h e r I a m your m a s t e r , or the nigger fellow you h o n o r so highly. If you must have a h u s b a n d , you may take u p with o n e of my s l a v e s . " W h a t a situation I s h o u l d be in, a s the wife of o n e of his slaves, even if my heart h a d b e e n interested! I replied, " D o n ' t you s u p p o s e , sir, that a slave c a n have s o m e p r e f e r e n c e a b o u t marrying? D o you s u p p o s e that all m e n are alike to h e r ? " " D o you love this n i g g e r ? " said h e , abruptly. "Yes, sir." " H o w d a r e you tell m e s o ! " he e x c l a i m e d , in great wrath. After a slight p a u s e , he a d d e d , "I s u p p o s e d you thought m o r e of yourself; that you felt a b o v e the insults of s u c h p u p p i e s . " I replied, "If he is a p u p p y I a m a p u p p y , for we are both of the negro r a c e . It is right a n d h o n o r a b l e for u s to love e a c h other. T h e m a n you call a p u p p y never insulted m e , sir; a n d h e would not love m e if he did not believe m e to b e a virtuous w o m a n . " H e s p r a n g u p o n m e like a tiger, a n d gave m e a s t u n n i n g blow. It w a s the first time h e h a d ever struck m e ; a n d fear did not e n a b l e m e to control my anger. W h e n I h a d recovered a little from the effects, I e x c l a i m e d , "You have s t r u c k m e for a n s w e r i n g you honestly. H o w I d e s p i s e y o u ! " T h e r e w a s silence for s o m e m i n u t e s . P e r h a p s he w a s d e c i d i n g what s h o u l d

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be my p u n i s h m e n t ; or, p e r h a p s , he w a n t e d to give m e t i m e to reflect o n w h a t I h a d said, a n d to w h o m I h a d s a i d it. Finally, he a s k e d , " D o you know w h a t you have s a i d ? " "Yes, sir; b u t your t r e a t m e n t drove m e to it." " D o you know that I have a right to d o a s I like with y o u , — t h a t I c a n kill you, if I p l e a s e ? " "You have tried to kill m e , a n d I wish you h a d ; b u t you have n o right to do a s you like with m e . " " S i l e n c e ! " he e x c l a i m e d , in a t h u n d e r i n g voice. " B y h e a v e n s , girl, you forget yourself too far! Are you m a d ? If you a r e , I will s o o n b r i n g you to your s e n s e s . D o you think any other m a s t e r would b e a r w h a t I have b o r n e from you this m o r n i n g ? M a n y m a s t e r s would have killed you o n the s p o t . H o w would you like to b e sent to jail for your i n s o l e n c e ? " "I know I have b e e n disrespectful, sir," I replied; " b u t you drove m e to it; I couldn't help it. A s for the jail, there w o u l d b e m o r e p e a c e for m e there than there is h e r e . " "You deserve to g o t h e r e , " he said, " a n d to b e u n d e r s u c h t r e a t m e n t , that you w o u l d forget the m e a n i n g of the word peace. It would d o you g o o d . It would take s o m e of your high n o t i o n s o u t of y o u . B u t I a m not ready to s e n d you t h e r e yet, n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g your ingratitude for all my k i n d n e s s a n d forb e a r a n c e . You have b e e n the p l a g u e of my life. I have w a n t e d to m a k e you happy, a n d I have b e e n r e p a i d with the b a s e s t i n g r a t i t u d e ; b u t t h o u g h you have proved yourself i n c a p a b l e of a p p r e c i a t i n g my k i n d n e s s , I will be lenient towards you, L i n d a . I will give you o n e m o r e c h a n c e to r e d e e m your character. If you b e h a v e yourself a n d d o a s I r e q u i r e , I will forgive you a n d treat you a s I always have d o n e ; b u t if you d i s o b e y m e , I will p u n i s h you a s I w o u l d the m e a n e s t slave on my p l a n t a t i o n . N e v e r let m e h e a r that fellow's n a m e m e n t i o n e d a g a i n . If I ever k n o w of your s p e a k i n g to h i m , I will c o w h i d e you b o t h ; a n d if I c a t c h him lurking a b o u t my p r e m i s e s , I will s h o o t him a s s o o n a s I w o u l d a dog. D o you h e a r w h a t I say? I'll t e a c h you a l e s s o n a b o u t m a r r i a g e a n d free niggers! N o w g o , a n d let this b e the last time I have o c c a sion to s p e a k to you o n this s u b j e c t . " R e a d e r , did you ever h a t e ? I h o p e not. I never did b u t o n c e ; a n d I trust I never shall a g a i n . S o m e b o d y h a s called it "the a t m o s p h e r e of h e l l ; " a n d I believe it is s o . F o r a fortnight the d o c t o r did not s p e a k to m e . H e t h o u g h t to mortify m e ; to m a k e m e feel that I h a d d i s g r a c e d myself by receiving the h o n o r a b l e a d d r e s s e s of a r e s p e c t a b l e c o l o r e d m a n , in p r e f e r e n c e to the b a s e p r o p o s a l s of a white m a n . B u t t h o u g h his lips d i s d a i n e d to a d d r e s s m e , his eyes were very l o q u a c i o u s . N o a n i m a l ever w a t c h e d its prey m o r e narrowly t h a n h e w a t c h e d m e . H e k n e w that I c o u l d write, t h o u g h h e h a d failed to m a k e m e read his letters; a n d h e w a s n o w troubled lest I s h o u l d e x c h a n g e letters with a n o t h e r m a n . After a while h e b e c a m e weary of s i l e n c e ; a n d I w a s sorry for it. O n e m o r n i n g , a s h e p a s s e d t h r o u g h the hall, to leave the h o u s e , h e c o n trived to thrust a note into my h a n d . I t h o u g h t I h a d better r e a d it, a n d s p a r e myself the vexation of having him read it to m e . It e x p r e s s e d regret for the blow h e h a d given m e , a n d r e m i n d e d m e that I myself w a s wholly to b l a m e for it. H e h o p e d I h a d b e c o m e c o n v i n c e d of the injury I w a s d o i n g myself by incurring his d i s p l e a s u r e . H e wrote that h e h a d m a d e u p his m i n d to go to L o u i s i a n a ; that h e s h o u l d take several slaves with h i m , a n d i n t e n d e d I s h o u l d

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b e o n e of the n u m b e r . M y m i s t r e s s would r e m a i n w h e r e s h e w a s ; therefore I s h o u l d have n o t h i n g to fear from that quarter. If I m e r i t e d k i n d n e s s from him, h e a s s u r e d m e that it w o u l d b e lavishly b e s t o w e d . H e b e g g e d m e to think over the matter, a n d a n s w e r the following day. T h e next m o r n i n g I w a s called to carry a pair of s c i s s o r s to his r o o m . I laid t h e m o n the t a b l e , with the letter b e s i d e t h e m . H e t h o u g h t it w a s my a n s w e r , a n d did not call m e b a c k . I went a s u s u a l to a t t e n d my y o u n g m i s t r e s s to a n d from s c h o o l . H e m e t m e in the street, a n d ordered m e to s t o p at his office on my way back. W h e n I e n t e r e d , he s h o w e d m e his letter, a n d a s k e d m e why I h a d not a n s w e r e d it. I replied, "I a m your d a u g h t e r ' s property, a n d it is in your power to s e n d m e , or take m e , wherever you p l e a s e . " H e said he was very g l a d to find m e so willing to g o , a n d that we s h o u l d start early in the a u t u m n . H e h a d a large p r a c t i c e in the town, a n d I rather t h o u g h t h e h a d m a d e u p the story merely to frighten m e . H o w e v e r that might b e , I w a s d e t e r m i n e d that I would never g o to L o u i s i a n a with h i m . S u m m e r p a s s e d away, a n d early in the a u t u m n , Dr. Flint's eldest son w a s sent to L o u i s i a n a to e x a m i n e the country, with a view to e m i g r a t i n g . T h a t news did not disturb m e . I k n e w very well that I s h o u l d not b e sent with him. T h a t I h a d not b e e n t a k e n to the p l a n t a t i o n before this t i m e , w a s owing to the fact that his s o n w a s there. H e w a s j e a l o u s of his s o n ; a n d j e a l o u s y of the overseer h a d kept him from p u n i s h i n g m e by s e n d i n g m e into the fields to work. Is it s t r a n g e that I w a s not p r o u d of t h e s e p r o t e c t o r s ? As for the overseer, h e w a s a m a n for w h o m I h a d less r e s p e c t than I h a d for a bloodhound. Y o u n g Mr. Flint did not b r i n g b a c k a favorable report of L o u i s i a n a , a n d I h e a r d no m o r e of that s c h e m e . S o o n after this, my lover m e t m e at the c o r n e r of the street, a n d I s t o p p e d to s p e a k to h i m . L o o k i n g u p , I s a w my m a s t e r w a t c h i n g u s from his window. I hurried h o m e , t r e m b l i n g with fear. I w a s sent for, immediately, to go to his r o o m . H e m e t m e with a blow. " W h e n is m i s t r e s s to be m a r r i e d ? " said h e , in a s n e e r i n g t o n e . A shower of o a t h s a n d i m p r e c a t i o n s followed. H o w thankful I w a s that my lover w a s a free m a n ! that my tyrant h a d n o power to flog him for s p e a k i n g to m e in the street! A g a i n a n d again I revolved in my m i n d how all this would e n d . T h e r e w a s no h o p e that the d o c t o r w o u l d c o n s e n t to sell m e on any t e r m s . H e h a d a n iron will, a n d w a s d e t e r m i n e d to k e e p m e , a n d to c o n q u e r m e . M y lover w a s a n intelligent a n d religious m a n . Even if he c o u l d have o b t a i n e d p e r m i s s i o n to marry m e while I w a s a slave, the m a r r i a g e would give him no p o w e r to protect m e from my m a s t e r . It would have m a d e him m i s e r a b l e to witness the insults I s h o u l d have b e e n s u b j e c t e d to. A n d t h e n , if we h a d c h i l d r e n , I knew they m u s t "follow the condition of the m o t h e r . " W h a t a terrible blight that would b e o n the heart of a free, intelligent father! F o r his s a k e , I felt that I o u g h t not to link his fate with my own u n h a p p y destiny. H e w a s g o i n g to S a v a n n a h to s e e a b o u t a little property left him by a n u n c l e ; a n d had a s it w a s to b r i n g my feelings to it, I earnestly e n t r e a t e d him not to c o m e b a c k . I advised him to g o to the F r e e S t a t e s , w h e r e his t o n g u e w o u l d not be tied, a n d w h e r e his intelligence would b e of m o r e avail to h i m . H e left m e , still h o p i n g the day would c o m e w h e n I c o u l d be b o u g h t . With m e the l a m p of h o p e h a d g o n e out. T h e d r e a m of my girlhood w a s over. I felt lonely a n d desolate. Still I w a s not stripped of all. I still h a d my good g r a n d m o t h e r , a n d my

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affectionate brother. W h e n he p u t his a r m s r o u n d my n e c k , a n d looked into my eyes, a s if to read there the troubles I d a r e d not tell, I felt that I still h a d s o m e t h i n g to love. B u t even that p l e a s a n t e m o t i o n w a s chilled by the reflection that he might be torn from m e at any m o m e n t , by s o m e s u d d e n freak of my m a s t e r . If I had known how we love e a c h other, I think he would have exulted in s e p a r a t i n g u s . W e often p l a n n e d together how we c o u l d get to the north. B u t , a s William r e m a r k e d , s u c h things are e a s i e r said t h a n d o n e . M y m o v e m e n t s were very closely w a t c h e d , a n d we h a d n o m e a n s of getting a n y m o n e y to defray our e x p e n s e s . As for g r a n d m o t h e r , s h e w a s strongly o p p o s e d to her children's u n d e r t a k i n g any s u c h project. S h e h a d not forgotten p o o r B e n j a m i n ' s sufferings" a n d s h e w a s afraid that if a n o t h e r child tried to e s c a p e , he would have a similar or a worse fate. T o m e , n o t h i n g s e e m e d m o r e dreadful than my p r e s e n t life. I s a i d to myself, "William must be free. H e shall go to the north, a n d I will follow h i m . " M a n y a slave sister h a s formed the s a m e p l a n s . *

X. A Perilous

Passage

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in the Slave

Girl's

Life

After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new p l a n . H e s e e m e d to have an idea that my fear of my m i s t r e s s w a s his g r e a t e s t o b s t a c l e . In the b l a n d e s t t o n e s , h e told m e that he w a s g o i n g to build a small h o u s e for m e , in a s e c l u d e d p l a c e , four miles away from the town. I s h u d d e r e d ; but I w a s c o n s t r a i n e d to listen, while h e talked of his intention to give m e a h o m e of my o w n , a n d to m a k e a lady of m e . H i t h e r t o , I h a d e s c a p e d my d r e a d e d fate, by b e i n g in the midst of p e o p l e . M y g r a n d m o t h e r h a d already h a d high words with my m a s t e r a b o u t m e . S h e h a d told him pretty plainly what s h e thought of his c h a r a c t e r , a n d there w a s c o n s i d e r a b l e g o s s i p in the n e i g h b o r h o o d a b o u t our affairs, to which the o p e n - m o u t h e d j e a l o u s y of M r s . Flint contribu t e d not a little. W h e n my m a s t e r s a i d he w a s g o i n g to build a h o u s e for m e , a n d that he c o u l d d o it with little trouble a n d e x p e n s e , I w a s in h o p e s s o m e thing would h a p p e n to frustrate his s c h e m e ; b u t I s o o n h e a r d that the h o u s e w a s actually b e g u n . I vowed before my M a k e r that I would never enter it. I h a d rather toil on the p l a n t a t i o n from d a w n till dark; I had rather live a n d die in jail, than d r a g o n , from day to day, t h r o u g h s u c h a living d e a t h . I w a s d e t e r m i n e d that the m a s t e r , w h o m I so h a t e d a n d l o a t h e d , w h o h a d blighted the p r o s p e c t s of my y o u t h , a n d m a d e my life a d e s e r t , s h o u l d not, after my long struggle with him, s u c c e e d at last in t r a m p l i n g his victim u n d e r his feet. I would d o any thing, every thing, or the s a k e of d e f e a t i n g h i m . W h a t could I d o ? I thought a n d t h o u g h t , till I b e c a m e d e s p e r a t e , a n d m a d e a p l u n g e into the a b y s s . A n d now, reader, I c o m e to a period in my u n h a p p y life, w h i c h I would gladly forget if I c o u l d . T h e r e m e m b r a n c e fills m e with sorrow a n d s h a m e . It p a i n s m e to tell you of it; but I have p r o m i s e d to tell you the truth, a n d I will do it honestly, let it c o s t m e what it may. I will not try to s c r e e n myself b e h i n d the p l e a of c o m p u l s i o n from a m a s t e r ; for it w a s not s o . N e i t h e r c a n I p l e a d i g n o r a n c e or t h o u g h t l e s s n e s s . F o r years, my m a s t e r h a d d o n e his 8 . O n e o f B r e n t ' s u n c l e s , c a u g h t a t t e m p t i n g t o e s c a p e , w a s j a i l e d a n d m i s t r e a t e d f o r six m o n t h s , t h e n s o l d a w a y to a trader. H e e v e n t u a l l y got to N e w York City b u t never s a w his m o t h e r a g a i n .

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u t m o s t to pollute my m i n d with foul i m a g e s , a n d to destroy the p u r e principles i n c u l c a t e d by my g r a n d m o t h e r , a n d the g o o d m i s t r e s s of my c h i l d h o o d . T h e influences of slavery h a d had the s a m e effect on m e that they h a d on other y o u n g girls; they h a d m a d e m e p r e m a t u r e l y knowing, c o n c e r n i n g the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, a n d I did it with deliberate calculation. B u t , O , ye h a p p y w o m e n , w h o s e purity h a s b e e n sheltered from c h i l d h o o d , w h o have b e e n free to c h o o s e t h e o b j e c t s of your affection, w h o s e h o m e s are p r o t e c t e d by law, d o not j u d g e the p o o r d e s o l a t e slave girl too severely! If slavery h a d b e e n a b o l i s h e d , I, a l s o , c o u l d have m a r r i e d the m a n of my c h o i c e ; I c o u l d have h a d a h o m e shielded by the laws; a n d I s h o u l d have b e e n s p a r e d the painful task of c o n f e s s i n g what I a m n o w a b o u t to r e l a t e ; b u t all my p r o s p e c t s h a d b e e n blighted by slavery. I w a n t e d to keep myself p u r e ; a n d , u n d e r the m o s t a d v e r s e c i r c u m s t a n c e s , I tried hard to p r e s e r v e m y selfr e s p e c t ; b u t I w a s struggling a l o n e in t h e powerful g r a s p of the d e m o n Slavery; a n d the m o n s t e r proved too strong for m e . I felt a s if I w a s f o r s a k e n by G o d a n d m a n ; a s if all my efforts m u s t b e frustrated; a n d I b e c a m e r e c k l e s s in my despair. I have told you that D r . Flint's p e r s e c u t i o n s a n d his wife's j e a l o u s y h a d given rise to s o m e g o s s i p in the n e i g h b o r h o o d . A m o n g o t h e r s , it c h a n c e d that a white u n m a r r i e d g e n t l e m a n h a d o b t a i n e d s o m e k n o w l e d g e of t h e c i r c u m s t a n c e s in which I w a s p l a c e d . H e knew my g r a n d m o t h e r , a n d often s p o k e to m e in t h e street. H e b e c a m e interested for m e , a n d a s k e d q u e s t i o n s a b o u t m y m a s t e r , which I a n s w e r e d in part. H e e x p r e s s e d a great deal of sympathy, a n d a wish to aid m e . H e constantly s o u g h t o p p o r t u n i t i e s to s e e m e , a n d wrote to m e frequently. I w a s a p o o r slave girl, only fifteen years old. S o m u c h attention from a superior p e r s o n w a s , of c o u r s e , flattering; for h u m a n n a t u r e is the s a m e in all. I a l s o felt grateful for his s y m p a t h y , a n d e n c o u r a g e d by his kind words. It s e e m e d to m e a great thing to have s u c h a friend. By d e g r e e s , a m o r e t e n d e r feeling c r e p t into my heart. H e w a s a n e d u c a t e d a n d e l o q u e n t g e n t l e m a n ; too e l o q u e n t , a l a s , for t h e p o o r slave girl who trusted in h i m . O f c o u r s e I s a w whither all this w a s tending. I knew t h e i m p a s s a b l e gulf b e t w e e n u s ; b u t to b e a n object of interest to a m a n w h o is not married, a n d w h o is not her m a s t e r , is a g r e e a b l e to the pride a n d feelings of a slave, if h e r m i s e r a b l e situation h a s left her any pride or s e n t i m e n t . It s e e m s less d e g r a d i n g to give one's self, than to s u b m i t to c o m p u l s i o n . T h e r e is s o m e t h i n g akin to f r e e d o m in having a lover w h o h a s n o control over y o u , except that which h e g a i n s by k i n d n e s s a n d a t t a c h m e n t . A m a s t e r m a y treat you a s rudely a s h e p l e a s e s , a n d you dare not s p e a k ; moreover, t h e w r o n g d o e s not s e e m s o great with a n u n m a r r i e d m a n , a s with o n e w h o h a s a wife to b e m a d e u n h a p p y . T h e r e m a y b e sophistry in all this; b u t the c o n d i t i o n of a slave c o n f u s e s all principles of morality, a n d , in fact, renders the p r a c t i c e of t h e m i m p o s s i b l e . W h e n I found that my m a s t e r h a d actually b e g u n to build t h e lonely cottage, other feelings mixed with t h o s e I have d e s c r i b e d . R e v e n g e , a n d c a l c u lations of interest, were a d d e d to flattered vanity a n d s i n c e r e g r a t i t u d e for k i n d n e s s . I knew n o t h i n g would e n r a g e Dr. Flint s o m u c h a s to k n o w that I favored a n o t h e r ; a n d it w a s s o m e t h i n g to t r i u m p h over my tyrant even in that small way. I thought he would revenge h i m s e l f by selling m e , a n d I w a s

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s u r e my friend, Mr. S a n d s , would b u y m e . 9 H e w a s a m a n of m o r e generosity a n d feeling than my m a s t e r , a n d I t h o u g h t my f r e e d o m c o u l d b e easily o b t a i n e d from h i m . T h e crisis of my fate now c a m e s o near that I w a s desp e r a t e . I s h u d d e r e d to think of being the m o t h e r of children that s h o u l d b e o w n e d by my old tyrant. I knew that as s o o n as a new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get rid of t h e m ; especially if they had children. I had s e e n several w o m e n sold, with his b a b i e s at the b r e a s t . H e never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain long in sight of h i m s e l f a n d his wife. O f a m a n w h o was not my m a s t e r 1 c o u l d ask to have my children well s u p p o r t e d ; a n d in this c a s e , I felt confident I s h o u l d obtain the b o o n . I a l s o felt q u i t e s u r e that they would be m a d e free. With all t h e s e t h o u g h t s revolving in my m i n d , a n d s e e i n g no other way of e s c a p i n g the d o o m I s o m u c h d r e a d e d , I m a d e a h e a d l o n g p l u n g e . Pity m e , a n d p a r d o n m e , O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to b e entirely u n p r o t e c t e d by law or c u s t o m ; to have the laws r e d u c e you to the c o n d i t i o n of a c h a t t e l , entirely s u b j e c t to the will of a n o t h e r . You never e x h a u s t e d your ingenuity in avoiding the s n a r e s , a n d e l u d i n g the power of a h a t e d tyrant; you never s h u d d e r e d at the s o u n d of his f o o t s t e p s , a n d t r e m b l e d within h e a r i n g of his v o i c e . I know I did wrong. N o o n e c a n feel it m o r e sensibly than I do. T h e painful a n d humiliating m e m o r y will h a u n t m e to my dying day. Still, in looking b a c k , calmly, on the events of my life, I feel that the slave w o m a n o u g h t not to be j u d g e d by the s a m e s t a n d a r d a s o t h e r s . T h e m o n t h s p a s s e d on. I h a d many u n h a p p y h o u r s . I secretly m o u r n e d over the sorrow I w a s bringing on my g r a n d m o t h e r , w h o h a d s o tried to shield m e from h a r m . I knew that I w a s the greatest c o m f o r t of her old a g e , a n d that it was a s o u r c e of pride to her that I had not d e g r a d e d myself, like m o s t of the slaves. I w a n t e d to c o n f e s s to her that I w a s no longer worthy of her love; but I c o u l d not utter the d r e a d e d w o r d s . As for Dr. Flint, I h a d a feeling of satisfaction a n d t r i u m p h in the t h o u g h t of telling him. F r o m t i m e to time he told m e of his i n t e n d e d a r r a n g e m e n t s , a n d I w a s silent. At last, h e c a m e a n d told m e the c o t t a g e w a s c o m p l e t e d , a n d ordered m e to go to it. I told him 1 would never enter it. H e said, "I have heard e n o u g h of s u c h talk as that. You shall g o , if you a r e carried by f o r c e ; a n d you shall remain t h e r e . " I replied, "I will never go there. In a few m o n t h s I shall be a m o t h e r . " H e stood a n d looked at m e in d u m b a m a z e m e n t , a n d left the h o u s e w ithout a word. I thought I s h o u l d be happy in my t r i u m p h over h i m . B u t now that the truth w a s out, a n d my relatives would hear of it, I felt w r e t c h e d . H u m b l e a s were their c i r c u m s t a n c e s , they had pride in my g o o d c h a r a c t e r . N o w , how c o u l d I look t h e m in the f a c e ? My self-respect w a s g o n e ! I h a d resolved that I would be virtuous, t h o u g h I w a s a slave. I h a d s a i d , " L e t the storm beat! I will brave it till I d i e . " And now, how h u m i l i a t e d I felt! I went to my g r a n d m o t h e r . M y lips m o v e d to m a k e c o n f e s s i o n , but the words s t u c k in my throat. I sat down in the s h a d e of a tree at her d o o r and b e g a n to sew. I think s h e saw s o m e t h i n g u n u s u a l w a s the m a t t e r with m e . T h e m o t h e r of slaves is very watchful. S h e knows t h e r e is n o security for her children. After they have entered their t e e n s s h e lives in daily e x p e c t a t i o n of 9. Brent's calculations here are wrong, however. W h e n Mint he b e c o m e s m o r e possessive than before.

finds

out a b o u t her relationship with S a n d s ,

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trouble. T h i s leads to m a n y q u e s t i o n s . If the girl is of a sensitive n a t u r e , timidity k e e p s her from a n s w e r i n g truthfully, a n d this well-meant c o u r s e has a t e n d e n c y to drive her from m a t e r n a l c o u n s e l s . Presently, in c a m e my mistress, like a m a d w o m a n , a n d a c c u s e d m e c o n c e r n i n g her h u s b a n d . M y g r a n d m o t h e r , w h o s e s u s p i c i o n s had been previously a w a k e n e d , believed what s h e s a i d . S h e e x c l a i m e d , " O L i n d a ! has it c o m e to this? I h a d rather s e e you d e a d t h a n to s e e you a s you now a r e . You are a d i s g r a c e to your d e a d m o t h e r . " S h e tore from my fingers my m o t h e r ' s w e d d i n g ring a n d her silver t h i m b l e . " G o away!" s h e e x c l a i m e d , " a n d never c o m e to my h o u s e , a g a i n . " 1 H e r r e p r o a c h e s fell so hot a n d heavy, that they left m e n o c h a n c e to a n s w e r . Bitter tears, s u c h a s the eyes never s h e d but o n c e , were my only a n s w e r . I rose from my s e a t , but fell b a c k a g a i n , s o b b i n g . S h e did not s p e a k to m e ; but the tears were r u n n i n g down her furrowed c h e e k s , a n d they s c o r c h e d m e like fire. S h e had always b e e n so kind to m e ! S o kind! H o w I longed to throw myself at her feet, a n d tell her all the truth! B u t she h a d ordered m e to g o , a n d never to c o m e there a g a i n . After a few m i n u t e s , I m u s t e r e d s t r e n g t h , a n d started to obey her. With what feelings did I now c l o s e that little g a t e , which I u s e d to open with s u c h an e a g e r h a n d in my c h i l d h o o d ! It c l o s e d upon m e with a s o u n d I never h e a r d before. W h e r e c o u l d I g o ? I w a s afraid to return to my m a s t e r ' s . I walked on recklessly, not c a r i n g w h e r e I went, or what would b e c o m e of m e . W h e n I had g o n e four or five miles, fatigue c o m p e l l e d m e to s t o p . I sat d o w n on the s t u m p of an old tree. T h e stars were shining t h r o u g h the b o u g h s a b o v e m e . H o w they m o c k e d m e , with their bright, c a l m light! T h e h o u r s p a s s e d by, a n d a s I sat there a l o n e a chilliness a n d deadly s i c k n e s s c a m e over m e . I s a n k on the g r o u n d . My mind was full of horrid t h o u g h t s . I prayed to d i e ; but the prayer w a s not a n s w e r e d . At last, with great effort I r o u s e d myself, a n d walked s o m e d i s t a n c e further, to the h o u s e of a w o m a n w h o h a d b e e n a friend of my mother. W h e n I told her why I was there, s h e s p o k e soothingly to m e ; but I c o u l d not be c o m f o r t e d . I thought I c o u l d b e a r my s h a m e if I could only b e r e c o n c i l e d to my g r a n d m o t h e r . I longed to o p e n my heart to her. I t h o u g h t if s h e c o u l d know the real state of the c a s e , a n d all I h a d b e e n b e a r i n g for years, s h e would p e r h a p s j u d g e m e less harshly. M y friend advised m e to s e n d for her. I did s o ; but days of agonizing s u s p e n s e p a s s e d before she c a m e . H a d s h e utterly forsaken m e ? N o . S h e c a m e at last. I knelt before her, a n d told her the things that h a d p o i s o n e d my life; how long I h a d b e e n p e r s e c u t e d ; that I saw no way of e s c a p e ; a n d in an hour of extremity I h a d b e c o m e d e s p e r a t e . S h e listened in s i l e n c e . I told her I would b e a r any thing and do any thing, if in time I h a d h o p e s of o b t a i n i n g her forgiveness. I b e g g e d of her to pity m e , for my d e a d mother's s a k e . A n d s h e did pity m e . S h e did not say, "I forgive y o u ; " but s h e looked at m e lovingly, with her eyes full of t e a r s . S h e laid her old h a n d gently on mv h e a d , a n d m u r m u r e d , " P o o r child! Poor child!" *

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I. S i n c e t h e g r a n d m o t h e r ' s o w n c h i l d r e n s e e m to h a v e b e e n b o r n o u t o f w e d l o c k , h e r j u d g m e n t a l i s m h e r e (if a c c u r a t e t o h e r r e a l - l i f e b e h a v i o r ) m u s t s i g n i f y a h o p e t h a t h e r d e s c e n d a n t s w o u l d e s c a p e h e r o w n f a t e .

XIV. Another

Link

to Life

I h a d not r e t u r n e d to my m a s t e r ' s h o u s e s i n c e the birth of my child. T h e old m a n raved to have m e t h u s r e m o v e d from his i m m e d i a t e power; b u t his wife vowed, by all that w a s g o o d a n d great, she w o u l d kill m e if I c a m e b a c k ; a n d he did not d o u b t her word. S o m e t i m e s h e would stay away for a s e a s o n . T h e n h e would c o m e a n d renew the old t h r e a d b a r e d i s c o u r s e a b o u t his forb e a r a n c e a n d my i n g r a t i t u d e . H e l a b o r e d , m o s t u n n e c e s s a r i l y , to c o n v i n c e m e that I h a d lowered myself. T h e v e n o m o u s old r e p r o b a t e h a d no n e e d of d e s c a n t i n g o n that t h e m e . I felt h u m i l i a t e d e n o u g h . M y u n c o n s c i o u s b a b e w a s the ever-present w i t n e s s of my s h a m e . I listened with silent c o n t e m p t w h e n h e talked a b o u t my having forfeited his g o o d o p i n i o n ; but I s h e d bitter tears that I w a s n o longer worthy of b e i n g r e s p e c t e d by the g o o d a n d p u r e . A l a s ! slavery still held m e in its p o i s o n o u s g r a s p . T h e r e w a s n o c h a n c e for m e to be r e s p e c t a b l e . T h e r e w a s no p r o s p e c t of b e i n g able to lead a better life. S o m e t i m e s , w h e n my m a s t e r f o u n d that I still r e f u s e d to a c c e p t what he called his kind offers, he would threaten to sell my child. " P e r h a p s that will h u m b l e y o u , " said h e . H u m b l e me! W a s I not already in the d u s t ? 2 B u t his threat l a c e r a t e d my heart. I k n e w the law gave him p o w e r to fulfill it; for slaveholders have b e e n c u n n i n g e n o u g h to e n a c t that "the child shall follow the c o n d i t i o n of the mother," not of the father; t h u s taking c a r e that l i c e n t i o u s n e s s shall not interfere with avarice. T h i s reflection m a d e m e c l a s p my i n n o c e n t b a b e all the m o r e firmly to my heart. Horrid visions p a s s e d t h r o u g h my m i n d when I t h o u g h t of his liability to fall into the slave trader's h a n d s . I w e p t over him, a n d said, " O my child! p e r h a p s they will leave you in s o m e c o l d c a b i n to die, a n d then throw you into a hole, a s if you were a d o g . " W h e n Dr. Flint l e a r n e d that I w a s a g a i n to b e a m o t h e r , h e w a s e x a s p e r a t e d beyond m e a s u r e . H e r u s h e d from the h o u s e , a n d r e t u r n e d with a pair of s h e a r s . I h a d a fine h e a d of hair; a n d h e often railed a b o u t my pride of a r r a n g i n g it nicely. H e cut every hair c l o s e to my h e a d , s t o r m i n g a n d s w e a r i n g all the t i m e . I replied to s o m e of his a b u s e , a n d h e s t r u c k m e . S o m e m o n t h s before, h e h a d p i t c h e d m e d o w n stairs in a fit of p a s s i o n ; a n d the injury I received w a s s o s e r i o u s that I w a s u n a b l e to turn myself in b e d for m a n y days. H e then s a i d , " L i n d a , I swear by G o d I will never raise my h a n d a g a i n s t you a g a i n ; " b u t I knew that he would forget his p r o m i s e . After h e d i s c o v e r e d my s i t u a t i o n , he w a s like a restless spirit from the pit. H e c a m e every day; a n d I w a s s u b j e c t e d to s u c h insults a s n o p e n c a n d e s c r i b e . I would not d e s c r i b e t h e m if I c o u l d ; they w e r e too low, too revolting. I tried to k e e p t h e m from my g r a n d m o t h e r ' s k n o w l e d g e a s m u c h a s I c o u l d . I knew s h e h a d e n o u g h to s a d d e n her life, without h a v i n g my t r o u b l e s to bear. W h e n s h e saw the d o c t o r treat m e with v i o l e n c e , a n d h e a r d him utter o a t h s terrible e n o u g h to palsy a m a n ' s t o n g u e , s h e c o u l d not always hold her p e a c e . It w a s natural a n d m o t h e r l i k e that s h e s h o u l d try to defend m e ; b u t it only m a d e m a t t e r s w o r s e . W h e n they told m e my new-born b a b e w a s a girl, my h e a r t w a s heavier

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than it h a d ever b e e n b e f o r e . Slavery is terrible for m e n ; but it is far m o r e terrible for w o m e n . S u p e r a d d e d to the b u r d e n c o m m o n to all, they have w r o n g s , a n d sufferings, a n d mortifications peculiarly their own. Dr. Flint h a d sworn that h e would m a k e m e suffer, to my last day, for this n e w c r i m e a g a i n s t him, a s he called it; a n d a s long a s he h a d m e in his power he kept his word. O n the fourth day after the birth of my b a b e , he entered my r o o m s u d d e n l y , a n d c o m m a n d e d m e to rise a n d bring my b a b y to h i m . T h e n u r s e w h o took c a r e of m e h a d g o n e out of the r o o m to p r e p a r e s o m e n o u r i s h m e n t , a n d I w a s a l o n e . T h e r e w a s no alternative. I r o s e , took u p my b a b e , a n d c r o s s e d the r o o m to w h e r e he sat. " N o w s t a n d t h e r e , " said h e , "till I tell you to g o b a c k ! " M y child bore a strong r e s e m b l a n c e to her father, a n d to the d e c e a s e d M r s . S a n d s , her g r a n d m o t h e r . H e noticed this; a n d while I stood before him, trembling with w e a k n e s s , he h e a p e d u p o n m e a n d my little o n e every vile epithet he c o u l d think of. E v e n the g r a n d m o t h e r in her grave did not e s c a p e his c u r s e s . In the midst of his vituperations I f a i n t e d at his feet. T h i s recalled him to his s e n s e s . H e took the b a b y from my a r m s , laid it on the b e d , d a s h e d c o l d water in my f a c e , took m e u p , a n d s h o o k m e violently, to restore my c o n s c i o u s n e s s before any o n e e n t e r e d the r o o m . J u s t then my g r a n d m o t h e r c a m e in, a n d h e hurried out of the h o u s e . I suffered in c o n s e q u e n c e of this t r e a t m e n t ; but I b e g g e d my friends to let m e die, rather than s e n d for the doctor. T h e r e w a s n o t h i n g I d r e a d e d s o m u c h a s his p r e s e n c e . M y life w a s s p a r e d ; a n d I was glad for the s a k e of my little o n e s . H a d it not b e e n for t h e s e ties to life, I s h o u l d have b e e n glad to b e r e l e a s e d by d e a t h , t h o u g h I h a d lived only nineteen y e a r s . Always it g a v e m e a p a n g that my children h a d n o lawful c l a i m to a n a m e . T h e i r father offered his; b u t , if I h a d wished to a c c e p t the offer, I d a r e d not while my m a s t e r lived. Moreover, I knew it would not be a c c e p t e d at their b a p t i s m . A C h r i s t i a n n a m e they were at least entitled to; a n d we resolved to call my boy for our dear g o o d B e n j a m i n , w h o h a d g o n e far away from u s . M y g r a n d m o t h e r b e l o n g e d to the c h u r c h , a n d s h e w a s very d e s i r o u s of having the children c h r i s t e n e d . I knew Dr. Flint w o u l d forbid it, a n d I did not v e n t u r e to a t t e m p t it. B u t c h a n c e favored m e . H e w a s called to visit a patient out of town, a n d w a s obliged to be a b s e n t d u r i n g S u n d a y . " N o w is the t i m e , " s a i d my g r a n d m o t h e r ; "we will take the children to c h u r c h , a n d have t h e m c h r i s t e n e d . " W h e n I entered the c h u r c h , recollections of my m o t h e r c a m e over m e , a n d I felt s u b d u e d in spirit. T h e r e s h e had p r e s e n t e d m e for b a p t i s m , without any r e a s o n to feel a s h a m e d . S h e h a d b e e n m a r r i e d , a n d h a d s u c h legal rights as slavery allows a slave. T h e vows h a d at least b e e n s a c r e d to her, a n d s h e h a d never violated t h e m . I w a s glad s h e w a s not alive, to k n o w u n d e r what different c i r c u m s t a n c e s her g r a n d c h i l d r e n were p r e s e n t e d for b a p t i s m . W h y h a d my lot b e e n s o different from my m o t h e r ' s ? Her m a s t e r h a d died w h e n s h e w a s a child; a n d s h e r e m a i n e d with her m i s t r e s s till s h e m a r r i e d . S h e was never in the p o w e r of any m a s t e r ; a n d t h u s s h e e s c a p e d o n e c l a s s of the evils that generally fall u p o n slaves. W h e n my baby w a s a b o u t to be c h r i s t e n e d , the former m i s t r e s s of my father s t e p p e d u p to m e , a n d p r o p o s e d to give it her C h r i s t i a n n a m e . T o this I a d d e d the s u r n a m e of my father, who h a d h i m s e l f n o legal right to it; for my g r a n d f a t h e r on the paternal side w a s a white g e n t l e m a n . W h a t tangled

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skeins are the g e n e a l o g i e s of slavery!' I loved my father; but it mortified m e to b e obliged to b e s t o w his n a m e on my children. W h e n we left the c h u r c h , my father's old m i s t r e s s invited m e to go h o m e with her. S h e c l a s p e d a gold chain a r o u n d my baby's n e c k . I t h a n k e d her for this k i n d n e s s ; but I did not like the e m b l e m . I w a n t e d no c h a i n to be f a s t e n e d on my d a u g h t e r , not even if its links were of gold. H o w earnestly I prayed that s h e might never feel the weight of slavery's c h a i n , w h o s e iron e n t e r e t h into the s o u l . •

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XXI. The Loophole

*

of

Retreat4

A small s h e d h a d b e e n a d d e d to my g r a n d m o t h e r ' s h o u s e years a g o . S o m e b o a r d s were laid a c r o s s the j o i s t s at the t o p , a n d b e t w e e n t h e s e b o a r d s a n d the roof w a s a very small garret, never o c c u p i e d by any thing b u t rats a n d m i c e . It w a s a p e n t roof, covered with n o t h i n g but s h i n g l e s , a c c o r d i n g to the s o u t h e r n c u s t o m for s u c h buildings. T h e garret w a s only n i n e feet long a n d seven wide. T h e highest part w a s three feet high, a n d s l o p e d d o w n abruptly to the loose b o a r d floor. T h e r e w a s n o a d m i s s i o n for either light or air. M y u n c l e Phillip, who w a s a c a r p e n t e r , h a d very skilfully m a d e a c o n c e a l e d trapdoor, which c o m m u n i c a t e d with the s t o r e r o o m . H e h a d b e e n d o i n g this while I w a s waiting in the s w a m p . T h e s t o r e r o o m o p e n e d u p o n a piazza. T o this hole I w a s conveyed a s s o o n a s I e n t e r e d the h o u s e . T h e air w a s stifling; the d a r k n e s s total. A b e d h a d b e e n s p r e a d on the floor. I c o u l d s l e e p quite c o m fortably on o n e s i d e ; but the s l o p e w a s s o s u d d e n that I c o u l d not turn on the other without hitting the roof. T h e rats a n d m i c e ran over my b e d ; but I w a s weary, a n d I slept s u c h sleep a s the w r e t c h e d may, w h e n a t e m p e s t h a s p a s s e d over t h e m . M o r n i n g c a m e . I knew it only by the n o i s e s I h e a r d ; for in my small den day a n d night were all the s a m e . I suffered for air even m o r e than for light. B u t I w a s not c o m f o r t l e s s . I h e a r d the voices of my children. T h e r e w a s j o y a n d there w a s s a d n e s s in the s o u n d . It m a d e my tears flow. H o w I l o n g e d to s p e a k to t h e m ! I w a s e a g e r to look on their f a c e s ; but there w a s no hole, no crack, through which I c o u l d p e e p . T h i s c o n t i n u e d d a r k n e s s w a s o p p r e s s i v e . It s e e m e d horrible to sit or lie in a c r a m p e d position day after day, without o n e g l e a m of light. Yet I would have c h o s e n this, rather than my lot a s a slave, t h o u g h white p e o p l e c o n s i d e r e d it an e a s y o n e ; a n d it w a s so c o m p a r e d with the fate of o t h e r s . I w a s never cruelly over-worked; I w a s never l a c e r a t e d with the whip from h e a d to foot; I w a s never so b e a t e n a n d b r u i s e d that I c o u l d not turn from o n e side to the other; I never h a d my heel-strings c u t to prevent my r u n n i n g away; I w a s never c h a i n e d to a log a n d forced to drag it a b o u t , while I toiled in the fields from m o r n i n g till night; I was never b r a n d e d with hot iron, or torn by b l o o d h o u n d s . O n the contrary, I h a d always b e e n kindly treated, a n d tenderly c a r e d for, until I

3. If B r e n t ' s m a t e r n a l g r a n d f a t h e r w e r e w h i t e , Brent would be 75 percent white on her mother's s i d e a n d 5 0 p e r c e n t w h i t e o n h e r f a t h e r ' s s i d e ; if t h e maternal grandfather were a "pure" African American, Brent would be 50 percent white on e a c h side. J a c o b s s t r e s s e s her m i x e d - r a c e p a r e n t a g e not to c l a i m t h a t s h e is " r e a l l y " w h i t e b u t t o s h o w t h a t

racial distinctions are c o m p l e t e l y artificial. 4 . F r o m The Task 4 . 8 8 — 9 0 , a p o p u l a r l o n g p o e m ( 1 7 8 5 ) by t h e E n g l i s h p o e t W i l l i a m Cowper ( 1 7 3 1 - 1 8 0 0 ) . B y t h i s p o i n t in t h e n a r r a t i v e B r e n t h a s e s c a p e d f r o m t h e F l i n t h o u s e h o l d a n d is h i d i n g in h e r g r a n d m o t h e r ' s a t t i c . T h e a c c o u n t s t a t e s t h a t s h e r e m a i n s t h e r e for s e v e n y e a r s .

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c a m e into the h a n d s of Dr. Flint. I h a d never wished for freedom till then. B u t though my life in slavery w a s comparatively devoid of h a r d s h i p s , G o d pity the w o m a n w h o is c o m p e l l e d to lead s u c h a life! M y food was p a s s e d up to m e through the trap-door my u n c l e h a d contrived; a n d my g r a n d m o t h e r , my u n c l e Phillip, a n d a u n t N a n c y w o u l d seize s u c h opportunities a s they c o u l d , to m o u n t u p there a n d c h a t with m e at the o p e n i n g . B u t of c o u r s e this was not safe in the daytime. It m u s t all be d o n e in d a r k n e s s . It w a s i m p o s s i b l e or m e to m o v e in an erect position, but I crawled a b o u t my den for exercise. O n e day I hit my h e a d a g a i n s t s o m e t h i n g , a n d found it w a s a gimlet. M y u n c l e had left it sticking there when he m a d e the trap-door. I w a s a s rejoiced as R o b i n s o n C r u s o e 5 c o u l d have b e e n at finding s u c h a t r e a s u r e . It put a lucky thought into my h e a d . I said to myself, " N o w I will have s o m e light. N o w I will s e e my c h i l d r e n . " I did not d a r e to begin my work during the d a y t i m e , for fear of attracting attention. But I groped r o u n d ; a n d having f o u n d the side next the street, w h e r e I c o u l d frequently see my children, I s t r u c k the gimlet in a n d waited for evening. I bored three rows of h o l e s , o n e a b o v e a n o t h e r ; then I bored out the interstices b e t w e e n . I t h u s s u c c e e d e d in m a k i n g o n e hole a b o u t an inch long a n d a n inch b r o a d . I sat by it till late into the night, to enjoy the little whiff of air that floated in. In the m o r n i n g I w a t c h e d for my children. T h e first p e r s o n I saw in the street w a s Dr. Flint. I had a s h u d d e r i n g , s u p e r s t i t i o u s feeling that it w a s a b a d o m e n . Several familiar f a c e s p a s s e d by. At last I h e a r d the merry laugh of children, a n d presently two sweet little f a c e s were looking up at m e , a s t h o u g h they knew I w a s there, a n d were c o n s c i o u s of the joy they i m p a r t e d . H o w I longed to tell t h e m I w a s there! M y condition w a s now a little improved. B u t for w e e k s I w a s t o r m e n t e d by h u n d r e d s of little red i n s e c t s , fine as a needle's point, that p i e r c e d t h r o u g h my skin, a n d p r o d u c e d an intolerable b u r n i n g . T h e g o o d g r a n d m o t h e r gave m e herb teas a n d c o o l i n g m e d i c i n e s , a n d finally I got rid of t h e m . T h e heat of my den w a s i n t e n s e , for nothing but thin shingles p r o t e c t e d m e from the s c o r c h i n g s u m m e r ' s s u n . B u t I h a d my c o n s o l a t i o n s . T h r o u g h my p e e p i n g hole I could w a t c h the children, a n d w h e n they were near e n o u g h , I c o u l d hear their talk. Aunt N a n c y brought m e all the news s h e c o u l d hear at Dr. Flint's. F r o m her I learned that the d o c t o r had written to N e w York to a colored w o m a n , who h a d b e e n born a n d raised in our n e i g h b o r h o o d , a n d had b r e a t h e d his c o n t a m i n a t i n g a t m o s p h e r e . H e offered her a reward if s h e could find out any thing a b o u t m e . I know not what w a s the n a t u r e of her reply; but h e soon after started for N e w York in h a s t e , saying to his family that he h a d b u s i n e s s of i m p o r t a n c e to t r a n s a c t . I p e e p e d at him a s h e p a s s e d on his way to the s t e a m b o a t . It was a satisfaction to have miles of land a n d water between u s , even for a little while; a n d it w a s a still greater s a t i s f a c t i o n to know that he believed m e to be in the F r e e S t a t e s . My little den s e e m e d less dreary than it h a d d o n e . H e returned, as he did from his former j o u r n e y to N e w York, without o b t a i n i n g any satisfactory i n f o r m a t i o n . W h e n he p a s s e d our h o u s e next m o r n i n g , B e n n y w a s s t a n d i n g at the g a t e . H e had heard t h e m say that he had g o n e to find m e , a n d he called out, " D r . Flint, 5. H e r o of a p o p u l a r novel of the s a m e n a m e (I 7 19) by t h e E n g l i s h w r i t e r D a n i e l D e f o e ( 1 6 6 0 1 7 3 1 ) a b o u t a m a n shipwrecked on a desert island.

It w a s b a s e d o n t h e e x p e r i e n c e s o f t h e s a i l o r A l e x ander Selkirk ( 1 6 7 6 - 1 7 2 1 ) .

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did you bring my m o t h e r h o m e ? I w a n t to s e e h e r . " T h e doctor s t a m p e d his foot at him in a r a g e , a n d e x c l a i m e d , " G e t out of the way, you little d a m n e d rascal! If you don't, I'll c u t off your h e a d . " B e n n y ran terrified into the h o u s e , saying, "You can't p u t m e in jail a g a i n . I don't b e l o n g to you n o w . " It w a s well that the wind carried the w o r d s away from the doctor's ear. I told my g r a n d m o t h e r of it, w h e n we h a d our next c o n f e r e n c e at the trap-door; a n d b e g g e d of her not to allow the children to be impertinent to the irascible old m a n . A u t u m n c a m e , with a p l e a s a n t a b a t e m e n t of h e a t . M y eyes h a d b e c o m e a c c u s t o m e d to the d i m light, a n d by h o l d i n g my b o o k or work in a certain position near the a p e r t u r e I contrived to r e a d a n d sew. T h a t w a s a great relief to the tedious m o n o t o n y of my life. B u t w h e n winter c a m e , the cold p e n e trated through the thin shingle roof, a n d I w a s dreadfully chilled. T h e winters there are not s o long, or s o s e v e r e , as in n o r t h e r n l a t i t u d e s ; b u t the h o u s e s are not built to shelter from cold, a n d my little d e n w a s peculiarly comfortless. T h e kind g r a n d m o t h e r b r o u g h t m e b e d - c l o t h e s a n d w a r m drinks. Often I w a s obliged to lie in b e d all day to k e e p c o m f o r t a b l e ; b u t with all my p r e c a u t i o n s , my s h o u l d e r s a n d feet were frostbitten. O , t h o s e long, g l o o m y days, with no object for my eye to rest u p o n , a n d no t h o u g h t s to o c c u p y my m i n d , except the dreary p a s t a n d the u n c e r t a i n future! I w a s thankful w h e n there c a m e a day sufficiently mild for m e to wrap myself u p a n d sit at the loophole to w a t c h the p a s s e r s by. S o u t h e r n e r s have the habit of s t o p p i n g a n d talking in the streets, a n d I h e a r d m a n y c o n v e r s a t i o n s not i n t e n d e d to m e e t my e a r s . I heard slave-hunters p l a n n i n g how to c a t c h s o m e p o o r fugitive. Several times I h e a r d a l l u s i o n s to Dr. Flint, myself, a n d the history of my children, w h o , p e r h a p s , were playing n e a r the g a t e . O n e w o u l d say, "I wouldn't m o v e my little finger to c a t c h her, a s old Flint's p r o p e r t y . " A n o t h e r w o u l d say, "I'll c a t c h any nigger for the reward. A m a n o u g h t to have w h a t b e l o n g s to h i m , if h e is a d a m n e d b r u t e . " T h e opinion w a s often e x p r e s s e d that I was in the F r e e S t a t e s . Very rarely did any o n e s u g g e s t that I might b e in the vicinity. H a d the least s u s p i c i o n rested on my g r a n d m o t h e r ' s h o u s e , it w o u l d have b e e n b u r n e d to the g r o u n d . B u t it w a s the last p l a c e they t h o u g h t of. Yet there w a s no p l a c e , w h e r e slavery existed, that c o u l d have afforded m e s o g o o d a p l a c e of c o n c e a l m e n t . Dr. Flint a n d his family repeatedly tried to coax a n d bribe my children to tell s o m e t h i n g they h a d h e a r d s a i d a b o u t m e . O n e day the d o c t o r took t h e m into a s h o p , a n d offered t h e m s o m e bright little silver p i e c e s a n d gay h a n d kerchiefs if they w o u l d tell w h e r e their m o t h e r w a s . E l l e n s h r a n k away from h i m , a n d w o u l d not s p e a k ; but B e n n y s p o k e u p , a n d s a i d , " D r . Flint, I don't know w h e r e my m o t h e r is. I g u e s s she's in N e w York; a n d w h e n you go there a g a i n , I wish you'd a s k her to c o m e h o m e , for I want to s e e her; b u t if you p u t her in jail, or tell her you'll c u t her h e a d off, I'll tell her to g o right b a c k . "

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Free at Last''

M r s . B r u c e , a n d every m e m b e r of her family, were exceedingly kind to m e . I w a s thankful for the b l e s s i n g s of my lot, yet I c o u l d not always wear a cheerful c o u n t e n a n c e . I w a s d o i n g h a r m to no o n e ; on the contrary, I w a s d o i n g all the good I c o u l d in my small way; yet I c o u l d never g o o u t to b r e a t h e G o d ' s free air without trepidation at my heart. T h i s s e e m e d h a r d ; a n d I c o u l d not think it w a s a right state of things in any civilized country. F r o m time to time I received news from my g o o d old g r a n d m o t h e r . S h e c o u l d not write; but s h e employed others to write for her. T h e following is a n extract from o n e of her last l e t t e r s : — " D e a r D a u g h t e r : I c a n n o t h o p e to s e e you again on e a r t h ; b u t I pray to G o d to unite u s a b o v e , where p a i n will no m o r e r a c k this feeble b o d y of m i n e ; w h e r e sorrow a n d parting from my children will be no m o r e . 7 G o d h a s p r o m i s e d t h e s e things if we are faithful u n t o the e n d . M y a g e a n d feeble health deprive m e of g o i n g to c h u r c h now; but G o d is with m e here at h o m e . T h a n k your brother for his k i n d n e s s . G i v e m u c h love to him, a n d tell him to r e m e m b e r the C r e a t o r in the days o f his y o u t h , 8 a n d strive to m e e t m e in the Father's k i n g d o m . L o v e to E l l e n a n d B e n j a m i n . Don't neglect h i m . Tell him for m e , to b e a g o o d boy. Strive, my child, to train t h e m for G o d ' s children. M a y h e protect a n d provide for you, is the prayer of your loving old m o t h e r . " T h e s e letters both c h e e r e d a n d s a d d e n e d m e . I w a s always glad to have tidings from the kind, faithful old friend of my u n h a p p y y o u t h ; but her m e s s a g e s of love m a d e my heart yearn to s e e her before s h e died, a n d I m o u r n e d over the fact that it w a s i m p o s s i b l e . S o m e m o n t h s after I r e t u r n e d from my flight to N e w E n g l a n d , I received a letter from her, in which s h e w r o t e , " D r . Flint is d e a d . H e h a s left a d i s t r e s s e d family. P o o r old m a n ! I h o p e h e m a d e his p e a c e with G o d . " I r e m e m b e r e d how h e h a d d e f r a u d e d my g r a n d m o t h e r of the hard e a r n i n g s s h e h a d l o a n e d ; how h e h a d tried to c h e a t her out of the f r e e d o m her m i s t r e s s h a d p r o m i s e d her, a n d how h e h a d p e r s e c u t e d her children; a n d I t h o u g h t to myself that s h e w a s a better C h r i s t i a n than I w a s , if s h e c o u l d entirely forgive h i m . I c a n n o t say, with truth, that the n e w s of my old m a s t e r ' s d e a t h softened my feelings towards h i m . T h e r e a r e w r o n g s which even the grave d o e s not bury. T h e m a n w a s o d i o u s to m e while h e lived, a n d his m e m o r y is o d i o u s now. His d e p a r t u r e from this world did not diminish my d a n g e r . H e h a d threate n e d my g r a n d m o t h e r that his heirs s h o u l d hold m e in slavery after he w a s g o n e ; that I never s h o u l d be free so long a s a child of his survived. As for M r s . Flint, I h a d s e e n her in d e e p e r afflictions than I s u p p o s e d the loss of her h u s b a n d would be, for s h e h a d buried several c h i l d r e n ; yet I never s a w any signs of softening in her heart. T h e d o c t o r h a d died in e m b a r r a s s e d c i r c u m s t a n c e s , a n d h a d little to will to his heirs, except s u c h property a s h e 6 . T h i s is t h e final c h a p t e r o f Incidents. Having e s c a p e d from the S o u t h d r e s s e d a s a ( m a l e ) sailor, B r e n t f i n d s e m p l o y m e n t in t h e B r u c e f a m i l y ; b u t t h e p a s s a g e o f t h e F u g i t i v e S l a v e L a w in 1 8 5 0 p u t s her in c o n s t a n t d a n g e r of b e i n g r e c a p t u r e d . As

d o e s Uncle Tom's Cabin, this b o o k m a k e s this law a l m o s t a s m u c h a target a s slavery. 7. 8.

P a r a p h r a s e of Revelation 2 1 . 4 . Ecclesiastes 12.1.

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w a s u n a b l e to g r a s p . I w a s well a w a r e what I had to expect from the family of Flints; a n d my fears were c o n f i r m e d by a letter from the s o u t h , w a r n i n g m e to be on my g u a r d , b e c a u s e M r s . Flint openly d e c l a r e d that her d a u g h t e r c o u l d not afford to lose s o v a l u a b l e a slave a s I w a s . I kept c l o s e w a t c h of the n e w s p a p e r s for arrivals; but o n e S a t u r d a y night, b e i n g m u c h o c c u p i e d , I forgot to e x a m i n e the E v e n i n g E x p r e s s a s u s u a l . I went down into the parlor for it, early in the m o r n i n g , a n d f o u n d the boy a b o u t to kindle a fire with it. 1 took it from him a n d e x a m i n e d the list of arrivals. R e a d e r , if you have never b e e n a slave, you c a n n o t i m a g i n e the a c u t e s e n s a t i o n of suffering at my heart, w h e n I read the n a m e s of Mr. a n d M r s . D o d g e , 9 at a hotel in C o u r t l a n d S t r e e t . It w a s a third-rate hotel, a n d that c i r c u m s t a n c e c o n v i n c e d m e of the truth of what I had h e a r d , that they were short of funds a n d h a d n e e d of my v a l u e , a s they v a l u e d m e ; a n d that w a s by dollars a n d c e n t s . I h a s t e n e d with the p a p e r to M r s . B r u c e . H e r heart a n d h a n d were always o p e n to every o n e in d i s t r e s s , a n d s h e always warmly sympathized with m i n e . It w a s i m p o s s i b l e to tell how n e a r the e n e m y w a s . H e might have p a s s e d a n d r e p a s s e d the h o u s e while we were s l e e p i n g . H e might at that m o m e n t be waiting to p o u n c e u p o n m e if I v e n t u r e d o u t of d o o r s . I had never s e e n the h u s b a n d of my y o u n g m i s t r e s s , a n d therefore I c o u l d not distinguish him from any other stranger. A c a r r i a g e w a s hastily o r d e r e d ; a n d , closely veiled, I followed M r s . B r u c e , taking the baby again with m e into exile. After various t u r n i n g s a n d c r o s s i n g s , a n d r e t u r n i n g s , the carriage s t o p p e d at the h o u s e of o n e of M r s . B r u c e ' s friends, w h e r e I w a s kindly received. M r s . B r u c e returned immediately, to instruct the d o m e s t i c s what to say if any o n e c a m e to inquire for m e . It w a s lucky for m e that the evening p a p e r was not b u r n e d u p before I had a c h a n c e to e x a m i n e the list of arrivals. It w a s not long after M r s . B r u c e ' s return to her h o u s e , before several p e o p l e c a m e to inquire for m e . O n e inquired for m e , a n o t h e r a s k e d for my d a u g h t e r E l l e n , a n d a n o t h e r said he had a letter from my g r a n d m o t h e r , which he w a s r e q u e s t e d to deliver in person. T h e y were told, " S h e has lived h e r e , but s h e h a s left." " H o w long a g o ? " "I don't know, sir." " D o you know w h e r e s h e w e n t ? " "I do not, sir." And the door w a s c l o s e d . T h i s Mr. D o d g e , w h o c l a i m e d m e a s his property, w a s originally a Y a n k e e pedler in the s o u t h ; then he b e c a m e a m e r c h a n t , a n d finally a slaveholder. H e m a n a g e d to get i n t r o d u c e d into what w a s called the first society, a n d married M i s s Emily Flint. A quarrel a r o s e b e t w e e n him a n d her brother, a n d the brother c o w h i d e d him. T h i s led to a family f e u d , a n d he p r o p o s e d to remove to Virginia. Dr. Flint left him no property, a n d his own m e a n s h a d b e c o m e c i r c u m s c r i b e d , while a wife a n d children d e p e n d e d u p o n him for s u p p o r t . U n d e r t h e s e c i r c u m s t a n c e s , it w a s very natural that he s h o u l d m a k e a n effort to put m e into his p o c k e t . I h a d a colored friend, a m a n from my native p l a c e , in w h o m I h a d the m o s t implicit c o n f i d e n c e . I sent for him, a n d told him that Mr. a n d M r s . D o d g e had arrived in N e w York. I p r o p o s e d that h e s h o u l d call u p o n t h e m 9.

D o d g e is t h e m a r r i e d n a m e o f E m i l y F l i n t , B r e n t ' s l e g a l o w n e r .

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to m a k e inquiries a b o u t his friends at the s o u t h , with w h o m Dr. Flint's family were well a c q u a i n t e d . H e thought there w a s no impropriety in his d o i n g s o , a n d he c o n s e n t e d . H e went to the hotel, a n d k n o c k e d at the d o o r of M r . D o d g e ' s r o o m , which w a s o p e n e d by the g e n t l e m a n himself, w h o gruffly inquired, " W h a t brought you here? H o w c a m e you to know I w a s in the c i t y ? " "Your arrival w a s p u b l i s h e d in the evening p a p e r s , sir; a n d I called to a s k M r s . D o d g e a b o u t my friends at h o m e . I didn't s u p p o s e it would give any offence." " W h e r e ' s that negro girl, that b e l o n g s to my w i f e ? " " W h a t girl, s i r ? " "You know well e n o u g h . I m e a n L i n d a , that ran away from Dr. Flint's p l a n t a t i o n , s o m e years a g o . I d a r e say you've s e e n her, a n d know where she is. "Yes, sir, I've s e e n her, a n d know where s h e is. S h e is out of your r e a c h , sir." "Tell m e w h e r e s h e is, or bring her to m e , a n d I will give her a c h a n c e to buy her f r e e d o m . " " I don't think it would be of any u s e , sir. I have h e a r d her say s h e would go to the e n d s of the e a r t h , rather than pay any m a n or w o m a n for her f r e e d o m , b e c a u s e s h e thinks s h e has a right to it. B e s i d e s , s h e couldn't do it, if s h e would, for she has spent her e a r n i n g s to e d u c a t e her c h i l d r e n . " T h i s m a d e Mr. D o d g e very angry, a n d s o m e high w o r d s p a s s e d b e t w e e n t h e m . M y friend w a s afraid to c o m e w h e r e I w a s ; but in the c o u r s e of the day I received a note from him. I s u p p o s e d they h a d not c o m e from the s o u t h , in the winter, for a p l e a s u r e e x c u r s i o n ; a n d now the n a t u r e of their b u s i n e s s was very plain. M r s . B r u c e c a m e to m e a n d entreated m e to leave the city the next m o r n ing. S h e said her h o u s e w a s w a t c h e d , a n d it w a s p o s s i b l e that s o m e clew to m e might be o b t a i n e d . I refused to take her a d v i c e . S h e p l e a d e d with an e a r n e s t t e n d e r n e s s , that o u g h t to have m o v e d m e ; but I w a s in a bitter, d i s h e a r t e n e d m o o d . I w a s weary of flying from pillar to p o s t . I h a d b e e n c h a s e d d u r i n g half my life, a n d it s e e m e d a s if the c h a s e w a s never to e n d . T h e r e I sat, in that great city, guiltless of c r i m e , yet not d a r i n g to w o r s h i p G o d in any of the c h u r c h e s . I h e a r d the bells ringing for afternoon service, a n d , with c o n t e m p t u o u s s a r c a s m , I said, "Will the p r e a c h e r s take for their text, 'Proclaim liberty to the captive, a n d the o p e n i n g of prison d o o r s to t h e m that are b o u n d ' ? 1 or will they p r e a c h from the text, ' D o u n t o o t h e r s a s ye would they s h o u l d do u n t o y o u ' ? " 2 O p p r e s s e d P o l e s a n d H u n g a r i a n s c o u l d find a s a f e refuge in that city; J o h n M i t c h e l l ' w a s free to p r o c l a i m in the City Hall his desire for "a p l a n t a t i o n well s t o c k e d with s l a v e s ; " but there I sat, an o p p r e s s e d A m e r i c a n , not daring to s h o w my f a c e . G o d forgive the black a n d bitter t h o u g h t s I indulged on that S a b b a t h day! T h e S c r i p t u r e says, " O p p r e s sion m a k e s even a wise m a n m a d ; " 4 a n d I w a s not w i s e . I h a d b e e n told that M r . D o d g e said his wife h a d never signed away her right to my children, a n d if he c o u l d not get m e , he would take t h e m . T h i s 1. I s a i a h 6 1 . 1 . 2. Matthew 7.12. 3. I r i s h - A m e r i c a n ( 1 8 1 5 - 1 8 7 5 ) w h o f o u n d e d t h e p r o s l a v e r y N e w Y o r k n e w s p a p e r Tlie Citizen and w h o a r g u e d that free blacks w o u l d o c c u p y the j o b s

of Irish w o r k e r s . " P o l e s a n d H u n g a r i a n s " : following the failed E u r o p e a n revolutions of 1 8 4 8 , m a n y p o l i t i c a l r e f u g e e s f r o m t h e s e c o u n t r i e s s e t t l e d in New York City and N e w England. 4. E c c l e s i a s t e s 7.7.

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it w a s , m o r e t h a n any thing e l s e , that r o u s e d s u c h a t e m p e s t in my s o u l . B e n j a m i n w a s with his u n c l e William in C a l i f o r n i a , b u t my i n n o c e n t y o u n g d a u g h t e r h a d c o m e to s p e n d a v a c a t i o n with m e . I t h o u g h t of w h a t I h a d suffered in slavery at her a g e , a n d my heart w a s like a tiger's w h e n a h u n t e r tries to seize her y o u n g . D e a r M r s . B r u c e ! I s e e m to s e e the expression of her f a c e , a s s h e turned away d i s c o u r a g e d by my o b s t i n a t e m o o d . F i n d i n g her e x p o s t u l a t i o n s unavailing, s h e sent Ellen to entreat m e . W h e n ten o'clock in the e v e n i n g arrived a n d Ellen h a d not r e t u r n e d , this watchful a n d u n w e a r i e d friend b e c a m e a n x i o u s . S h e c a m e to u s in a c a r r i a g e , bringing a well-filled trunk for my j o u r n e y — t r u s t i n g that by this time I w o u l d listen to r e a s o n . I yielded to her, a s I o u g h t to have d o n e b e f o r e . T h e next day, baby a n d I set out in a heavy s n o w s t o r m , b o u n d for N e w E n g l a n d a g a i n . I received letters from the City of Iniquity, 5 a d d r e s s e d to m e u n d e r a n a s s u m e d n a m e . In a few days o n e c a m e from M r s . B r u c e , informing m e that my new m a s t e r w a s still s e a r c h i n g for m e , a n d that s h e i n t e n d e d to p u t a n e n d to this p e r s e c u t i o n by b u y i n g my f r e e d o m . I felt grateful for the k i n d n e s s that p r o m p t e d this offer, b u t the idea w a s not so p l e a s a n t to m e a s might have b e e n e x p e c t e d . T h e m o r e my m i n d h a d b e c o m e e n l i g h t e n e d , the m o r e difficult it w a s for m e to c o n s i d e r myself a n article of property; a n d to pay m o n e y to t h o s e w h o h a d s o grievously o p p r e s s e d m e s e e m e d like taking from my sufferings the glory of t r i u m p h . I wrote to M r s . B r u c e , thanking her, but saying that b e i n g sold from o n e o w n e r to a n o t h e r s e e m e d too m u c h like slavery; that s u c h a great obligation c o u l d not b e easily c a n c e l l e d ; a n d that I preferred to go to my brother in C a l i f o r n i a . W i t h o u t my k n o w l e d g e , M r s . B r u c e e m p l o y e d a g e n t l e m a n in N e w York to enter into n e g o t i a t i o n s with M r . D o d g e . H e p r o p o s e d to pay three h u n d r e d dollars d o w n , if M r . D o d g e w o u l d sell m e , a n d enter into obligations to relinquish all claim to m e or my children forever after. H e w h o called h i m s e l f my m a s t e r said he s c o r n e d s o small a n offer for s u c h a v a l u a b l e servant. T h e g e n t l e m a n replied, "You c a n d o a s you c h o o s e , sir. If you reject this offer you will never get any thing; for the w o m a n h a s friends w h o will convey her a n d her children o u t of the c o u n t r y . " M r . D o d g e c o n c l u d e d that "half a loaf w a s better than no b r e a d , " a n d he a g r e e d to the proffered t e r m s . By the next mail I received this brief letter from M r s . B r u c e : "I a m rejoiced to tell you that the m o n e y for your f r e e d o m has b e e n paid to M r . D o d g e . C o m e h o m e to-morrow. I l o n g to s e e you a n d my sweet b a b e . " M y brain reeled a s I r e a d t h e s e lines. A g e n t l e m a n n e a r m e said, "It's t r u e ; I have s e e n the bill of s a l e . " " T h e bill of s a l e ! " T h o s e w o r d s s t r u c k m e like a blow. S o I w a s sold at last! A h u m a n b e i n g sold in the free city of N e w York! T h e bill of s a l e is on r e c o r d , a n d future g e n e r a t i o n s will learn f r o m it that w o m e n were articles of traffic in N e w York, late in the n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y of the C h r i s t i a n religion. It may hereafter prove a useful d o c u m e n t to antiq u a r i e s , w h o a r e s e e k i n g to m e a s u r e the p r o g r e s s of civilization in the U n i t e d S t a t e s . I well know the value of that bit of p a p e r ; but m u c h a s I love f r e e d o m , I do not like to look u p o n it. I a m deeply grateful to the g e n e r o u s friend w h o p r o c u r e d it, but I d e s p i s e the m i s c r e a n t w h o d e m a n d e d p a y m e n t for what never rightfully b e l o n g e d to him or his. 5.

I . e . , N e w Y o r k C i t y , b e c a u s e it w a s t h e c e n t e r o f a c t i v i t y f o r h u n t e r s o f f u g i t i v e s l a v e s .

I N C I D E N T S IN T H E L I F E OF A S L A V E G I R L , C H A P T E R X L I

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I h a d o b j e c t e d to having my f r e e d o m b o u g h t , yet I m u s t c o n f e s s that w h e n it w a s d o n e I felt a s if a heavy load h a d b e e n lifted from my weary s h o u l d e r s . W h e n I rode h o m e in the c a r s I w a s no longer afraid to unveil my f a c e a n d look at p e o p l e a s they p a s s e d . I s h o u l d have b e e n glad to have m e t D a n i e l D o d g e himself; to have h a d him s e e n m e a n d known m e , that h e might have m o u r n e d over the u n t o w a r d c i r c u m s t a n c e s which c o m p e l l e d him to sell m e for three h u n d r e d dollars. W h e n I r e a c h e d h o m e , the a r m s of my b e n e f a c t r e s s were thrown r o u n d m e , a n d our tears m i n g l e d . A s s o o n a s s h e c o u l d s p e a k , s h e said, " O L i n d a , I'm so glad it's all over! You wrote to m e a s if you t h o u g h t you were g o i n g to be transferred from o n e owner to a n o t h e r . B u t I did not buy you for your services. I s h o u l d have d o n e j u s t the s a m e , if you h a d b e e n g o i n g to sail for California tomorrow. I s h o u l d , at least, have the satisfaction of k n o w i n g that you left m e a free w o m a n . " M y heart w a s exceedingly full. I r e m e m b e r e d h o w my p o o r father h a d tried to buy m e , w h e n I w a s a small child, a n d how h e h a d b e e n d i s a p p o i n t e d . I h o p e d his spirit w a s rejoicing over m e now. I r e m e m b e r e d h o w my g o o d old g r a n d m o t h e r h a d laid u p her e a r n i n g s to p u r c h a s e m e in later years, a n d how often her p l a n s h a d b e e n frustrated. H o w that faithful, loving old heart would leap for joy, if she c o u l d look on m e a n d my children now that we were free! M y relatives h a d b e e n foiled in all their efforts, but G o d h a d raised m e u p a friend a m o n g s t r a n g e r s , w h o h a d b e s t o w e d on m e the p r e c i o u s , long-desired b o o n . Friend! It is a c o m m o n word, often lightly u s e d . L i k e other good a n d beautiful things, it m a y b e t a r n i s h e d by c a r e l e s s h a n d l i n g ; but w h e n I s p e a k of M r s . B r u c e a s my friend, the word is s a c r e d . M y g r a n d m o t h e r lived to rejoice in my f r e e d o m ; but not long after, a letter c a m e with a b l a c k s e a l . S h e h a d g o n e " w h e r e the wicked c e a s e from troubling, a n d the weary are at r e s t . " 6 T i m e p a s s e d o n , a n d a p a p e r c a m e to m e from the s o u t h , c o n t a i n i n g a n obituary notice of my u n c l e Phillip. It w a s the only c a s e I ever k n e w of s u c h an h o n o r conferred u p o n a colored p e r s o n . It w a s written by o n e of his friends, a n d c o n t a i n e d t h e s e words: " N o w that d e a t h h a s laid him low, they call him a g o o d m a n a n d a useful citizen; but what are e u l o g i e s to the b l a c k m a n , w h e n the world h a s f a d e d from his vision? It d o e s not require m a n ' s praise to obtain rest in G o d ' s k i n g d o m . " S o they called a c o l o r e d m a n a citizen! S t r a n g e words to b e uttered in that r e g i o n ! 7 R e a d e r , my story e n d s with f r e e d o m ; not in the u s u a l way, with m a r r i a g e . 8 I a n d my children are now free! W e are a s free from the p o w e r of slaveholders a s are the white p e o p l e of the north; a n d t h o u g h that, a c c o r d i n g to my i d e a s , is not saying a great deal, it is a vast i m p r o v e m e n t in my c o n d i t i o n . T h e d r e a m of my life is not yet realized. I d o not sit with my children in a h o m e of my own. I still long for a h e a r t h s t o n e of my o w n , however h u m b l e . I wish it for my children's s a k e far m o r e than for my own. Rut G o d s o orders c i r c u m s t a n c e s a s to keep m e with my friend M r s . R r u c e . L o v e , duty, g r a t i t u d e , a l s o bind m e to her s i d e . It is a privilege to serve her w h o pities my o p p r e s s e d p e o p l e , a n d w h o has b e s t o w e d the i n e s t i m a b l e b o o n of f r e e d o m o n m e a n d my children. It h a s b e e n painful to m e , in m a n y ways, to recall the dreary years I p a s s e d 6. J o b 3 . 1 7 . 7. F r e e b l a c k s in N o r t h C a r o l i n a d i d n o t h a v e t h e legal s t a t u s of citizens.

8. Allusion to the typical marriage e n d i n g of w o m e n ' s n o v e l s , w h i c h is i m p o s s i b l e for w o m e n u n d e r slavery.

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in b o n d a g e . I w o u l d gladly forget t h e m if I c o u l d . Yet t h e r e t r o s p e c t i o n is not altogether without s o l a c e ; for with t h o s e g l o o m y recollections c o m e t e n d e r m e m o r i e s of my g o o d old g r a n d m o t h e r , like light, fleecy c l o u d s floating over a d a r k a n d troubled s e a . 1861

H E N R Y DAVID T H O R E A U 1817-1862 H e n r y D a v i d T h o r e a u w o n his p l a c e in A m e r i c a n l i t e r a t u r e by a d v e n t u r i n g at h o m e — traveling, a s h e p u t it, a g o o d d e a l in C o n c o r d . W i t h that kind of p a r a d o x h e infuriated a n d i n s p i r e d his M a s s a c h u s e t t s n e i g h b o r s a n d a u d i e n c e s w h i l e h e lived; his writings h a v e i n f u r i a t e d a n d i n s p i r e d s u c c e s s i v e g e n e r a t i o n s of r e a d e r s s i n c e his d e a t h . O f the m e n a n d w o m e n w h o m a d e C o n c o r d t h e c e n t e r of T r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s m , only T h o r e a u w a s b o r n t h e r e . H e lived in C o n c o r d all his life, e x c e p t for a few y e a r s in early c h i l d h o o d , his c o l l e g e y e a r s at n e a r b y C a m b r i d g e , a n d several m o n t h s o n S t a t e n I s l a n d in 1 8 4 3 . H e m a d e n u m e r o u s short e x c u r s i o n s , i n c l u d i n g t h r e e to n o r t h e r n M a i n e , four to C a p e C o d , o t h e r s to N e w H a m p s h i r e , o n e to Q u e b e c , a n d a last trip to M i n n e s o t a ( 1 8 6 1 ) in a futile a t t e m p t to s t r e n g t h e n his t u b e r c u l a r l u n g s . N e v e r m a r r y i n g , a n d horrified by t h e o n e p r o p o s a l that h e r e c e i v e d , his m o s t c o m p l e x pers o n a l r e l a t i o n s h i p o u t s i d e his family w a s with his older n e i g h b o r , R a l p h W a l d o E m e r s o n ; t h o u g h t h e d i s c r e p a n c i e s b e t w e e n their rarefied i d e a l s of f r i e n d s h i p a n d the realities of s o c i a l c o m m e r c e finally left t h e m f r u s t r a t e d with e a c h o t h e r . A s i d e f r o m E m e r s o n , c o n t e m p o r a r y writers m e a n t little to h i m e x c e p t for T h o m a s C a r l y l e , w h o m h e r e g a r d e d a s o n e of t h e g r e a t e x h o r t i n g p r o p h e t s of the g e n e r a t i o n , a n d W a l t Whitm a n , a l t h o u g h h e w a s a l w a y s a r e a d e r of any history of travel a n d e x p l o r a t i o n that c o u l d s u g g e s t p o s s i b l e ways of e x p e r i m e n t i n g with life. H e s t e e p e d h i m s e l f in the c l a s s i c s — G r e e k , R o m a n , a n d E n g l i s h — a n d h e k n e w in t r a n s l a t i o n t h e s a c r e d writings of the H i n d u s . H e wrote c o n s t a n t l y in his j o u r n a l s , w h i c h h e b e g a n at E m e r s o n ' s s u g g e s t i o n . U l t i m a t e l y , h e m a d e t h e m a finished literary f o r m , b u t in his early c a r e e r h e u s e d t h e m primarily a s s o u r c e s for his l e c t u r e s , for his e s s a y s , a n d for b o t h of the b o o k s that h e p u b l i s h e d , A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers ( 1 8 4 9 ) a n d Walden ( 1 8 5 4 ) . T h r o u g h his writings a n d l e c t u r e s h e a t t r a c t e d a d m i r e r s , a few of w h o m m u s t b e c a l l e d d i s c i p l e s . M u c h e f f o r t — a n d m u c h u n w o n t e d t a c t — w e n t into satisfying their d e m a n d s o n him w h i l e k e e p i n g t h e m at a n a p p r o p r i a t e d i s t a n c e . In the 1 8 5 0 s , a s his j o u r n a l s b e c a m e m o r e a n d m o r e t h e r e c o r d of his o b s e r v a t i o n s of n a t u r e , his scientific d i s c o v e r i e s m a d e him well k n o w n to i m p o r t a n t n a t u r a l i s t s s u c h a s L o u i s A g a s s i z . D u r i n g the s a m e y e a r s , h e b e c a m e o n e of t h e m o s t o u t s p o k e n a b o l i t i o n i s t s . A l t h o u g h h e w a s never o n e to affiliate h i m s e l f with g r o u p s , he b e c a m e k n o w n a s a reliable a b o l i t i o n i s t s p e a k e r — n o t a s i m p o r t a n t a s W e n d e l l P h i l l i p s , William L l o y d G a r r i s o n , or T h e o d o r e P a r k e r , b u t effective e n o u g h to b e s u m m o n e d to fill in for F r e d e r i c k D o u g l a s s at a c o n v e n t i o n in B o s t o n . T h o r e a u m o v e d into t h e political forefront only with his d e f e n s e of J o h n B r o w n , i m m e d i a t e l y after t h e a r r e s t s N e w York C i t y c u s t o m h o u s e ; in his last y e a r s h e a l s o wrote for a n e w m a g a z i n e , Appleton's. T h o r p e d i e d of B r i g h t s d i s e a s e o n S e p t e m b e r 2 0 , 1 8 7 8 . R e s t l e s s , n e r v o u s (as P o r t e r d e s c r i b e d h i m ) , s e l f - e f f a c i n g , T h o r p e never q u i t e b r o u g h t his varied p o w e r s to fruition. Yet h e h a s a p e r m a n e n t n i c h e in A m e r i c a n

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at H a r p e r s Ferry. H e w a s forty-four w h e n he d i e d at C o n c o r d o n M a y 6, 1 8 6 2 , in his m o t h e r ' s h o u s e . T h e little n a t i o n a l f a m e he had a c h i e v e d w a s a s a n e c c e n t r i c E m e r sonian social experimenter and a

firebrand

c h a m p i o n of B r o w n . E m e r s o n , h i m s e l f

f a m o u s a s t h e s a g e of C o n c o r d , c a l l e d T h o r e a u p r e e m i n e n t l y "the m a n of C o n c o r d , " a s i n c e r e c o m p l i m e n t that p r e c i s e l y d e l i m i t e d his s e n s e of his v o u n g e r friend a s ultim a t e l y far m o r e provincial t h a n himself. T h o r e a u ' s nonliterary n e i g h b o r s , w h o m he t a u n t e d in Walden

to c o m p e l their a t t e n -

tion, knew him a s a n e d u c a t e d m a n w i t h o u t a n o c c u p a t i o n — a n affront to a s o c i e t y in which few s o n s ( a n d no d a u g h t e r s ) h a d the privilege of g o i n g to H a r v a r d C o l l e g e . E v e n E m e r s o n t h o u g h t that h e had drifted into his o d d way of life r a t h e r t h a n c h o o s i n g it deliberately. T h o r e a u m i g h t in fact have m a d e a c a r e e r of his first j o b a s a C o n c o r d s c h o o l t e a c h e r h a d h e not quickly r e s i g n e d r a t h e r t h a n i n d i c t c o r p o r a l p u n i s h m e n t on his s t u d e n t s . H e w o u l d h a v e taken a n o t h e r t e a c h i n g j o b , but in that d e p r e s s i o n year of 1 8 3 7 c o u l d find n o n e . H e a n d his o l d e r brother, J o h n , s t a r t e d their own p r o g r e s s i v e s c h o o l in C o n c o r d , b u t it d i s b a n d e d w h e n J o h n b e c a m e ill. J o h n d i e d early in 1 8 4 2 , a n d T h o r e a u never w e n t b a c k to t e a c h i n g . T h a t year h e b e c a m e a h a n d y m a n at E m e r s o n ' s h o u s e in e x c h a n g e for r o o m a n d b o a r d , a n d stayed t h e r e intermittently d u r i n g the 1 8 4 0 s , e s p e c i a l l y w h e n E m e r s o n w a s away on l o n g trips. H e tried t u t o r i n g at the S t a t e n I s l a n d h o m e of E m e r s o n ' s b r o t h e r W i l l i a m in 1 8 4 3 , but h e g r e w m i s e r a b l y h o m e s i c k . O n e l o n g - t e r m a d v a n t a g e w a s that the j o b had p e r m i t t e d h i m s o m e c o n t a c t with the N e w York p u b l i s h i n g c i r c l e . H e s p e n t two years o n E m e r s o n ' s p r o p e r t y at W a l d e n P o n d ( 1 8 4 5 — 4 7 ) in a c a b i n h e built h i m s e l f . H e first l e c t u r e d at t h e C o n c o r d L y c e u m in 1 8 3 8 ; from the late 1 8 4 0 s o n w a r d h e o c c a s i o n a l l y e a r n e d twenty-five dollars or s o for l e c t u r i n g in s m a l l t o w n s s u c h a s N e w B e d f o r d a n d W o r c e s t e r a n d , l e s s often, in B o s t o n . S o m e t i m e s h e c h a r m e d his a u d i e n c e s with w o o d l o r e a n d w h a t reviewers c a l l e d his " c o m i c a l " a n d " h i g h f a l u t i n " variety of l a c o n i c Y a n k e e wit; s o m e t i m e s h e infuriated t h e m with r i g h t e o u s c h a l l e n g e s to the way they lived. N o critic, however friendly, c l a i m e d that T h o r e a u h a d m u c h p r e s e n c e a s a p u b l i c s p e a k e r , e x c e p t d u r i n g the fury of s o m e of his a b o l i t i o n i s t a d d r e s s e s . After 1 8 4 8 h e e a r n e d s o m e m o n e y n o w a n d t h e n by s u r v e y i n g property. H e sold a few m a g a z i n e a r t i c l e s b u t e a r n e d n o t h i n g from his two b o o k s . H e w o r k e d at t i m e s in his father's p e n c i l factory a n d c a r r i e d o n the b u s i n e s s w h e n his father d i e d in 1 8 5 9 , t h e r e b y a g g r a v a t i n g his t u b e r c u l o s i s with the d u s t f r o m g r a p h i t e . H i s w h o l e life, after t h e p e r i o d of u n c e r tainty a b o u t a n o c c u p a t i o n in his early m a n h o o d , b e c a m e a c a l c u l a t e d refusal to live by t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c v a l u e s of t h e n e i g h b o r s w h o p r o v i d e d h i m with a m i c r o c o s m of the world. By simplifying his n e e d s — a n affront to w h a t w a s a l r e a d y a c o n s u m e r s o c i e t y d e v o t e d to a r o u s i n g "artificial w a n t s " — h e s u c c e e d e d , with m i n i m a l c o m p r o m i s e s , in living his life r a t h e r t h a n w a s t i n g it, a s h e s a w it, in e a r n i n g a living. A m o n g T h o r e a u ' s literary a c q u a i n t a n c e s s u c h a s B r o n s o n A l c o t t , Ellery C h a n n i n g , a n d M a r g a r e t Fuller, E m e r s o n w a s his first a n d m o s t powerful c h a m p i o n . E m e r s o n p u b l i s h e d m a n y of T h o r e a u ' s early p o e m s a n d e s s a y s in t h e Dial

between 1842 and

1 8 4 4 a n d tried to p e r s u a d e p u b l i s h e r s in B o s t o n a n d N e w York to print T h o r e a u ' s first b o o k , A Week

on the Concord

and Merrimack

Rh'ers,

built a r o u n d a c a n o e excur-

sion T h o r e a u a n d his b r o t h e r took upriver. First c o m p l e t e d in the s p r i n g of 1 8 4 6 , Week

w a s revised a n d e x p a n d e d over the next years (the e s s a y o n f r i e n d s h i p b e i n g

a d d e d in 1 8 4 8 ) b e f o r e T h o r e a u p u b l i s h e d a n edition of o n e t h o u s a n d c o p i e s at his o w n e x p e n s e in 1 8 4 9 ; t h e true story of his having to a c c o m m o d a t e s o m e s e v e n h u n d r e d u n s o l d c o p i e s in his attic is o n e of the m o r e grimly ironic e p i s o d e s in the history of e a r n i n g a living in A m e r i c a by writing. A s early a s 1 8 5 7 , T h o r e a u m a d e c l e a r his i n t e n t i o n to p u b l i s h The Maine

Woods

a s a book, t h o u g h in his lifetime only the first two p a r t s a p p e a r e d . In this b o o k t h e r e is very little satire a n d very little of the reflective writing s h u n n e d by m a g a z i n e s of the t i m e . T h e book's m o d e r n e d i t o r aptly says that a s M a i n e b e c a m e a favorite h u n t i n g a n d resort a r e a in t h e 1 8 7 0 s a n d 1 8 8 0 s The Maine

Woods

served a s a b a c k w o o d s

B a e d e k e r . T h e b a c k w o o d s have r e t r e a t e d , but t h e b o o k is a d u r a b l e r e c o r d of w h a t a

836

/

HENRY DAVID

THOREAU

t r a i n e d a n d r e s o u r c e f u l o b s e r v e r c o u l d d i s c o v e r of p r i m e v a l n a t u r e only a s h o r t w a y from C o n c o r d , a r e m i n d e r t h a t T h o r e a u w a s a f r o n t i e r s m a n , a n explorer o f t h e prim e v a l w i l d e r n e s s a s well a s o f t h e h i g h e r l a t i t u d e s to b e f o u n d within o n e s e l f . T h o r e a u a l s o w r o t e Cape Cod a s a b o o k , b u t d u r i n g his lifetime h e w a s a b l e to p u b l i s h only t h e first four c h a p t e r s . If h e h a d m a n a g e d to p u b l i s h it in t h e early 1 8 5 0 s it m i g h t h a v e g o n e s o m e w a y t o w a r d m a k i n g h i m a p o p u l a r a u t h o r . N o n e o f t h e o t h e r b o o k s t h a t T h o r e a u p u b l i s h e d o r p r o j e c t e d c o n v e y s a n y t h i n g like t h e i m a g e o f t h e w h o l e T h o r e a u that Walden does, a n d even his most representative s h o r t work, Life without Principle, c o n t a i n s little to s u g g e s t his c h e e r i e r h u m o r o r his love of n a t u r e . Week w a s t h e p r o d u c t o f d i v e r s e i m p u l s e s ; Cape Cod a n d The Maine Woods w e r e p r o d u c t s o f s i n g l e b u t l i m i t e d i m p u l s e s — p e r f e c t o f their kind b u t n o t b e l o n g i n g to t h e first o r d e r o f a s p i r a t i o n o r a c h i e v e m e n t . Walden was the product of a s i n g l e i m p u l s e , b u t o n e o f t h e s t r o n g e s t literary i m p u l s e s ever felt: t h e d e t e r m i n a t i o n to write a b a s i c b o o k o n h o w to live wisely, a b o o k s o p r o f o u n d l y l i b e r a t i n g that f r o m the r e a d i n g of it m e n a n d w o m e n w o u l d d a t e n e w e r a s in their lives. In Walden T h o r e a u ' s w h o l e c h a r a c t e r e m e r g e s . In it h e b e c o m e s , in t h e h i g h e s t s e n s e , a p u b l i c s e r v a n t , offering t h e E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g p u b l i c t h e fruits o f his e x p e r i e n c e , t h o u g h t , a n d artistic d e d i c a t i o n . R e c o g n i t i o n o f T h o r e a u a s a n i m p o r t a n t writer w a s s l o w in c o m i n g . L i t e r a r y p e o p l e o f his o w n t i m e k n e w well e n o u g h w h o h e w a s , b u t t h e r e a d i n g p u b l i c d i d not until t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f Walden o c c a s i o n e d c o m m e n t in s o m e widely r e a d n e w s p a p e r s a n d m a g a z i n e s . W h a t b e c a m e T h o r e a u ' s m o s t f a m o u s e s s a y , " R e s i s t a n c e to Civil G o v e r n m e n t " ( t h e p o s t h u m o u s title " O n t h e D u t y o f Civil D i s o b e d i e n c e , " n o w u s u a l l y c u t to t h e l a s t two w o r d s , is a p p a r e n t l y n o t a u t h o r i a l ) , w a s p u b l i s h e d a n o n y m o u s l y a n d never a t t a c h e d to his n a m e in print d u r i n g his life, t h o u g h s u c h p e o ple as E m e r s o n a n d Hawthorne knew T h o r e a u w a s the author; m a n y d e c a d e s p a s s e d b e f o r e a n y o n e explicitly a c t e d o n t h e e s s a y ' s r a d i c a l a d v i c e . T h o r e a u ' s early e s s a y s in m a g a z i n e s like t h e Democratic Review a n d Graham's were anonymous, a n d G r e e l e y d i d n o t m e n t i o n h i m by n a m e w h e n h e p r i n t e d in t h e Tribune for M a y 2 5 , 1 8 4 8 , a r e m a r k a b l e q u o t a t i o n f r o m a T h o r e a u letter t h a t w a s to b e c o m e p a r t o f the

first

chapter

of Walden.

Thoreau's

Putnam's

Monthly

a n d Atlantic

Monthly

p i e c e s w e r e a l s o a n o n y m o u s , a c c o r d i n g to t h e c u s t o m , s o that m o s t o f his r e a d e r s p r o b a b l y never k n e w they w e r e r e a d i n g T h o r e a u . Ironically, his w i d e s t - r e a d w o r k s p u b l i s h e d u n d e r his n a m e d u r i n g his lifetime w e r e n o t Week o r even Walden, but " S l a v e r y in M a s s a c h u s e t t s " ( p r i n t e d in W i l l i a m L l o y d G a r r i s o n ' s Liberator and copied in t h e Tribune) a n d " A P l e a for C a p t a i n J o h n B r o w n " ( p r i n t e d in t h e f a s t - s e l l i n g Echoes

of Harper's

Ferry,

1860).

B e t w e e n J u n e 1 8 6 2 ( t h e m o n t h after T h o r e a u ' s d e a t h ) a n d N o v e m b e r 1 8 6 3 , t h e Atlantic Monthly published "Walking," " A u t u m n Tints," "Wild Apples," "Life without Principle," and "Night and Moonlight" anonymously, but publicized them as Thor e a u ' s . T i c k n o r a n d F i e l d s r e i s s u e d Week a n d Walden, a n d q u i c k l y g o t o u t five n e w b o o k s : Excursions Various

Persons

( 1 8 6 3 ) , The

Maine

( 1 8 6 5 ) , a n d A Yankee

Woods in Canada,

( 1 8 6 4 ) , Cape with

Cod

Anti-Slavery

( 1 8 6 4 ) , Letters and Reform

to Papers

( 1 8 6 6 ) . T h e e x p a n d e d f o r m o f E m e r s o n ' s f u n e r a l s p e e c h , p u b l i s h e d in t h e Atlantic Monthly for A u g u s t 1 8 6 3 , c o n f i r m e d T h o r e a u ' s g r o w i n g r e p u t a t i o n e v e n w h i l e u n n e c e s s a r i l y s t r e s s i n g s o m e o f his l e s s a t t r a c t i v e traits, e s p e c i a l l y his " h a b i t o f a n t a g o n i s m . " In t h e North American Review for O c t o b e r 1 8 6 5 , J a m e s R u s s e l l L o w e l l — b y t h e n t h e f o r e m o s t A m e r i c a n c r i t i c — h a d his r e v e n g e for T h o r e a u ' s s c o r n for his e a r l i e r c e n s o r s h i p o f a s e c t i o n o f The Maine

Woods.

R e v i e w i n g Letters

to Various

Persons,

Lowell

d e p i c t e d T h o r e a u a s a m e r e e c h o e r o f E m e r s o n , " s u r l y a n d s t o i c , " with " a m o r b i d s e l f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s that p r o n o u n c e s t h e world o f m e n e m p t y a n d w o r t h l e s s b e f o r e trying i t . " P e r h a p s m o s t d a m n i n g , T h o r e a u w a s a m a n w h o " h a d n o h u m o r . " E v e n R o b e r t L o u i s S t e v e n s o n ' s d e s c r i p t i o n ( 1 8 8 0 ) of T h o r e a u a s a " s k u l k e r " h a d a l e s s b a n e f u l effect. In A m e r i c a n literary h i s t o r i e s a n d c l a s s r o o m a n t h o l o g i e s o f t h e next sixty y e a r s , L o w e l l ' s w o r d s w e r e e n d l e s s l y q u o t e d or p a r a p h r a s e d .

R E S I S T A N C E TO C I V I L G O V E R N M E N T

/

837

W i t h T h o r e a u ' s credit a s social p h i l o s o p h e r s o t h o r o u g h l y s q u e l c h e d , his f r i e n d s b e g a n e m p h a s i z i n g his role a s a s t u d e n t of n a t u r e . C h a n n i n g p u b l i s h e d Tlioreau: Poet-Naturalist

The

( 1 8 7 3 ) , a n d J o h n B u r r o u g h s ' s e s s a y s followed in t h e 1 8 8 0 s . C a p i t a l -

izing o n this n e w a t t e n t i o n , T h o r e a u ' s d i s c i p l e H . G . O . B l a k e , w h o h a d i n h e r i t e d t h e j o u r n a l s f r o m T h o r e a u ' s s i s t e r S o p h i a , p u b l i s h e d Early ( 1 8 8 1 ) , Summer

( 1 8 8 4 ) , Winter

( 1 8 8 7 ) , a n d Autumn

Spring

in

Massachusetts

( 1 8 9 2 ) . British critics b e c a m e

i n t e r e s t e d in T h o r e a u , a n d in 1 8 9 0 a n i m p o r t a n t b i o g r a p h y w a s p u b l i s h e d by t h e s o c i a l i s t H . S . S a l t — j u s t in t i m e to i n t r o d u c e T h o r e a u to m a n y F a b i a n s a n d L a b o u r Party m e m b e r s . T h o r e a u w a s at last b e c o m i n g widely r e c o g n i z e d a s a s o c i a l p h i l o s o p h e r a s well a s a n a t u r a l i s t . In 1 9 0 6 M a h a t m a G a n d h i , in his African exile, r e a d "Civil D i s o b e d i e n c e " a n d m a d e i t — a n d later Life

without

Principle—major

d o c u m e n t s in

his s t r u g g l e for I n d i a n i n d e p e n d e n c e . T h e p u b l i c a t i o n of t h e j o u r n a l s in 1 9 0 6 in c h r o n o l o g i c a l o r d e r ( B l a k e h a d p l u n d e r e d the j o u r n a l s for s e a s o n a l p a s s a g e s r e g a r d l e s s of t h e y e a r s in w h i c h they o c c u r r e d ) g a v e r e a d e r s for t h e first t i m e a nearly full b o d y of e v i d e n c e for u n d e r s t a n d i n g a n d j u d g i n g T h o r e a u . By t h e 1 9 3 0 s , w h e n for m a n y " S i m p l i f y ! " h a d b e c o m e not a w h i m b u t a n e c e s s i t y , T h o r e a u h a d a t t a i n e d the s t a t u s of a m a j o r A m e r i c a n v o i c e . S c h o l a r l y a t t e n t i o n in the next d e c a d e s b e g a n to exalt h i m to a literary r a n k h i g h e r t h a n E m e r s o n ' s , e v e n w h i l e civil rights l e a d e r s s u c h a s M a r t i n L u t h e r K i n g J r . t e s t e d his t a c t i c s of civil d i s o b e d i e n c e t h r o u g h o u t t h e S o u t h a n d s o m e t i m e s into t h e N o r t h . In t h e 1 9 6 0 s a n d 1 9 7 0 s t h e c o u n t e r c u l t u r e ' s c o n c e r n with e x p e r i m e n t s in living a n d the g e n e r a l A m e r i c a n c o n c e r n for e c o l o g i c a l sanity h e l p e d e s t a b l i s h T h o r e a u m o r e firmly t h a n ever a s a g r e a t A m e r i c a n p r o p h e t , w h i l e his p o t e n t i a l v a l u e to t h e radical Left r e m a i n s largely u n t e s t e d . S i n c e t h e

1980s,

r e a d e r s of T h o r e a u h a v e i n c r e a s i n g l y a d m i r e d his j o u r n a l s a n d his e n v i r o n m e n t a l e s s a y s ; following t h e lead of J o h n M u i r a n d A l d o L e o p o l d , i m p o r t a n t writers like E d w a r d A b b e y a n d A n n i e D i l l a r d h a v e u s e d h i m a s a m o d e l for their a p p r o a c h e s to n a t u r e . T h o r e a u h a s yet to a c h i e v e his full r e c o g n i t i o n a s a g r e a t p r o s e stylist a s well a s a lover of n a t u r e , a N e w E n g l a n d m y s t i c , a n d a p o w e r f u l s o c i a l p h i l o s o p h e r . H e r e m a i n s t h e m o s t c h a l l e n g i n g m a j o r writer A m e r i c a h a s p r o d u c e d . N o g o o d r e a d e r will ever b e entirely p l e a s e d with h i m s e l f or h e r s e l f or with the c u r r e n t s t a t e of c u l t u r e a n d civilization w h i l e r e a d i n g a n y of T h o r e a u ' s b e s t w o r k s .

Resistance to Civil Government 1 I heartily a c c e p t t h e m o t t o , — " T h a t g o v e r n m e n t is b e s t w h i c h g o v e r n s l e a s t ; " 2 a n d I s h o u l d like to s e e it a c t e d u p to m o r e rapidly a n d systematically. C a r r i e d out, it finally a m o u n t s to this, w h i c h a l s o I b e l i e v e , — " T h a t governm e n t is b e s t which governs not at all;" a n d w h e n m e n are p r e p a r e d for it, that will b e the kind of g o v e r n m e n t w h i c h they will have. G o v e r n m e n t is at b e s t b u t a n e x p e d i e n t ; but m o s t g o v e r n m e n t s a r e usually, a n d all govern1. " R e s i s t a n c e t o C i v i l G o v e r n m e n t " is r e p r i n t e d h e r e f r o m its first a p p e a r a n c e , in Aesthetic Papers (1849); the editor and publisher, Elizabeth Peabody, was Hawthorne's sister-in-law. T h o r e a u had d e l i v e r e d t h e p a p e r ( o r p a r t s o f it) a s a l e c t u r e in J a n u a r y a n d a g a i n in F e b r u a r y 1 8 4 8 b e f o r e t h e C o n c o r d L y c e u m , u n d e r t h e title " T h e R i g h t s a n d D u t i e s o f t h e I n d i v i d u a l in R e l a t i o n to G o v e r n m e n t . " A f t e r h i s d e a t h it w a s r e p r i n t e d i n A Yankee in Canada, with Anti-Slaver)' and Reform Papers ( 1 8 6 6 ) a s "Civil D i s o b e d i e n c e , ' the' title by w h i c h it m u c h l a t e r b e c a m e w o r l d - f a m o u s . T h a t t i t l e , a l t h o u g h very c o m m o n l y u s e d , m a y well not b e authorial, and Thoreauvians are accustoming

t h e m s e l v e s t o t h e t i t l e o f t h e first p r i n t i n g t h a t , a s T h o r e a u indicates, was a play on " D u t y of S u b m i s s i o n to Civil G o v e r n m e n t , " the title of o n e of t h e c h a p t e r s i n W i l l i a m P a l e y ' s Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy (1 7 8 5 ) . I g n o r e d in its o w n t i m e , in t h e 2 0 t h c e n t u r y t h e i n f l u e n c e o f t h e e s s a y h a s b e e n p r o f o u n d , m o s t n o t a b l y in M a h a t m a G a n d h i ' s s t r u g g l e f o r I n d i a n i n d e p e n d e n c e a n d in t h e A m e r i c a n civil r i g h t s m o v e m e n t u n d e r t h e leadership of Martin L u t h e r King Jr. 2. A s s o c i a t e d with J e f f e r s o n i a n i s m , t h e s e w o r d s a p p e a r e d on the m a s t h e a d of the Democratic Review, t h e N e w Y o r k m a g a z i n e t h a t h a d p u b l i s h e d t w o e a r l y T h o r e a u p i e c e s in 1 8 4 3 .

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merits are s o m e t i m e s , inexpedient. T h e o b j e c t i o n s w h i c h have b e e n b r o u g h t a g a i n s t a s t a n d i n g army, a n d they a r e m a n y a n d weighty, a n d deserve to prevail, m a y a l s o at last b e b r o u g h t a g a i n s t a s t a n d i n g g o v e r n m e n t . T h e s t a n d i n g army is only an a r m of the s t a n d i n g g o v e r n m e n t . T h e g o v e r n m e n t itself, which is only the m o d e which the p e o p l e have c h o s e n to e x e c u t e their will, is equally liable to b e a b u s e d a n d perverted b e f o r e the p e o p l e c a n act t h r o u g h it. W i t n e s s the p r e s e n t M e x i c a n war, the work of c o m p a r a t i v e l y a few individuals u s i n g the s t a n d i n g g o v e r n m e n t a s their tool; for, in the o u t s e t , the p e o p l e would not have c o n s e n t e d to this m e a s u r e . 3 T h i s A m e r i c a n g o v e r n m e n t , — w h a t is it but a tradition, t h o u g h a r e c e n t o n e , e n d e a v o r i n g to t r a n s m i t itself u n i m p a i r e d to posterity, b u t e a c h instant losing s o m e of its integrity? It h a s not the vitality a n d force of a single living m a n ; for a single m a n c a n b e n d it to his will. It is a sort of w o o d e n g u n to the p e o p l e t h e m s e l v e s ; a n d , if ever they s h o u l d u s e it in e a r n e s t a s a real o n e a g a i n s t e a c h other, it will surely split. B u t it is not the less n e c e s s a r y for this; for the p e o p l e m u s t have s o m e c o m p l i c a t e d m a c h i n e r y or other, a n d h e a r its din, to satisfy that idea of g o v e r n m e n t which they h a v e . G o v e r n m e n t s s h o w t h u s h o w s u c c e s s f u l l y m e n c a n b e i m p o s e d o n , even i m p o s e o n t h e m s e l v e s , for their own a d v a n t a g e . It is excellent, we m u s t all allow; yet this g o v e r n m e n t never of itself furthered any e n t e r p r i s e , b u t by the alacrity with which it got out of its way. It d o e s not k e e p the country free. It d o e s not settle the W e s t . It d o e s not e d u c a t e . T h e c h a r a c t e r inherent in the A m e r i c a n p e o p l e h a s d o n e all that h a s b e e n a c c o m p l i s h e d ; a n d it w o u l d have d o n e s o m e w h a t m o r e , if the g o v e r n m e n t h a d not s o m e t i m e s got in its way. F o r g o v e r n m e n t is a n expedient by which m e n would fain s u c c e e d in letting o n e a n o t h e r a l o n e ; a n d , a s h a s b e e n s a i d , w h e n it is m o s t expedient, the g o v e r n e d a r e m o s t let a l o n e by it. T r a d e a n d c o m m e r c e , if they were not m a d e of India rubber, w o u l d never m a n a g e to b o u n c e over the o b s t a c l e s which legislators are continually p u t t i n g in their way; a n d , if o n e were to j u d g e t h e s e m e n wholly by the effects of their a c t i o n s , a n d not partly by their i n t e n t i o n s , they w o u l d deserve to be c l a s s e d a n d p u n i s h e d with t h o s e m i s c h i e v o u s p e r s o n s w h o p u t o b s t r u c t i o n s o n the railroads. B u t , to s p e a k practically a n d a s a citizen, unlike t h o s e w h o call t h e m s e l v e s no-government m e n , I a s k for, not at o n c e n o g o v e r n m e n t , b u t at once a better g o v e r n m e n t . L e t every m a n m a k e k n o w n what kind of g o v e r n m e n t would c o m m a n d his r e s p e c t , a n d that will b e o n e step toward o b t a i n i n g it. After all, the practical r e a s o n why, w h e n the p o w e r is o n c e in the h a n d s of the p e o p l e , a majority are p e r m i t t e d , a n d for a long p e r i o d c o n t i n u e , to rule, is not b e c a u s e they are m o s t likely to b e in the right, n o r b e c a u s e this s e e m s fairest to the minority, but b e c a u s e they are physically the s t r o n g e s t . B u t a g o v e r n m e n t in which the majority rule in all c a s e s c a n n o t b e b a s e d on j u s t i c e , even a s far a s m e n u n d e r s t a n d it. C a n there not b e a g o v e r n m e n t in which majorities do not virtually d e c i d e right a n d wrong, b u t c o n s c i e n c e ? — in which majorities d e c i d e only t h o s e q u e s t i o n s to w h i c h the rule of expediency is a p p l i c a b l e ? M u s t the citizen ever for a m o m e n t , or in the least d e g r e e , resign his c o n s c i e n c e to the legislator? W h y h a s every m a n a c o n 3. T h e M e x i c a n W a r , w i d e l y c r i t i c i z e d by W h i g s and many D e m o c r a t s as an "executive's war" because President Polk c o m m e n c e d hostilities without a congressional declaration of war, e n d e d o n F e b r u a r y 2 , 1 8 4 8 , j u s t a f t e r T h o r e a u first d e l i v -

ered this essay as a lecture. H e r e p e a t e d the lecture after t h e official e n d i n g o f t h e w a r (or p e r h a p s g a v e a n o t h e r i n s t a l l m e n t o f i t ) , a n d t h e n e x t y e a r l e t it g o to press with the out-of-date reference.

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s c i e n c e , t h e n ? I think that we s h o u l d b e m e n first, a n d s u b j e c t s afterward. It is not desirable to cultivate a r e s p e c t for the law, s o m u c h a s for the right. T h e only obligation which I have a right to a s s u m e , is to do at any time what I think right. It is truly e n o u g h s a i d , 4 that a corporation h a s n o c o n s c i e n c e ; b u t a corporation of c o n s c i e n t i o u s m e n is a c o r p o r a t i o n with a c o n s c i e n c e . L a w never m a d e m e n a whit m o r e j u s t ; a n d , by m e a n s of their r e s p e c t for it, even the well-disposed are daily m a d e the a g e n t s of injustice. A c o m m o n a n d n a t u r a l result of an u n d u e r e s p e c t for law is, that you m a y s e e a file of soldiers, colonel, c a p t a i n , corporal, privates, p o w d e r - m o n k e y s a n d all, m a r c h i n g in a d m i r a b l e order over hill a n d d a l e to the w a r s , a g a i n s t their wills, aye, a g a i n s t their c o m m o n s e n s e a n d c o n s c i e n c e s , which m a k e s it very s t e e p m a r c h i n g i n d e e d , a n d p r o d u c e s a palpitation of the heart. T h e y have no d o u b t that it is a d a m n a b l e b u s i n e s s in which they are c o n c e r n e d ; they a r e all p e a c e a b l y inclined. N o w , what a r e they? M e n at all? or small m o v e a b l e forts a n d m a g a z i n e s , at the service of s o m e u n s c r u p u l o u s m a n in power? Visit the Navy Yard, a n d b e h o l d a m a r i n e , s u c h a m a n a s a n A m e r i c a n gove r n m e n t c a n m a k e , or s u c h a s it c a n m a k e a m a n with its b l a c k a r t s , a m e r e s h a d o w a n d r e m i n i s c e n c e of h u m a n i t y , a m a n laid o u t alive a n d s t a n d i n g , a n d already, a s o n e m a y say, buried u n d e r a r m s with funeral a c c o m p a n i m e n t s , t h o u g h it may be " N o t a d r u m w a s h e a r d , nor a funeral n o t e , As his c o r s e to the r a m p a r t s we hurried; N o t a soldier d i s c h a r g e d his farewell shot O'er the grave w h e r e o u r hero we b u r i e d . " 5 T h e m a s s of m e n serve the S t a t e t h u s , not a s m e n mainly, b u t a s m a c h i n e s , with their b o d i e s . T h e y are the s t a n d i n g army, a n d the militia, j a i l e r s , c o n & c . In m o s t c a s e s there is n o free e x e r c i s e whatever s t a b l e s , posse comitatus,b of the j u d g m e n t or of the m o r a l s e n s e ; but they put t h e m s e l v e s o n a level with w o o d a n d earth a n d s t o n e s ; a n d w o o d e n m e n c a n p e r h a p s b e m a n u f a c tured that will serve the p u r p o s e a s well. S u c h c o m m a n d n o m o r e r e s p e c t than m e n of straw, or a l u m p of dirt. T h e y have the s a m e sort of worth only as h o r s e s a n d d o g s . Yet s u c h a s t h e s e even are c o m m o n l y e s t e e m e d g o o d citizens. O t h e r s , a s m o s t legislators, politicians, lawyers, m i n i s t e r s , a n d office-holders, serve the S t a t e chiefly with their h e a d s ; a n d , a s they rarely m a k e any moral d i s t i n c t i o n s , they are a s likely to serve the devil, without intending it, a s G o d . A very few, a s h e r o e s , p a t r i o t s , martyrs, r e f o r m e r s in the great s e n s e , a n d men, serve the S t a t e with their c o n s c i e n c e s a l s o , a n d s o necessarily resist it for the m o s t part; a n d they a r e c o m m o n l y treated by it as e n e m i e s . A wise m a n will only b e useful a s a m a n , a n d will not s u b m i t to be "clay," a n d " s t o p a hole to keep the wind a w a y , " 7 but leave that office to his d u s t at l e a s t : — "I a m too high-born to be p r o p e r t i e d , T o b e a s e c o n d a r y at control, O r useful serving-man a n d i n s t r u m e n t T o a n y sovereign state t h r o u g h o u t the w o r l d . " 8

4 . B y S i r E d w a r d C o k e , 1 6 1 2 , in a f a m o u s l e g a l decision. 5. F r o m C h a r l e s W o l f e ' s "Burial of Sir J o h n M o o r e at C o r u n n a " ( 1 8 1 7 ) , a s o n g T h o r e a u liked

to 6. 7. 8.

sing. SherifFs posse (Latin). S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Hamlet 5.1.236-37. S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Kingjohn 5.1.79—82.

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H e w h o gives h i m s e l f entirely to his fellow-men a p p e a r s to t h e m u s e l e s s a n d selfish; but he w h o gives h i m s e l f partially to t h e m is p r o n o u n c e d a b e n e factor a n d philanthropist. H o w d o e s it b e c o m e a m a n to b e h a v e toward this A m e r i c a n g o v e r n m e n t to-day? I a n s w e r that he c a n n o t without d i s g r a c e be a s s o c i a t e d with it. I c a n n o t for a n instant recognize that political organization a s my g o v e r n m e n t which is the slave's g o v e r n m e n t a l s o . All m e n recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse alleg i a n c e to a n d to resist the g o v e r n m e n t , w h e n its tyranny or its inefficiency a r e great a n d u n e n d u r a b l e . B u t a l m o s t all say that s u c h is not the c a s e now. B u t s u c h was the c a s e , they think, in the Revolution of ' 7 5 . If o n e were to tell m e that this w a s a b a d g o v e r n m e n t b e c a u s e it taxed certain foreign c o m m o d i t i e s b r o u g h t to its p o r t s , it is m o s t p r o b a b l e that I s h o u l d not m a k e an a d o a b o u t it, for I c a n d o without t h e m : all m a c h i n e s have their friction; a n d possibly this d o e s e n o u g h good to c o u n t e r b a l a n c e the evil. At any r a t e , it is a great evil to m a k e a stir a b o u t it. Rut w h e n the friction c o m e s to have its m a c h i n e , a n d o p p r e s s i o n a n d robbery are o r g a n i z e d , I say, let u s not have s u c h a m a c h i n e any longer. In other w o r d s , w h e n a sixth of the p o p u l a t i o n of a nation which h a s u n d e r t a k e n to be the refuge of liberty a r e slaves, a n d a whole country is unjustly overrun a n d c o n q u e r e d by a foreign army, a n d s u b j e c t e d to military law, I think that it is not too s o o n for h o n e s t m e n to rebel a n d revolutionize. W h a t m a k e s this duty the m o r e u r g e n t is the fact, that the country s o overrun is not our o w n , but o u r s is the invading a r m y . Paley, a c o m m o n authority with m a n y on moral q u e s t i o n s , in his c h a p t e r on the " D u t y of S u b m i s s i o n to Civil G o v e r n m e n t , " 9 resolves all civil obligation into expediency; a n d he p r o c e e d s to say, "that so long a s the interest of the whole society r e q u i r e s it, that is, s o long as the e s t a b l i s h e d g o v e r n m e n t c a n n o t be resisted or c h a n g e d without public inconveniency, it is the will of G o d that the e s t a b l i s h e d g o v e r n m e n t b e o b e y e d , a n d no l o n g e r . " — " T h i s principle b e i n g a d m i t t e d , the j u s t i c e of every particular c a s e of r e s i s t a n c e is r e d u c e d to a c o m p u t a t i o n of the quantity of the d a n g e r a n d grievance on the o n e s i d e , a n d of the probability a n d e x p e n s e of r e d r e s s i n g it o n the o t h e r . " O f this, he says, every m a n shall j u d g e for himself. B u t Paley a p p e a r s never to have c o n t e m p l a t e d t h o s e c a s e s to which the rule of expediency d o e s not apply, in which a p e o p l e , as well a s a n individual, m u s t d o j u s t i c e , c o s t what it may. If I have unjustly wrested a p l a n k from a d r o w n i n g m a n , I m u s t restore it to him t h o u g h I drown myself. 1 T h i s , a c c o r d i n g to Paley, would be inconvenient. B u t h e that would save his life, in s u c h a c a s e , shall lose it. 2 T h i s p e o p l e m u s t c e a s e to hold slaves, a n d to m a k e war on M e x i c o , t h o u g h it c o s t t h e m their e x i s t e n c e a s a p e o p l e . In their p r a c t i c e , n a t i o n s a g r e e with Paley; but d o e s any o n e think that M a s s a c h u s e t t s d o e s exactly what is right at the p r e s e n t crisis? "A drab of s t a t e , a cloth-o'-silver slut, T o have her train b o r n e u p , a n d her soul trail in the d i r t . " 3 9 . T h e p r e c i s e t i t l e o f t h e c h a p t e r in W i l l i a m P a l e y ' s Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy ( 1 7 8 5 ) is " T h e D u t y o f S u b m i s s i o n t o C i v i l G o v e r n m e n t E x p l a i n e d . " T h i s b o o k by P a l e y , E n g l i s h theologian a n d moralist ( 1 7 4 3 — 1 8 0 5 ) , was o n e of Thoreau's Harvard textbooks.

1. A p r o b l e m in s i t u a t i o n a l e t h i c s c i t e d b y C i c e r o in De Qfficiis 3, w h i c h T h o r e a u h a d s t u d i e d . 2.

Matthew 10.39; Luke 9.24.

3 . C y r i l T o u r n e u r ( I 5 7 5 ? — 1 6 2 6 ) . Tlte Tragedy 3.4.

Rei'enger's

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Practically s p e a k i n g , the o p p o n e n t s to a reform in M a s s a c h u s e t t s are not a h u n d r e d t h o u s a n d politicians at the S o u t h , but a h u n d r e d t h o u s a n d merc h a n t s a n d f a r m e r s h e r e , 4 w h o are m o r e interested in c o m m e r c e a n d agric u l t u r e than they are in humanity, a n d are not p r e p a r e d to do j u s t i c e to the slave a n d to M e x i c o , cost what it may. I quarrel not with far-off foes, but with t h o s e w h o , near at h o m e , c o - o p e r a t e with, a n d d o the bidding of t h o s e far away, a n d without w h o m the latter would be h a r m l e s s . W e a r e a c c u s t o m e d to say, that the m a s s of m e n are u n p r e p a r e d ; but i m p r o v e m e n t is slow, b e c a u s e the few are not materially wiser or better than the m a n y . It is not s o i m p o r t a n t that m a n y s h o u l d be a s g o o d a s you, a s that there be s o m e a b s o l u t e g o o d n e s s s o m e w h e r e ; for that will leaven the whole l u m p . 5 T h e r e are t h o u s a n d s who a r e in opinion o p p o s e d to slavery a n d to the war, w h o yet in effect do n o t h i n g to put a n e n d to t h e m ; w h o , e s t e e m i n g t h e m s e l v e s children of W a s h i n g t o n a n d F r a n k l i n , 6 sit down with their h a n d s in their p o c k e t s , a n d say that they know not what to d o , a n d do nothing; w h o even p o s t p o n e the q u e s t i o n of f r e e d o m to the q u e s t i o n of free-trade, a n d quietly read the prices-current a l o n g with the latest advices from M e x i c o , after dinner, a n d , it may b e , fall a s l e e p over t h e m b o t h . W h a t is the price-current of a n h o n e s t m a n a n d patriot to-day? T h e y h e s i t a t e , a n d they regret, a n d s o m e t i m e s they petition; but they do n o t h i n g in e a r n e s t a n d with effect. T h e y will wait, well d i s p o s e d , for others to r e m e d y the evil, that they may no longer have it to regret. At m o s t , they give only a c h e a p vote, a n d a feeble c o u n t e n a n c e a n d G o d - s p e e d , to the right, as it g o e s by t h e m . T h e r e are nine h u n d r e d a n d ninety-nine p a t r o n s of virtue to o n e virtuous m a n ; but it is e a s i e r to deal with the real p o s s e s s o r of a thing than with the temporary g u a r d i a n of it. All voting is a sort of g a m i n g , like c h e q u e r s or b a c k g a m m o n , with a slight moral tinge to it, a playing with right a n d wrong, with moral q u e s t i o n s ; a n d betting naturally a c c o m p a n i e s it. T h e c h a r a c t e r of the voters is not s t a k e d . I c a s t my vote, p e r c h a n c e , a s I think right; but I a m not vitally c o n c e r n e d that that right s h o u l d prevail. I a m willing to leave it to the majority. Its obligation, therefore, never e x c e e d s that of expediency. Even v o t i n g / o r the right is doing nothing for it. It is only e x p r e s s i n g to m e n feebly your desire that it s h o u l d prevail. A wise m a n will not leave the right to the m e r c y of c h a n c e , nor wish it to prevail through the power of the majority. T h e r e is but little virtue in the action of m a s s e s of m e n . W h e n the majority shall at length vote for the abolition of slavery, it will be b e c a u s e they are indifferent to slavery, or b e c a u s e there is but little slavery left to be a b o l i s h e d by their vote. They will then be the only s l a v e s . Only his vote c a n h a s t e n the abolition of slavery w h o a s s e r t s his own f r e e d o m by his vote. I hear of a convention to b e held at B a l t i m o r e , or e l s e w h e r e , for the s e l e c tion of a c a n d i d a t e for the Presidency, m a d e u p chiefly of editors, a n d m e n who are politicians by p r o f e s s i o n ; but I think, what is it to any i n d e p e n d e n t , intelligent, a n d r e s p e c t a b l e m a n what d e c i s i o n they m a y c o m e to, shall we not have the a d v a n t a g e of his w i s d o m a n d honesty, n e v e r t h e l e s s ? C a n we not c o u n t u p o n s o m e i n d e p e n d e n t votes? Are there not m a n y individuals in the country w h o do not attend c o n v e n t i o n s ? B u t n o : I find that the respectable m a n , s o called, h a s immediately drifted from his position, a n d d e s p a i r s 4. T h o r e a u refers to t h e e c o n o m i c a l l i a n c e o f S o u t h e r n cotton growers with N o r t h e r n s h i p p e r s and manufacturers.

5 . 1 C o r i n t h i a n s 5 . 6 : " K n o w ye n o t that a little leaven leaventh the whole l u m p ? " 6 . I.e., c h i l d r e n o f r e b e l s a n d r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s .

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of his country, w h e n his country h a s m o r e r e a s o n to d e s p a i r of h i m . H e forthwith a d o p t s o n e of the c a n d i d a t e s t h u s s e l e c t e d a s the only available o n e , t h u s proving that he is h i m s e l f available for any p u r p o s e s of the d e m a g o g u e . His vote is of n o m o r e worth t h a n that of any u n p r i n c i p l e d foreigner or hireling native, w h o may have b e e n b o u g h t . O h for a m a n w h o is a man, a n d , a s my n e i g h b o r says, h a s a b o n e in his b a c k w h i c h you c a n n o t p a s s your h a n d t h r o u g h ! O u r statistics are at fault: the p o p u l a t i o n h a s b e e n r e t u r n e d too large. H o w m a n y men are there to a s q u a r e t h o u s a n d m i l e s in this c o u n try? Hardly o n e . D o e s not A m e r i c a offer any i n d u c e m e n t for m e n to settle here? T h e A m e r i c a n has dwindled into a n O d d F e l l o w , — o n e w h o may b e known by the d e v e l o p m e n t of his o r g a n of g r e g a r i o u s n e s s , a n d a m a n i f e s t lack of intellect a n d cheerful s e l f - r e l i a n c e ; 7 w h o s e first a n d c h i e f c o n c e r n , on c o m i n g into the world, is to s e e that the a l m s - h o u s e s a r e in g o o d repair; a n d , before yet he h a s lawfully d o n n e d the virile g a r b , 8 to collect a fund for the s u p p o r t of the widows a n d o r p h a n s that may b e ; w h o , in short, v e n t u r e s to live only by the aid of the m u t u a l i n s u r a n c e c o m p a n y , w h i c h h a s p r o m i s e d to bury him decently. It is not a m a n ' s duty, a s a m a t t e r of c o u r s e , to devote h i m s e l f to the e r a d i c a t i o n of any, even the m o s t e n o r m o u s w r o n g ; he m a y still properly have other c o n c e r n s to e n g a g e him; but it is his duty, at l e a s t , to w a s h his h a n d s of it, a n d , if he gives it n o t h o u g h t longer, not to give it practically his s u p p o r t . If I devote myself to other p u r s u i t s a n d c o n t e m p l a t i o n s , I m u s t first s e e , at least, that I d o not p u r s u e t h e m sitting u p o n a n o t h e r m a n ' s s h o u l d e r s . I m u s t get off him first, that he may p u r s u e his c o n t e m p l a t i o n s too. S e e what g r o s s i n c o n s i s t e n c y is tolerated. I have h e a r d s o m e of my t o w n s m e n say, "I s h o u l d like to have t h e m order m e out to h e l p put d o w n a n insurrection of the slaves, or to m a r c h to M e x i c o , — s e e if I w o u l d g o ; " a n d yet t h e s e very m e n have e a c h , directly by their a l l e g i a n c e , a n d so indirectly, at least, by their m o n e y , furnished a s u b s t i t u t e . T h e soldier is a p p l a u d e d w h o r e f u s e s to serve in a n u n j u s t war by t h o s e w h o d o not refuse to s u s t a i n the u n j u s t g o v e r n m e n t which m a k e s the war; is a p p l a u d e d by t h o s e w h o s e own act a n d authority he d i s r e g a r d s a n d s e t s at n o u g h t ; a s if the S t a t e were p e n i t e n t to that d e g r e e that it hired o n e to s c o u r g e it while it s i n n e d , but not to that d e g r e e that it left off s i n n i n g for a m o m e n t . T h u s , u n d e r the n a m e of order a n d civil g o v e r n m e n t , we a r e all m a d e at last to pay h o m a g e to a n d s u p p o r t our own m e a n n e s s . After the first b l u s h of sin, c o m e s its i n d i f f e r e n c e ; a n d from i m m o r a l it b e c o m e s , a s it w e r e , i m m o r a l , a n d not q u i t e u n n e c e s s a r y to that life w h i c h we have m a d e . T h e b r o a d e s t a n d m o s t prevalent error r e q u i r e s the m o s t d i s i n t e r e s t e d virtue to s u s t a i n it. T h e slight r e p r o a c h to which the virtue of patriotism is c o m m o n l y liable, the n o b l e a r e m o s t likely to incur. T h o s e w h o , while they d i s a p p r o v e of the c h a r a c t e r a n d m e a s u r e s of a g o v e r n m e n t , yield to it their a l l e g i a n c e a n d s u p p o r t , are u n d o u b t e d l y its m o s t c o n s c i e n t i o u s s u p p o r t e r s , a n d s o frequently the m o s t s e r i o u s o b s t a c l e s to reform. S o m e a r e petitioning the S t a t e to dissolve the U n i o n , to d i s r e g a r d the r e q u i s i t i o n s of the P r e s i d e n t . Why d o they not dissolve it t h e m s e l v e s , — t h e u n i o n b e t w e e n t h e m s e l v e s a n d 7 . T h e O d d F e l l o w s is a s e c r e t f r a t e r n a l o r g a n i z a t i o n , c h o s e n by T h o r e a u for t h e satirical v a l u e of i t s n a m e : i n h i s v i e w t h e a r c h e t y p a l A m e r i c a n is not the individualist, the g e n u i n e o d d fellow, but

the conformist. 8. Adult garb allowed a R o m a n boy on fourteen.

reaching

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the S t a t e , — a n d refuse to pay their q u o t a into its treasury? D o not they s t a n d in the s a m e relation to the S t a t e , that the S t a t e d o e s to the U n i o n ? A n d have not the s a m e r e a s o n s prevented the S t a t e from resisting the U n i o n , which have prevented t h e m from resisting the S t a t e ? H o w c a n a m a n be satisfied to entertain an opinion merely, a n d enjoy it? Is there any e n j o y m e n t in it, if his opinion is that he is aggrieved? If you are c h e a t e d o u t of a single dollar by your neighbor, you do not rest satisfied with knowing that you are c h e a t e d , or with saying that you a r e c h e a t e d , or even with petitioning him to pay you your d u e ; but you take effectual s t e p s at o n c e to obtain the full a m o u n t , a n d s e e that you a r e never c h e a t e d a g a i n . Action from p r i n c i p l e , — t h e perception a n d the p e r f o r m a n c e of r i g h t , — c h a n g e s things a n d relations; it is essentially revolutionary, a n d d o e s not c o n s i s t wholly with any thing which w a s . It not only divides s t a t e s a n d c h u r c h e s , it divides families; aye, it divides the individual, s e p a r a t i n g the diabolical in him from the divine. U n j u s t laws exist: shall we be c o n t e n t to obey t h e m , or shall we e n d e a v o r to a m e n d t h e m , a n d obey t h e m until we have s u c c e e d e d , or shall w e transg r e s s t h e m at o n c e ? M e n generally, u n d e r s u c h a g o v e r n m e n t a s this, think that they o u g h t to wait until they have p e r s u a d e d the majority to alter t h e m . T h e y think that, if they s h o u l d resist, the r e m e d y w o u l d b e w o r s e t h a n the evil. B u t it is the fault of the g o v e r n m e n t itself that the r e m e d y is w o r s e than the evil. It m a k e s it w o r s e . W h y is it not m o r e a p t to a n t i c i p a t e a n d provide for reform? W h y d o e s it not c h e r i s h its wise minority? W h y d o e s it cry a n d resist before it is hurt? W h y d o e s it not e n c o u r a g e its citizens to be on the alert to point out its faults, a n d do better than it w o u l d have t h e m ? W h y d o e s it always crucify C h r i s t , a n d e x c o m m u n i c a t e C o p e r n i c u s a n d L u t h e r , 9 a n d p r o n o u n c e W a s h i n g t o n a n d Franklin rebels? O n e would think, that a deliberate a n d practical denial of its authority w a s the only offence never c o n t e m p l a t e d by g o v e r n m e n t ; e l s e , why h a s it not a s s i g n e d its definite, its s u i t a b l e a n d p r o p o r t i o n a t e penalty? If a m a n w h o has n o property refuses but o n c e to earn n i n e shillings' for the S t a t e , he is put in prison for a period u n l i m i t e d by any law that I know, a n d d e t e r m i n e d only by the discretion of t h o s e w h o p l a c e d him t h e r e ; but if I s h o u l d steal ninety times nine shillings from the S t a t e , h e is s o o n p e r m i t t e d to go at large again. If the injustice is part of the n e c e s s a r y friction of the m a c h i n e of governm e n t , let it g o , let it go: p e r c h a n c e it will wear s m o o t h , — c e r t a i n l y the m a c h i n e will wear out. If the injustice has a spring, or a pulley, or a r o p e , or a crank, exclusively for itself, then p e r h a p s you may c o n s i d e r w h e t h e r the r e m e d y will not b e worse than the evil; but if it is of s u c h a n a t u r e that it r e q u i r e s you to b e the a g e n t of injustice to a n o t h e r , t h e n , I say, b r e a k the law. Let your life be a c o u n t e r friction to stop the m a c h i n e . W h a t I have to do is to s e e , at any r a t e , that I d o not lend myself to the w r o n g which I condemn. As for a d o p t i n g the ways which the S t a t e has provided for r e m e d y i n g the 9. T h o r e a u uses C o p e r n i c u s ( 1 4 7 3 - 1 5 4 3 ) , the Polish a s t r o n o m e r w h o died too s o o n after the p u b lication of his n e w system of a s t r o n o m y to be e x c o m m u n i c a t e d f r o m t h e C a t h o l i c C h u r c h for WTiting it, a n d M a r t i n L u t h e r ( 1 4 8 3 - 1 5 4 6 ) , t h e

G e r m a n leader of the Protestant Reformation w h o was e x c o m m u n i c a t e d , as a n n o u n c e r s of new truths. 1. T h e a m o u n t o f t h e p o l l t a x T h o r e a u h a d r e f u s e d to pay.

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evil, I know not of s u c h ways. T h e y take too m u c h t i m e , a n d a m a n ' s life will be g o n e . I have other affairs to a t t e n d to. I c a m e into this world, not chiefly to m a k e this a g o o d p l a c e to live in, but to live in it, be it g o o d or b a d . A m a n h a s not every thing to d o , but s o m e t h i n g ; a n d b e c a u s e h e c a n n o t do every thing, it is not n e c e s s a r y that he s h o u l d d o something w r o n g . It is not my b u s i n e s s to be petitioning the governor or the legislature any m o r e than it is theirs to petition m e ; a n d , if they s h o u l d not hear my petition, what s h o u l d I do then? B u t in this c a s e the S t a t e h a s provided no way: its very C o n s t i tution is the evil. T h i s may s e e m to b e h a r s h a n d s t u b b o r n a n d unconciliatory; but it is to treat with the u t m o s t k i n d n e s s a n d c o n s i d e r a t i o n the only spirit that c a n a p p r e c i a t e or deserves it. S o is all c h a n g e for the better, like birth a n d d e a t h which c o n v u l s e the body. I d o not h e s i t a t e to say, that t h o s e w h o call t h e m s e l v e s abolitionists s h o u l d at o n c e effectually withdraw their s u p p o r t , both in p e r s o n a n d property, from the g o v e r n m e n t of M a s s a c h u s e t t s , a n d not wait till they c o n s t i t u t e a majority of o n e , before they suffer the right to prevail t h r o u g h t h e m . I think that it is e n o u g h if they have G o d on their s i d e , without waiting for that other o n e . Moreover, any m a n m o r e right than his n e i g h b o r s , c o n s t i t u t e s a majority of o n e already. 2 I meet this A m e r i c a n g o v e r n m e n t , or its r e p r e s e n t a t i v e the S t a t e governm e n t , directly, a n d f a c e to f a c e , o n c e a year, no m o r e , in the p e r s o n of its tax-gatherer; this is the only m o d e in w h i c h a m a n s i t u a t e d a s I a m n e c e s s a r i l y m e e t s it; a n d it then says distinctly, R e c o g n i z e m e ; a n d the s i m p l e s t , the most effectual, a n d , in the p r e s e n t p o s t u r e of affairs, the i n d i s p e n s a b l e s t m o d e of treating with it on this h e a d , of e x p r e s s i n g your little satisfaction with a n d love for it, is to deny it t h e n . M y civil n e i g h b o r , the tax-gatherer, 3 is the very m a n I have to deal w i t h , — f o r it is, after all, with m e n a n d not with p a r c h m e n t that I q u a r r e l , — a n d he h a s voluntarily c h o s e n to b e an agent of the g o v e r n m e n t . H o w shall h e ever know well what h e is a n d d o e s a s a n officer of the g o v e r n m e n t , or a s a m a n , until he is obliged to c o n s i d e r w h e t h e r he shall treat m e , his neighbor, for w h o m h e h a s r e s p e c t , a s a n e i g h b o r a n d well-disposed m a n , or a s a m a n i a c a n d d i s t u r b e r of the p e a c e , a n d s e e if he c a n get over this o b s t r u c t i o n to his n e i g h b o r l i n e s s without a ruder a n d m o r e i m p e t u o u s thought or s p e e c h c o r r e s p o n d i n g with his a c t i o n ? I know this well, that if o n e t h o u s a n d , if o n e h u n d r e d , if ten m e n w h o m I c o u l d n a m e , — i f ten honest m e n o n l y , — a y e , if one H O N E S T m a n , in this S t a t e of M a s s a c h u s e t t s , ceasing to hold slaves, were actually to withdraw from this copartnership, a n d be locked u p in the c o u n t y jail therefor, it w o u l d be the abolition of slavery in A m e r i c a . F o r it m a t t e r s not h o w small the b e g i n n i n g m a y s e e m to b e : what is o n c e well d o n e is d o n e for ever. Rut we love better to talk a b o u t it: that we say is our m i s s i o n . R e f o r m k e e p s m a n y s c o r e s of n e w s p a p e r s in its service, but not o n e m a n . If my e s t e e m e d n e i g h b o r , the S t a t e ' s a m b a s s a d o r , 4 w h o will devote his days to the s e t t l e m e n t of the q u e s t i o n of h u m a n rights in the C o u n c i l C h a m b e r , instead of b e i n g t h r e a t e n e d with the p r i s o n s of C a r o l i n a , were to sit d o w n the p r i s o n e r of M a s s a c h u s e t t s , that S t a t e which 2 . J o h n K n o x (1 5 0 5 ? - 1 5 7 2 ) , t h e S c o t t i s h r e l i g i o u s r e f o r m e r , s a i d t h a t " a m a n w i t h G o d is a l w a y s i n the majority." 3. S a m S t a p l e s , w h o s o m e t i m e s a s s i s t e d T h o r e a u in h i s s u r v e y i n g . 4 . S a m u e l H o a r ( 1 7 7 8 - 1 8 5 6 ) , l o c a l p o l i t i c a l fig-

ure w h o as agent of the state of M a s s a c h u s e t t s had b e e n e x p e l l e d t r o m C h a r l e s t o n , S o u t h C a r o l i n a , in 1844 while interceding on behalf of imprisoned black s e a m e n from Massachusetts. T h e South C a r o l i n a l e g i s l a t u r e h a d v o t e d to a s k t h e g o v e r n o r to expel H o a r .

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is s o anxious to foist the sin of slavery u p o n her s i s t e r , — t h o u g h at p r e s e n t she c a n discover only an act of inhospitality to be the g r o u n d of a quarrel with h e r , — t h e L e g i s l a t u r e would not wholly waive the s u b j e c t the following winter. U n d e r a g o v e r n m e n t which i m p r i s o n s any unjustly, the true p l a c e for a j u s t m a n is also a prison. T h e p r o p e r p l a c e to-day, the only p l a c e which M a s s a c h u s e t t s has provided for her freer a n d less d e s p o n d i n g spirits, is in her p r i s o n s , to be put out a n d locked out of the S t a t e by her own act, a s they have already put t h e m s e l v e s o u t by their principles. It is there that the fugitive slave, a n d the M e x i c a n prisoner on p a r o l e , a n d the Indian c o m e to p l e a d the wrongs of his r a c e , s h o u l d find t h e m ; on that s e p a r a t e , but m o r e free a n d h o n o r a b l e g r o u n d , where the S t a t e p l a c e s t h o s e w h o a r e not with her but against h e r , — t h e only h o u s e in a slave-state in which a free m a n c a n a b i d e with honor. If any think that their influence w o u l d b e lost t h e r e , a n d their voices no longer afflict the ear of the S t a t e , that they would not be as a n e n e m y within its walls, they do not know by how m u c h truth is stronger than error, nor how m u c h m o r e eloquently a n d effectively h e c a n c o m b a t injustice w h o h a s e x p e r i e n c e d a little in his own p e r s o n . C a s t your w h o l e vote, not a strip of p a p e r merely, but your w h o l e i n f l u e n c e . A minority is powerless while it c o n f o r m s to the majority; it is not even a minority t h e n ; but it is irresistible w h e n it clogs by its w h o l e weight. If the alternative is to keep all j u s t m e n in p r i s o n , or give u p war a n d slavery, the S t a t e will not hesitate which to c h o o s e . If a t h o u s a n d m e n were not to pay their tax-bills this year, that would not be a violent a n d bloody m e a s u r e , a s it would be to pay t h e m , a n d e n a b l e the S t a t e to c o m m i t violence a n d s h e d i n n o c e n t b l o o d . T h i s is, in fact, the definition of a p e a c e a b l e revolution, if any s u c h is p o s sible. If the tax-gatherer, or any other public officer, asks m e , a s o n e has d o n e , " B u t what shall I d o ? " my a n s w e r is, "If you really wish to do any thing, resign your office." W h e n the s u b j e c t h a s r e f u s e d a l l e g i a n c e , a n d the officer h a s resigned his office, then the revolution is a c c o m p l i s h e d . B u t even s u p p o s e b l o o d s h o u l d flow. Is there not a sort of blood s h e d w h e n the c o n s c i e n c e is w o u n d e d ? T h r o u g h this w o u n d a m a n ' s real m a n h o o d a n d immortality flow out, a n d he b l e e d s to an everlasting d e a t h . I s e e this b l o o d flowing now. I have c o n t e m p l a t e d the i m p r i s o n m e n t of the offender, rather t h a n the seizure of his g o o d s , — t h o u g h both will serve the s a m e p u r p o s e , — b e c a u s e they w h o a s s e r t the p u r e s t right, a n d c o n s e q u e n t l y are m o s t d a n g e r o u s to a corrupt S t a t e , c o m m o n l y have not spent m u c h time in a c c u m u l a t i n g property. T o s u c h the S t a t e renders comparatively small service, a n d a slight tax is wont to a p p e a r exorbitant, particularly if they are obliged to e a r n it by special labor with their h a n d s . If there were o n e w h o lived wholly without the u s e of money, the S t a t e itself would hesitate to d e m a n d it of h i m . B u t the rich m a n — n o t to m a k e any invidious c o m p a r i s o n — i s always sold to the institution which m a k e s him rich. Absolutely s p e a k i n g , the m o r e m o n e y , the less virtue; for m o n e y c o m e s b e t w e e n a m a n a n d his o b j e c t s , a n d o b t a i n s t h e m for h i m ; a n d it w a s certainly n o great virtue to obtain it. It p u t s to rest m a n y q u e s t i o n s which he would otherwise be taxed to a n s w e r ; while the only new q u e s t i o n which it puts is the hard but s u p e r f l u o u s o n e , how to s p e n d it. T h u s his moral g r o u n d is taken from u n d e r his feet. T h e o p p o r t u n i t i e s of living are d i m i n i s h e d in proportion a s what a r e called the " m e a n s " a r e i n c r e a s e d . T h e b e s t thing a m a n c a n do for his c u l t u r e w h e n h e is rich is to

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e n d e a v o u r to carry out t h o s e s c h e m e s w h i c h h e e n t e r t a i n e d w h e n he w a s poor. C h r i s t a n s w e r e d the H e r o d i a n s a c c o r d i n g to their c o n d i t i o n . " S h o w m e the t r i b u t e - m o n e y , " said h e ; — a n d o n e took a p e n n y out of his p o c k e t ; — I f you u s e m o n e y which h a s the i m a g e of Caesar on it, a n d w h i c h he h a s m a d e c u r r e n t a n d v a l u a b l e , that is, if you are men of the State, a n d gladly enjoy the a d v a n t a g e s of Caesar's g o v e r n m e n t , then pay him b a c k s o m e of his own w h e n h e d e m a n d s it: " R e n d e r therefore to Caesar that w h i c h is Caesar's, a n d to G o d t h o s e things which are G o d ' s , " 5 — l e a v i n g t h e m no wiser t h a n b e f o r e a s to which w a s w h i c h ; for they did not wish to know. W h e n I c o n v e r s e with the freest of my n e i g h b o r s , I p e r c e i v e that, whatever they m a y say a b o u t the m a g n i t u d e a n d s e r i o u s n e s s of the q u e s t i o n , a n d their regard for the public tranquillity, the long a n d the short of the m a t t e r is, that they c a n n o t s p a r e the p r o t e c t i o n of the existing g o v e r n m e n t , a n d they d r e a d the c o n s e q u e n c e s of d i s o b e d i e n c e to it to their property a n d families. F o r my own part, I s h o u l d not like to think that I ever rely on the protection of the S t a t e . B u t , if I deny the authority of the S t a t e w h e n it p r e s e n t s its taxbill, it will s o o n take a n d w a s t e all my property, a n d so h a r a s s m e a n d my children without e n d . T h i s is hard. T h i s m a k e s it i m p o s s i b l e for a m a n to live honestly a n d at the s a m e time c o m f o r t a b l y in o u t w a r d r e s p e c t s . It will not b e worth the while to a c c u m u l a t e property; that w o u l d b e s u r e to go a g a i n . You m u s t hire or s q u a t s o m e w h e r e , a n d r a i s e b u t a small c r o p , a n d eat that s o o n . You m u s t live within yourself, a n d d e p e n d u p o n yourself, always t u c k e d u p a n d ready for a start, a n d not have m a n y affairs. A m a n may grow rich in T u r k e y even, if he will b e in all r e s p e c t s a g o o d s u b j e c t of the T u r k i s h g o v e r n m e n t . C o n f u c i o u s s a i d , — " I f a S t a t e is g o v e r n e d by the principles of r e a s o n , poverty a n d misery are s u b j e c t s of s h a m e ; if a S t a t e is not governed by the p r i n c i p l e s of r e a s o n , riches a n d h o n o r s are the s u b j e c t s of s h a m e . " 6 N o : until I want the protection of M a s s a c h u s e t t s to b e e x t e n d e d to m e in s o m e d i s t a n t s o u t h e r n port, w h e r e my liberty is e n d a n g e r e d , or until I a m bent solely o n b u i l d i n g u p a n e s t a t e at h o m e at p e a c e f u l e n t e r p r i s e , I c a n afford to refuse a l l e g i a n c e to M a s s a c h u s e t t s , a n d her right to my property a n d life. It c o s t s m e less in every s e n s e to i n c u r the penalty of d i s o b e d i e n c e to the S t a t e , t h a n it w o u l d to obey. I s h o u l d feel a s if I were worth less in that c a s e . S o m e years a g o , the S t a t e m e t m e in b e h a l f of the c h u r c h , a n d c o m m a n d e d m e to pay a certain s u m toward the s u p p o r t of a c l e r g y m a n w h o s e p r e a c h i n g my father a t t e n d e d , b u t never I myself. " P a y it," it s a i d , "or b e l o c k e d u p in the j a i l . " I d e c l i n e d to pay. B u t , unfortunately, a n o t h e r m a n s a w fit to pay it. I did not s e e why the s c h o o l m a s t e r s h o u l d b e taxed to s u p p o r t the priest, a n d not the priest the s c h o o l m a s t e r ; for I w a s not the S t a t e ' s s c h o o l m a s t e r , b u t I s u p p o r t e d myself by voluntary s u b s c r i p t i o n . I did not s e e why the l y c e u m s h o u l d not p r e s e n t its tax-bill, a n d have the S t a t e to b a c k its d e m a n d , a s well a s the c h u r c h . However, at the r e q u e s t of the s e l e c t m e n , I c o n d e s c e n d e d to m a k e s o m e s u c h s t a t e m e n t a s this in w r i t i n g : — " K n o w all m e n by t h e s e p r e s e n t s , that I, Henry T h o r e a u , d o not wish to b e r e g a r d e d a s a m e m b e r of any i n c o r p o r a t e d society which I have not j o i n e d . " T h i s I g a v e to the town-clerk; a n d h e has it. T h e S t a t e , having t h u s l e a r n e d that I did not 5 . M a t t h e w 2 2 . 1 6 - 2 1 . In t h e i r a t t e m p t t o e n t r a p J e s u s , the P h a r i s e e s (a J e w i s h sect that held to Mosaic law) were using secular government func-

tionaries of H e r o d , the tetrarch or king of J u d e a . 6 . C o n f u c i u s ' s Analects 8.13.

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wish to b e r e g a r d e d a s a m e m b e r of that c h u r c h , h a s never m a d e a like d e m a n d on m e s i n c e ; t h o u g h it said that it m u s t a d h e r e to its original p r e s u m p t i o n that t i m e . If I h a d known how to n a m e t h e m , I s h o u l d then have signed off in detail from all the societies which I never s i g n e d o n to; but I did not know w h e r e to find a c o m p l e t e list. I have paid no poll-tax for six years. I w a s p u t into a j a i l 7 o n c e on this a c c o u n t , for o n e night; a n d , a s I stood c o n s i d e r i n g the walls of solid s t o n e , two or three feet thick, the d o o r of wood a n d iron, a foot thick, a n d the iron grating which strained the light, I could not help b e i n g s t r u c k with the fooli s h n e s s of that institution which treated m e a s if I were m e r e flesh a n d blood a n d b o n e s , to be locked u p . I w o n d e r e d that it s h o u l d have c o n c l u d e d at length that this w a s the best u s e it c o u l d put m e to, a n d h a d never t h o u g h t to avail itself of my services in s o m e way. I s a w that, if there w a s a wall of s t o n e b e t w e e n m e a n d my t o w n s m e n , there w a s a still m o r e difficult o n e to c l i m b or b r e a k t h r o u g h , before they could get to be a s free a s I w a s . I did not for a m o m e n t feel c o n f i n e d , a n d the walls s e e m e d a great w a s t e of s t o n e a n d mortar. I felt a s if I a l o n e of all my t o w n s m e n h a d paid my tax. T h e y plainly did not know how to treat m e , but b e h a v e d like p e r s o n s w h o are u n d e r b r e d . In every threat a n d in every c o m p l i m e n t there w a s a b l u n d e r ; for they t h o u g h t that my c h i e f desire w a s to s t a n d the other side of that s t o n e wall. I c o u l d not b u t smile to s e e how industriously they locked the d o o r on my m e d i t a t i o n s , which followed t h e m out again without let or h i n d e r a n c e , a n d they were really all that w a s d a n g e r o u s . As they c o u l d not r e a c h m e , they h a d resolved to p u n i s h my body; j u s t a s boys, if they c a n n o t c o m e at s o m e p e r s o n a g a i n s t w h o m they have a spite, will a b u s e his d o g . I s a w that the S t a t e w a s half-witted, that it w a s timid a s a lone w o m a n with her silver s p o o n s , a n d that it did not know its friends from its foes, a n d I lost all my r e m a i n i n g r e s p e c t for it, a n d pitied it. T h u s the S t a t e never intentionally c o n f r o n t s a m a n ' s s e n s e , intellectual or m o r a l , b u t only his body, his s e n s e s . It is not a r m e d with s u p e r i o r wit or honesty, but with superior physical strength. I w a s not born to be forced. I will b r e a t h e after my own fashion. L e t u s s e e w h o is the s t r o n g e s t . W h a t force h a s a m u l t i t u d e ? T h e y only c a n force m e w h o obey a higher law than I. T h e y force m e to b e c o m e like t h e m s e l v e s . I do not h e a r of men b e i n g forced to live this way or that by m a s s e s of m e n . W h a t sort of life were that to live? W h e n I m e e t a g o v e r n m e n t which says to m e , "Your m o n e y or your life," 8 why s h o u l d I be in h a s t e to give it my m o n e y ? It m a y b e in a great strait, a n d not know what to d o : I c a n n o t help that. It m u s t help itself; d o a s I d o . It is not worth the while to snivel a b o u t it. I a m not r e s p o n s i b l e for the s u c c e s s f u l working of the m a c h i n e r y of society. I a m not the s o n of the engineer. I p e r c e i v e that, w h e n a n a c o r n a n d a c h e s t n u t fall side by s i d e , the o n e d o e s not r e m a i n inert to m a k e way for the other, b u t both obey their own laws, a n d spring a n d grow a n d flourish a s b e s t they c a n , till o n e , perc h a n c e , o v e r s h a d o w s a n d destroys the other. If a plant c a n n o t live a c c o r d i n g to its n a t u r e , it dies; a n d so a m a n . T h e night in prison w a s novel a n d interesting e n o u g h . T h e p r i s o n e r s in their shirt-sleeves were enjoying a c h a t a n d the e v e n i n g air in the 7. T h e M i d d l e s e x C o u n t y jail in C o n c o r d , a l a r g e three-story building. "Six years" would be since

1840. 8. T h e cry of t h e h i g h w a y r o b b e r .

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door-way, w h e n I e n t e r e d . B u t the jailer said, " C o m e , boys, it is time to lock u p ; " a n d s o they d i s p e r s e d , a n d I heard the s o u n d of their s t e p s r e t u r n i n g into the hollow a p a r t m e n t s . My r o o m - m a t e w a s i n t r o d u c e d to m e by the jailer, as "a first-rate fellow a n d a clever m a n . " W h e n the d o o r w a s locked, h e s h o w e d m e w h e r e to h a n g my hat, a n d h o w he m a n a g e d m a t t e r s there. T h e r o o m s were w h i t e w a s h e d o n c e a m o n t h ; a n d this o n e , at least, w a s the whitest, m o s t simply furnished, a n d probably the n e a t e s t a p a r t m e n t in the town. H e naturally w a n t e d to k n o w w h e r e I c a m e from, a n d what b r o u g h t m e there; a n d , w h e n I h a d told h i m , I a s k e d him in my turn how he c a m e there, p r e s u m i n g him to b e an h o n e s t m a n , of c o u r s e ; a n d , a s the world g o e s , I believe he w a s . " W h y , " said h e , "they a c c u s e m e of b u r n i n g a b a r n ; but I never did it." As near a s I c o u l d discover, he h a d probably g o n e to b e d in a b a r n w h e n d r u n k , a n d s m o k e d his pipe there; a n d so a barn w a s burnt. H e h a d the reputation of b e i n g a clever m a n , h a d b e e n there s o m e three m o n t h s waiting for his trial to c o m e o n , a n d would have to wait a s m u c h longer; but h e w a s quite d o m e s t i c a t e d a n d c o n t e n t e d s i n c e he got his b o a r d for n o t h i n g , a n d thought that he w a s well treated. H e o c c u p i e d o n e window, a n d I the other; a n d I saw, that, if o n e stayed there long, his principal b u s i n e s s w o u l d b e to look out the window. I h a d s o o n read all the tracts that were left there, a n d e x a m i n e d where former p r i s o n e r s h a d broken out, a n d w h e r e a grate h a d b e e n s a w e d off, a n d h e a r d the history of the various o c c u p a n t s of that r o o m ; for I f o u n d that even here there w a s a history a n d a g o s s i p which never c i r c u l a t e d beyond the walls of the jail. Probably this is the only h o u s e in the town w h e r e verses are c o m p o s e d , which a r e afterward printed in a circular form, but not p u b l i s h e d . I w a s s h o w n q u i t e a long list of v e r s e s which were c o m p o s e d by s o m e y o u n g m e n w h o h a d b e e n d e t e c t e d in an a t t e m p t to e s c a p e , who a v e n g e d t h e m s e l v e s by s i n g i n g t h e m . I p u m p e d my fellow-prisoner a s dry a s I c o u l d , for fear I s h o u l d never s e e him a g a i n ; but at length he s h o w e d m e which w a s my b e d , a n d left m e to blow out the l a m p . It w a s like travelling into a far country, s u c h a s I h a d never e x p e c t e d to b e h o l d , to lie there for o n e night. It s e e m e d to m e that I never h a d h e a r d the town-clock strike b e f o r e , nor the e v e n i n g s o u n d s of the village; for we slept with the windows o p e n , which were inside the grating. It w a s to s e e my native village in the light of the m i d d l e a g e s , a n d our C o n c o r d w a s turned into a R h i n e s t r e a m , a n d visions of knights a n d c a s t l e s p a s s e d before m e . T h e y were the v o i c e s of old b u r g h e r s that I h e a r d in the streets. I w a s an involuntary s p e c t a t o r a n d a u d i t o r of whatever w a s d o n e a n d said in the kitchen of the a d j a c e n t v i l l a g e - i n n , — a wholly new a n d rare e x p e r i e n c e to m e . It w a s a c l o s e r view of my native town. I w a s fairly inside of it. I never h a d s e e n its i n s t i t u t i o n s b e f o r e . T h i s is o n e of its p e c u l i a r institutions; for it is a shire town. 1 ' I b e g a n to c o m p r e h e n d what its i n h a b i t a n t s were a b o u t . In the m o r n i n g , our b r e a k f a s t s were put through the h o l e in the door, in small o b l o n g - s q u a r e tin p a n s , m a d e to fit, a n d h o l d i n g a pint of c h o c olate, with brown b r e a d , a n d a n iron s p o o n . W h e n they called for the 9.

C o m p a r a b l e to "county seat."

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v e s s e l s a g a i n , I w a s green e n o u g h to return what b r e a d I h a d left; but my c o m r a d e seized it, a n d said that I s h o u l d lay that u p for l u n c h or dinner. S o o n after, he w a s let out to work at haying in a n e i g h b o r i n g field, whither he went every day, a n d would not be b a c k till n o o n ; s o he b a d e m e good-day, saying that he d o u b t e d if he s h o u l d s e e m e a g a i n . W h e n I c a m e out of p r i s o n , — f o r s o m e o n e interfered, a n d paid the tax,—I did not p e r c e i v e that great c h a n g e s h a d taken p l a c e o n the c o m m o n , s u c h a s h e o b s e r v e d who went in a y o u t h , a n d e m e r g e d a tottering a n d gray-headed m a n ; a n d yet a c h a n g e h a d to my eyes c o m e over the s c e n e , — t h e town, a n d S t a t e , a n d c o u n t r y , — g r e a t e r than any that m e r e time c o u l d effect. I s a w yet m o r e distinctly the S t a t e in which I lived. I s a w to what extent the p e o p l e a m o n g w h o m I lived c o u l d b e trusted a s g o o d n e i g h b o r s a n d friends; that their friendship w a s for s u m m e r w e a t h e r only; that they did not greatly p u r p o s e to do right; that they were a distinct r a c e from m e by their p r e j u d i c e s and s u p e r s t i t i o n s , a s the C h i n a m e n a n d M a l a y s a r e ; that, in their sacrifices to h u m a n i t y , they ran no risks, not even to their property; that, after all, they were not so noble but they treated the thief a s he h a d treated t h e m , a n d h o p e d , by a certain o u t w a r d o b s e r v a n c e a n d a few prayers, a n d by walking in a particular straight t h o u g h u s e l e s s p a t h from time to t i m e , to save their s o u l s . T h i s may be to j u d g e my neighbors harshly; for I believe that m o s t of t h e m are not a w a r e that they have s u c h a n institution a s the jail in their village. It w a s formerly the c u s t o m in our village, when a poor d e b t o r c a m e out of jail, for his a c q u a i n t a n c e s to s a l u t e him, looking through their fingers, which were c r o s s e d to represent the grating of a jail window, " H o w do ye d o ? " My neighbors did not t h u s s a l u t e m e , but first looked at m e , a n d then at o n e a n o t h e r , a s if I h a d returned from a long j o u r n e y . I w a s put into jail as I w a s g o i n g to the s h o e m a k e r ' s to get a s h o e which w a s m e n d e d . W h e n I w a s let out the next m o r n i n g , I p r o c e e d e d to finish my e r r a n d , a n d , having put on my m e n d e d s h o e , j o i n e d a huckleberry party, w h o were impatient to put t h e m s e l v e s u n d e r my c o n d u c t ; a n d in half a n h o u r , — f o r the h o r s e w a s s o o n t a c k l e d , 1 — w a s in the m i d s t of a huckleberry field, on o n e of our highest hills, two miles off; a n d then the S t a t e w a s n o w h e r e to be s e e n . T h i s is the whole history of " M y P r i s o n s . " 2 I have never d e c l i n e d paying the highway tax, b e c a u s e I a m a s d e s i r o u s of b e i n g a g o o d n e i g h b o r as I a m of b e i n g a bad s u b j e c t ; a n d , a s for s u p p o r t i n g s c h o o l s , I a m d o i n g my part to e d u c a t e my fellow-countrymen now. It is for no particular item in the tax-bill that I refuse to pay it. I simply wish to refuse a l l e g i a n c e to the S t a t e , to withdraw a n d s t a n d aloof from it effectually. I do not c a r e to trace the c o u r s e of my dollar, if I c o u l d , till it buys a m a n , or a m u s k e t to shoot o n e w i t h , — t h e dollar is i n n o c e n t , — b u t I a m c o n c e r n e d to trace the effects of my a l l e g i a n c e . In fact, I quietly d e c l a r e war with the S t a t e , after my f a s h i o n , t h o u g h I will still m a k e what u s e a n d get what advantage of her I c a n , a s is u s u a l in s u c h c a s e s . If others pay the tax which is d e m a n d e d of m e , from a s y m p a t h y with the 1. H a r n e s s e d .

by t h e I t a l i a n p o e t S i l v i o P e l l i c o ( I 7 8 9 - 1 8 5 4 ) o n

2. A wry c o m p a r i s o n to t h e title of a b o o k ( 1 8 3 2 )

h i s y e a r s o f h a r d l a b o r in A u s t r i a n p r i s o n s .

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S t a t e , they do b u t what they have already d o n e in their own c a s e , or rather they a b e t injustice to a greater extent than the S t a t e r e q u i r e s . If they p a y the tax from a m i s t a k e n interest in the individual taxed, to save his property or prevent his g o i n g to jail, it is b e c a u s e they have not c o n s i d e r e d wisely how far they let their private feelings interfere with the p u b l i c g o o d . T h i s , t h e n , is my position at p r e s e n t . B u t o n e c a n n o t b e too m u c h o n his g u a r d in s u c h a c a s e , lest his action b e b i a s s e d by o b s t i n a c y , or a n u n d u e regard for the o p i n i o n s of m e n . L e t h i m s e e that h e d o e s only what b e l o n g s to himself a n d to the h o u r . I think s o m e t i m e s , Why, this p e o p l e m e a n well; they a r e only ignorant; they would d o better if they knew how; why give your n e i g h b o r s this p a i n to treat you a s they are not inclined to? B u t I think, a g a i n , this is no r e a s o n why I s h o u l d d o a s they d o , or p e r m i t others to suffer m u c h greater pain of a different kind. A g a i n , I s o m e t i m e s say to myself, W h e n m a n y millions of m e n , without h e a t , without ill-will, without p e r s o n a l feeling of any kind, d e m a n d of you a few shillings only, without the possibility, s u c h is their c o n s t i t u t i o n , of r e t r a c t i n g or altering their p r e s e n t d e m a n d , a n d without the possibility, o n your s i d e , of a p p e a l to any other millions, why e x p o s e yourself to this o v e r w h e l m i n g brute force? You d o not resist cold a n d h u n g e r , the winds a n d the w a v e s , t h u s obstinately; you quietly s u b m i t to a t h o u s a n d similar n e c e s s i t i e s . You do not put your h e a d into the fire. B u t j u s t in proportion a s I regard this a s not wholly a b r u t e f o r c e , but partly a h u m a n f o r c e , a n d c o n s i d e r that I have relations to t h o s e millions a s to s o m a n y millions of m e n , a n d not of m e r e brute or i n a n i m a t e things, I s e e that a p p e a l is p o s s i b l e , first a n d i n s t a n t a n e o u s l y , from t h e m to the M a k e r of t h e m , a n d , s e c o n d l y , from t h e m to t h e m s e l v e s . B u t , if I p u t my h e a d deliberately into the fire, there is n o a p p e a l to fire or to the M a k e r of fire, a n d I have only myself to b l a m e . If I c o u l d c o n v i n c e myself that I have any right to b e satisfied with m e n a s they a r e , a n d to treat t h e m accordingly, a n d not a c c o r d i n g , in s o m e r e s p e c t s , to my r e q u i s i t i o n s a n d e x p e c t a t i o n s of what they a n d I o u g h t to b e , t h e n , like a g o o d M u s s u l m a n ' a n d fatalist, I s h o u l d e n d e a v o r to be satisfied with things a s they a r e , a n d say it is the will of G o d . A n d , a b o v e all, there is this difference b e t w e e n resisting this a n d a purely b r u t e or natural f o r c e , that I c a n resist this with s o m e effect; b u t I c a n n o t expect, like O r p h e u s , 4 to c h a n g e the n a t u r e of the rocks a n d trees a n d b e a s t s . I do not wish to quarrel with any m a n or n a t i o n . I d o not wish to split hairs, to m a k e fine d i s t i n c t i o n s , or set myself u p a s better than my n e i g h b o r s . I s e e k rather, I may say, even a n e x c u s e for c o n f o r m i n g to the laws of the l a n d . I a m b u t too ready to c o n f o r m to t h e m . I n d e e d I have r e a s o n to s u s p e c t myself o n this h e a d ; a n d e a c h year, a s the tax-gatherer c o m e s r o u n d , I find myself d i s p o s e d to review the a c t s a n d position of the g e n e r a l a n d s t a t e g o v e r n m e n t s , a n d the spirit of the p e o p l e , to d i s c o v e r a pretext for c o n f o r m ity. I believe that the S t a t e will s o o n b e a b l e to t a k e all m y work of this sort o u t of my h a n d s , a n d then I shall b e no better a patriot t h a n my fellowc o u n t r y m e n . S e e n from a lower point of view, the C o n s t i t u t i o n , with all its f a u l t s , is very g o o d ; the law a n d the c o u r t s a r e very r e s p e c t a b l e ; even this 3. M u s l i m . 4. T h e son of C a l l i o p e , o n e of the M u s e s , w h o g a v e h i m t h e gift o f m u s i c . T r e e s a n d r o c k s m o v e d to the p l a y i n g o f his lyre. H e c h a r m e d t h e t h r e e -

h e a d e d d o g C e r b e r u s in a n u n s u c c e s s f u l a t t e m p t to bring his d e a d wife, E u r y d i c e , up from the underworld.

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S t a t e a n d this A m e r i c a n g o v e r n m e n t a r e , in m a n y r e s p e c t s , very a d m i r a b l e a n d rare things, to be thankful for, s u c h a s a great m a n y have d e s c r i b e d t h e m ; but s e e n from a point of view a little higher, they a r e w h a t I have d e s c r i b e d t h e m ; s e e n from a higher still, a n d the highest, w h o shall say w h a t they a r e , or that they are worth looking at or thinking of at all? However, the g o v e r n m e n t d o e s not c o n c e r n m e m u c h , a n d I shall b e s t o w the fewest p o s s i b l e t h o u g h t s on it. It is not m a n y m o m e n t s that I live u n d e r a g o v e r n m e n t , even in this world. If a m a n is thought-free, fancy-free, i m a g ination-free, that which is not never for a long time a p p e a r i n g to be to him, u n w i s e rulers or reformers c a n n o t fatally interrupt h i m . I know that m o s t m e n think differently from myself; b u t t h o s e w h o s e lives are by p r o f e s s i o n devoted to the study of t h e s e or kindred s u b j e c t s , c o n t e n t m e a s little a s any. S t a t e s m e n a n d legislators, s t a n d i n g so c o m p l e t e l y within the institution, never distinctly a n d nakedly b e h o l d it. T h e y s p e a k of m o v i n g society, but have n o resting-place without it. T h e y may b e m e n of a certain experience a n d d i s c r i m i n a t i o n , a n d have n o d o u b t invented i n g e n i o u s a n d even useful s y s t e m s , for which we sincerely t h a n k t h e m ; b u t all their wit a n d u s e f u l n e s s lie within certain not very wide limits. T h e y are wont to forget that the world is not g o v e r n e d by policy a n d expediency. W e b s t e r 5 never g o e s b e h i n d g o v e r n m e n t , a n d s o c a n n o t s p e a k with authority a b o u t it. H i s w o r d s are w i s d o m to t h o s e legislators w h o c o n t e m p l a t e no e s s e n t i a l reform in the existing g o v e r n m e n t ; but for thinkers, a n d t h o s e w h o legislate for all t i m e , he never o n c e g l a n c e s at the s u b j e c t . I know of t h o s e w h o s e s e r e n e a n d wise s p e c u l a t i o n s o n this t h e m e would s o o n reveal the limits of his m i n d ' s r a n g e a n d hospitality. Yet, c o m p a r e d with the c h e a p p r o f e s s i o n s of m o s t r e f o r m e r s , a n d the still c h e a p e r w i s d o m a n d e l o q u e n c e of politicians in g e n e r a l , his are a l m o s t the only s e n s i b l e a n d v a l u a b l e w o r d s , a n d we thank H e a v e n for h i m . C o m p a r a t i v e l y , h e is always strong, original, a n d , a b o v e all, p r a c t i c a l . Still his quality is not w i s d o m , but p r u d e n c e . T h e lawyer's truth is not T r u t h , but c o n s i s t e n c y , or a c o n s i s t e n t expediency. T r u t h is always in h a r m o n y with herself, a n d is not c o n c e r n e d chiefly to reveal the j u s t i c e that m a y c o n s i s t with wrong-doing. H e well d e s e r v e s to b e c a l l e d , a s h e h a s b e e n c a l l e d , the D e f e n d e r of the C o n s t i t u t i o n . T h e r e are really no blows to be given by him but defensive o n e s . H e is not a leader, but a follower. H i s l e a d e r s are the m e n of ' 8 7 . 6 "I have never m a d e a n effort," he says, " a n d never p r o p o s e to m a k e a n effort; I have never c o u n t e n a n c e d a n effort, a n d never m e a n to c o u n t e n a n c e a n effort, to d i s t u r b the a r r a n g e m e n t a s originally m a d e , by which the various S t a t e s c a m e into the U n i o n . " 7 Still thinking of the s a n c t i o n which the C o n s t i t u t i o n gives to slavery, h e says, " B e c a u s e it w a s a part of the original c o m p a c t , — l e t it s t a n d . " N o t w i t h s t a n d i n g his s p e c i a l a c u t e n e s s a n d ability, he is u n a b l e to t a k e a fact o u t of its merely political relations, a n d b e h o l d it a s it lies absolutely to be d i s p o s e d of by the i n t e l l e c t , — w h a t , for i n s t a n c e , it b e h o v e s a m a n to do here in A m e r i c a to-day with regard to slavery, b u t v e n t u r e s , or is driven, to m a k e s o m e s u c h d e s p e r a t e a n s w e r a s the following, while p r o f e s s i n g to s p e a k absolutely, a n d a s a private m a n , — from which what n e w a n d s i n g u l a r c o d e of social d u t i e s m i g h t b e i n f e r r e d ? — 5. D a n i e l W e b s t e r ( 1 7 8 2 - 1 8 5 2 ) , p r o m i n e n t W h i g politician of the s e c o n d quarter of the 19th century. 6. T h e writers of the C o n s t i t u t i o n , w h o c o n v e n e d

a t P h i l a d e l p h i a in 1 7 8 7 . 7. F r o m W e b s t e r ' s s p e e c h " T h e Texas" (December 22, 1845).

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" T h e m a n n e r , " says h e , "in which the g o v e r n m e n t of t h o s e S t a t e s where slavery exists are to regulate it, is for their own c o n s i d e r a t i o n , u n d e r their responsibility to their c o n s t i t u e n t s , to the general laws of propriety, h u m a n ity, a n d j u s t i c e , a n d to G o d . A s s o c i a t i o n s formed e l s e w h e r e , s p r i n g i n g from a feeling of h u m a n i t y , or any other c a u s e , having n o t h i n g whatever to d o with it. T h e y have never received any e n c o u r a g e m e n t from m e , a n d they never will."" T h e y w h o know of no purer s o u r c e s of truth, w h o have t r a c e d u p its s t r e a m no higher, s t a n d , a n d wisely s t a n d , by the Bible a n d the C o n s t i t u t i o n , a n d drink at it there with reverence a n d humility; but they who b e h o l d w h e r e it c o m e s trickling into this lake or that pool, gird up their loins o n c e m o r e , a n d c o n t i n u e their p i l g r i m a g e toward its f o u n t a i n - h e a d . N o m a n with a g e n i u s for legislation h a s a p p e a r e d in A m e r i c a . T h e y are rare in the history of the world. T h e r e a r e orators, politicians, a n d e l o q u e n t m e n , by the t h o u s a n d ; but the s p e a k e r h a s not yet o p e n e d his m o u t h to s p e a k , w h o is c a p a b l e of settling the m u c h - v e x e d q u e s t i o n s of the day. W e love e l o q u e n c e for its own s a k e , a n d not for any truth which it m a y utter, or any h e r o i s m it may inspire. O u r legislators have not yet l e a r n e d the c o m parative value of free-trade a n d of f r e e d o m , of u n i o n , a n d of r e c t i t u d e , to a nation. T h e y have no g e n i u s or talent for c o m p a r a t i v e l y h u m b l e q u e s t i o n s of taxation a n d finance, c o m m e r c e a n d m a n u f a c t u r e s a n d a g r i c u l t u r e . If we were left solely to the wordy wit of legislators in C o n g r e s s for our g u i d a n c e , u n c o r r e c t e d by the s e a s o n a b l e e x p e r i e n c e a n d the effectual c o m p l a i n t s of the p e o p l e , A m e r i c a would not long retain her rank a m o n g the n a t i o n s . F o r eighteen h u n d r e d y e a r s , t h o u g h p e r c h a n c e I have n o right to say it, the N e w T e s t a m e n t has b e e n written; yet w h e r e is the legislator w h o h a s w i s d o m a n d practical talent e n o u g h to avail h i m s e l f of the light which it s h e d s on the s c i e n c e of legislation? T h e authority of g o v e r n m e n t , even s u c h as I a m willing to s u b m i t t o , — f o r 1 will cheerfully obey t h o s e w h o know a n d c a n do better than I, a n d in m a n y things even t h o s e w h o neither know nor can d o s o well,—is still a n i m p u r e o n e : to b e strictly j u s t , it m u s t have the s a n c t i o n a n d c o n s e n t of the governed. It c a n have no p u r e right over my p e r s o n a n d property b u t what I c o n c e d e to it. T h e p r o g r e s s from an a b s o l u t e to a limited m o n a r c h y , from a limited m o n a r c h y to a d e m o c r a c y , is a p r o g r e s s toward a true r e s p e c t for the individual. Is a d e m o c r a c y , s u c h a s we know it, the last i m p r o v e m e n t p o s s i b l e in g o v e r n m e n t ? Is it not p o s s i b l e to take a step further t o w a r d s r e c o g n i z i n g a n d organizing the rights of m a n ? T h e r e will never b e a really free a n d enlighte n e d S t a t e , until the S t a t e c o m e s to recognize the individual a s a h i g h e r a n d i n d e p e n d e n t power, from which all its own power a n d authority a r e derived, a n d treats him accordingly. I p l e a s e myself with i m a g i n i n g a S t a t e at last which c a n afford to b e j u s t to all m e n , a n d to treat the individual with r e s p e c t a s a neighbor; which even would not think it i n c o n s i s t e n t with its own r e p o s e , if a few were to live aloof from it, not m e d d l i n g with it, nor e m b r a c e d by it, w h o fulfilled all the d u t i e s of n e i g h b o r s a n d fellow-men. A S t a t e which b o r e this kind of fruit, a n d suffered it to drop off a s fast a s it r i p e n e d , w o u l d 8. " T h e s e e x t r a c t s h a v e b e e n i n s e r t e d s i n c e t h e L e c t u r e w a s r e a d " [ T h o r e a u ' s n o t e ] ; h e m e a n s t h e q u o t a t i o n beginning "The manner."

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p r e p a r e the way for a still m o r e perfect a n d glorious S t a t e , which a l s o I have i m a g i n e d , but not yet anywhere s e e n . 1849, 1866

Walden, or Life in the Woods' .!\R.IITU

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I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up.

1.

Economy

2

W h e n I wrote the following p a g e s , or rather the b u l k of t h e m , I lived a l o n e , in the w o o d s , a mile from any neighbor, in a h o u s e which I h a d built myself, on the s h o r e o f W a l d e n P o n d , in C o n c o r d , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , a n d e a r n e d my living by the labor of my h a n d s only. I lived there two years a n d two m o n t h s . At p r e s e n t I a m a s o j o u r n e r in civilized life a g a i n . I s h o u l d not o b t r u d e my affairs s o m u c h o n the notice o f my r e a d e r s if very particular inquiries h a d not b e e n m a d e by my t o w n s m e n c o n c e r n i n g my m o d e of life, which s o m e would call impertinent, t h o u g h they d o not a p p e a r to m e at all impertinent, b u t , c o n s i d e r i n g the c i r c u m s t a n c e s , very natural a n d pertinent. S o m e have a s k e d what I got to e a t ; if I did not feel l o n e s o m e ; if I w a s not afraid; a n d the like. O t h e r s have b e e n c u r i o u s t o learn w h a t portion o f my i n c o m e I devoted to charitable p u r p o s e s ; a n d s o m e , w h o have large families, how m a n y p o o r children I m a i n t a i n e d . I will therefore a s k t h o s e o f my readers w h o feel n o particular interest in m e to p a r d o n m e if I u n d e r t a k e t o a n s w e r s o m e o f t h e s e q u e s t i o n s in this book. In m o s t b o o k s , the / , or first p e r s o n , is o m i t t e d ; in this it will b e r e t a i n e d ; that, in r e s p e c t t o e g o t i s m , is the m a i n difference. W e c o m m o n l y do not r e m e m b e r that it is, after all, always the first p e r s o n that is s p e a k i n g . I s h o u l d not talk s o m u c h a b o u t myself if there were any body else w h o m I knew a s well. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , I a m confined to this t h e m e by the n a r r o w n e s s of my e x p e r i e n c e . M o r e o v e r , I, o n m y s i d e , require o f every writer, first or last, a s i m p l e a n d s i n c e r e a c c o u n t o f his own life, a n d not merely what h e h a s h e a r d o f other m e n ' s lives; s o m e s u c h a c c o u n t a s he would s e n d to his kindred from a d i s t a n t land; for if he h a s lived sincerely, it m u s t have b e e n in a d i s t a n t land to m e . P e r h a p s t h e s e p a g e s are m o r e particularly a d d r e s s e d to poor s t u d e n t s . A s for the rest of my r e a d e r s , they will a c c e p t s u c h portions a s apply to t h e m . I trust that n o n e will stretch the s e a m s in p u t t i n g o n the c o a t , for it m a y do g o o d service to him w h o m it fits. 1. T h o r e a u b e g a n w r i t i n g Walden some

months

after

he began

early in 1 8 4 6 ,

living

at

Walden

corrections comparisons

i n h i s c o p y o f Walden,

a n d scholars'

o f the printed book a n d t h e m a n u -

P o n d , a n d by late 1847, w h e n h e m o v e d b a c k into

script drafts, especially t h e edition

the village o f C o n c o r d , h e h a d drafted roughly half

S h a n l e y ( 1 9 7 1 ) . A n y a n n o t a t o r o f Walden

the book. Between

i n d e b t e d t o W a l t e r H a r d i n g , e d i t o r o f The

manuscript

1852 and 1854 h e rewrote the

several

times

and

substantially

e n l a r g e d it. T h e text p r i n t e d h e r e is t h a t o f t h e 1st

rum

Walden

by J . Lyndon is d e e p l y

( 1 9 6 2 ) , and Philip Van D o r e n

e d i t o r o f The Annotated

Walden

VarioStern,

(1970).

edition ( 1 8 5 4 ) , with a few printer's errors corrected

2. A s Thoreau

on the basis o fThoreau's set of marked proofs, his

title m e a n s s o m e t h i n g like " p h i l o s o p h y o f living."

explains

later in t h e c h a p t e r , t h e

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HENRY DAVID THOREAU

I would fain say s o m e t h i n g , not so m u c h c o n c e r n i n g the C h i n e s e a n d S a n d w i c h I s l a n d e r s * as you who read t h e s e p a g e s , w h o are said to live in N e w E n g l a n d ; s o m e t h i n g a b o u t your c o n d i t i o n , especially your o u t w a r d c o n dition or c i r c u m s t a n c e s in this world, in this town, what it is, w h e t h e r it is n e c e s s a r y that it be as bad a s it is, w h e t h e r it c a n n o t be improved as well a s not. I have travelled a good deal in C o n c o r d ; a n d every w h e r e , in s h o p s , a n d offices, a n d fields, the inhabitants have a p p e a r e d to m e to be d o i n g p e n a n c e in a t h o u s a n d remarkable ways. W h a t I have h e a r d of B r a h m i n s sitting e x p o s e d to four fires a n d looking in the f a c e of the s u n ; or h a n g i n g s u s p e n d e d , with their h e a d s d o w n w a r d , over flames; or looking at the h e a v e n s over their s h o u l d e r s "until it b e c o m e s i m p o s s i b l e for t h e m to r e s u m e their natural position, while from the twist of the neck nothing but liquids c a n p a s s into the s t o m a c h ; " or dwelling, c h a i n e d for life, at the foot of a tree; or m e a s u r i n g with their b o d i e s , like caterpillars, the b r e a d t h of vast e m p i r e s ; or s t a n d i n g on o n e leg on the tops of p i l l a r s , — e v e n t h e s e f o r m s of c o n s c i o u s p e n a n c e are hardly m o r e incredible a n d a s t o n i s h i n g than the s c e n e s which I daily w i t n e s s . 4 T h e twelve labors of H e r c u l e s 5 were trifling in c o m p a r i s o n with t h o s e which my n e i g h b o r s have u n d e r t a k e n ; for they were only twelve, and had a n e n d ; but I c o u l d never s e e that these m e n slew or c a p t u r e d any m o n s t e r or finished any labor. T h e y have no friend l o l a s to b u r n with a hot iron the root of the hydra's h e a d , but as s o o n a s o n e h e a d is c r u s h e d , two spring u p . I s e e y o u n g m e n , my t o w n s m e n , w h o s e m i s f o r t u n e it is to have inherited f a r m s , h o u s e s , b a r n s , c a t t l e , a n d f a r m i n g tools; for t h e s e are m o r e easily a c q u i r e d than got rid of. Better if they had b e e n born in the o p e n p a s t u r e a n d s u c k l e d by a wolf, that they might have s e e n with clearer eyes what field they were called to labor in. W h o m a d e t h e m serfs of the soil? Why s h o u l d they eat their sixty a c r e s , w h e n m a n is c o n d e m n e d to eat only his p e c k of dirt? W h y s h o u l d they begin digging their graves a s s o o n a s they are born? T h e y have got to live a m a n ' s life, p u s h i n g all t h e s e things before t h e m , a n d get on a s well a s they c a n . H o w m a n y a p o o r i m m o r t a l soul have I m e t well nigh c r u s h e d a n d s m o t h e r e d u n d e r its load, c r e e p i n g down the road of life, p u s h i n g before it a barn seventy-five feet by forty, its A u g e a n s t a b l e s never c l e a n s e d , a n d o n e h u n d r e d a c r e s of land, tillage, m o w i n g , p a s t u r e , a n d woodlot! T h e p o r t i o n l e s s , w h o struggle with no s u c h u n n e c e s s a r y inherited e n c u m b r a n c e s , find it labor e n o u g h to s u b d u e a n d cultivate a few c u b i c feet of flesh. But m e n labor u n d e r a m i s t a k e . T h e better part of the m a n is s o o n p l o u g h e d into the soil for c o m p o s t . By a s e e m i n g fate, c o m m o n l y called necessity, they are e m p l o y e d , as it says in a n old book, laying up t r e a s u r e s which m o t h a n d rust will corrupt a n d thieves b r e a k t h r o u g h a n d s t e a l . 6 It is a fool's life, a s they will find w h e n they get to the e n d of it, if not b e f o r e . It 3. H a w a i i a n s . 4. T h o r e a u ' s s o u r c e h a s not b e e n f o u n d for this depiction of the religious self-torture of high-caste H i n d u s in I n d i a . 5. S o n of Z e u s a n d A l c m e n e , this half mortal c o u l d b e c o m e a g o d o n l y by p e r f o r m i n g t w e l v e labors, each apparently impossible. T h e second labor, the slaying of the L e r n a e a n hydra, a manyh e a d e d s e a m o n s t e r , is r e f e r r e d t o j u s t b e l o w . ( H e r -

cules' friend lolas helped by searing the s t u m p e a c h time H e r c u l e s cut off o n e of the heads, which o t h e r w i s e w o u l d h a v e r e g e n e r a t e d . ) The s e v e n t h l a b o r , m e n t i o n e d in t h e f o l l o w i n g p a r a g r a p h , w a s t h e c l e a n s i n g o f A u g e a s ' s p e s t i l e n t s t a b l e s in o n e d a y . a f e a t H e r c u l e s a c c o m p l i s h e d by d i v e r t i n g t w o n e a r b y rivers t h r o u g h t h e s t a b l e s . 6. M a t t h e w 6 . 1 9 .

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is said that D e u c a l i o n a n d Pyrrha c r e a t e d m e n by throwing s t o n e s over their h e a d s behind t h e m : 7 — Inde g e n u s d u r u m s u m u s , e x p e r i e n s q u e l a b o r u m , Et d o c u m e n t a d a m u s q u a s i m u s origine nati. Or, a s Raleigh rhymes it in his s o n o r o u s w a y , — " F r o m t h e n c e our kind hard-hearted is, e n d u r i n g pain a n d c a r e , Approving that our bodies of a stony n a t u r e a r e . " S o m u c h for a blind o b e d i e n c e to a b l u n d e r i n g o r a c l e , throwing the s t o n e s over their h e a d s b e h i n d t h e m , a n d not s e e i n g w h e r e they fell. M o s t m e n , even in this comparatively free country, t h r o u g h m e r e ignorance a n d m i s t a k e , are so o c c u p i e d with the factitious c a r e s a n d superfluously c o a r s e labors of life that its finer fruits c a n n o t be p l u c k e d by t h e m . T h e i r fingers, from excessive toil, a r e too c l u m s y a n d t r e m b l e too m u c h for that. Actually, the laboring m a n has not leisure for a true integrity day by day; he c a n n o t afford to s u s t a i n the m a n l i e s t relations to m e n ; his labor would be d e p r e c i a t e d in the market. H e has n o time to b e any thing but a m a c h i n e . H o w c a n h e r e m e m b e r well his i g n o r a n c e — w h i c h his growth r e q u i r e s — w h o has so often to u s e his k n o w l e d g e ? W e s h o u l d feed a n d clothe him gratuitously s o m e t i m e s , a n d recruit him with our c o r d i a l s , before we j u d g e of him. T h e finest qualities of our n a t u r e , like the b l o o m on fruits, c a n b e preserved only by the m o s t delicate h a n d l i n g . Yet we d o not treat ourselves nor o n e a n o t h e r t h u s tenderly. S o m e of you, we all know, are poor, find it hard to live, are s o m e t i m e s , a s it were, g a s p i n g for b r e a t h . I have no d o u b t that s o m e of you w h o read this book are u n a b l e to pay for all the dinners which you have actually e a t e n , or for the c o a t s a n d s h o e s which are fast w e a r i n g or a r e already worn o u t , a n d have c o m e to this p a g e to s p e n d borrowed or stolen t i m e , robbing your creditors of a n hour. It is very evident what m e a n a n d s n e a k i n g lives m a n y of you live, for my sight h a s b e e n w h e t t e d by e x p e r i e n c e ; always o n the limits, trying to get into b u s i n e s s a n d trying to get o u t of debt, a very a n c i e n t s l o u g h , called by the L a t i n s , a»s alienum, another's b r a s s , for s o m e of their c o i n s were m a d e of b r a s s ; still living, a n d dying, a n d buried by this other's b r a s s ; always p r o m ising to pay, p r o m i s i n g to pay, to-morrow, a n d dying to-day, insolvent; seeking to curry favor, to get c u s t o m , by how m a n y m o d e s , only not state-prison o f f e n c e s ; lying, flattering, voting, c o n t r a c t i n g yourselves into a nutshell of civility, or dilating into an a t m o s p h e r e of thin a n d v a p o r o u s generosity, that you may p e r s u a d e your n e i g h b o r to let you m a k e his s h o e s , or his hat, or his c o a t , or his c a r r i a g e , or import his groceries for him; m a k i n g yourselves sick, that you m a y lay u p s o m e t h i n g a g a i n s t a sick day, s o m e t h i n g to b e t u c k e d away in a n old c h e s t , or in a stocking b e h i n d the plastering, or, m o r e safely, in the brick b a n k ; n o m a t t e r w h e r e , no m a t t e r how m u c h or how little. I s o m e t i m e s w o n d e r that we c a n b e so frivolous, I may a l m o s t say, a s to 7. D e u c a l i o n a n d P y r r h a . h u s b a n d a n d w i f e i n t h e G r e e k a n a l o g to the biblical legend of N o a h a n d t h e F l o o d , r e p o p u l a t e d t h e e a r t h by t h r o w i n g stones behind t h e m over their shoulders. T h e s t o n e s t h r o w n by D e u c a l i o n t u r n e d i n t o m e n , a n d

the s t o n e s thrown by Pyrrha t u r n e d into w o m e n . T h e q u o t a t i o n is f r o m O v i d ' s Metamorphoses 1 . 4 1 4 - 1 5 , a s t r a n s l a t e d in S i r W a l t e r R a l e g h ' s History of the World.

856

/

HENRY DAVID

THOREAU

a t t e n d to the g r o s s but s o m e w h a t foreign form of servitude called N e g r o Slavery, there are s o m a n y keen a n d s u b t l e m a s t e r s that e n s l a v e both north a n d s o u t h . It is hard to have a s o u t h e r n overseer; it is w o r s e to have a northern o n e ; b u t worst of all w h e n you are the slave-driver of yourself. T a l k of a divinity in m a n ! L o o k at the t e a m s t e r o n the highway, w e n d i n g to market by day or night; d o e s any divinity stir within h i m ? His highest duty to fodder a n d water his h o r s e s ! W h a t is his destiny to h i m c o m p a r e d with the s h i p p i n g interests? D o e s not he drive for S q u i r e M a k e - a - s t i r ? 8 H o w godlike, how i m m o r t a l , is he? S e e how h e c o w e r s a n d s n e a k s , h o w vaguely all the day h e fears, not b e i n g i m m o r t a l nor divine, but the slave a n d p r i s o n e r of his own opinion of himself, a f a m e won by his own d e e d s . P u b l i c o p i n i o n is a w e a k tyrant c o m p a r e d with our own private o p i n i o n . W h a t a m a n thinks of himself, that it is which d e t e r m i n e s , or rather i n d i c a t e s , his f a t e . S e l f - e m a n c i p a t i o n even in the W e s t Indian provinces of the fancy a n d i m a g i n a t i o n , — w h a t Wilb e r f o r c e 9 is there to bring that a b o u t ? T h i n k , a l s o , of the ladies of the land weaving toilet c u s h i o n s a g a i n s t the last day, not to betray too g r e e n a n interest in their fates! A s if you c o u l d kill time without injuring eternity. T h e m a s s of m e n lead lives of q u i e t d e s p e r a t i o n . W h a t is c a l l e d resignation is c o n f i r m e d d e s p e r a t i o n . F r o m the d e s p e r a t e city you go into the d e s p e r a t e country, a n d have to c o n s o l e yourself with the bravery of m i n k s a n d m u s k rats. A stereotyped b u t u n c o n s c i o u s d e s p a i r is c o n c e a l e d even u n d e r what are c a l l e d the g a m e s a n d a m u s e m e n t s of m a n k i n d . T h e r e is n o play in t h e m , for this c o m e s after work. B u t it is a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of w i s d o m not to do d e s p e r a t e things. W h e n we c o n s i d e r what, to u s e the w o r d s of the c a t e c h i s m , is the chief e n d of m a n , 1 a n d w h a t are the true n e c e s s a r i e s a n d m e a n s of life, it a p p e a r s a s if m e n h a d deliberately c h o s e n the c o m m o n m o d e of living b e c a u s e they preferred it to any other. Yet they honestly think there is no c h o i c e left. B u t alert a n d healthy n a t u r e s r e m e m b e r that the s u n rose clear. It is never too late to give u p our p r e j u d i c e s . N o way of thinking or d o i n g , however a n c i e n t , c a n b e trusted without proof. W h a t every body e c h o e s or in s i l e n c e p a s s e s by a s true to-day m a y turn out to b e f a l s e h o o d to-morrow, m e r e s m o k e of o p i n i o n , which s o m e h a d t r u s t e d for a c l o u d that w o u l d sprinkle fertilizing rain o n their fields. W h a t old p e o p l e say you c a n n o t d o you try a n d find that you c a n . O l d d e e d s for old p e o p l e , a n d new d e e d s for new. O l d p e o p l e did not know e n o u g h o n c e , p e r c h a n c e , to fetch fresh fuel to k e e p the fire agoing; new p e o p l e p u t a little dry w o o d u n d e r a p o t , a n d are whirled r o u n d the globe with the s p e e d of birds, in a way to kill old p e o p l e , a s the p h r a s e is. Age is n o better, hardly so well, qualified for a n i n s t r u c t o r a s youth, for it h a s not profited s o m u c h a s it h a s lost. O n e may a l m o s t d o u b t if the wisest m a n has learned any thing of a b s o l u t e value by living. Practically, the old have n o very i m p o r t a n t advice to give the y o u n g , their own e x p e r i e n c e h a s b e e n s o partial, a n d their lives have b e e n s u c h m i s e r a b l e failures, for private r e a s o n s , as they m u s t believe; a n d it m a y b e that they have s o m e faith left which belies that e x p e r i e n c e , a n d they a r e only less y o u n g t h a n they w e r e . I 8 . A n a l l e g o r i c a l n a m e m o d e l e d o n t h o s e in J o h n B u n y a n ' s Pilgrim's Progress, familiar to a l m o s t any r e a d e r in T h o r e a u ' s t i m e . 9. William YVilberforce ( 1 7 5 9 - 1 8 3 3 ) , English philanthropist, leading opponent of the slave trade

until its a b o l i t i o n in

1807.

1. F r o m t h e S h o r t e r C a t e c h i s m i n t h e New England Primer: " W h a t is t h e c h i e f e n d o f m a n ? M a n ' s c h i e f e n d is t o g l o r i f y G o d a n d t o e n j o y h i m forever."

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have lived s o m e thirty years o n this planet, a n d I have yet to hear the first syllable of v a l u a b l e or even e a r n e s t advice from my s e n i o r s . T h e y have told m e nothing, a n d probably c a n n o t tell m e any thing, to the p u r p o s e . H e r e is life, a n experiment to a great extent untried by m e ; b u t it d o e s not avail m e that they have tried it. If I have any e x p e r i e n c e which I think v a l u a b l e , I a m s u r e to reflect that this my M e n t o r s 2 said n o t h i n g a b o u t . O n e farmer says to m e , "You c a n n o t live o n v e g e t a b l e food solely, for it furnishes n o t h i n g to m a k e b o n e s w i t h ; " a n d s o he religiously d e v o t e s a part of his day to supplying his s y s t e m with the raw material of b o n e s ; walking all the while h e talks b e h i n d his oxen, w h i c h , with v e g e t a b l e - m a d e b o n e s , j e r k him a n d his l u m b e r i n g p l o u g h a l o n g in spite of every o b s t a c l e . S o m e things are really n e c e s s a r i e s of life in s o m e circles, the m o s t helpless a n d d i s e a s e d , which in others are luxuries merely, a n d in others still are entirely u n k n o w n . T h e whole g r o u n d of h u m a n life s e e m s to s o m e to have b e e n g o n e over by their p r e d e c e s s o r s , both the heights a n d the valleys, a n d all things to have b e e n c a r e d for. A c c o r d i n g to Evelyn, "the wise S o l o m o n p r e s c r i b e d ordin a n c e s for the very d i s t a n c e s of trees; a n d the R o m a n praetors have d e c i d e d how often you m a y go into your neighbor's land to gather the a c o r n s which fall on it without t r e s p a s s , a n d what s h a r e b e l o n g s to that n e i g h b o r . " 3 H i p p o c r a t e s 4 has even left directions h o w we s h o u l d c u t our nails; that is, even with the e n d s of the fingers, neither shorter nor longer. U n d o u b t e d l y the very t e d i u m a n d e n n u i which p r e s u m e to have e x h a u s t e d the variety a n d the joys of life are a s old a s A d a m . B u t m a n ' s c a p a c i t i e s have never b e e n m e a s u r e d ; nor are we to j u d g e of what he c a n do by any p r e c e d e n t s , s o little h a s b e e n tried. W h a t e v e r have b e e n thy failures hitherto, " b e not afflicted, my child, for who shall a s s i g n to t h e e what thou hast left u n d o n e ? " 5 W e might try our lives by a t h o u s a n d s i m p l e t e s t s ; a s , for i n s t a n c e , that the s a m e s u n which ripens my b e a n s illumines at o n c e a s y s t e m of e a r t h s like o u r s . If I h a d r e m e m b e r e d this it would have prevented s o m e m i s t a k e s . T h i s w a s not the light in which I h o e d t h e m . T h e stars a r e the a p e x e s of w h a t wonderful triangles! W h a t distant a n d different b e i n g s in the v a r i o u s m a n sions of the universe are c o n t e m p l a t i n g the s a m e o n e at the s a m e m o m e n t ! N a t u r e a n d h u m a n life are a s various a s our several c o n s t i t u t i o n s . W h o shall say what p r o s p e c t life offers to a n o t h e r ? C o u l d a greater m i r a c l e take p l a c e than for u s to look t h r o u g h e a c h other's eyes for a n i n s t a n t ? W e s h o u l d live in all the a g e s of the world in an hour; ay, in all the worlds of the a g e s . History, Poetry, M y t h o l o g y ! — I know of n o r e a d i n g of a n o t h e r ' s e x p e r i e n c e so startling a n d informing a s this would b e . T h e greater part of w h a t my n e i g h b o r s call g o o d I believe in my soul to be b a d , a n d if I repent of any thing, it is very likely to be my g o o d behavior. W h a t d e m o n p o s s e s s e d m e that I b e h a v e d s o well? You m a y say the wisest thing you c a n old m a n , — y o u w h o have lived seventy y e a r s , not without h o n o r of a k i n d , — I hear an irresistible voice which invites m e away from all that. O n e g e n e r a t i o n a b a n d o n s the e n t e r p r i s e s of a n o t h e r like s t r a n d e d v e s s e l s . I think that we may safely trust a g o o d deal m o r e than we d o . W e m a y 2.

F r o m M e n t o r , i n H o m e r ' s Odyssey:

whom 3.

Silva;

Evelyn

the

friend

O d y s s e u s entrusted with the education

his son,

of

or a Discourse (1620-1706).

Republic, high elected

4.

of Forest-Trees, "Prsetors":

in

magistrates.

by the

John

Roman

Greek physician ( 4 6 0 ? - 3 7 7 ?

the father of 5.

Telemachus.

B.C.E.), k n o w n as

medicine.

" B e not afflicted, my child, for w h o shall

what thou

efface

hast formerly d o n e , or shall assign

t h e e w h a t t h o u h a s t left u n d o n e ? " H . H . t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e Vishnu

Purana

(1840).

to

Wilson's

858

/

HENRY DAVID

THOREAU

waive j u s t s o m u c h c a r e of ourselves a s w e honestly b e s t o w e l s e w h e r e . N a t u r e is a s well a d a p t e d to our w e a k n e s s a s to our strength. T h e i n c e s s a n t anxiety a n d strain of s o m e is a well nigh i n c u r a b l e form of d i s e a s e . W e are m a d e to e x a g g e r a t e the i m p o r t a n c e of what work we d o ; a n d yet how m u c h is not d o n e by u s ! or, what if we had b e e n taken sick? H o w vigilant we a r e ! determ i n e d not to live by faith if we c a n avoid it; all the day long on the alert, at night we unwillingly say our prayers a n d c o m m i t o u r s e l v e s to u n c e r t a i n t i e s . S o thoroughly a n d sincerely are we c o m p e l l e d to live, r e v e r e n c i n g o u r life, a n d denying the possibility of c h a n g e . T h i s is the only way, we say; but there are a s m a n y ways a s there c a n be d r a w n radii from o n e c e n t r e . All c h a n g e is a m i r a c l e to c o n t e m p l a t e ; but it is a m i r a c l e which is taking p l a c e every instant. C o n f u c i u s said, " T o know that we know what we know, a n d that we do not know what we d o not know, this is true k n o w l e d g e . " 6 W h e n o n e m a n has r e d u c e d a fact of the i m a g i n a t i o n to b e a fact to his u n d e r s t a n d i n g , I foresee that all m e n will at length e s t a b l i s h their lives on that b a s i s . Let u s c o n s i d e r for a m o m e n t what m o s t of the trouble a n d anxiety which I have referred to is a b o u t , a n d how m u c h it is n e c e s s a r y that we be t r o u b l e d , or, at least, careful. It would be s o m e a d v a n t a g e to live a primitive a n d frontier life, t h o u g h in the midst of an o u t w a r d civilization, if only to learn what are the g r o s s n e c e s s a r i e s of life a n d what m e t h o d s have b e e n t a k e n to obtain t h e m ; or even to look over the old day-books of the m e r c h a n t s , to s e e what it w a s that m e n m o s t c o m m o n l y b o u g h t at the s t o r e s , w h a t they stored, that is, w h a t are the g r o s s e s t g r o c e r i e s . F o r the i m p r o v e m e n t s of a g e s have h a d but little influence on the e s s e n t i a l laws of m a n ' s e x i s t e n c e ; a s our s k e l e t o n s , probably, are not to be d i s t i n g u i s h e d from t h o s e of o u r a n c e s t o r s . By the words necessary of life, I m e a n whatever, of all that m a n obtains by his own exertions, h a s b e e n from the first, or from long u s e h a s b e c o m e , s o i m p o r t a n t to h u m a n life that few, if any, w h e t h e r from s a v a g e n e s s , or poverty, or philosophy, ever a t t e m p t to do without it. T o m a n y c r e a t u r e s there is in this s e n s e but o n e n e c e s s a r y of life, F o o d . T o the bison of the prairie it is a few i n c h e s of p a l a t a b l e g r a s s , with water to drink; u n l e s s he seeks the S h e l t e r of the forest or the m o u n t a i n ' s s h a d o w . N o n e of the brute creation requires m o r e than F o o d a n d Shelter. T h e n e c e s s a r i e s of life for m a n in this c l i m a t e may, a c c u r a t e l y e n o u g h , b e distributed u n d e r the several h e a d s of F o o d , Shelter, C l o t h i n g , a n d F u e l ; for not till we have s e c u r e d t h e s e are we p r e p a r e d to entertain the true p r o b l e m s of life with f r e e d o m a n d a p r o s p e c t of s u c c e s s . M a n h a s invented, not only h o u s e s , but c l o t h e s a n d c o o k e d food; a n d possibly from the a c c i d e n t a l discovery of the w a r m t h of fire, a n d the c o n s e q u e n t u s e of it, at first a luxury, a r o s e the p r e s e n t n e c e s s i t y to sit by it. W e o b s e r v e c a t s a n d d o g s a c q u i r i n g the s a m e s e c o n d n a t u r e . By p r o p e r S h e l ter a n d C l o t h i n g we legitimately retain our own internal heat; but with an excess of t h e s e , or of F u e l , that is, with a n external heat greater t h a n o u r own internal, may not cookery properly be said to b e g i n ? D a r w i n , the naturalist, says of the i n h a b i t a n t s of T i e r r a del F u e g o , that while his own party, w h o were well c l o t h e d a n d sitting c l o s e to a fire, were far from too w a r m , t h e s e n a k e d s a v a g e s , w h o were farther off, were o b s e r v e d , to his great sur-

6.

C o n f u c i u s ' s Analects

2.17.

WALDEN,

CHAPTER

1 . ECONOMY

/

8 5 9

prise, "to be s t r e a m i n g with perspiration at u n d e r g o i n g s u c h a r o a s t i n g . " 7 S o , we are told, the N e w H o l l a n d e r 8 g o e s naked with impunity, while the E u r o p e a n shivers in his c l o t h e s . Is it i m p o s s i b l e to c o m b i n e the h a r d i n e s s of these savages with the i n t e l l e c t u a l n e s s of the civilized m a n ? A c c o r d i n g to L i e b i g , 9 m a n ' s body is a stove, a n d food the fuel which k e e p s up the internal c o m bustion in the l u n g s . In cold weather we eat m o r e , in w a r m less. T h e a n i m a l heat is the result of a slow c o m b u s t i o n , and d i s e a s e a n d d e a t h take p l a c e when this is too rapid; or for want of fuel, or from s o m e d e f e c t in the d r a u g h t , the fire g o e s out. O f c o u r s e the vital heat is not to be c o n f o u n d e d with fire; but so m u c h for analogy. It a p p e a r s , therefore, from the a b o v e list, that the expression, animal life, is nearly s y n o n y m o u s with the e x p r e s s i o n , animal heat; for while F o o d may be regarded a s the F u e l which k e e p s u p the fire within u s , — a n d Fuel serves only to p r e p a r e that F o o d or to i n c r e a s e the warmth of our bodies by addition from w i t h o u t , — S h e l t e r a n d C l o t h i n g a l s o serve only to retain the heat t h u s g e n e r a t e d a n d a b s o r b e d . The_grarrd,necessity, t h e n , for our b o d i e s , is to k e e p w a r m , to keep the vital heat in u s . W h a t p a i n s we accordingly take, not only with o u r F o o d , a n d C l o t h i n g , a n d Shelter, but with our b e d s , which are our night-clothes, robbing the nests a n d b r e a s t s of birds to p r e p a r e this shelter within a shelter, as the m o l e has its bed of g r a s s a n d leaves at the e n d of its burrow! T h e p o o r m a n is wont to c o m p l a i n that this is a cold world; a n d to cold, no less physical than social, we refer directly a great part of our ails. T h e s u m m e r , in s o m e c l i m a t e s , m a k e s p o s s i b l e to m a n a sort of E l y s i a n 1 life. F u e l , except to c o o k his F o o d , is then u n n e c e s s a r y ; the s u n is his fire, a n d m a n y of the fruits a r e sufficiently c o o k e d by its rays; while F o o d generally is m o r e v a r i o u s , a n d m o r e easily o b t a i n e d , a n d C l o t h i n g a n d S h e l t e r are wholly or half u n n e c e s s a r y . At the p r e s e n t day, a n d in this country, a s I find by my own e x p e r i e n c e , a few i m p l e m e n t s , a knife, an axe, a s p a d e , a wheelbarrow, & c , a n d for the stud i o u s , lamplight, stationery, a n d a c c e s s to a few b o o k s , rank next to n e c e s saries, a n d c a n all be o b t a i n e d at a trifling c o s t . Yet s o m e , not w i s e , go to the other side of the g l o b e , to b a r b a r o u s a n d u n h e a l t h y regions, a n d devote themselves to trade for ten or twenty years, in order that they may live,—that is, keep comfortably w a r m , — a n d die in N e w E n g l a n d at last. T h e luxuriously rich are not simply kept comfortably w a r m , but unnaturally hot; a s I implied before, they are c o o k e d , of c o u r s e a la mode. M o s t of the luxuries, a n d m a n y of the so called c o m f o r t s of life, are not only not i n d i s p e n s a b l e , but positive h i n d e r a n c e s to the elevation of m a n k i n d . With respect to luxuries a n d c o m f o r t s , the wisest have ever lived a m o r e s i m p l e a n d m e a g e r life than the poor. T h e a n c i e n t p h i l o s o p h e r s , C h i n e s e , H i n d o o , P e r s i a n , a n d G r e e k , were a c l a s s than which n o n e h a s b e e n poorer in o u t w a r d riches, n o n e s o rich in inward. W e know not m u c h a b o u t t h e m . It is r e m a r k a b l e that we know so m u c h of t h e m as we do. T h e s a m e is true of the m o r e m o d e r n reformers a n d b e n e f a c t o r s of their r a c e . N o n e c a n be an impartial or wise observer of h u m a n life but from the v a n t a g e g r o u n d of what we s h o u l d call voluntary poverty. O f a life of luxury the fruit is luxury, whether in a g r i c u l t u r e , or c o m m e r c e , or literature, or art. T h e r e are nowa7. C h a r l e s D a r w i n . Journal of * * C o i i H l r i e s Visited by H . M . S . Beagle

* the V a r i o u s (1839).

8. I.e., A u s t r a l i a n a b o r i g i n e . 9. J u s t u s , B a r o n von Liebig ( 1 8 0 3 - 1 8 7 3 ) ,

Ger-

m a n c h e m i s t , a u t h o r o f Organic Chemistry. I. In G r e e k m y t h o l o g y , E l y s i u m i s t h e h o m e o f t h e blessed after death.

8 6 0

/

HENRY DAVID

THOREAU

days p r o f e s s o r s of philosophy, but not p h i l o s o p h e r s . Yet it is a d m i r a b l e to p r o f e s s b e c a u s e it w a s o n c e a d m i r a b l e to live. T o b e a p h i l o s o p h e r is not merely to have s u b t l e t h o u g h t s , nor even to f o u n d a s c h o o l , but s o to love w i s d o m as to live a c c o r d i n g to its d i c t a t e s , a life of simplicity, i n d e p e n d e n c e , m a g n a n i m i t y , a n d trust. It is to solve s o m e of the p r o b l e m s of life, not only theoretically, b u t practically. T h e s u c c e s s of great s c h o l a r s a n d thinkers is c o m m o n l y a courtier-like s u c c e s s , not kingly, not m a n l y . T h e y m a k e shift to live merely by conformity, practically a s their fathers did, a n d are in n o s e n s e the p r o g e n i t o r s of a nobler r a c e of m e n . B u t why d o m e n d e g e n e r a t e ever? W h a t m a k e s families run out? W h a t is the n a t u r e of the luxury w h i c h enervates a n d destroys n a t i o n s ? Are we s u r e that there is n o n e of it in o u r own lives? T h e p h i l o s o p h e r is in a d v a n c e of his a g e even in the o u t w a r d form of his life. H e is not fed, sheltered, c l o t h e d , w a r m e d , like his c o n t e m p o r a r i e s . H o w c a n a m a n be a p h i l o s o p h e r a n d not m a i n t a i n his vital heat by better m e t h o d s than other m e n ? W h e n a m a n is w a r m e d by the several m o d e s which I have d e s c r i b e d , what d o e s h e w a n t next? S u r e l y not m o r e w a r m t h of the s a m e kind, a s m o r e a n d richer food, larger a n d m o r e splendid h o u s e s , finer a n d m o r e a b u n d a n t clothing, m o r e n u m e r o u s i n c e s s a n t a n d hotter fires, a n d the like. W h e n he h a s o b t a i n e d t h o s e things which are n e c e s s a r y to life, there is a n o t h e r alternative than to obtain the superfluities; a n d that is, to a d v e n t u r e o n life now, his v a c a t i o n from h u m b l e r toil having c o m m e n c e d . T h e soil, it a p p e a r s , is suited to the s e e d , for it h a s sent its radicle d o w n w a r d , a n d it m a y now s e n d its s h o o t u p w a r d a l s o with c o n f i d e n c e . W h y h a s m a n rooted h i m s e l f t h u s firmly in the e a r t h , b u t that he m a y rise in the s a m e p r o p o r t i o n into the h e a v e n s a b o v e ? — f o r the nobler p l a n t s are v a l u e d for the fruit they b e a r at last in the air a n d light, far from the g r o u n d , a n d are not t r e a t e d like the h u m b l e r e s c u l e n t s , w h i c h , t h o u g h they m a y b e b i e n n i a l s , are cultivated only till they have p e r f e c t e d their root, a n d often c u t d o w n at top for this p u r p o s e , so that m o s t would not know t h e m in their flowering s e a s o n . I do not m e a n to p r e s c r i b e rules to s t r o n g a n d valiant n a t u r e s , w h o will m i n d their own affairs w h e t h e r in h e a v e n or hell, a n d p e r c h a n c e build m o r e magnificently a n d s p e n d m o r e lavishly t h a n the richest, without ever impoverishing t h e m s e l v e s , not knowing how they live,—if, i n d e e d , there are any s u c h , a s has b e e n d r e a m e d ; nor to t h o s e w h o find their e n c o u r a g e m e n t a n d inspiration in precisely the p r e s e n t c o n d i t i o n of t h i n g s , a n d c h e r i s h it with the f o n d n e s s a n d e n t h u s i a s m of l o v e r s , — a n d , to s o m e extent, I reckon myself in this n u m b e r ; I d o not s p e a k to t h o s e w h o are well e m p l o y e d , in w h a t e v e r c i r c u m s t a n c e s , a n d they know w h e t h e r they are well e m p l o y e d or n o t ; — b u t mainly to the m a s s of m e n w h o a r e d i s c o n t e n t e d , a n d idly c o m p l a i n i n g of the h a r d n e s s of their lot or of the t i m e s , w h e n they might i m p r o v e t h e m . T h e r e are s o m e w h o c o m p l a i n m o s t energetically a n d i n c o n s o l a b l y of any, b e c a u s e they a r e , a s they say, d o i n g their duty. I a l s o have in my m i n d that seemingly wealthy, but m o s t terribly i m p o v e r i s h e d c l a s s of all, w h o have a c c u m u l a t e d d r o s s , b u t know not h o w to u s e it, or get rid of it, a n d t h u s have forged their own g o l d e n or silver fetters. If I s h o u l d a t t e m p t to tell how I have d e s i r e d to s p e n d my life in years p a s t , it would probably s u r p r i s e t h o s e of my r e a d e r s w h o a r e s o m e w h a t a c q u a i n t e d with its a c t u a l history; it w o u l d certainly a s t o n i s h t h o s e w h o k n o w

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n o t h i n g a b o u t it. I will only hint at s o m e of the e n t e r p r i s e s w h i c h I have cherished. In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have b e e n anxious to improve the nick of t i m e , a n d n o t c h it on my stick too; to s t a n d o n the m e e t i n g of two eternities, the p a s t a n d future, which is precisely the p r e s e n t m o m e n t ; to toe that line. You will p a r d o n s o m e o b s c u r i t i e s , for there are m o r e s e c r e t s in my trade t h a n in m o s t m e n ' s , a n d yet not voluntarily kept, but i n s e p a r a b l e from its very n a t u r e . I would gladly tell all that I know a b o u t it, a n d never paint " N o A d m i t t a n c e " on my g a t e . I long a g o lost a h o u n d , a bay h o r s e , a n d a turtle-dove, a n d a m still on their trail. 2 M a n y are the travellers I have s p o k e n c o n c e r n i n g t h e m , describing their tracks a n d what calls they a n s w e r e d to. I have m e t o n e or two w h o h a d h e a r d the h o u n d , a n d the t r a m p of the h o r s e , a n d even s e e n the dove d i s a p p e a r behind a c l o u d , a n d they s e e m e d as anxious to recover t h e m as if they h a d lost them t h e m s e l v e s . T o a n t i c i p a t e , not the s u n r i s e a n d the d a w n merely, b u t , if p o s s i b l e , N a t u r e herself! H o w m a n y m o r n i n g s , s u m m e r a n d winter, before yet any n e i g h b o r w a s stirring a b o u t his b u s i n e s s , have I b e e n a b o u t m i n e ! N o d o u b t , m a n y of my t o w n s m e n have met m e returning from this e n t e r p r i s e , f a r m e r s starting for B o s t o n in the twilight, or w o o d c h o p p e r s g o i n g to their work. It is true, I never a s s i s t e d the s u n materially in his rising, b u t , d o u b t not, it w a s of the last i m p o r t a n c e only to be p r e s e n t at it. S o m a n y a u t u m n , ay, a n d winter days, spent o u t s i d e the town, trying to hear w h a t w a s in the wind, to hear a n d carry it express! I well-nigh s u n k all my capital in it, a n d lost my own breath into the b a r g a i n , r u n n i n g in the f a c e of it. If it h a d c o n c e r n e d either of the political p a r t i e s , d e p e n d u p o n it, it would have a p p e a r e d in the G a z e t t e with the earliest i n t e l l i g e n c e . ' At other times w a t c h i n g from the observatory of s o m e cliff or tree, to telegraph any new arrival; or waiting at e v e n i n g on the hill-tops for the sky to fall, that I might c a t c h s o m e t h i n g , t h o u g h I never c a u g h t m u c h , a n d that, m a n n a - w i s e , 4 would dissolve again in the s u n . F o r a long time I w a s reporter to a j o u r n a l , of no very wide circulation, w h o s e editor has never yet s e e n fit to print the bulk of my c o n t r i b u t i o n s , a n d , a s is too c o m m o n with writers, I got only my labor for my p a i n s . 5 H o w ever, in this c a s e my p a i n s were their own reward. For m a n y years I w a s self-appointed inspector of s n o w s t o r m s a n d rain s t o r m s , a n d did my duty faithfully; surveyor, if not of highways, then of forest p a t h s a n d all across-lot r o u t e s , keeping t h e m o p e n , a n d ravines bridged a n d p a s s a b l e at all s e a s o n s , where the public heel h a d testified to their utility. I have looked after the wild stock of the town, which give a faithful herdsm a n a g o o d deal of trouble by leaping f e n c e s ; a n d I have h a d a n eye to the u n f r e q u e n t e d nooks a n d c o r n e r s of the farm; t h o u g h I did not always k n o w 2. T h o r e a u ' s reply to B. B. Wiley, April 2 6 , 1 8 5 7 , suggests s o m e t h i n g of the evocative way he wanted this p a s s a g e interpreted: "If others have their losses, which they are busy repairing, so have I mine, & t h e i r h o u n d & h o r s e m a y perhaps be the s y m b o l s of s o m e of t h e m . B u t a l s o I h a v e lost, or a m i n d a n g e r o f l o s i n g , a f a r finer & m o r e e t h e r i a l treasure, w h i c h c o m m o n l y no loss of which they a r e c o n s c i o u s will s y m b o l i z e — t h i s I a n s w e r h a s t i l y 8: w i t h s o m e h e s i t a t i o n , a c c o r d i n g a s I n o w u n d e r -

stand my own words." 3. N e w s . " G a z e t t e " : n e w s p a p e r . 4 . In E x o d u s 1 6 m a n n a i s t h e b r e a d t h a t G o d rained from heaven so the Israelites could survive in t h e d e s e r t o n t h e i r w a y f r o m E g y p t t o t h e P r o m ised Land. 5. T h o r e a u p u n s o n the c o m m o n u s a g e of journal to m e a n a daily n e w s p a p e r a s well a s a diary. T h o r e a u is the n e g l i g e n t or t o o d e m a n d i n g editor.

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w h e t h e r J o n a s or S o l o m o n worked in a particular field to-day; that w a s n o n e of my b u s i n e s s . I have watered the red huckleberry, the s a n d cherry a n d the nettle tree, the red pine a n d the black a s h , the white g r a p e a n d the yellow violet, which might have withered else in dry s e a s o n s . In short, I went on t h u s for a long t i m e , I may say it without b o a s t i n g , faithfully m i n d i n g my b u s i n e s s , till it b e c a m e m o r e a n d m o r e evident that my t o w n s m e n would not after all a d m i t m e into the list of town officers, nor m a k e my p l a c e a s i n e c u r e with a m o d e r a t e a l l o w a n c e . M y a c c o u n t s , which I c a n s w e a r to have kept faithfully, I have, i n d e e d , never got a u d i t e d , still less a c c e p t e d , still less paid a n d settled. However, I have not set my heart o n that. N o t long s i n c e , a strolling Indian went to sell b a s k e t s at the h o u s e o f a well-known lawyer in my n e i g h b o r h o o d . " D o you wish to buy any b a s k e t s ? " he a s k e d . " N o , we do not want a n y , " w a s the reply. " W h a t ! " e x c l a i m e d the Indian a s he went out the g a t e , " d o you m e a n to starve u s ? " H a v i n g s e e n his i n d u s t r i o u s white neighbors so well o f f , — t h a t the lawyer h a d only to w e a v e a r g u m e n t s , a n d by s o m e m a g i c wealth a n d s t a n d i n g followed, h e h a d s a i d to himself; I will go into b u s i n e s s ; I will weave b a s k e t s ; it is a thing which I c a n d o . T h i n k i n g that w h e n he h a d m a d e the b a s k e t s he w o u l d have d o n e his part, a n d then it would be the white m a n ' s to buy t h e m . H e h a d not discovered that it w a s n e c e s s a r y for him to m a k e it worth the other's while to buy t h e m , or at least m a k e him think that it w a s s o , or to m a k e s o m e t h i n g e l s e which it would be worth his while to buy. I too h a d woven a kind of b a s k e t of a delicate texture, but I h a d not m a d e it worth any one's while to buy t h e m / ' Yet not the l e s s , in my c a s e , did I think it worth my while to weave t h e m , a n d instead of studying how to m a k e it worth m e n ' s while to buy my b a s k e t s , I s t u d i e d rather how to avoid the necessity of selling t h e m . T h e life which m e n p r a i s e a n d regard a s s u c c e s s f u l is but o n e kind. Why s h o u l d we e x a g g e r a t e any o n e kind at the e x p e n s e of the o t h e r s ? F i n d i n g that my fellow-citizens were not likely to offer m e any r o o m in the court h o u s e , or any c u r a c y or living 7 any w h e r e e l s e , but I m u s t shift for myself, I t u r n e d my f a c e m o r e exclusively t h a n ever to the w o o d s , w h e r e I w a s better known. I d e t e r m i n e d to g o into b u s i n e s s at o n c e , a n d not wait to a c q u i r e the u s u a l capital, u s i n g s u c h s l e n d e r m e a n s a s I h a d already got. M y p u r p o s e in g o i n g to W a l d e n P o n d w a s not to live c h e a p l y nor to live dearly there, but to transact s o m e private b u s i n e s s with the fewest o b s t a c l e s ; to be hindered from a c c o m p l i s h i n g which for want of a little c o m m o n s e n s e , a little e n t e r p r i s e a n d b u s i n e s s talent, a p p e a r e d not s o s a d a s foolish. I have always e n d e a v o r e d to a c q u i r e strict b u s i n e s s h a b i t s ; they a r e indisp e n s a b l e to every m a n . If your trade is with the C e l e s t i a l E m p i r e , 8 then s o m e small c o u n t i n g h o u s e on the c o a s t , in s o m e S a l e m harbor, will be fixture e n o u g h . You will export s u c h articles a s the country affords, purely native p r o d u c t s , m u c h ice a n d p i n e t i m b e r a n d a little g r a n i t e , always in native b o t t o m s . T h e s e will be g o o d v e n t u r e s . T o o v e r s e e all the details yourself in p e r s o n ; to b e at o n c e pilot a n d c a p t a i n , a n d owner a n d underwriter; to b u y a n d sell a n d keep the a c c o u n t s ; to read every letter received, a n d write or read every letter sent; to s u p e r i n t e n d the d i s c h a r g e of i m p o r t s night a n d day; 6. A reference to T h o r e a u ' s poorly b o o k , A Week on the Concord and Rivers ( 1 8 4 9 ) .

selling Merrimack

first

7 . A c h u r c h o f f i c e w i t h a fixed, s t e a d y i n c o m e , 8. C h i n a , from the belief that the C h i n e s e emperors were sons of heaven.

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to be u p o n m a n y p a r t s of the c o a s t a l m o s t at the s a m e t i m e ; — o f t e n the richest freight will b e d i s c h a r g e d u p o n a J e r s e y s h o r e , 9 — t o b e your own telegraph, unweariedly s w e e p i n g the horizon, s p e a k i n g all p a s s i n g vessels b o u n d c o a s t w i s e ; to keep up a steady d e s p a t c h of c o m m o d i t i e s , for the supply of s u c h a distant a n d exorbitant market; to keep yourself informed of the state of the m a r k e t s , p r o s p e c t s of war a n d p e a c e every w h e r e , a n d a n t i c i p a t e the t e n d e n c i e s of trade a n d civilization,—taking a d v a n t a g e of the results of all exploring expeditions, u s i n g new p a s s a g e s a n d all i m p r o v e m e n t s in navig a t i o n ; — c h a r t s to be s t u d i e d , the position of reefs a n d new lights a n d b u o y s to be a s c e r t a i n e d , a n d ever, a n d ever, the logarithmic tables to be c o r r e c t e d , for by the error of s o m e c a l c u l a t o r the vessel often splits u p o n a rock that s h o u l d have r e a c h e d a friendly p i e r , — t h e r e is the untold fate of L a P e r o u s e ; — u n i v e r s a l s c i e n c e to be kept p a c e with, studying the lives of all great discoverers a n d navigators, great adventurers a n d m e r c h a n t s from H a n n o ' a n d the Phoenicians d o w n to our day; in fine, a c c o u n t of stock to be taken from time to time, to know how you s t a n d . It is a labor to t a s k the faculties of a m a n , — s u c h p r o b l e m s of profit a n d loss, of interest, of tare a n d tret, 2 a n d g a u g i n g of all kinds in it, a s d e m a n d a universal k n o w l e d g e . I have thought that W a l d e n Pond would be a g o o d p l a c e for b u s i n e s s , not solely on a c c o u n t of the railroad a n d the ice t r a d e ; it offers a d v a n t a g e s which it may not b e g o o d policy to divulge; it is a g o o d port a n d a g o o d f o u n d a t i o n . N o Neva m a r s h e s to b e filled; t h o u g h you m u s t every w h e r e build on piles of your own driving. It is said that a flood-tide, with a westerly wind, a n d ice in the N e v a , would s w e e p S t . P e t e r s b u r g from the f a c e of the e a r t h . As this b u s i n e s s w a s to be e n t e r e d into without the u s u a l c a p i t a l , it may not b e easy to c o n j e c t u r e w h e r e t h o s e m e a n s , that will still be i n d i s p e n s a b l e to every s u c h u n d e r t a k i n g , were to b e o b t a i n e d . As for C l o t h i n g , to c o m e at o n c e to the practical part of the q u e s t i o n , p e r h a p s we are led oftener by the love of novelty, a n d a regard for the opinions of m e n , in p r o c u r i n g it, than by a true utility. Let him who has work to do recollect that the object of clothing is, first, to retain the vital heat, a n d s e c o n d l y , in this state of society, to cover n a k e d n e s s , a n d he may j u d g e how m u c h of any n e c e s s a r y or important work may be a c c o m p l i s h e d without a d d i n g to his w a r d r o b e . Kings a n d q u e e n s who wear a suit but o n c e , t h o u g h m a d e by s o m e tailor or d r e s s - m a k e r to their m a j e s t i e s , c a n n o t know the comfort of w e a r i n g a suit that fits. T h e y are no better than w o o d e n h o r s e s to h a n g the c l e a n c l o t h e s on. Every day our g a r m e n t s b e c o m e m o r e a s s i m i l a t e d to o u r s e l v e s , receiving the i m p r e s s of the wearer's c h a r a c t e r , until we hesitate to lay t h e m a s i d e , without s u c h delay a n d m e d i c a l a p p l i a n c e s a n d s o m e s u c h solemnity even a s our b o d i e s . N o m a n ever stood the lower in my e s t i m a t i o n for having a p a t c h in his c l o t h e s ; yet I a m s u r e that there is greater anxiety, c o m m o n l y , to have fashionable, or at least c l e a n a n d u n p a t c h e d c l o t h e s , than to have a s o u n d c o n s c i e n c e . B u t even if the rent is not m e n d e d , p e r h a p s the worst vice betrayed is i m p r o v i d e n c e . I s o m e t i m e s try my a c q u a i n t a n c e s by s u c h tests 9.

I . e . , by s h i p w r e c k o n t h e w a y t o N e w

York.

2.

I.

Carthaginian

centuries

r e f u s e in c e r t a i n m a t e r i a l s , 4 p o u n d s b e i n g t h r o w n

B.C.E.), credited

navigator

(6th—5th

with o p e n i n g

Africa to t r a d e . J e a n

the coast

Francois de G a l a u p

1788), French explorer of the western

An

allowance

to the

purchaser

for w a s t e

or

west

in for e v e r y 1 0 4 p o u n d s o f s u t t l e w e i g h t , o r w e i g h t

(1741—

after the "tare" (the weight of the vehicle or smaller

of

Pacific.

c o n t a i n e r ) is d e d u c t e d .

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THOREAU

a s t h i s ; — w h o c o u l d w e a r a p a t c h , or two extra s e a m s only, over the k n e e ? M o s t b e h a v e a s if they believed that their p r o s p e c t s for life w o u l d b e r u i n e d if they s h o u l d do it. It would be e a s i e r for t h e m to h o b b l e to town with a b r o k e n leg than with a b r o k e n p a n t a l o o n . Often if a n a c c i d e n t h a p p e n s to a g e n t l e m a n ' s legs, they c a n b e m e n d e d ; but if a similar a c c i d e n t h a p p e n s to the legs of his p a n t a l o o n s , there is n o h e l p for it; for h e c o n s i d e r s , not what is truly r e s p e c t a b l e , but what is r e s p e c t e d . W e k n o w b u t few m e n , a great m a n y c o a t s a n d b r e e c h e s . D r e s s a s c a r e c r o w in your last shift, you s t a n d i n g shiftless by, w h o would not s o o n e s t s a l u t e the s c a r e c r o w ? P a s s i n g a cornfield the other day, c l o s e by a hat a n d c o a t on a s t a k e , I recognized the o w n e r of the f a r m . H e w a s only a little m o r e w e a t h e r - b e a t e n t h a n w h e n I s a w him last. I have h e a r d of a d o g that barked at every s t r a n g e r w h o a p p r o a c h e d his m a s t e r ' s p r e m i s e s with c l o t h e s on, b u t w a s easily q u i e t e d by a n a k e d thief. It is a n interesting q u e s t i o n how far m e n would retain their relative r a n k if they were divested of their c l o t h e s . C o u l d you, in s u c h a c a s e , tell surely o f any c o m p a n y of civilized m e n , which b e l o n g e d to the m o s t r e s p e c t e d c l a s s ? W h e n M a d a m Pfeiffer, in her a d v e n t u r o u s travels r o u n d the world, from e a s t to w e s t , h a d got s o near h o m e a s Asiatic R u s s i a , s h e says that s h e felt the n e c e s s i t y of w e a r i n g other than a travelling d r e s s , w h e n s h e went to m e e t the a u t h o r i t i e s , for s h e " w a s now in a civilized country, w h e r e people are j u d g e d of by their c l o t h e s . " ' Even in our d e m o c r a t i c N e w E n g l a n d towns the a c c i d e n t a l p o s s e s s i o n of wealth, a n d its m a n i f e s t a t i o n in d r e s s a n d e q u i p a g e a l o n e , obtain for the p o s s e s s o r a l m o s t universal r e s p e c t . R u t they w h o yield s u c h r e s p e c t , n u m e r o u s a s they a r e , are so far h e a t h e n , a n d n e e d to have a m i s s i o n a r y sent to t h e m . R e s i d e , c l o t h e s i n t r o d u c e d sewing, a kind of work which you m a y call e n d l e s s ; a w o m a n ' s d r e s s , at least, is never done.4 A m a n w h o has at length f o u n d s o m e t h i n g to do will not n e e d to get a new suit to d o it in; for him the old will d o , that h a s lain dusty in the garret for a n i n d e t e r m i n a t e period. O l d s h o e s will serve a h e r o l o n g e r t h a n they have served his v a l e t , — i f a hero ever h a s a v a l e t , — b a r e feet a r e older t h a n s h o e s , a n d h e c a n m a k e t h e m d o . Only they w h o go to s o i r e e s a n d legislative halls m u s t have n e w c o a t s , c o a t s to c h a n g e a s often a s the m a n c h a n g e s in t h e m . B u t if my j a c k e t a n d t r o u s e r s , my hat a n d s h o e s , a r e fit to w o r s h i p G o d in, they will d o ; will they not? W h o ever saw his old c l o t h e s , — h i s old c o a t , actually worn o u t , resolved into its primitive e l e m e n t s , s o that it w a s not a d e e d of charity to b e s t o w it o n s o m e p o o r boy, by h i m p e r c h a n c e to b e b e s t o w e d on s o m e p o o r e r still, or shall w e say richer, w h o c o u l d do with less? I say, b e w a r e of all e n t e r p r i s e s that require new c l o t h e s , a n d not rather a n e w wearer of c l o t h e s . If there is not a new m a n , h o w c a n the n e w c l o t h e s be m a d e to fit? If you have any e n t e r p r i s e before you, try it in y o u r old c l o t h e s . All m e n want, not s o m e t h i n g to do with, b u t s o m e t h i n g to do, or rather s o m e t h i n g to be. P e r h a p s we s h o u l d never p r o c u r e a n e w suit, h o w e v e r ragg e d or dirty the old, until we have s o c o n d u c t e d , s o e n t e r p r i s e d or sailed in s o m e way, that we feel like new m e n in the old, a n d that to retain it would b e like k e e p i n g new wine in old bottles.' 5 O u r m o u l t i n g s e a s o n , like that of 3 . I d a P f e i f f e r ( 1 7 9 7 — 1 8 5 8 ) , A Lady's Voyage round the World ( 1 8 5 2 ) . 4. A play on the saying " M a n may work from s u n

to s u n , / B u t w o m a n ' s w o r k is n e v e r d o n e . " 5. "Neither d o m e n put new wine into old bottles: else the bottles break, a n d the wine runneth out,

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the fowls, m u s t be a crisis in our lives. T h e loon retires to solitary p o n d s to s p e n d it. T h u s a l s o the s n a k e c a s t s its slough, a n d the caterpillar its wormy c o a t , by an internal industry a n d e x p a n s i o n ; for c l o t h e s a r e b u t o u r o u t m o s t cuticle a n d mortal coil. O t h e r w i s e we shall b e f o u n d sailing u n d e r false colors, a n d be inevitably c a s h i e r e d 6 at last by our own opinion, a s well a s that of m a n k i n d . W e d o n g a r m e n t after g a r m e n t , a s if we grew like e x o g e n o u s p l a n t s by addition without. O u r o u t s i d e a n d often thin a n d fanciful c l o t h e s are our e p i d e r m i s or false skin, which p a r t a k e s not of our life, a n d m a y b e stripped off here a n d there without fatal injury; our thicker g a r m e n t s , constantly worn, are our cellular i n t e g u m e n t , or cortex; but our shirts are our liber 7 or true bark, which c a n n o t be removed without girdling a n d so destroying the m a n . I believe that all r a c e s at s o m e s e a s o n s wear s o m e t h i n g equivalent to the shirt. It is d e s i r a b l e that a m a n b e c l a d so simply that he c a n lay his h a n d s on himself in the dark, a n d that he live in all r e s p e c t s s o c o m p a c t l y a n d preparedly, that, if an e n e m y take the town, he c a n , like the old philosopher, walk out the g a t e e m p t y - h a n d e d without anxiety. W h i l e o n e thick g a r m e n t is, for m o s t p u r p o s e s , a s g o o d a s three thin o n e s , a n d c h e a p clothing c a n b e o b t a i n e d at prices really to suit c u s t o m e r s ; while a thick c o a t c a n be b o u g h t for five dollars, which will last as m a n y years, thick p a n t a l o o n s for two dollars, c o w h i d e b o o t s for a dollar and a half a pair, a s u m m e r hat for a q u a r t e r of a dollar, a n d a winter c a p for sixty-two a n d a half c e n t s , or a better be m a d e at h o m e at a n o m i n a l c o s t , where is h e so p o o r that, c l a d in s u c h a suit, of his own earning, there will not be f o u n d w i s e m e n to d o him reverence? W h e n I a s k for a g a r m e n t of a particular form, my tailoress tells m e gravely, " T h e y d o not m a k e t h e m s o n o w , " not e m p h a s i z i n g the " T h e y " at all, a s if she q u o t e d an authority as i m p e r s o n a l a s the F a t e s , a n d I find it difficult to get m a d e what I want, simply b e c a u s e s h e c a n n o t believe that I m e a n what I say, that I a m so rash. W h e n I hear this o r a c u l a r s e n t e n c e , I a m for a m o m e n t a b s o r b e d in t h o u g h t , e m p h a s i z i n g to myself e a c h word separately that I may c o m e at the m e a n i n g of it, that I m a y find out by w h a t d e g r e e of c o n s a n g u i n i t y They are related to me, a n d what authority they m a y have in an affair which affects m e so nearly; a n d , finally, I a m inclined to a n s w e r her with e q u a l mystery, a n d without any m o r e e m p h a s i s of the " t h e y , " — " I t is true, they did not m a k e t h e m s o recently, but they do n o w . " O f what u s e this m e a s u r i n g of m e if s h e d o e s not m e a s u r e my c h a r a c t e r , b u t only the breadth of my s h o u l d e r s , a s it were a p e g to h a n g the c o a t o n ? W e worship not the G r a c e s , nor the Parcae, 8 but F a s h i o n . S h e s p i n s a n d w e a v e s a n d c u t s with full authority. T h e h e a d m o n k e y at Paris p u t s on a traveller's c a p , a n d all the m o n k e y s in A m e r i c a do the s a m e . I s o m e t i m e s d e s p a i r of getting any thing q u i t e s i m p l e a n d h o n e s t d o n e in this world by the help of m e n . T h e y would have to b e p a s s e d t h r o u g h a powerful p r e s s first, to s q u e e z e their old notions out of t h e m , s o that they would not s o o n get u p o n their legs a g a i n , a n d then there would be s o m e o n e in the c o m p a n y with a m a g g o t in his h e a d , h a t c h e d from a n e g g d e p o s i t e d there n o b o d y knows w h e n , for not even a n d the bottles perish: but they put new wine into new bottles, a n d both are preserved" (Matthew 9.17).

6. 7. 8.

Fired, Inner bark. In R o m a n m y t h o l o g y , t h e t h r e e F a t e s .

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fire kills t h e s e things, a n d you would have lost your labor. N e v e r t h e l e s s , we will not forget that s o m e Egyptian wheat is said to have b e e n h a n d e d d o w n to u s by a m u m m y . O n the w h o l e , I think that it c a n n o t b e m a i n t a i n e d that d r e s s i n g h a s in this or any country risen to the dignity of a n art. At p r e s e n t m e n m a k e shift to w e a r w h a t they can get. L i k e s h i p w r e c k e d sailors, they put o n w h a t they c a n find o n the b e a c h , a n d at a little d i s t a n c e , w h e t h e r of s p a c e or t i m e , l a u g h at e a c h other's m a s q u e r a d e . Every generation l a u g h s at the old fashi o n s , but follows religiously the new. W e are a m u s e d at b e h o l d i n g the c o s t u m e of H e n r y VIII., or Q u e e n Elizabeth, as m u c h a s if it w a s that of the King a n d Q u e e n of the C a n n i b a l I s l a n d s . All c o s t u m e off a m a n is pitiful or g r o t e s q u e . It is only the s e r i o u s eye p e e r i n g from a n d the s i n c e r e life p a s s e d within it, w h i c h restrain laughter a n d c o n s e c r a t e the c o s t u m e of any p e o p l e . L e t H a r l e q u i n 9 be taken with a fit of the colic a n d his t r a p p i n g s will have to serve that m o o d too. W'hen the soldier is hit by a c a n n o n ball rags are a s becoming as purple. T h e childish a n d s a v a g e taste of m e n a n d w o m e n for new p a t t e r n s k e e p s h o w m a n y s h a k i n g a n d s q u i n t i n g t h r o u g h k a l e i d o s c o p e s that they m a y discover the p a r t i c u l a r figure which this g e n e r a t i o n r e q u i r e s to-day. T h e m a n u f a c t u r e r s have learned that this taste is merely w h i m s i c a l . O f two p a t t e r n s which differ only by a few t h r e a d s m o r e or less of a p a r t i c u l a r color, the o n e will be sold readily, the other lie on the shelf, t h o u g h it frequently h a p p e n s that after the l a p s e of a s e a s o n the latter b e c o m e s the m o s t f a s h i o n a b l e . C o m p a r a t i v e l y , t a t t o o i n g is not the h i d e o u s c u s t o m w h i c h it is c a l l e d . It is not b a r b a r o u s merely b e c a u s e the printing is s k i n - d e e p a n d u n a l t e r a b l e . I c a n n o t believe that our factory s y s t e m is the b e s t m o d e by which m e n m a y get clothing. T h e condition of the operatives is b e c o m i n g every day m o r e like that of the E n g l i s h ; a n d it c a n n o t b e w o n d e r e d at, s i n c e , a s far a s I have h e a r d or o b s e r v e d , the principal object is, not that m a n k i n d m a y b e well a n d honestly c l a d , b u t , u n q u e s t i o n a b l y , that the c o r p o r a t i o n s m a y b e e n r i c h e d . In the long run m e n hit only what they a i m at. T h e r e f o r e , t h o u g h they s h o u l d fail immediately, they h a d better a i m at s o m e t h i n g high. As for a S h e l t e r , I will not deny that this is now a n e c e s s a r y of life, t h o u g h there are i n s t a n c e s of m e n having d o n e without it for l o n g p e r i o d s in c o l d e r c o u n t r i e s than this. S a m u e l L a i n g says that " T h e L a p l a n d e r in his skin d r e s s , a n d in a skin b a g which he p u t s over his h e a d a n d s h o u l d e r s , will s l e e p night after night on the s n o w — i n a d e g r e e of cold which w o u l d extinguish the life of o n e e x p o s e d to it in any woollen c l o t h i n g . " H e h a d s e e n t h e m a s l e e p t h u s . Yet he a d d s , " T h e y are not hardier than other p e o p l e . " 1 B u t , probably, m a n did not live long o n the earth without d i s c o v e r i n g the c o n v e n i e n c e which there is in a h o u s e , the d o m e s t i c c o m f o r t s , which p h r a s e m a y have originally signified the s a t i s f a c t i o n s of the h o u s e m o r e than of the family; t h o u g h t h e s e m u s t be extremely partial a n d o c c a s i o n a l in t h o s e c l i m a t e s w h e r e the h o u s e is a s s o c i a t e d in our t h o u g h t s with winter or the rainy s e a s o n chiefly, a n d two thirds of the year, except for a p a r a s o l , is u n n e c e s s a r y . In o u r c l i m a t e , in the s u m m e r , it w a s formerly a l m o s t solely a covering at night. In the I n d i a n

9 . A t y p e o f c o m i c s e r v a n t in commedia dell'arte, d r e s s e d in a m a s k a n d m a n y - c o l o r e d t i g h t s .

1 . Journal

of a Residence

in Norway

(1837).

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g a z e t t e s 2 a w i g w a m w a s the symbol of a day's m a r c h , a n d a row of t h e m c u t or p a i n t e d on the bark of a tree signified that so m a n y times they h a d c a m p e d . M a n w a s not m a d e s o large limbed a n d robust but that he m u s t s e e k to narrow his world, a n d wall in a s p a c e s u c h a s fitted h i m . H e w a s at first bare a n d out of d o o r s ; but t h o u g h this was p l e a s a n t e n o u g h in s e r e n e a n d w a r m weather, by daylight, the rainy s e a s o n a n d the winter, to say n o t h i n g of the torrid s u n , would p e r h a p s have nipped his r a c e in the b u d if he h a d not m a d e h a s t e to clothe himself with the shelter of a h o u s e . A d a m a n d E v e , a c c o r d i n g to a fable, wore the bower before other c l o t h e s . M a n w a n t e d a h o m e , a p l a c e of w a r m t h , or comfort, first of physical w a r m t h , then the w a r m t h of the affections. W e may i m a g i n e a time w h e n , in the infancy of the h u m a n r a c e , s o m e enterprising mortal crept into a hollow in a rock for shelter. Every child begins the world a g a i n , to s o m e extent, a n d loves to stay o u t d o o r s , even in wet a n d cold. It plays h o u s e , a s well a s h o r s e , having an instinct for it. W h o d o e s not r e m e m b e r the interest with which w h e n y o u n g he looked at shelving rocks, or any a p p r o a c h to a cave? It w a s the natural yearning of that portion of our m o s t primitive a n c e s t o r which still survived in u s . F r o m the c a v e we have a d v a n c e d to roofs of p a l m leaves, of bark a n d b o u g h s , of linen woven a n d s t r e t c h e d , of g r a s s a n d straw, of b o a r d s a n d s h i n g l e s , of s t o n e s a n d tiles. At last, we know not what it is to live in the o p e n air, a n d our lives a r e d o m e s t i c in m o r e s e n s e s than we think. F r o m the hearth to the field is a great d i s t a n c e . It would be well p e r h a p s if we were to s p e n d m o r e of our days a n d nights without any o b s t r u c t i o n b e t w e e n u s a n d the celestial b o d i e s , if the poet did not s p e a k so m u c h from u n d e r a roof, or the saint dwell there so long. Birds do not sing in c a v e s , nor d o doves c h e r i s h their i n n o c e n c e in dovecots. However, if o n e d e s i g n s to c o n s t r u c t a dwelling h o u s e , it b e h o o v e s him to exercise a little Yankee s h r e w d n e s s , lest after all h e find himself in a workh o u s e , a labyrinth without a clew, a m u s e u m , a n a l m s h o u s e , a p r i s o n , or a splendid m a u s o l e u m i n s t e a d . C o n s i d e r first how slight a shelter is absolutely n e c e s s a r y . I have s e e n P e n o b s c o t I n d i a n s , in this town, living in tents of thin cotton cloth, while the s n o w w a s nearly a foot d e e p a r o u n d t h e m , a n d I thought that they would be glad to have it d e e p e r to keep out the wind. Formerly, when how to get my living honestly, with f r e e d o m left for my p r o p e r p u r s u i t s , w a s a q u e s t i o n which vexed m e even m o r e than it d o e s now, for unfortunately I a m b e c o m e s o m e w h a t c a l l o u s , I u s e d to s e e a large box by the railroad, six feet long by three w i d e , in which the laborers locked up their tools at night, a n d it s u g g e s t e d to m e that every m a n w h o w a s hard p u s h e d might get s u c h a o n e for a dollar, a n d , having bored a few a u g e r holes in it, to a d m i t the air at least, get into it w h e n it rained a n d at night, a n d hook down the lid, a n d so have freedom in his love, a n d in his soul be free. T h i s did not a p p e a r the worst, nor by any m e a n s a d e s p i c a b l e alternative. You c o u l d sit up a s late a s you p l e a s e d , a n d , w h e n e v e r you got u p , g o a b r o a d without any landlord or house-lord d o g g i n g you for rent. M a n y a m a n is h a r a s s e d to d e a t h to pay the rent of a larger a n d m o r e luxurious box w h o would not have frozen to d e a t h in s u c h a box as this. I a m far from j e s t i n g . E c o n o m y is a s u b j e c t which a d m i t s of b e i n g treated with levity, but it c a n n o t 2.

In A m e r i c a n I n d i a n s i g n l a n g u a g e (in m e s s a g e s e q u i v a l e n t t o g a z e t t e s o r n e w s p a p e r s ) .

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s o be d i s p o s e d of. A c o m f o r t a b l e h o u s e for a r u d e a n d hardy r a c e , that lived mostly out of d o o r s , w a s o n c e m a d e h e r e a l m o s t entirely of s u c h materials a s N a t u r e furnished ready to their h a n d s . G o o k i n , w h o w a s s u p e r i n t e n d e n t of the Indians s u b j e c t to the M a s s a c h u s e t t s C o l o n y , writing in 1 6 7 4 , says, " T h e best of their h o u s e s are covered very neatly, tight a n d w a r m , with b a r k s of trees, slipped from their bodies at t h o s e s e a s o n s w h e n the s a p is u p , a n d m a d e into great flakes, with p r e s s u r e of weighty timber, w h e n they are g r e e n . . . . T h e m e a n e r sort are c o v e r e d with m a t s which they m a k e of a kind of b u l r u s h , a n d are also indifferently tight a n d w a r m , b u t not s o g o o d a s the former. . . . S o m e I have s e e n , sixty or a h u n d r e d feet l o n g a n d thirty feet b r o a d . . . . I have often lodged in their w i g w a m s , a n d f o u n d t h e m a s w a r m a s the b e s t E n g l i s h h o u s e s . " ' H e a d d s , that they were c o m m o n l y c a r p e t e d a n d lined within with well-wrought e m b r o i d e r e d m a t s , a n d were f u r n i s h e d with various u t e n s i l s . T h e I n d i a n s h a d a d v a n c e d s o far a s to r e g u l a t e the effect of the wind by a m a t s u s p e n d e d over the hole in the roof a n d m o v e d by a string. S u c h a lodge was in the first i n s t a n c e c o n s t r u c t e d in a day or two at m o s t , a n d taken d o w n a n d p u t u p in a few h o u r s ; a n d every family owned o n e , or its a p a r t m e n t in o n e . In the s a v a g e s t a t e every family o w n s a shelter a s g o o d a s the best, a n d sufficient for its c o a r s e r a n d s i m p l e r w a n t s ; b u t I think that I s p e a k within b o u n d s w h e n I say that, t h o u g h the birds of the air have their n e s t s , a n d the foxes their h o l e s , 4 a n d the s a v a g e s their w i g w a m s , in m o d e r n civilized society not m o r e t h a n o n e half the families own a shelter. In the large towns a n d cities, w h e r e civilization especially prevails, the n u m b e r of t h o s e w h o own a shelter is a very s m a l l fraction of the w h o l e . T h e rest pay a n a n n u a l tax for this o u t s i d e g a r m e n t of all, b e c o m e i n d i s p e n s a b l e s u m m e r a n d winter, which would b u y a village of I n d i a n w i g w a m s , b u t now helps to k e e p t h e m p o o r as long a s they live. I d o not m e a n to insist h e r e on the d i s a d v a n t a g e of hiring c o m p a r e d with owning, b u t it is evident that the s a v a g e o w n s his shelter b e c a u s e it c o s t s so little, while the civilized m a n hires his c o m m o n l y b e c a u s e h e c a n n o t afford to own it; n o r c a n h e , in the long r u n , any better afford to hire. B u t , a n s w e r s o n e , by merely p a y i n g this tax the p o o r civilized m a n s e c u r e s an a b o d e which is a p a l a c e c o m p a r e d with the s a v a g e ' s . An a n n u a l rent of from twenty-five to a h u n d r e d dollars, t h e s e are the c o u n t r y r a t e s , entitles him to the benefit of the i m p r o v e m e n t s of c e n t u r i e s , s p a c i o u s apartm e n t s , clean paint a n d p a p e r , R u m f o r d fireplace,5 b a c k p l a s t e r i n g , V e n e t i a n blinds, c o p p e r p u m p , spring lock, a c o m m o d i o u s cellar, a n d m a n y other t h i n g s . B u t how h a p p e n s it that he w h o is s a i d to enjoy t h e s e things is s o c o m m o n l y a poor civilized m a n , while the s a v a g e , w h o h a s t h e m not, is rich a s a s a v a g e ? If it is a s s e r t e d that civilization is a real a d v a n c e in the condition of m a n , — a n d I think that it is, t h o u g h only the w i s e improve their advant a g e s , — i t m u s t b e s h o w n that it h a s p r o d u c e d better dwellings without making t h e m m o r e costly; a n d the c o s t of a thing is the a m o u n t of w h a t I will call life w h i c h is r e q u i r e d to b e e x c h a n g e d for it, i m m e d i a t e l y or in the l o n g r u n . An a v e r a g e h o u s e in this n e i g h b o r h o o d c o s t s p e r h a p s eight h u n d r e d 3. D a n i e l G o o k i n , Historical Collections of the Indians in New England (1792). 4. " T h e foxes have holes, a n d the birds of the air have nests; but the S o n of m a n hath not w h e r e to lay his h e a d " ( M a t t h e w 8 . 2 0 ) .

5. B e n j a m i n T h o m p s o n , C o u n t R u m f o r d ( 1 7 5 3 1 8 1 4 ) , d e v i s e d a s h e l f i n s i d e t h e c h i m n e y to p r e vent s m o k e from b e i n g carried b a c k into a r o o m by downdrafts.

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dollars, a n d to lay u p this s u m will take from ten to fifteen years of the laborer's life, even if he is not e n c u m b e r e d with a f a m i l y ; — e s t i m a t i n g the p e c u n i a r y value of every m a n ' s labor at o n e dollar a day, for if s o m e receive m o r e , others receive l e s s ; — s o that he m u s t have s p e n t m o r e t h a n half his life c o m m o n l y before his w i g w a m will be e a r n e d . If we s u p p o s e him to pay a rent i n s t e a d , this is but a doubtful c h o i c e of evils. W o u l d the s a v a g e have b e e n wise to e x c h a n g e his w i g w a m for a p a l a c e on t h e s e t e r m s ? It m a y b e g u e s s e d that I r e d u c e a l m o s t the w h o l e a d v a n t a g e of holding this s u p e r f l u o u s property as a fund in store a g a i n s t the future, s o far a s the individual is c o n c e r n e d , mainly to the defraying of funeral e x p e n s e s . B u t p e r h a p s a m a n is not required to bury himself. N e v e r t h e l e s s this points to an important distinction b e t w e e n the civilized m a n a n d the s a v a g e ; a n d , no d o u b t , they have d e s i g n s on us for our benefit, in m a k i n g the life of a civilized p e o p l e an institution, in which the life of the individual is to a great extent a b s o r b e d , in order to preserve a n d perfect that of the r a c e . B u t I wish to show at what a sacrifice this a d v a n t a g e is at p r e s e n t o b t a i n e d , a n d to s u g g e s t that we m a y possibly so live a s to s e c u r e all the a d v a n t a g e without suffering any of the d i s a d v a n t a g e . W h a t m e a n ye by saying that the p o o r ye have always with you, or that the fathers have e a t e n s o u r g r a p e s , a n d the children's teeth are set on e d g e ? 6 "As I live, saith the Lord G o d , ye shall not have o c c a s i o n any m o r e to u s e this proverb in Israel." " B e h o l d all souls are m i n e ; a s the soul of the father, s o also the soul of the s o n is m i n e : the soul that sinneth it shall d i e . " 7 W h e n I c o n s i d e r my n e i g h b o r s , the f a r m e r s of C o n c o r d , w h o are at least as well off a s the other c l a s s e s , I find that for the m o s t part they have b e e n toiling twenty, thirty, or forty years, that they may b e c o m e the real o w n e r s of their f a r m s , which c o m m o n l y they have inherited with e n c u m b r a n c e s , or else b o u g h t with hired m o n e y , — a n d we may regard o n e third of that toil a s the c o s t of their h o u s e s , — b u t c o m m o n l y they have not p a i d for t h e m yet. It is true, the e n c u m b r a n c e s s o m e t i m e s outweigh the value of the f a r m , s o that the farm itself b e c o m e s o n e great e n c u m b r a n c e , a n d still a m a n is f o u n d to inherit it, b e i n g well a c q u a i n t e d with it, a s he says. O n applying to the a s s e s sors, I a m surprised to learn that they c a n n o t at o n c e n a m e a dozen in the town w h o own their f a r m s free a n d clear. If you would know the history of these h o m e s t e a d s , inquire at the b a n k w h e r e they are m o r t g a g e d . T h e m a n who has actually paid for his farm with labor o n it is s o rare that every neighbor c a n point to h i m . I d o u b t if there are three s u c h m e n in C o n c o r d . What has b e e n said of the m e r c h a n t s , that a very large majority, even ninetyseven in a h u n d r e d , a r e s u r e to fail, is equally true of the f a r m e r s . With regard to the m e r c h a n t s , however, o n e of t h e m says pertinently that a great part of their failures are not g e n u i n e p e c u n i a r y failures, but merely failures to fulfil their e n g a g e m e n t s , b e c a u s e it is i n c o n v e n i e n t ; that is, it is the moral 6 . T h o r e a u is r e p u d i a t i n g J e s u s ' w o r d s t o h i s d i s c i p l e s " F o r ye h a v e t h e p o o r a l w a y s w i t h y o u ; b u t m e y e h a v e n o t a l w a y s " ( M a t t h e w 2 6 . 1 1) b y c o m b i n i n g it w i t h G o d ' s r e p r o o f t o F z e k i e l f o r e m p l o y ing a negatively deterministic proverb: "What m e a n ye, that ye u s e this proverb c o n c e r n i n g the land of Israel, saying. T h e fathers have eaten sour g r a p e s , a n d the children's teeth a r e set on e d g e ? "

(Ezekiel 18.2). 7. T h e s e t w o v e r s e s a r e E z e k i e l 18.3—4, b u t T h o reau so truncates the p a s s a g e that the reader may f i n d it h a r d t o u n d e r s t a n d t h a t t h e b i b l i c a l i n t e n t ( a s w e l l a s T h o r e a u ' s o w n ) is o p t i m i s t i c , t o r e j e c t the notion that the sins of the fathers are visited on their children.

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c h a r a c t e r that b r e a k s d o w n . B u t this p u t s a n infinitely w o r s e f a c e o n the matter, a n d s u g g e s t s , b e s i d e , that probably not even the other three s u c c e e d in saving their s o u l s , b u t are p e r c h a n c e b a n k r u p t in a w o r s e s e n s e than they w h o fail honestly. B a n k r u p t c y a n d repudiation are the spring-boards from which m u c h of our civilization vaults a n d turns its s o m e r s e t s , but the s a v a g e s t a n d s on the u n e l a s t i c p l a n k of f a m i n e . Yet the M i d d l e s e x C a t t l e S h o w g o e s off h e r e with eclat annually, a s if all the j o i n t s of the agricultural m a c h i n e were s u e n t . 8 T h e farmer is e n d e a v o r i n g to solve the p r o b l e m of a livelihood by a f o r m u l a m o r e c o m p l i c a t e d than the p r o b l e m itself. T o get his s h o e s t r i n g s h e s p e c u lates in h e r d s of cattle. W i t h c o n s u m m a t e skill h e h a s set his trap with a hair spring to c a t c h c o m f o r t a n d i n d e p e n d e n c e , a n d t h e n , a s h e t u r n e d away, got his own leg into it. T h i s is the r e a s o n h e is poor; a n d for a similar r e a s o n we a r e all poor in r e s p e c t to a t h o u s a n d s a v a g e c o m f o r t s , t h o u g h s u r r o u n d e d by luxuries. As C h a p m a n 9 s i n g s , — " T h e false society of m e n — - f o r earthly g r e a t n e s s All heavenly c o m f o r t s rarefies to air." A n d w h e n the farmer h a s got his h o u s e , h e m a y not b e the richer but the poorer for it, a n d it b e the h o u s e that h a s got h i m . A s I u n d e r s t a n d it, that w a s a valid objection u r g e d by M o m u s 1 a g a i n s t the h o u s e w h i c h M i n e r v a m a d e , that s h e " h a d not m a d e it m o v a b l e , by which m e a n s a b a d neighborh o o d might b e a v o i d e d ; " a n d it m a y still b e u r g e d , for o u r h o u s e s are s u c h unwieldy property that we a r e often i m p r i s o n e d rather than h o u s e d in t h e m ; a n d the b a d n e i g h b o r h o o d to b e a v o i d e d is our own scurvy selves. I know o n e or two families, at least, in this town, w h o , for nearly a g e n e r a t i o n , have b e e n wishing to sell their h o u s e s in the outskirts a n d m o v e into the village, but have not b e e n a b l e to a c c o m p l i s h it, a n d only d e a t h will set t h e m free. G r a n t e d that the majority a r e able at last either to own or hire the m o d e r n h o u s e with all its i m p r o v e m e n t s . W h i l e civilization h a s b e e n improving our h o u s e s , it h a s not equally improved the m e n w h o a r e to inhabit t h e m . It h a s c r e a t e d p a l a c e s , but it w a s not s o e a s y to c r e a t e n o b l e m e n a n d kings. A n d if the civilized man's pursuits are no worthier than the savage's, if he is employed the greater part of his life in obtaining gross necessaries and comforts merely, why should he have a better dwelling than the former? B u t h o w d o the p o o r minority fare? P e r h a p s it will be f o u n d , that j u s t in proportion a s s o m e have b e e n p l a c e d in o u t w a r d c i r c u m s t a n c e s a b o v e the s a v a g e , o t h e r s have b e e n d e g r a d e d b e l o w h i m . T h e luxury of o n e c l a s s is c o u n t e r b a l a n c e d by the i n d i g e n c e of a n o t h e r . O n the o n e side is the p a l a c e , on the other are the a l m s h o u s e a n d "silent p o o r . " 2 T h e m y r i a d s w h o built the p y r a m i d s to be the t o m b s of the P h a r a o h s were fed o n garlic, a n d it m a y be were not decently b u r i e d t h e m s e l v e s . T h e m a s o n w h o finishes the c o r n i c e of the p a l a c e returns at night p e r c h a n c e to a h u t not s o g o o d a s a w i g w a m . It is a m i s t a k e to s u p p o s e that, in a c o u n t r y w h e r e the u s u a l e v i d e n c e s of civilization exist, the c o n d i t i o n of a very large body of the i n h a b i t a n t s m a y 8.

In g o o d w o r k i n g o r d e r , b r o k e n i n .

9 . G e o r g e C h a p m a n ( 1 5 5 9 ? - 1 6 3 4 ) , Caesar and Pompey 5.2. 1. In G r e e k m y t h o l o g y , t h e g o d o f p l e a s a n t r y b u t

also of carping criticism. 2. H a r d i n g identifies these as the poor of C o n c o r d w h o received public charity secretly to retain their dwellings a n d not go to the p o o r h o u s e .

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not be a s d e g r a d e d a s that of s a v a g e s . I refer to the d e g r a d e d p o o r , not now to the d e g r a d e d rich. T o know this I s h o u l d not n e e d to look farther t h a n to the s h a n t i e s w h i c h every w h e r e border our railroads, that last i m p r o v e m e n t in civilization; w h e r e I see in my daily walks h u m a n b e i n g s living in sties, a n d all winter with a n o p e n door, for the s a k e of light, without a n y visible, often i m a g i n a b l e , wood pile, a n d the forms of both old a n d y o u n g are perm a n e n t l y c o n t r a c t e d by the long habit of shrinking from c o l d a n d misery, a n d the d e v e l o p m e n t of all their l i m b s a n d faculties is c h e c k e d . It certainly is fair to look at that c l a s s by w h o s e labor the works which d i s t i n g u i s h the g e n e r a t i o n are a c c o m p l i s h e d . S u c h too, to a greater or less extent, is the condition of the operatives of every d e n o m i n a t i o n in E n g l a n d , w h i c h is the great w o r k h o u s e of the world. O r I c o u l d refer you to Ireland, which is m a r k e d a s o n e of the white or e n l i g h t e n e d s p o t s o n the m a p . 3 C o n t r a s t the physical c o n d i t i o n of the Irish with that of the N o r t h A m e r i c a n I n d i a n , or the S o u t h S e a Islander, or any other s a v a g e r a c e b e f o r e it w a s d e g r a d e d by c o n t a c t with the civilized m a n . Yet I have no d o u b t that that p e o p l e ' s rulers are a s wise a s the average of civilized rulers. T h e i r c o n d i t i o n only proves w h a t s q u a l i d n e s s m a y c o n s i s t with civilization. I hardly n e e d refer n o w to the laborers in our S o u t h e r n S t a t e s w h o p r o d u c e the s t a p l e exports o f this c o u n try, a n d a r e t h e m s e l v e s a s t a p l e p r o d u c t i o n of the S o u t h . 4 B u t to confine myself to t h o s e w h o are s a i d to b e in moderate c i r c u m s t a n c e s . M o s t m e n a p p e a r never to have c o n s i d e r e d w h a t a h o u s e is, a n d are a c t u ally t h o u g h needlessly p o o r all their lives b e c a u s e they think that they m u s t have s u c h a o n e a s their neighbors have. A s if o n e were to w e a r any sort of c o a t which the tailor might c u t out for h i m , or, gradually leaving off p a l m l e a f hat or c a p of w o o d c h u c k skin, c o m p l a i n of hard times b e c a u s e h e c o u l d not afford to buy h i m a crown! It is p o s s i b l e to invent a h o u s e still m o r e c o n v e n ient a n d luxurious than we have, which yet all would a d m i t that m a n c o u l d not afford to pay for. S h a l l we always study to obtain m o r e of t h e s e things, a n d not s o m e t i m e s to be c o n t e n t with l e s s ? Shall the r e s p e c t a b l e citizen t h u s gravely t e a c h , by p r e c e p t a n d e x a m p l e , the necessity of the y o u n g m a n ' s providing a certain n u m b e r of s u p e r f l u o u s g l o w - s h o e s , 5 a n d u m b r e l l a s , a n d e m p t y g u e s t c h a m b e r s for e m p t y g u e s t s , before h e dies? W h y s h o u l d not o u r furniture be a s s i m p l e a s the Arab's or the Indian's? W h e n I think of the b e n e f a c t o r s of the r a c e , w h o m we have a p o t h e o s i z e d a s m e s s e n g e r s from h e a v e n , b e a r e r s of divine gifts to m a n , I do not s e e in my m i n d a n y r e t i n u e at their h e e l s , any car-load of f a s h i o n a b l e furniture. O r what if I w e r e to a l l o w — w o u l d it not b e a singular a l l o w a n c e ? — t h a t our furniture s h o u l d b e m o r e c o m p l e x t h a n the A r a b ' s , in proportion a s we a r e morally a n d intellectually his s u p e r i o r s ! At p r e s e n t our h o u s e s are cluttered a n d defiled with it, a n d a good h o u s e w i f e would s w e e p out the greater part into the d u s t hole, a n d not leave her m o r n i n g ' s work u n d o n e . M o r n i n g work! By the b l u s h e s of A u r o r a a n d the m u s i c of M e m n o n , 6 what s h o u l d b e m a n ' s morning work in this world? I h a d three p i e c e s of l i m e s t o n e on my d e s k , but I w a s terrified to 3. T h o r e a u r e f e r s t o t h e h a b i t s o m e c a r t o g r a p h e r s h a d o f l e a v i n g u n e x p l o r e d t e r r a i n in a d a r k c o l o r ; o t h e r c a r t o g r a p h e r s left u n e x p l o r e d a r e a s w h i t e . 4. T h e a c c u s a t i o n , d e n i e d by m a n y historians, that s o m e p l a n t a t i o n s , e s p e c i a l l y in V i r g i n i a , w e r e r u n for the sole p u r p o s e of b r e e d i n g slave children for sale.

5. G a l o s h e s . 6. T h e R o m a n g o d d e s s of the d a w n a n d her son, an E t h i o p i a n p r i n c e w h o fought for P r i a m at Troy. M e m n o n is a s s o c i a t e d h e r e w i t h t h e E g y p t i a n c o l o s s u s near T h e b e s that in a n c i e n t t i m e s e m i t t e d a s o u n d at d a w n , p r e s u m a b l y b e c a u s e of t h e w a r m ing of air c u r r e n t s .

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find that they r e q u i r e d to be d u s t e d daily, w h e n the furniture of my mind w a s all u n d u s t e d still, a n d I threw t h e m out the window in d i s g u s t . H o w , then, c o u l d I have a furnished h o u s e ? I would rather sit in the o p e n air, for no d u s t g a t h e r s on the g r a s s , u n l e s s where m a n h a s broken g r o u n d . It is the luxurious a n d d i s s i p a t e d w h o set the f a s h i o n s which the herd so diligently follow. T h e traveller w h o s t o p s at the b e s t h o u s e s , s o called, s o o n discovers this, for the p u b l i c a n s p r e s u m e him to be a S a r d a n a p a l u s , 7 a n d if h e resigned h i m s e l f to their tender m e r c i e s h e would s o o n be c o m p l e t e l y e m a s c u l a t e d . I think that in the railroad c a r we a r e inclined to s p e n d m o r e on luxury than on safety a n d c o n v e n i e n c e , a n d it t h r e a t e n s without attaining t h e s e to b e c o m e no better than a m o d e r n drawing r o o m , with its divans, a n d o t t o m a n s , a n d s u n s h a d e s , a n d a h u n d r e d other oriental things, which we are taking west with u s , invented for the ladies of the h a r e m a n d the e f f e m i n a t e natives of the C e l e s t i a l E m p i r e , which J o n a t h a n 8 s h o u l d b e a s h a m e d to know the n a m e s of. I w o u l d rather sit on a p u m p k i n a n d have it all to myself, than b e c r o w d e d on a velvet c u s h i o n . I would rather ride on earth in an ox cart with a free c i r c u l a t i o n , than go to h e a v e n in the fancy c a r of a n excursion train a n d b r e a t h e a malaria all the way. T h e very simplicity a n d n a k e d n e s s of m a n ' s life in the primitive a g e s imply this a d v a n t a g e at least, that they left him still but a s o j o u r n e r in n a t u r e . W h e n he was refreshed with food a n d s l e e p he c o n t e m p l a t e d his j o u r n e y a g a i n . H e dwelt, a s it w e r e , in a tent in this world, a n d w a s either t h r e a d i n g the valleys, or c r o s s i n g the p l a i n s , or c l i m b i n g the m o u n t a i n t o p s . B u t lo! m e n have b e c o m e the tools of their tools. T h e m a n w h o i n d e p e n d e n t l y p l u c k e d the fruits when he w a s hungry is b e c o m e a farmer; a n d he w h o s t o o d u n d e r a tree for shelter, a h o u s e k e e p e r . W e now n o longer c a m p as for a night, but have settled down on earth a n d forgotten h e a v e n . W e have a d o p t e d C h r i s tianity merely a s an improved m e t h o d of agri-culture. W e have built for this world a family m a n s i o n , a n d for the next a family t o m b . T h e best works of art are the expression of m a n ' s struggle to free h i m s e l f from this c o n d i t i o n , but the effect of our art is merely to m a k e this low s t a t e c o m f o r t a b l e a n d that higher state to be forgotten. T h e r e is actually no p l a c e in this village for a work of fine art, if any h a d c o m e d o w n to u s , to s t a n d , for our lives, our h o u s e s a n d streets, furnish n o p r o p e r p e d e s t a l for it. T h e r e is not a nail to h a n g a picture on, nor a shelf to receive the b u s t of a hero or a saint. W h e n I c o n s i d e r how our h o u s e s are built a n d p a i d for, or not paid for, a n d their internal e c o n o m y m a n a g e d a n d s u s t a i n e d , I w o n d e r that the floor d o e s not give way u n d e r the visitor while he is a d m i r i n g the g e w g a w s u p o n the m a n t e l p i e c e , a n d let him t h r o u g h into the cellar, to s o m e solid a n d h o n e s t t h o u g h earthy f o u n d a t i o n . I c a n n o t b u t perceive that this s o called rich a n d refined life is a thing j u m p e d at, a n d I do not get on in the e n j o y m e n t of t h e ^ m e arts which adorn it, my attention b e i n g wholly o c c u p i e d with the j u m p ; for I r e m e m b e r that the g r e a t e s t g e n u i n e l e a p , d u e to h u m a n m u s c l e s a l o n e , o n record, is that of certain w a n d e r i n g A r a b s , w h o are said to have c l e a r e d twenty-five feet on level g r o u n d . W i t h o u t factitious s u p p o r t , m a n is s u r e to c o m e to earth again beyond that d i s t a n c e . T h e first q u e s t i o n which I a m t e m p t e d to put to the proprietor of s u c h great impropriety is, W h o bolsters /. 8.

E f f e m i n a t e r u l e r o f A s s y r i a (9th c e n t u r y B . C . E . ) . A t y p e n a m e a t first a p p l i e d t o N e w E n g l a n d e r s ,

t h e n later (as h e r e ) to t h e i n h a b i t a n t s of t h e e n t i r e United States.

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you? Are you o n e of the ninety-seven w h o fail? or of the three w h o s u c c e e d ? A n s w e r m e t h e s e q u e s t i o n s , a n d then p e r h a p s I may look at your b a w b l e s a n d find t h e m o r n a m e n t a l . T h e cart before the h o r s e is neither beautiful nor useful. B e f o r e we can adorn our h o u s e s with beautiful o b j e c t s the walls m u s t be stripped, a n d our lives m u s t be stripped, a n d beautiful h o u s e k e e p i n g a n d beautiful living be laid for a f o u n d a t i o n : now, a t a s t e for the beautiful is m o s t cultivated out of d o o r s , where there is no h o u s e a n d no h o u s e k e e p e r . Old J o h n s o n , in his " W o n d e r - W o r k i n g P r o v i d e n c e , " s p e a k i n g of the first settlers of this town, with w h o m he was c o n t e m p o r a r y , tells u s that "they burrow t h e m s e l v e s in the earth for their first shelter u n d e r s o m e hillside, a n d , c a s t i n g the soil aloft u p o n timber, they m a k e a s m o k y fire a g a i n s t the earth, at the highest s i d e . " T h e y did not "provide t h e m h o u s e s , " says h e , "till the earth, by the Lord's b l e s s i n g , b r o u g h t forth bread to feed t h e m , " a n d the first year's c r o p was so light that "they were forced to cut their b r e a d very thin for a long s e a s o n . " 9 T h e secretary of the Province of N e w N e t h e r l a n d , writing in D u t c h , in 1 6 5 0 , for the information of t h o s e w h o w i s h e d to take u p land there, states m o r e particularly, that " t h o s e in N e w N e t h e r l a n d , a n d especially in N e w E n g l a n d , w h o have n o m e a n s to build farm h o u s e s at first a c c o r d i n g to their w i s h e s , dig a s q u a r e pit in the g r o u n d , cellar f a s h i o n , six or seven feet d e e p , as long a n d a s broad a s they think proper, c a s e the e a r t h inside with wood all round the wall, a n d line the wood with the bark of trees or s o m e t h i n g else to prevent the caving in of the e a r t h ; floor this cellar with plank, a n d w a i n s c o t it overhead for a ceiling, raise a roof of s p a r s clear u p , and cover the s p a r s with bark or green s o d s , so that they c a n live dry a n d w a r m in t h e s e h o u s e s with their entire families for two, three, a n d four years, it b e i n g u n d e r s t o o d that partitions are run through t h o s e cellars which a r e a d a p t e d to the size of the family. T h e wealthy a n d principal m e n in N e w E n g l a n d , in the b e g i n n i n g of the c o l o n i e s , c o m m e n c e d their first dwelling h o u s e s in this fashion for two r e a s o n s ; firstly, in order not to w a s t e time in building, a n d not to want food the next s e a s o n ; secondly, in order not to d i s c o u r a g e poor laboring p e o p l e w h o m they brought over in n u m b e r s from F a t h e r l a n d . In the c o u r s e of three or four years, w h e n the country b e c a m e a d a p t e d to a g r i c u l t u r e , they built t h e m s e l v e s h a n d s o m e h o u s e s , s p e n d i n g on t h e m several t h o u s a n d s . " 1 In this c o u r s e which our a n c e s t o r s took there w a s a s h o w of p r u d e n c e at least, as if their principle were to satisfy the m o r e p r e s s i n g w a n t s first. B u t are the m o r e p r e s s i n g wants satisfied now? W h e n I think of a c q u i r i n g for myself o n e of our luxurious dwellings, I a m d e t e r r e d , for, s o to s p e a k , the country is not yet a d a p t e d to human c u l t u r e , a n d we are still forced to cut our spiritual bread far thinner than our forefathers did their w h e a t e n . N o t that all architectural o r n a m e n t is to be n e g l e c t e d even in the r u d e s t p e r i o d s ; but let our h o u s e s first be lined with beauty, where they c o m e in c o n t a c t with our lives, like the t e n e m e n t of the shellfish, a n d not overlaid with it. B u t , alas! I have b e e n inside o n e or two of t h e m , a n d know what they are lined with. T h o u g h we are not so d e g e n e r a t e but that we might possibly live in a c a v e or a wigwam or wear skins to-day, it certainly is better to a c c e p t the advan9.

E d w a r d J o h n s o n , Wonder-working

of Sion's

Saviour

in New

England

Providence

(1654).

1.

Edmund

History

Bailey

of the State

O'Callaghan,

of New-York

( 1 8 5 1).

Documentary

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THOREAU

t a g e s , t h o u g h so dearly b o u g h t , w h i c h the invention a n d industry of m a n k i n d offer. In s u c h a n e i g h b o r h o o d a s this, b o a r d s a n d s h i n g l e s , lime a n d bricks, are c h e a p e r a n d m o r e easily o b t a i n e d than s u i t a b l e c a v e s , or w h o l e logs, or bark in sufficient q u a n t i t i e s , or even w e l l - t e m p e r e d clay or flat s t o n e s . I s p e a k u n d e r s t a n d i n g l y on this s u b j e c t , for I have m a d e m y s e l f a c q u a i n t e d with it both theoretically a n d practically. With a little m o r e wit we might u s e t h e s e materials s o a s to b e c o m e richer than the richest now a r e , a n d m a k e o u r civilization a b l e s s i n g . T h e civilized m a n is a m o r e e x p e r i e n c e d a n d wiser s a v a g e . B u t to m a k e h a s t e to my own e x p e r i m e n t . N e a r the e n d of M a r c h , 1 8 4 5 , I b o r r o w e d a n axe a n d went d o w n to the w o o d s by W a l d e n P o n d , n e a r e s t to w h e r e I i n t e n d e d to build my h o u s e , a n d b e g a n to cut d o w n s o m e tall arrowy white p i n e s , still in their y o u t h , for timber. It is difficult to begin without borrowing, but p e r h a p s it is the m o s t g e n e r o u s c o u r s e t h u s to permit your fellow-men to have a n interest in your e n t e r p r i s e . T h e owner of the axe, a s h e r e l e a s e d his hold on it, s a i d that it w a s the a p p l e of * his eye; b u t I r e t u r n e d it s h a r p e r than I received it. It w a s a p l e a s a n t hillside where I worked, covered with p i n e w o o d s , through w h i c h I looked o u t on the p o n d , a n d a small o p e n field in the w o o d s w h e r e p i n e s a n d hickories were springing u p . T h e ice in the p o n d w a s not yet d i s s o l v e d , t h o u g h there were s o m e o p e n s p a c e s , a n d it w a s all dark c o l o r e d a n d s a t u r a t e d with water. T h e r e were s o m e slight flurries of s n o w d u r i n g the days that I worked t h e r e ; but for the m o s t part w h e n I c a m e o u t o n to the railroad, on my way h o m e , its yellow s a n d h e a p s t r e t c h e d away g l e a m i n g in the hazy a t m o s p h e r e , a n d the rails s h o n e in the spring s u n , a n d I h e a r d the lark a n d p e w e e a n d other birds already c o m e to c o m m e n c e a n o t h e r year with u s . T h e y were p l e a s a n t spring d a y s , in which the winter of m a n ' s d i s c o n t e n t w a s t h a w i n g a s well a s the earth, a n d the life that h a d lain torpid b e g a n to stretch itself. O n e day, w h e n my axe h a d c o m e off a n d I h a d c u t a g r e e n hickory for a w e d g e , driving it with a s t o n e , a n d h a d p l a c e d the w h o l e to s o a k in a p o n d hole in order to swell the w o o d , I saw a striped s n a k e run into the water, a n d he lay o n the b o t t o m , a p p a r e n t l y without i n c o n v e n i e n c e , a s long a s I staid there, or m o r e t h a n a q u a r t e r of a n hour; perh a p s b e c a u s e he h a d not yet fairly c o m e out of the torpid s t a t e . It a p p e a r e d to m e that for a like r e a s o n m e n r e m a i n in their p r e s e n t low a n d primitive c o n d i tion; but if they s h o u l d feel the i n f l u e n c e of the s p r i n g of springs a r o u s i n g t h e m , they would of n e c e s s i t y rise to a higher a n d m o r e e t h e r e a l life. I h a d p r e viously s e e n the s n a k e s in frosty m o r n i n g s in my p a t h with p o r t i o n s of their b o d i e s still n u m b a n d inflexible, waiting for the s u n to t h a w t h e m . O n the 1st of April it rained a n d m e l t e d the i c e , a n d in the early part of the day, w h i c h w a s very foggy, I h e a r d a stray g o o s e g r o p i n g a b o u t over the p o n d a n d c a c k l i n g a s if lost, or like the spirit of the fog. S o I went on for s o m e days c u t t i n g a n d hewing timber, a n d a l s o s t u d s a n d rafters, all with my narrow axe, not having m a n y c o m m u n i c a b l e or scholarlike t h o u g h t s , s i n g i n g to m y s e l f , — M e n say they know m a n y t h i n g s ; B u t lo! they have taken w i n g s , — T h e arts a n d s c i e n c e s , And a thousand appliances; T h e wind that blows Is all that any body k n o w s . 2 2.

L i k e o t h e r p o e m s in Walden

n o t e n c l o s e d in q u o t a t i o n m a r k s , t h i s p o e m is T h o r e a u ' s .

WALDEN, CHAPTER

1 . ECONOMY

/

875

I hewed the m a i n timbers six i n c h e s s q u a r e , m o s t of the s t u d s on two sides only, a n d the rafters a n d floor timbers on o n e s i d e , leaving the rest of the bark on, so that they were j u s t a s straight a n d m u c h stronger than s a w e d o n e s . E a c h stick w a s carefully m o r t i s e d or t e n o n e d by its s t u m p , for I h a d borrowed other tools by this t i m e . M y days in the w o o d s were not very long o n e s ; yet I usually carried my d i n n e r of b r e a d a n d butter, a n d read the newsp a p e r in which it w a s w r a p p e d , at n o o n , sitting a m i d the green p i n e b o u g h s which I h a d c u t off, a n d to my b r e a d w a s i m p a r t e d s o m e of their f r a g r a n c e , for my h a n d s were covered with a thick c o a t of p i t c h . B e f o r e I h a d d o n e I was m o r e the friend than the foe of the pine tree, t h o u g h I h a d c u t d o w n s o m e of t h e m , having b e c o m e better a c q u a i n t e d with it. S o m e t i m e s a r a m bler in the w o o d w a s a t t r a c t e d by the s o u n d of my axe, a n d we c h a t t e d p l e a s a n t l y over the c h i p s which I h a d m a d e . By the m i d d l e of April, for I m a d e no h a s t e in my work, but rather m a d e the m o s t of it, my h o u s e w a s f r a m e d a n d ready for the raising. I h a d already b o u g h t the shanty of J a m e s C o l l i n s , a n I r i s h m a n w h o worked o n the Fitchb u r g Railroad, for b o a r d s . J a m e s C o l l i n s ' shanty w a s c o n s i d e r e d a n u n c o m monly fine o n e . W h e n I called to s e e it h e w a s not at h o m e . I walked a b o u t the o u t s i d e , at first u n o b s e r v e d from within, the window w a s so d e e p a n d high. It w a s of small d i m e n s i o n s , with a p e a k e d c o t t a g e roof, a n d not m u c h else to b e s e e n , the dirt b e i n g raised five feet all a r o u n d a s if it were a c o m p o s t h e a p . T h e roof w a s the s o u n d e s t part, t h o u g h a g o o d deal w a r p e d a n d m a d e brittle by the s u n . Door-sill there w a s n o n e , but a perennial p a s s a g e for the h e n s u n d e r the door b o a r d . M r s . C . c a m e to the d o o r a n d a s k e d m e to view it from the inside. T h e h e n s were driven in by my a p p r o a c h . It w a s dark, a n d h a d a dirt floor for the m o s t part, dank, c l a m m y , a n d a g u i s h , only here a b o a r d a n d there a b o a r d w h i c h would not b e a r removal. S h e lighted a l a m p to s h o w m e the inside of the roof a n d the walls, a n d a l s o that the b o a r d floor extended u n d e r the b e d , w a r n i n g m e not to step into the cellar, a sort of d u s t hole two feet d e e p . In her own w o r d s , they were " g o o d b o a r d s o v e r h e a d , g o o d b o a r d s all a r o u n d , a n d a g o o d w i n d o w , " — o f two w h o l e s q u a r e s originally, only the cat h a d p a s s e d out that way lately. T h e r e w a s a stove, a b e d , a n d a p l a c e to sit, a n infant in the h o u s e w h e r e it w a s b o r n , a silk p a r a s o l , giltf r a m e d looking-glass, a n d a patent n e w coffee mill nailed to an o a k s a p l i n g , all told. T h e bargain w a s s o o n c o n c l u d e d , for J a m e s h a d in the m e a n while r e t u r n e d . I to pay four dollars a n d twenty-five c e n t s to-night, h e to v a c a t e at five to-morrow m o r n i n g , selling to nobody else m e a n w h i l e : I to take p o s s e s sion at six. It were well, he said, to be there early, a n d a n t i c i p a t e certain indistinct but wholly u n j u s t c l a i m s on the s c o r e of g r o u n d rent a n d fuel. T h i s h e a s s u r e d m e w a s the only e n c u m b r a n c e . At six I p a s s e d him a n d his family on the r o a d . O n e large b u n d l e held their a l l , — b e d , coffee-mill, looking-glass, h e n s , — a l l but the cat, s h e took to the w o o d s a n d b e c a m e a wild cat, a n d , as I learned afterward, trod in a trap set for w o o d c h u c k s , a n d so b e c a m e a d e a d cat at last. I took d o w n this dwelling the s a m e m o r n i n g , d r a w i n g the nails, a n d r e m o v e d it to the p o n d side by small c a r t l o a d s , s p r e a d i n g the b o a r d s o n the g r a s s there to b l e a c h a n d warp b a c k again in the s u n . O n e early t h r u s h gave m e a note or two a s I drove a l o n g the w o o d l a n d p a t h . I w a s i n f o r m e d treacherously by a y o u n g Patrick that n e i g h b o r Seeley, a n I r i s h m a n , in the intervals of the carting, transferred the still tolerable, straight, a n d drivable nails, staples, a n d spikes to his p o c k e t , a n d then s t o o d w h e n I c a m e b a c k to p a s s the

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time of day, a n d look freshly u p , u n c o n c e r n e d , with s p r i n g t h o u g h t s , at the d e v a s t a t i o n ; there b e i n g a d e a r t h of work, a s h e s a i d . H e w a s there to represent s p e c t a t o r d o m , a n d help m a k e this seemingly insignificant event o n e with the removal of the g o d s of T r o y . 3 I d u g my cellar in the side of a hill sloping to the s o u t h , w h e r e a w o o d c h u c k h a d formerly d u g his burrow, down through s u m a c h a n d blackberry roots, a n d the lowest stain of vegetation, six feet s q u a r e by seven d e e p , to a fine s a n d where p o t a t o e s would not freeze in any winter. T h e s i d e s were left shelving, a n d not s t o n e d ; but the s u n having never s h o n e on t h e m , the s a n d still k e e p s its p l a c e . It w a s but two h o u r s ' work. I took p a r t i c u l a r p l e a s u r e in this b r e a k i n g of g r o u n d , for in a l m o s t all latitudes m e n dig into the earth for an e q u a b l e t e m p e r a t u r e . U n d e r the m o s t splendid h o u s e in the city is still to b e f o u n d the cellar w h e r e they store their roots a s of old, a n d long after the s u p e r s t r u c t u r e has d i s a p p e a r e d posterity r e m a r k its d e n t in the e a r t h . T h e h o u s e is still but a sort of p o r c h at the e n t r a n c e of a burrow. At length, in the b e g i n n i n g of M a y , with the help of s o m e of my a c q u a i n t a n c e s , rather to improve s o g o o d an o c c a s i o n for n e i g h b o r l i n e s s than from any necessity, I set u p the f r a m e of my h o u s e . N o m a n w a s ever m o r e h o n o r e d in the c h a r a c t e r of his r a i s e r s 4 than I. T h e y are d e s t i n e d , I trust, to a s s i s t at the raising of loftier s t r u c t u r e s o n e day. I b e g a n to o c c u p y my h o u s e on the 4 t h of July, a s s o o n as it w a s b o a r d e d a n d roofed, for the b o a r d s were carefully feather-edged a n d l a p p e d , s o that it w a s perfectly i m p e r v i o u s to r a i n ; 5 but before b o a r d i n g I laid the f o u n d a t i o n of a c h i m n e y at o n e e n d , bringing two c a r t l o a d s of s t o n e s up the hill from the p o n d in my a r m s . I built the c h i m n e y after my h o e i n g in the fall, before a fire b e c a m e n e c e s s a r y for w a r m t h , d o i n g my c o o k i n g in the m e a n while out of d o o r s on the g r o u n d , early in the m o r n i n g : which m o d e I still think is in s o m e r e s p e c t s m o r e convenient a n d a g r e e a b l e than the u s u a l o n e . W h e n it s t o r m e d before my b r e a d w a s b a k e d , I fixed a few b o a r d s over the fire, a n d s a t u n d e r t h e m to w a t c h my loaf, a n d p a s s e d s o m e p l e a s a n t h o u r s in that way. In t h o s e d a y s , w h e n my h a n d s were m u c h e m p l o y e d , I read but little, but the least s c r a p s of p a p e r which lay on the g r o u n d , my holder, or table-cloth, afforded m e a s m u c h e n t e r t a i n m e n t , in fact a n s w e r e d the s a m e p u r p o s e a s the I l i a d . 6 It would be worth the while to build still m o r e deliberately than I did, c o n s i d e r i n g , for i n s t a n c e , what f o u n d a t i o n a door, a window, a cellar, a garret, have in the n a t u r e of m a n , a n d p e r c h a n c e never raising any s u p e r s t r u c ture until we f o u n d a better r e a s o n for it than our t e m p o r a l n e c e s s i t i e s even. T h e r e is s o m e of the s a m e fitness in a m a n ' s b u i l d i n g his own h o u s e that there is in a bird's building its own nest. W h o k n o w s b u t if m e n c o n s t r u c t e d their dwellings with their own h a n d s , a n d provided food for t h e m s e l v e s a n d families simply a n d honestly e n o u g h , the poetic faculty would be universally d e v e l o p e d , a s birds universally s i n g w h e n they are so e n g a g e d ? B u t a l a s ! we d o like cowbirds a n d c u c k o o s , which lay their e g g s in n e s t s w h i c h other birds 3 . In V i r g i l ' s Aeneid, b o o k 2 , a f t e r t h e fall o f T r o y , A e n e a s e s c a p e s with his father a n d s o n a n d his household gods. 4. T h e s e " r a i s e r s " (a p u n ) i n c l u d e d Emerson; Alcott; Ellery C h a n n i n g ; two y o u n g brothers w h o h a d s t u d i e d at B r o o k F a r m , Burrill a n d G e o r g e William Curtis; and the Concord farmer E d m u n d

H o s m e r a n d his three s o n s . 5. I.e., o n t h e b o a r d s to b e n a i l e d horizontally t h e top a n d b o t t o m e d g e s w e r e c u t at forty4ive-degree angles a n d overlapped to s h e d rain. 6. G r e e k epic of the s i e g e of T r o y a t t r i b u t e d to H o m e r .

traditionally

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1 . ECONOMY

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have built, a n d c h e e r no traveller with their c h a t t e r i n g a n d u n m u s i c a l n o t e s . Shall we forever resign the p l e a s u r e of c o n s t r u c t i o n to the c a r p e n t e r ? W h a t d o e s a r c h i t e c t u r e a m o u n t to in the e x p e r i e n c e of the m a s s of m e n ? I never in all my walks c a m e a c r o s s a m a n e n g a g e d in s o s i m p l e a n d natural an o c c u p a t i o n a s building his h o u s e . W e b e l o n g to the c o m m u n i t y . It is not the tailor a l o n e who is the ninth part of a m a n ; it is a s m u c h the p r e a c h e r , a n d the m e r c h a n t , a n d the farmer. W h e r e is this division of labor to e n d ? a n d what object d o e s it finally serve? N o d o u b t a n o t h e r may a l s o think for m e ; but it is not therefore desirable that h e s h o u l d do so to the e x c l u s i o n of my thinking for myself. T r u e , there are a r c h i t e c t s s o called in this country, a n d I have h e a r d of o n e at least p o s s e s s e d with the idea of m a k i n g architectural o r n a m e n t s have a c o r e of truth, a necessity, a n d h e n c e a beauty, a s if it were a revelation to h i m . 7 All very well p e r h a p s from his point of view, but only a little better than the c o m m o n dilettantism. A s e n t i m e n t a l reformer in a r c h i t e c ture, he b e g a n at the c o r n i c e , not at the f o u n d a t i o n . It w a s only how to p u t a c o r e of truth within the o r n a m e n t s , that every s u g a r p l u m in fact might have a n a l m o n d or caraway s e e d in i t , — t h o u g h I hold that a l m o n d s are m o s t w h o l e s o m e without the s u g a r , — a n d not how the i n h a b i t a n t , the indweller, might build truly within a n d without, a n d let the o r n a m e n t s take c a r e of t h e m s e l v e s . W h a t r e a s o n a b l e m a n ever s u p p o s e d that o r n a m e n t s were s o m e t h i n g o u t w a r d a n d in the skin m e r e l y , — t h a t the tortoise got his spotted shell, or the shellfish its mother-o'-pearl tints, by s u c h a c o n t r a c t as the inhabitants of B r o a d w a y their Trinity C h u r c h ? B u t a m a n h a s no m o r e to do with the style of a r c h i t e c t u r e of his h o u s e than a tortoise with that of its shell: nor n e e d the soldier b e so idle as to try to paint the precise color of his virtue on his s t a n d a r d . T h e e n e m y will find it out. H e m a y turn pale when the trial c o m e s . T h i s m a n s e e m e d to m e to lean over the c o r n i c e a n d timidly whisper his half truth to the r u d e o c c u p a n t s w h o really knew it better than h e . W h a t of a r c h i t e c t u r a l beauty I now s e e , I know has gradually grown from within o u t w a r d , o u t of the n e c e s s i t i e s a n d c h a r a c t e r of the indweller, w h o is the only b u i l d e r , — o u t of s o m e u n c o n s c i o u s truthf u l n e s s , a n d n o b l e n e s s , without ever a thought for the a p p e a r a n c e ; a n d whatever additional b e a u t y of this kind is d e s t i n e d to be p r o d u c e d will b e p r e c e d e d by a like u n c o n s c i o u s b e a u t y of life. T h e m o s t interesting dwellings in this country, a s the painter k n o w s , are the m o s t u n p r e t e n d i n g , h u m b l e log huts a n d c o t t a g e s of the p o o r c o m m o n l y ; it is the life of the i n h a b i t a n t s w h o s e shells they a r e , a n d not any peculiarity in their s u r f a c e s merely, which m a k e s t h e m picturesque; a n d equally interesting will b e the citizen's s u b u r b a n box, w h e n his life shall be as s i m p l e a n d a s a g r e e a b l e to the i m a g i n a t i o n , a n d there is a s little straining after effect in the style of his dwelling. A great proportion of architectural o r n a m e n t s are literally hollow, a n d a S e p t e m b e r gale would strip t h e m off, like b o r r o w e d p l u m e s , without injury to the s u b s t a n t i a l s . T h e y c a n do without architecture who have no olives nor wines in the cellar. W h a t if a n e q u a l a d o were m a d e a b o u t the o r n a m e n t s of style in literature, a n d the a r c h i t e c t s of o u r bibles s p e n t a s m u c h time a b o u t their c o r n i c e s a s the a r c h i t e c t s of our c h u r c h e s 7. T h e s c u l p t o r H o r a t i o G r e e n o u g h ( 1 8 0 5 - 1 8 5 2 ) , w h o s e theories T h o r e a u k n e w only imperfectly from a private letter o f G r e e n o u g h ' s to E m e r s o n .

T h e i d e a s a t t r i h u t e d h e r e a r e at v a r i a n c e w i t h Greenough's puhlished c o m m e n t s on architecture.

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do? S o are m a d e the belles-lettres a n d the beaux-arts a n d their p r o f e s s o r s . M u c h it c o n c e r n s a m a n , f o r s o o t h , h o w a few sticks a r e s l a n t e d over him or u n d e r h i m , a n d what colors are d a u b e d u p o n his box. It would signify s o m e w h a t , if, in any e a r n e s t s e n s e , he s l a n t e d t h e m a n d d a u b e d it; but the spirit having d e p a r t e d o u t of the t e n a n t , it is of a p i e c e with c o n s t r u c t i n g his own c o f f i n , — t h e a r c h i t e c t u r e of the grave, a n d " c a r p e n t e r " is b u t a n o t h e r n a m e for "coffin-maker." O n e m a n says, in his d e s p a i r or indiffere n c e to life, take u p a handful of the earth at your feet, a n d paint your h o u s e that color. Is he thinking of his last a n d narrow h o u s e ? T o s s u p a c o p p e r for it a s well. W h a t an a b u n d a n c e of leisure he m u s t have! W h y do you take up a h a n d f u l of dirt? B e t t e r paint your h o u s e your own complexion; let it turn p a l e or b l u s h for you. A n e n t e r p r i s e to improve the style of c o t t a g e a r c h i t e c t u r e ! W h e n you have got my o r n a m e n t s ready I will wear them. B e f o r e winter I built a c h i m n e y , a n d shingled the s i d e s of my h o u s e , which were already i m p e r v i o u s to rain, with i m p e r f e c t a n d s a p p y shingles m a d e of the first slice of the log, w h o s e e d g e s I w a s obliged to straighten with a p l a n e . I have t h u s a tight shingled a n d p l a s t e r e d h o u s e , ten feet wide by fifteen long, a n d eight-feet p o s t s , with a garret a n d a c l o s e t , a large window o n e a c h s i d e , two trap d o o r s , o n e d o o r at the e n d , a n d a brick fireplace o p p o site. T h e exact c o s t of my h o u s e , paying the u s u a l p r i c e for s u c h m a t e r i a l s a s I u s e d , but not c o u n t i n g the work, all of w h i c h w a s d o n e by myself, w a s a s follows; a n d I give the details b e c a u s e very few are able to tell exactly what their h o u s e s c o s t , a n d fewer still, if any, the s e p a r a t e c o s t of the various m a t e r i a l s which c o m p o s e t h e m : — Boards, Refuse shingles for roof and sides, Laths, T w o second-hand windows with glass, O n e thousand old brick, T w o casks of lime, Hair, Mantle-tree iron, Nails, Hinges and screws, Latch, Chalk, Transportation, In all,

$8 0 3 ' / 2 Mostly shanty boards 4 00 1 25 2 43 4 2 0 0 3 0 0 0

00 40 31 15 90 14 10 01

1 40 $28

T h a t was high M o r e than I needed

I carried a good part on my b a c k

12%

T h e s e are all the m a t e r i a l s e x c e p t i n g the t i m b e r s t o n e s a n d s a n d , w h i c h I c l a i m e d by s q u a t t e r ' s right. I have a l s o a small w o o d - s h e d a d j o i n i n g , m a d e chiefly of the stuff which w a s left after b u i l d i n g the h o u s e . I intend to build m e a h o u s e which will s u r p a s s any on the m a i n street in C o n c o r d in g r a n d e u r a n d luxury, a s s o o n a s it p l e a s e s m e a s m u c h a n d will c o s t m e no m o r e than my p r e s e n t o n e .

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I t h u s f o u n d that the s t u d e n t w h o w i s h e s for a shelter c a n o b t a i n o n e for a lifetime at a n e x p e n s e not greater than the rent which h e now pays annually. If I s e e m to b o a s t m o r e than is b e c o m i n g , my e x c u s e is that I b r a g for h u m a n i t y rather than for myself; a n d my s h o r t c o m i n g s a n d i n c o n s i s t e n cies d o not affect the truth of my s t a t e m e n t . N o t w i t h s t a n d i n g m u c h c a n t a n d h y p o c r i s y , — c h a f f which I find it difficult to s e p a r a t e from my wheat, but for which I a m a s sorry a s any m a n , — I will b r e a t h e freely a n d stretch myself in this r e s p e c t , it is s u c h a relief to both the m o r a l a n d physical s y s t e m ; a n d I a m resolved that I will not t h r o u g h humility b e c o m e the devil's attorney. I will e n d e a v o r to s p e a k a g o o d word for the truth. At C a m b r i d g e C o l l e g e 8 the m e r e rent of a s t u d e n t ' s r o o m , which is only a little larger than my own, is thirty dollars e a c h year, t h o u g h the c o r p o r a t i o n h a d the a d v a n t a g e of building thirty-two side by side a n d u n d e r o n e roof, a n d the o c c u p a n t suffers the i n c o n v e n i e n c e of m a n y a n d noisy n e i g h b o r s , a n d p e r h a p s a resi d e n c e in the fourth story. I c a n n o t but think that if w e h a d m o r e true w i s d o m in t h e s e r e s p e c t s , not only less e d u c a t i o n would b e n e e d e d , b e c a u s e , fors o o t h , m o r e would already have b e e n a c q u i r e d , but the p e c u n i a r y e x p e n s e of getting a n e d u c a t i o n would in a great m e a s u r e v a n i s h . T h o s e c o n v e n i e n c e s which the s t u d e n t requires at C a m b r i d g e or e l s e w h e r e c o s t him or s o m e b o d y else ten t i m e s a s great a sacrifice of life a s they w o u l d with p r o p e r m a n a g e m e n t on both s i d e s . T h o s e things for which the m o s t m o n e y is d e m a n d e d are never the things which the s t u d e n t m o s t w a n t s . T u i t i o n , for i n s t a n c e , is an i m p o r t a n t item in the term bill, while for the far m o r e v a l u a b l e e d u c a t i o n which he gets by a s s o c i a t i n g with the m o s t cultivated of his c o n t e m p o r a r i e s no c h a r g e is m a d e . T h e m o d e of f o u n d i n g a c o l l e g e is, c o m m o n l y , to get u p a s u b s c r i p t i o n of dollars a n d c e n t s , a n d then following blindly the principles of a division of labor to its e x t r e m e , a principle which s h o u l d never b e followed but with c i r c u m s p e c t i o n , — t o call in a c o n t r a c t o r w h o m a k e s this a s u b j e c t of s p e c u l a t i o n , a n d he employs I r i s h m e n or other operatives actually to lay the f o u n d a t i o n s , while the s t u d e n t s that are to be are s a i d to be fitting t h e m s e l v e s for it; a n d for t h e s e oversights s u c c e s s i v e g e n e r a t i o n s have to pay. I think that it would be better than this, for the s t u d e n t s , or t h o s e w h o desire to be benefited by it, even to lay the f o u n d a t i o n t h e m s e l v e s . T h e stud e n t w h o s e c u r e s his coveted leisure a n d retirement by systematically shirking any labor n e c e s s a r y to m a n o b t a i n s but an ignoble a n d unprofitable l e i s u r e , d e f r a u d i n g himself of the e x p e r i e n c e which a l o n e c a n m a k e leisure fruitful. " B u t , " says o n e , "you d o not m e a n that the s t u d e n t s s h o u l d g o to work with their h a n d s instead of their h e a d s ? " I d o not m e a n that exactly, but I m e a n s o m e t h i n g which he might think a g o o d deal like that; I m e a n that they s h o u l d not play life, or study it merely, while the c o m m u n i t y s u p ports t h e m at this expensive g a m e , b u t earnestly live it from b e g i n n i n g to e n d . H o w c o u l d y o u t h s better learn to live than by at o n c e trying the experiment of living? M e t h i n k s this would exercise their m i n d s a s m u c h a s m a t h e m a t i c s . If I w i s h e d a boy to know s o m e t h i n g a b o u t the arts a n d s c i e n c e s , for i n s t a n c e , I would not p u r s u e the c o m m o n c o u r s e , which is merely to s e n d him into the n e i g h b o r h o o d of s o m e professor, w h e r e any thing is p r o f e s s e d a n d p r a c t i s e d but the art of life;—to survey the world t h r o u g h a t e l e s c o p e or a m i c r o s c o p e , a n d never with his natural eye; to study chemistry, a n d not 8.

Harvard College.

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learn how his bread is m a d e , or m e c h a n i c s , a n d not learn how it is e a r n e d ; to discover new satellites to N e p t u n e , a n d not d e t e c t the m o t e s in his eyes, or to what v a g a b o n d he is a satellite himself; or to be d e v o u r e d by the m o n sters that s w a r m all a r o u n d him, while c o n t e m p l a t i n g the m o n s t e r s in a drop of vinegar. W h i c h would have a d v a n c e d the m o s t at the e n d of the m o n t h , — the boy w h o h a d m a d e his own jack-knife from the ore which he h a d d u g a n d s m e l t e d , r e a d i n g a s m u c h as would be n e c e s s a r y for t h i s , — o r the boy who h a d a t t e n d e d the lectures on metallurgy at the Institute in the m e a n while, a n d had received a R o d g e r s ' penknife from his father? W h i c h would be m o s t likely to cut his fingers?—To my a s t o n i s h m e n t I w a s i n f o r m e d on leaving college that I h a d s t u d i e d n a v i g a t i o n ! — w h y , if I h a d taken o n e turn d o w n the harbor 1 s h o u l d have known m o r e a b o u t it. Even the poor s t u d e n t s t u d i e s a n d is t a u g h t only political e c o n o m y , while that e c o n o m y of living which is s y n o n y m o u s with p h i l o s o p h y is not even sincerely p r o f e s s e d in our c o l l e g e s . T h e c o n s e q u e n c e is, that while he is r e a d i n g A d a m S m i t h , R i c a r d o , a n d S a y , 9 he runs his father in debt irretrievably. A s with our c o l l e g e s , so with a h u n d r e d " m o d e r n i m p r o v e m e n t s " ; there is a n illusion a b o u t t h e m ; there is not always a positive a d v a n c e . T h e devil g o e s on exacting c o m p o u n d interest to the last for his early s h a r e a n d n u m e r o u s s u c c e e d i n g i n v e s t m e n t s in t h e m . O u r inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from s e r i o u s things. T h e y are but improved m e a n s to a n u n i m p r o v e d e n d , a n end which it w a s already b u t too easy to arrive at; a s railroads lead to B o s t o n or N e w York. W e a r e in great h a s t e to c o n s t r u c t a m a g n e t i c telegraph from M a i n e to T e x a s ; but M a i n e a n d T e x a s , it may b e , have nothing i m p o r t a n t to c o m m u n i c a t e . E i t h e r is in s u c h a pred i c a m e n t a s the m a n w h o w a s e a r n e s t to be i n t r o d u c e d to a d i s t i n g u i s h e d d e a f w o m a n , but when he w a s p r e s e n t e d , a n d o n e e n d of her ear trumpet was put into his h a n d , had nothing to say. As if the main object were to talk fast a n d not to talk sensibly. W e are e a g e r to tunnel u n d e r the Atlantic a n d bring the old world s o m e w e e k s nearer to the new; but p e r c h a n c e the first news that will leak t h r o u g h into the b r o a d , flapping A m e r i c a n e a r will be that the P r i n c e s s A d e l a i d e has the w h o o p i n g c o u g h . After all, the m a n w h o s e horse trots a mile in a m i n u t e d o e s not carry the m o s t i m p o r t a n t m e s s a g e s ; h e is not a n evangelist, nor d o e s he c o m e r o u n d e a t i n g l o c u s t s a n d wild honey. I d o u b t if Flying C h i l d e r s 1 ever carried a p e c k of corn to mill. O n e says to m e , "I w o n d e r that you d o not lay up money; you love to travel; you might take the cars a n d go to F i t c h b u r g to-day a n d s e e the c o u n t r y . " B u t I a m wiser than that. I have learned that the swiftest traveller is he that g o e s afoot. I say to my friend, S u p p o s e we try w h o will get there first. T h e d i s t a n c e is thirty miles; the fare ninety c e n t s . T h a t is a l m o s t a day's w a g e s . I r e m e m b e r w h e n w a g e s were sixty c e n t s a day for laborers on this very r o a d . W e l l , I start now on foot, a n d get there before night; I have travelled at that rate by the week together. You will in the m e a n while have e a r n e d your fare, a n d arrive there s o m e time to-morrow, or possibly this evening, if you a r e lucky e n o u g h to get a j o b in s e a s o n . I n s t e a d of g o i n g to F i t c h b u r g , you will b e working here the greater part of the day. A n d s o , if the railroad r e a c h e d r o u n d the world, 9. T h r e e e c o n o m i s t s : the Scottish A d a m S m i t h ( 1 7 2 3 - 1 7 9 0 ) , the English David Ricardo ( 1 7 7 2 1823), and the French Jean Baptiste Say ( 1 7 6 7 -

1832). 1. E n g l i s h r a c e h o r s e .

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881

I think that I s h o u l d keep a h e a d of you; a n d a s for s e e i n g the country a n d getting experience of that kind, I s h o u l d have to c u t your a c q u a i n t a n c e altogether. S u c h is the universal law, which no m a n c a n ever outwit, a n d with regard to the railroad even we m a y say it is a s b r o a d a s it is long. T o m a k e a railroad r o u n d the world available to all m a n k i n d is equivalent to g r a d i n g the w h o l e s u r f a c e of the planet. M e n have a n indistinct notion that if they k e e p up this activity of joint s t o c k s a n d s p a d e s long e n o u g h all will at length ride s o m e where, in next to no t i m e , a n d for nothing; but t h o u g h a crowd r u s h e s to the d e p o t , a n d the c o n d u c t o r s h o u t s "All a b o a r d ! " w h e n the s m o k e is blown away a n d the vapor c o n d e n s e d , it will be perceived that a few a r e riding, but the rest a r e run o v e r , — a n d it will be called, a n d will b e , "A m e l a n c h o l y a c c i d e n t . " N o d o u b t they c a n ride at last w h o shall have e a r n e d their fare, that is, if they survive s o long, but they will probably have lost their elasticity a n d desire to travel by that time. T h i s s p e n d i n g of the b e s t part of one's life e a r n i n g m o n e y in order to enjoy a q u e s t i o n a b l e liberty d u r i n g the least v a l u a b l e part of it, r e m i n d s m e of the E n g l i s h m a n w h o went to India to m a k e a fortune first, in order that he might return to E n g l a n d a n d live the life of a poet. H e s h o u l d have g o n e up garret at o n c e . " W h a t ! " exclaim a million I r i s h m e n starting up from all the s h a n t i e s in the land, "is not this railroad which we have built a g o o d t h i n g ? " Yes, I a n s w e r , comparatively g o o d , that is, you might have d o n e w o r s e ; but I wish, as you are brothers of m i n e , that you c o u l d have spent your time better than digging in this dirt. B e f o r e I finished my h o u s e , wishing to earn ten or twelve dollars by s o m e h o n e s t a n d a g r e e a b l e m e t h o d , in order to m e e t my u n u s u a l e x p e n s e s , I planted a b o u t two a c r e s a n d a half of light a n d sandy soil near it chiefly with b e a n s , but a l s o a small part with p o t a t o e s , c o r n , p e a s , a n d turnips. T h e w h o l e lot c o n t a i n s eleven a c r e s , mostly growing up to p i n e s a n d hickories, a n d w a s sold the p r e c e d i n g s e a s o n for eight dollars a n d eight c e n t s a n a c r e . O n e farmer said that it w a s " g o o d for nothing but to raise c h e e p i n g squirrels o n . " I put no m a n u r e on this land, not b e i n g the owner, but merely a s q u a t t e r , a n d not expecting to cultivate so m u c h a g a i n , a n d I did not q u i t e h o e it all o n c e . I got out several c o r d s of s t u m p s in p l o u g h i n g , which s u p p l i e d m e with fuel for a long t i m e , a n d left small circles of virgin m o u l d , easily distinguishable through the s u m m e r by the greater l u x u r i a n c e of the b e a n s t h e r e . T h e d e a d a n d for the m o s t part u n m e r c h a n t a b l e wood b e h i n d my h o u s e , a n d the driftwood from the p o n d , have s u p p l i e d the r e m a i n d e r of my fuel. I was obliged to hire a t e a m a n d a m a n for the p l o u g h i n g , t h o u g h I held the plough myself. M y farm o u t g o e s for the first s e a s o n w e r e , for i m p l e m e n t s , s e e d , work, & c , $ 14 7 2 ' / 2 . T h e s e e d corn w a s given m e . T h i s never c o s t s any thing to s p e a k of, u n l e s s you plant m o r e than e n o u g h . I got twelve b u s h e l s of b e a n s , a n d eighteen b u s h e l s of p o t a t o e s , b e s i d e s o m e p e a s a n d sweet c o r n . T h e yellow corn a n d turnips were too late to c o m e to any thing. M y whole i n c o m e from the farm was 44. 14 7 2 ' / ; $ 8 7 1 '/>,

$23

Deducting the outgoes, there are left,

882

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HENRY DAVID

THOREAU

b e s i d e p r o d u c e c o n s u m e d a n d on h a n d at the time this e s t i m a t e w a s m a d e of the value of $ 4 5 0 , — t h e a m o u n t on h a n d m u c h m o r e t h a n b a l a n c i n g a little g r a s s which I did not r a i s e . All things c o n s i d e r e d , that is, c o n s i d e r i n g the i m p o r t a n c e of a m a n ' s soul a n d of to-day, n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g the short time o c c u p i e d by my e x p e r i m e n t , nay, partly even b e c a u s e of its transient character, I believe that that w a s doing better than any f a r m e r in C o n c o r d did that year. T h e next year I did better still, for I s p a d e d u p all the l a n d which I r e q u i r e d , a b o u t a third of a n a c r e , a n d I l e a r n e d from the e x p e r i e n c e of both y e a r s , not b e i n g in the least a w e d by m a n y c e l e b r a t e d works o n h u s b a n d r y , Arthur Y o u n g 2 a m o n g the rest, that if o n e w o u l d live simply a n d eat only the c r o p which he raised, a n d raise n o m o r e than he a t e , a n d not e x c h a n g e it for a n insufficient quantity of m o r e luxurious a n d expensive things, h e w o u l d n e e d to cultivate only a few rods of g r o u n d , a n d that it w o u l d b e c h e a p e r to s p a d e u p that than to u s e oxen to p l o u g h it, a n d to select a fresh spot from time to time than to m a n u r e the old, a n d he c o u l d d o all his n e c e s s a r y farm work as it were with his left h a n d at o d d h o u r s in the s u m m e r ; a n d t h u s h e w o u l d not b e tied to a n ox, or h o r s e , or c o w , or pig, a s at p r e s e n t . I desire to s p e a k impartially o n this point, a n d a s o n e not interested in the s u c c e s s or failure of the p r e s e n t e c o n o m i c a l a n d social a r r a n g e m e n t s . I w a s m o r e i n d e p e n d e n t than any f a r m e r in C o n c o r d , for I w a s not a n c h o r e d to a h o u s e or farm, but c o u l d follow the b e n t of my g e n i u s , w h i c h is a very c r o o k e d o n e , every m o m e n t . B e s i d e b e i n g better off than they already, if my h o u s e h a d b e e n b u r n e d or my c r o p s h a d failed, I s h o u l d have b e e n nearly a s well off a s before, i I a m wont to think that m e n are not s o m u c h the k e e p e r s of h e r d s a s herds are the k e e p e r s of m e n , the former are s o m u c h the freer. M e n a n d oxen e x c h a n g e work; but if we c o n s i d e r n e c e s s a r y work only, the oxen will b e s e e n to have greatly the a d v a n t a g e , their farm is s o m u c h the larger. M a n d o e s s o m e of his part of the e x c h a n g e work in his six w e e k s of haying, a n d it is n o boy's play. Certainly no nation that lived simply in all r e s p e c t s , that is, n o nation of p h i l o s o p h e r s , would c o m m i t s o great a b l u n d e r a s to u s e the labor of a n i m a l s . T r u e , there never w a s a n d is not likely s o o n to b e a nation of p h i l o s o p h e r s , nor a m I certain it is d e s i r a b l e that there s h o u l d b e . However, J s h o u l d never have b r o k e n a h o r s e or bull a n d taken him to b o a r d for any work he might d o for m e , for fear I s h o u l d b e c o m e a h o r s e - m a n or a h e r d s m a n merely; a n d if society s e e m s to b e the gainer by s o d o i n g , a r e we certain that what is o n e m a n ' s gain is not a n o t h e r ' s l o s s , a n d that the stable-boy h a s e q u a l c a u s e with his m a s t e r to be satisfied? G r a n t e d that s o m e p u b l i c works w o u l d not have b e e n c o n s t r u c t e d without this aid, a n d let m a n s h a r e the glory of s u c h with the ox a n d h o r s e ; d o e s it follow that h e c o u l d not have a c c o m p l i s h e d works yet m o r e worthy of h i m s e l f in that c a s e ? W h e n m e n begin to d o , not merely u n n e c e s s a r y or artistic, but luxurious a n d idle work, with their a s s i s t a n c e , it is inevitable that a few d o all the e x c h a n g e work with the oxen, or, in other w o r d s , b e c o m e the slaves of the s t r o n g e s t . M a n t h u s not only works for the a n i m a l within h i m , b u t , for a symbol of this, h e works for the a n i m a l without h i m . T h o u g h we have m a n y s u b s t a n t i a l h o u s e s of brick or s t o n e , the prosperity of the f a r m e r is still m e a s u r e d by the d e g r e e to which the b a r n o v e r s h a d o w s the h o u s e . T h i s town is said to have the largest 2 . A u t h o r o f Rural

Oeconomy,

or Essays

on the Practical

Parts

of Husbandry

(1773).

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1 . ECONOMY

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883

h o u s e s for oxen c o w s a n d h o r s e s h e r e a b o u t s , a n d it is not b e h i n d h a n d in its public b u i l d i n g s ; b u t there a r e very few halls for free w o r s h i p or free s p e e c h in this county. It s h o u l d not b e by their a r c h i t e c t u r e , but why not even by their power of a b s t r a c t t h o u g h t , that nations s h o u l d s e e k to c o m m e m o r a t e t h e m s e l v e s ? H o w m u c h m o r e a d m i r a b l e the B h a g v a t - G e e t a 3 t h a n all the ruins of the E a s t ! T o w e r s a n d t e m p l e s are the luxury of p r i n c e s . A s i m p l e a n d i n d e p e n d e n t m i n d d o e s not toil at the b i d d i n g of any p r i n c e . G e n i u s is not a retainer to any e m p e r o r , nor is its material silver, or gold, or m a r b l e , except to a trifling extent. T o w h a t e n d , pray, is s o m u c h s t o n e h a m m e r e d ? In A r c a d i a , 4 w h e n I w a s there, I did not s e e any h a m m e r i n g s t o n e . N a t i o n s are p o s s e s s e d with a n i n s a n e a m b i t i o n to p e r p e t u a t e the m e m o r y of t h e m selves by the a m o u n t of h a m m e r e d s t o n e they leave. W h a t if e q u a l p a i n s were taken to s m o o t h a n d polish their m a n n e r s ? O n e p i e c e of g o o d s e n s e would b e m o r e m e m o r a b l e than a m o n u m e n t a s high a s the m o o n . I love better to s e e s t o n e s in p l a c e . T h e g r a n d e u r of T h e b e s 5 w a s a vulgar g r a n d e u r . M o r e s e n s i b l e is a rod of s t o n e wall that b o u n d s a n h o n e s t m a n ' s field than a h u n d r e d - g a t e d T h e b e s that h a s w a n d e r e d farther from the true e n d of life. T h e religion a n d civilization which are barbaric a n d h e a t h e n i s h build splendid t e m p l e s ; but what you might call Christianity d o e s not. M o s t of the s t o n e a nation h a m m e r s g o e s toward its t o m b only. It buries itself alive. As for the P y r a m i d s , there is nothing to w o n d e r at in t h e m so m u c h a s the fact that s o m a n y m e n c o u l d b e f o u n d d e g r a d e d e n o u g h to s p e n d their lives c o n s t r u c t i n g a t o m b for s o m e a m b i t i o u s booby, w h o m it would have b e e n wiser a n d m a n lier to have d r o w n e d in the N i l e , a n d then given his body to the d o g s . I m i g h t possibly invent s o m e e x c u s e for t h e m a n d him, but I have n o time for it. A s for the religion a n d love of art of the b u i l d e r s , it is m u c h the s a m e all the world over, w h e t h e r the b u i l d i n g be an Egyptian t e m p l e or the U n i t e d S t a t e s B a n k . It c o s t s m o r e than it c o m e s to. T h e m a i n s p r i n g is vanity, a s s i s t e d by the love of garlic a n d b r e a d a n d butter. Mr. B a l c o m , a p r o m i s i n g y o u n g architect, d e s i g n s it o n the b a c k of his V i t r u v i u s , 6 with h a r d pencil a n d ruler, a n d the j o b is let out to D o b s o n & S o n s , s t o n e c u t t e r s . W h e n the thirty c e n turies begin to look d o w n on it, m a n k i n d begin to look u p at it. As for your high towers a n d m o n u m e n t s , there w a s a crazy fellow o n c e in this town w h o u n d e r t o o k to dig t h r o u g h to C h i n a , a n d h e got s o far that, a s he s a i d , h e h e a r d the C h i n e s e p o t s a n d kettles rattle; b u t I think that I shall not go o u t of my way to a d m i r e the hole which he m a d e . M a n y a r e c o n c e r n e d a b o u t the m o n u m e n t s of the W e s t a n d the E a s t , — t o know w h o built t h e m . F o r my part, I s h o u l d like to know w h o in t h o s e days did not build t h e m , — w h o were a b o v e s u c h trifling. B u t to p r o c e e d with my statistics. By surveying, carpentry, a n d day-labor of various other kinds in the village in the m e a n while, for I have a s m a n y trades a s fingers, I h a d e a r n e d $ 1 3 3 4 . T h e e x p e n s e of food for eight m o n t h s , n a m e l y , from J u l y 4 t h to M a r c h 1st, the time w h e n t h e s e e s t i m a t e s were m a d e , t h o u g h I lived there m o r e than two y e a r s , — n o t c o u n t i n g p o t a t o e s , a little green c o r n , a n d s o m e p e a s , which I h a d raised, nor c o n s i d e r i n g the value of w h a t w a s o n h a n d at the last d a t e , w a s 3. A s a c r e d H i n d u text. 4. Place epitomizing rustic simplicity a n d cont e n t m e n t , f r o m t h e r e g i o n in G r e e c e c e l e b r a t e d by the bucolic poets.

5. A n c i e n t city in U p p e r E g y p t . 6. Vitruvius Pollio, R o m a n architect d u r i n g the reigns of Julius C a e s a r a n d A u g u s t u s , author of D e Architectura.

884

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HENRY DAVID

Rice, Molasses, Rye meal, Indian meal, Pork,

THOREAU

0 1 7316 1 73 1

C h e a p e s t form of the s a c c h a r i n e

04-*/4

0 99-y* 0 22

Flour,

0 88

Sugar, Lard, Apples, Dried apple, Sweet potatoes, One pumpkin, One watermelon, Salt,

0 0 0 0 0 0

80 65' 25 22 10 6

0 0

2 3

C h e a p e r than rye. }

C o s t s more than Indian meal, both money a n d trouble.

}

Yes, I did eat $ 8 7 4 , all told; but I s h o u l d not t h u s u n b l u s h i n g l y p u b l i s h my guilt, if I did not know that m o s t o f my readers were equally guilty with myself, a n d that their d e e d s would look n o better in print. T h e next year I s o m e t i m e s c a u g h t a m e s s o f fish for my dinner, a n d o n c e I went s o far a s to s l a u g h t e r a w o o d c h u c k which ravaged m y bean-field,—effect his transmigration, a s a T a r t a r 7 would s a y , — a n d d e v o u r h i m , partly for experiment's s a k e ; b u t t h o u g h it afforded m e a m o m e n t a r y e n j o y m e n t , n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g a m u s k y flavor, I s a w that the longest u s e would not m a k e that a g o o d p r a c t i c e , however it might s e e m to have your w o o d c h u c k s ready d r e s s e d by t h e village butcher. C l o t h i n g a n d s o m e incidental e x p e n s e s within t h e s a m e d a t e s , t h o u g h little c a n b e inferred from this item, a m o u n t e d to $8

Oil and s o m e household utensils,

40-V4

2 00

S o that all t h e p e c u n i a r y o u t g o e s , excepting for w a s h i n g a n d m e n d i n g , which for the m o s t part were d o n e o u t of the h o u s e , a n d their bills have not yet been r e c e i v e d , — a n d t h e s e a r e all a n d m o r e than all the ways by which m o n e y necessarily g o e s out in this part of t h e w o r l d , — w e r e House, F a r m o n e year, Food eight months, Clothing, & c , eight m o n t h s , Oil, & c , eight months,

$28 14 8 8 2

In all,

$61 9 9 %

\2Vi 7 2 Vi 74 40% 00

I a d d r e s s myself now to t h o s e o f my r e a d e r s w h o have a living to get. A n d to m e e t this I have for farm p r o d u c e sold 7 . A n i n h a b i t a n t o f T a r t a r y , a b r o a d a r e a o f C e n t r a l A s i a o v e r r u n b y t h e T a t a r s ( T a r t a r s ) in t h e 1 2 t h c e n t u r y .

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1 . ECONOMY

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885

$23 44 E a r n e d by day-labor, In all,

13 34 $36

78,

which s u b t r a c t e d from the s u m of the o u t g o e s leaves a b a l a n c e of $ 2 5 2 1 3 / 4 on the o n e s i d e , — t h i s b e i n g very nearly the m e a n s with which I s t a r t e d , a n d the m e a s u r e of e x p e n s e s to b e i n c u r r e d , — a n d on the other, b e s i d e the leisure a n d i n d e p e n d e n c e a n d health t h u s s e c u r e d , a c o m f o r t a b l e h o u s e for m e a s long a s I c h o o s e to o c c u p y it. T h e s e statistics, however a c c i d e n t a l a n d therefore u n i n s t r u c t i v e they m a y a p p e a r , a s they have a certain c o m p l e t e n e s s , have a certain v a l u e a l s o . N o t h ing w a s given m e of which I have not r e n d e r e d s o m e a c c o u n t . It a p p e a r s from the a b o v e e s t i m a t e , that my food a l o n e c o s t m e in m o n e y a b o u t twentyseven c e n t s a week. It w a s , for nearly two years after this, rye a n d I n d i a n meal without yeast, p o t a t o e s , rice, a very little salt pork, m o l a s s e s , a n d salt, a n d my drink water. It w a s fit that I s h o u l d live on rice, mainly, w h o loved s o well the p h i l o s o p h y of India. T o m e e t the o b j e c t i o n s of s o m e inveterate cavillers, I m a y a s well s t a t e , that if I dined o u t o c c a s i o n a l l y , a s I always h a d d o n e , a n d I trust shall have o p p o r t u n i t i e s to d o a g a i n , it w a s frequently to the detriment of my d o m e s t i c a r r a n g e m e n t s . B u t the d i n i n g o u t , being, a s I have s t a t e d , a c o n s t a n t e l e m e n t , d o e s not in the least affect a c o m p a r a t i v e s t a t e m e n t like this. I learned from my two years' e x p e r i e n c e that it would c o s t incredibly little trouble to obtain one's n e c e s s a r y food, even in this l a t i t u d e ; that a m a n may u s e a s s i m p l e a diet a s the a n i m a l s , a n d yet retain health a n d s t r e n g t h . I have m a d e a satisfactory dinner, satisfactory on several a c c o u n t s , simply off a dish of p u r s l a n e (Portulaca oleracea) which I g a t h e r e d in my cornfield, boiled a n d salted. I give the L a t i n on a c c o u n t of the s a v o r i n e s s of the trivial n a m e . A n d pray w h a t m o r e c a n a r e a s o n a b l e m a n d e s i r e , in p e a c e f u l t i m e s , in ordinary n o o n s , t h a n a sufficient n u m b e r of e a r s of green sweet-corn boiled, with the addition of salt? E v e n the little variety which I u s e d w a s a yielding to the d e m a n d s of a p p e t i t e , a n d not of h e a l t h . Yet m e n have c o m e to s u c h a p a s s that they frequently starve, not for want of n e c e s s a r i e s , b u t for want of luxuries; a n d I know a good w o m a n w h o thinks that her son lost his life b e c a u s e he took to drinking water only. T h e r e a d e r will perceive that I a m treating the s u b j e c t rather from a n e c o n o m i c than a dietetic point of view, a n d he will not v e n t u r e to p u t my a b s t e m i o u s n e s s to the test u n l e s s he h a s a well-stocked larder. B r e a d I at first m a d e of p u r e Indian m e a l a n d salt, g e n u i n e h o e - c a k e s , which I b a k e d before my fire out of doors o n a shingle or the e n d of a stick of timber s a w e d off in b u i l d i n g my h o u s e ; but it w a s wont to get s m o k e d a n d to have a piny flavor. I tried flour a l s o ; b u t have at last f o u n d a mixture of rye a n d Indian m e a l m o s t c o n v e n i e n t a n d a g r e e a b l e . In cold w e a t h e r it w a s no little a m u s e m e n t to b a k e several s m a l l loaves of this in s u c c e s s i o n , t e n d i n g a n d turning t h e m a s carefully as a n Egyptian his h a t c h i n g e g g s . 8 T h e y were a real cereal fruit which I ripened, a n d they h a d to my s e n s e s a f r a g r a n c e like that of other noble fruits, which I kept in a s l o n g a s p o s s i b l e by w r a p p i n g t h e m in c l o t h s . I m a d e a study of the a n c i e n t a n d i n d i s p e n s a b l e art of b r e a d 8.

Egyptians had devised incubators.

8 8 6

/

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m a k i n g , c o n s u l t i n g s u c h authorities a s offered, g o i n g b a c k to the primitive days a n d first invention of the u n l e a v e n e d kind, w h e n from the w i l d n e s s of n u t s a n d m e a t s m e n first r e a c h e d the m i l d n e s s a n d r e f i n e m e n t of this diet, a n d travelling gradually d o w n in my s t u d i e s through that a c c i d e n t a l s o u r i n g of the d o u g h which, it is s u p p o s e d , t a u g h t the leavening p r o c e s s , a n d t h r o u g h the various f e r m e n t a t i o n s thereafter, till I c a m e to " g o o d , sweet, w h o l e s o m e b r e a d , " the staff of life. L e a v e n , which s o m e d e e m the soul of b r e a d , the spiritus which fills its cellular t i s s u e , which is religiously p r e s e r v e d like the vestal fire,—some p r e c i o u s bottle-full, I s u p p o s e , first brought over in the Mayflower, did the b u s i n e s s for A m e r i c a , a n d its influence is still rising, swelling, s p r e a d i n g , in cerealian billows over the l a n d , — t h i s s e e d I regularly a n d faithfully p r o c u r e d from the village, till at length o n e m o r n i n g I forgot the rules, a n d s c a l d e d my yeast; by which a c c i d e n t I d i s c o v e r e d that even this w a s not i n d i s p e n s a b l e , — f o r my discoveries were not by the synthetic but analytic p r o c e s s , — a n d I have gladly o m i t t e d it s i n c e , t h o u g h m o s t h o u s e wives earnestly a s s u r e d m e that s a f e a n d w h o l e s o m e bread without yeast might not b e , a n d elderly p e o p l e p r o p h e s i e d a s p e e d y d e c a y of the vital forces. Yet I find it not to be a n essential ingredient, a n d after g o i n g without it for a year a m still in the l a n d of the living; a n d 1 a m glad to e s c a p e the trivialness of carrying a bottle-full in my p o c k e t , which would s o m e t i m e s p o p a n d disc h a r g e its c o n t e n t s to my d i s c o m f i t u r e . It is s i m p l e r a n d m o r e r e s p e c t a b l e to omit it. M a n is a n a n i m a l who m o r e than any other c a n a d a p t h i m s e l f to all c l i m a t e s a n d c i r c u m s t a n c e s . N e i t h e r did I put any sal s o d a , or other a c i d or alkali, into my b r e a d . It would s e e m that I m a d e it a c c o r d i n g to the r e c i p e which M a r c u s P o r c i u s C a t o gave a b o u t two c e n t u r i e s before C h r i s t . " P a n e m d e p s t i c i u m sic facito. M a n u s m o r t a r i u m q u e b e n e lavato. F a r i n a m in mortarium indito, aquas p a u l a t i m addito, s u b i g i t o q u e p u l c h r e . Ubi b e n e s u b e g eris, defingito, c o q u i t o q u e s u b t e s t u . " 9 W h i c h I take to m e a n — " M a k e k n e a d e d bread t h u s . W a s h your h a n d s a n d trough well. P u t the meal into the t r o u g h , a d d water gradually, a n d k n e a d it thoroughly. W h e n you have k n e a d e d it well, m o u l d it, a n d b a k e it u n d e r a c o v e r , " that is, in a bakingkettle. N o t a word a b o u t leaven. B u t I did not always u s e this staff of life. At o n e t i m e , owing to the e m p t i n e s s of my p u r s e , I s a w n o n e of it for m o r e than a month. Every N e w E n g l a n d e r might easily raise all his own b r e a d s t u f f s in this land of rye a n d Indian c o r n , a n d not d e p e n d on distant a n d f l u c t u a t i n g m a r k e t s for t h e m . Yet s o far are we from simplicity a n d i n d e p e n d e n c e that, in C o n c o r d , fresh a n d sweet meal is rarely sold in the s h o p s , a n d h o m i n y a n d c o r n in a still c o a r s e r form are hardly u s e d by any. F o r the m o s t part the f a r m e r gives to his cattle a n d h o g s the grain of his own p r o d u c i n g , a n d buys flour, which is at least no m o r e w h o l e s o m e , at a greater c o s t , at the s t o r e . I s a w that I c o u l d easily raise my bushel or two of rye a n d I n d i a n c o r n , for the former will grow o n the p o o r e s t land, a n d the latter d o e s not r e q u i r e the b e s t , a n d grind t h e m in a hand-mill, a n d so d o without rice a n d pork; a n d if I m u s t have s o m e c o n c e n t r a t e d sweet, I f o u n d by e x p e r i m e n t that I c o u l d m a k e a very g o o d m o l a s s e s either of p u m p k i n s or b e e t s , a n d I k n e w that I n e e d e d only to set out a few m a p l e s to obtain it m o r e easily still, a n d while 9.

De agri

culturii

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8 8 7

these were growing I could u s e various s u b s t i t u t e s b e s i d e t h o s e which 1 have n a m e d , " F o r , " a s the F o r e f a t h e r s s a n g , — "we c a n m a k e liquor to s w e e t e n our lips O f p u m p k i n s a n d p a r s n i p s and walnut-tree c h i p s . " 1 Finally, a s for salt, that g r o s s e s t of groceries, to obtain this might b e a fit o c c a s i o n for a visit to the s e a s h o r e , or, if I did without it altogether, I s h o u l d probably drink the less water. 1 do not learn that the Indians ever troubled t h e m s e l v e s to go after it. T h u s I c o u l d avoid all trade a n d barter, s o far a s my food w a s c o n c e r n e d , and having a shelter already, it would only r e m a i n to get c l o t h i n g a n d fuel. T h e p a n t a l o o n s which I now w e a r were woven in a farmer's f a m i l y , — t h a n k H e a v e n there is s o m u c h virtue still in m a n ; for I think the fall from the farmer to the operative a s great a n d m e m o r a b l e a s that from the m a n to the f a r m e r ; — a n d in a n e w country fuel is a n e n c u m b r a n c e . As for a habitat, if I were not p e r m i t t e d still to s q u a t , I might p u r c h a s e o n e a c r e at the s a m e price for which the land I cultivated w a s s o l d — n a m e l y , eight dollars a n d eight c e n t s . B u t as it w a s , I c o n s i d e r e d that I e n h a n c e d the value of the land by s q u a t t i n g on it. T h e r e is a certain c l a s s of unbelievers w h o s o m e t i m e s a s k m e s u c h q u e s tions a s , if I think that I c a n live on v e g e t a b l e food a l o n e ; a n d to strike at the root of the m a t t e r at o n c e , — f o r the root is f a i t h , — I a m a c c u s t o m e d to a n s w e r s u c h , that I c a n live on b o a r d nails. If they c a n n o t u n d e r s t a n d that, they c a n n o t u n d e r s t a n d m u c h that I have to say. F o r my part, I a m glad to hear of e x p e r i m e n t s of this kind b e i n g tried; a s that a y o u n g m a n tried for a fortnight to live on hard raw corn on the ear, u s i n g his teeth for all mortar. T h e squirrel tribe tried the s a m e a n d s u c c e e d e d . T h e h u m a n r a c e is intere s t e d in t h e s e e x p e r i m e n t s , t h o u g h a few old w o m e n w h o are i n c a p a c i t a t e d for t h e m , or w h o own their thirds in mills, may b e a l a r m e d . M y furniture, part of which I m a d e myself, a n d the rest c o s t m e n o t h i n g of which I have not r e n d e r e d an a c c o u n t , c o n s i s t e d of a b e d , a t a b l e , a d e s k , three c h a i r s , a looking-glass three i n c h e s in d i a m e t e r , a pair of t o n g s a n d a n d i r o n s , a kettle, a skillet, a n d a frying-pan, a dipper, a wash-bowl, two knives a n d forks, three p l a t e s , o n e c u p , o n e s p o o n , a j u g for oil, a j u g for m o l a s s e s , a n d a j a p a n n e d 2 l a m p . N o n e is so poor that he n e e d sit on a p u m p kin. T h a t is s h i f t l e s s n e s s . T h e r e is a plenty of s u c h c h a i r s a s I like b e s t in the village garrets to be had for taking t h e m away. F u r n i t u r e ! T h a n k G o d , I c a n sit a n d I c a n s t a n d without the aid of a furniture w a r e h o u s e . W h a t m a n but a p h i l o s o p h e r would not be a s h a m e d to see his furniture p a c k e d in a cart a n d g o i n g u p country e x p o s e d to the light of h e a v e n a n d the eyes of m e n , a beggarly a c c o u n t of e m p t y boxes? T h a t is S p a u l d i n g ' s f u r n i t u r e . ' I c o u l d never tell from i n s p e c t i n g s u c h a load w h e t h e r it b e l o n g e d to a so called rich m a n or a p o o r o n e ; the owner always s e e m e d poverty-stricken. I n d e e d , the m o r e you have of s u c h things the p o o r e r you a r e . E a c h load looks a s if it c o n t a i n e d the c o n t e n t s of a dozen s h a n t i e s ; a n d if o n e s h a n t y is poor, this is 1. F r o m J o h n W a r n e r B a r b e r ' s Historical Collections ( 1 8 3 9 ) . 2 . L a c q u e r e d w i t h d e c o r a t i v e s c e n e s in t h e J a p a -

nese manner. 3. U n i d e n t i f i e d .

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a dozen times a s poor. Pray, for what d o we move ever b u t to get rid of our furniture, our exuviae;* at last to go from this world to a n o t h e r newly furn i s h e d , a n d leave this to be b u r n e d ? It is the s a m e a s if all t h e s e traps were b u c k l e d to a m a n ' s belt, a n d he c o u l d not m o v e over the r o u g h country w h e r e our lines are c a s t without d r a g g i n g t h e m , — d r a g g i n g his t r a p . H e w a s a lucky fox that left his tail in the trap. T h e m u s k r a t will g n a w his third leg off to be free. N o w o n d e r m a n h a s lost his elasticity. H o w often he is at a d e a d set! "Sir, if I m a y be s o bold, w h a t do you m e a n by a d e a d s e t ? " If you are a seer, whenever you m e e t a m a n you will s e e all that he o w n s , ay, a n d m u c h that h e p r e t e n d s to d i s o w n , b e h i n d h i m , even to his kitchen furniture a n d all the trumpery which h e s a v e s a n d will not b u r n , a n d h e will a p p e a r to b e harn e s s e d to it a n d m a k i n g w h a t h e a d w a y he c a n . I think that the m a n is at a d e a d set who h a s got t h r o u g h a knot h o l e or g a t e w a y w h e r e his s l e d g e load of furniture c a n n o t follow h i m . I c a n n o t but feel c o m p a s s i o n w h e n I hear s o m e trig, c o m p a c t - l o o k i n g m a n , s e e m i n g l y free, all girded a n d ready, s p e a k of his " f u r n i t u r e , " a s w h e t h e r it is i n s u r e d or not. " B u t w h a t shall I d o with my f u r n i t u r e ? " M y gay butterfly is e n t a n g l e d in a spider's w e b t h e n . E v e n t h o s e w h o s e e m for a l o n g while not to have any, if you inquire m o r e narrowly you will find have s o m e stored in s o m e b o d y ' s b a r n . I look u p o n E n g l a n d today as a n old g e n t l e m a n w h o is travelling with a great deal of b a g g a g e , t r u m p ery which h a s a c c u m u l a t e d from long h o u s e k e e p i n g , which h e h a s not the c o u r a g e to b u r n ; great trunk, little trunk, b a n d b o x a n d b u n d l e . T h r o w away the first three at least. It would s u r p a s s the p o w e r s of a well m a n n o w a d a y s to take u p his b e d a n d walk, a n d I s h o u l d certainly a d v i s e a sick o n e to lay down his b e d a n d r u n . W h e n I have m e t a n i m m i g r a n t tottering u n d e r a b u n d l e which c o n t a i n e d his a l l , — l o o k i n g like an e n o r m o u s w e n which h a d grown out of the n a p e of his n e c k , — I have pitied h i m , not b e c a u s e that w a s his all, but b e c a u s e he h a d all that to carry. If I have got to d r a g my trap, I will take c a r e that it b e a light o n e a n d do not nip m e in a vital part. B u t p e r c h a n c e it would b e wisest never to p u t one's p a w into it. I would o b s e r v e , by the way, that it c o s t s m e n o t h i n g for c u r t a i n s , for I have n o gazers to s h u t o u t but the s u n a n d m o o n , a n d I a m willing that they s h o u l d look in. T h e m o o n will not s o u r milk nor taint m e a t of m i n e , nor will the s u n injure my furniture or fade my c a r p e t , a n d if h e is s o m e t i m e s too w a r m a friend, I find it still better e c o n o m y to retreat b e h i n d s o m e curtain which n a t u r e h a s provided, than to a d d a single item to the details of h o u s e keeping. A lady o n c e offered m e a m a t , b u t a s I h a d no r o o m to s p a r e within the h o u s e , nor time to s p a r e within or without to s h a k e it, I d e c l i n e d it, preferring to wipe my feet on the s o d before my door. It is b e s t to avoid the b e g i n n i n g s of evil. N o t long s i n c e I w a s p r e s e n t at the a u c t i o n of a d e a c o n ' s effects, for his life h a d not b e e n i n e f f e c t u a l : — " T h e evil that m e n do lives after t h e m . " 5 A s u s u a l , a great proportion w a s t r u m p e r y which h a d b e g u n to a c c u m u l a t e in his father's day. A m o n g the rest w a s a dried t a p e w o r m . A n d now, after 4. D i s c a r d e d o b j e c t s (Latin). 5. T a g from A n t o n y ' s s p e e c h to the citizens, in

S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Julius

Caesar

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lying half a century in his garret a n d other d u s t holes, t h e s e things were not b u r n e d ; i n s t e a d of a bonfire, or purifying d e s t r u c t i o n of t h e m , there w a s a n auction, or i n c r e a s i n g of t h e m . 6 T h e neighbors eagerly c o l l e c t e d to view t h e m , b o u g h t t h e m all, a n d carefully t r a n s p o r t e d t h e m to their garrets a n d d u s t h o l e s , to lie there till their e s t a t e s are settled, w h e n they will start a g a i n . W h e n a m a n dies he kicks the d u s t . T h e c u s t o m s of s o m e s a v a g e nations might, p e r c h a n c e , b e profitably imitated by u s , for they at least g o through the s e m b l a n c e of c a s t i n g their s l o u g h annually; they have the idea of the thing, w h e t h e r they have the reality or not. W o u l d it not b e well if we were to c e l e b r a t e s u c h a " b u s k , " or "feast of first fruits," a s B a r t r a m 7 d e s c r i b e s to have b e e n the c u s t o m of the M u c c l a s s e I n d i a n s ? " W h e n a town c e l e b r a t e s the b u s k , " says h e , " h a v i n g previously provided t h e m s e l v e s with n e w c l o t h e s , new p o t s , p a n s , a n d other h o u s e h o l d utensils a n d furniture, they collect all their worn o u t c l o t h e s a n d other d e s p i c a b l e things, s w e e p a n d c l e a n s e their h o u s e s , s q u a r e s , a n d the w h o l e town, of their filth, which with all the r e m a i n i n g grain a n d other old provisions they c a s t together into o n e c o m m o n h e a p , a n d c o n s u m e it with fire. After having taken m e d i c i n e , a n d fasted for three days, all the fire in the town is extinguished. D u r i n g this fast they a b s t a i n from the gratification of every appetite a n d p a s s i o n whatever. A general a m n e s t y is p r o c l a i m e d ; all m a l e factors may return to their t o w n . — " " O n the fourth m o r n i n g , the high priest, by r u b b i n g dry w o o d together, p r o d u c e s n e w fire in the public s q u a r e , from w h e n c e every h a b i t a t i o n in the town is s u p p l i e d with the n e w a n d p u r e f l a m e . " T h e y then feast on the n e w corn a n d fruits a n d d a n c e a n d sing for three days, " a n d the four following days they receive visits a n d rejoice with their friends from n e i g h b o r i n g towns w h o have in like m a n n e r purified a n d prepared themselves." T h e M e x i c a n s also p r a c t i s e d a similar purification at the e n d of every fiftytwo years, in the belief that it w a s time for the world to c o m e to an e n d . I have scarcely h e a r d of a truer s a c r a m e n t , that is, a s the dictionary defines it, " o u t w a r d a n d visible sign of a n inward a n d spiritual g r a c e , " t h a n this, a n d I have n o d o u b t that they were originally inspired directly from H e a v e n to do t h u s , t h o u g h they have n o biblical record of the revelation. F o r m o r e than five years I m a i n t a i n e d myself t h u s solely by the labor of my h a n d s , a n d I f o u n d , that by working a b o u t six w e e k s in a year, I c o u l d meet all the e x p e n s e s of living. T h e w h o l e of my winters, a s well a s m o s t of my s u m m e r s , I h a d free a n d clear for study. I have thoroughly tried schoolkeeping, a n d f o u n d that my e x p e n s e s were in p r o p o r t i o n , or rather o u t of proportion, to my i n c o m e , for I w a s obliged to d r e s s a n d train, not to say think a n d believe, accordingly, a n d I lost my time into the b a r g a i n . A s I did not t e a c h for the g o o d of my fellow-men, but simply for a livelihood, this w a s a failure. I have tried t r a d e ; but I f o u n d that it w o u l d take ten years to get u n d e r way in that, a n d that then I s h o u l d probably be on my way to the devil. I w a s actually afraid that I might by that time b e d o i n g w h a t is called

6. T h o r e a u

puns

on the

which m e a n s "to increase."

Latin

r o o t o f auction,

7.

William

South

Carolina

Bartram,

T r a v e l s through

(1791).

North

and

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a good b u s i n e s s . W h e n formerly I w a s looking a b o u t to s e e what I c o u l d do for a living, s o m e s a d e x p e r i e n c e in c o n f o r m i n g to the w i s h e s of friends b e i n g fresh in my mind to tax my ingenuity, I thought often a n d seriously of picking h u c k l e b e r r i e s ; that surely I c o u l d d o , a n d its s m a l l profits might s u f f i c e , — for my g r e a t e s t skill h a s b e e n to w a n t but little,—so little capital it required, so little distraction from my wonted m o o d s , I foolishly t h o u g h t . While my a c q u a i n t a n c e s went unhesitatingly into trade or the p r o f e s s i o n s , I c o n t e m plated this o c c u p a t i o n a s m o s t like theirs; r a n g i n g the hills all s u m m e r to pick the berries which c a m e in my way, a n d thereafter carelessly d i s p o s e of t h e m ; s o , to keep the flocks of A d m e t u s . " I a l s o d r e a m e d that I might g a t h e r the wild herbs, or carry evergreens to s u c h villagers a s loved to be r e m i n d e d of the w o o d s , even to the city, by hay-cart l o a d s . B u t I have s i n c e learned that trade c u r s e s every thing it h a n d l e s ; a n d t h o u g h you trade in m e s s a g e s from h e a v e n , the w h o l e c u r s e of t r a d e a t t a c h e s to the b u s i n e s s . As I preferred s o m e things to o t h e r s , a n d especially v a l u e d my f r e e d o m , a s I c o u l d fare hard a n d yet s u c c e e d well, I did not wish to s p e n d my time in e a r n i n g rich c a r p e t s or other fine furniture, or d e l i c a t e cookery, or a h o u s e in the G r e c i a n or the G o t h i c style j u s t yet. If there are any to w h o m it is no interruption to a c q u i r e t h e s e things, a n d w h o know how to u s e t h e m w h e n a c q u i r e d , I relinquish to t h e m the p u r s u i t . S o m e a r e " i n d u s t r i o u s , " a n d a p p e a r to love labor for its own s a k e , or p e r h a p s b e c a u s e it k e e p s t h e m o u t of worse mischief; to s u c h I have at p r e s e n t n o t h i n g to say. T h o s e w h o w o u l d not know w h a t to do with m o r e leisure than they now enjoy, I might a d v i s e to work twice a s hard a s they d o , — w o r k till they pay for t h e m s e l v e s , a n d get their free p a p e r s . F o r myself I f o u n d that the o c c u p a t i o n of a day-laborer w a s the m o s t i n d e p e n d e n t of any, especially a s it r e q u i r e d only thirty or forty days in a year to s u p p o r t o n e . T h e laborer's day e n d s with the g o i n g d o w n of the s u n , a n d he is then free to devote h i m s e l f to his c h o s e n p u r s u i t , indep e n d e n t of his labor; but his employer, w h o s p e c u l a t e s from m o n t h to m o n t h , has no respite from o n e end of the year to the other. In short, I a m c o n v i n c e d , both by faith a n d e x p e r i e n c e , that to m a i n t a i n one's self on this e a r t h is not a h a r d s h i p but a p a s t i m e , if we will live simply a n d wisely; a s the p u r s u i t s of the simpler nations are still the sports of the m o r e artificial. It is not n e c e s s a r y that a m a n s h o u l d e a r n his living by the sweat of his brow, u n l e s s he s w e a t s e a s i e r than I d o . O n e y o u n g m a n of my a c q u a i n t a n c e , w h o h a s inherited s o m e a c r e s , told m e that h e t h o u g h t he s h o u l d live a s I did, if he had the means. I would not have any o n e a d o p t my m o d e of living on any a c c o u n t ; for, b e s i d e that before he h a s fairly learned it I may have f o u n d out a n o t h e r for myself, I d e s i r e that there m a y be as m a n y different p e r s o n s in the world a s p o s s i b l e ; b u t I would have e a c h o n e be very careful to find out a n d p u r s u e his own way, a n d not his father's or his m o t h e r ' s or his neighbor's i n s t e a d . T h e youth m a y build or plant or sail, only let him not be hindered from d o i n g that w h i c h he tells m e he would like to do. It is by a m a t h e m a t i c a l point only that w e a r e w i s e , a s the sailor or the fugitive slave k e e p s the p o l e s t a r in his eye; b u t that is sufficient g u i d a n c e for all our life. W e may not arrive at o u r port within a c a l c u l a b l e period, but we would preserve the true c o u r s e . U n d o u b t e d l y , in this c a s e , what is true for o n e is truer still for a t h o u s a n d , 8.

Apollo, G r e e k god of poetry, tended the docks of A d m e t u s while banished from

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a s a large h o u s e is not m o r e expensive than a small o n e in proportion to its size, s i n c e o n e roof may cover, o n e cellar u n d e r l i e , a n d o n e wall s e p a r a t e several a p a r t m e n t s . B u t for my part, I preferred the solitary dwelling. M o r e over, it will c o m m o n l y be c h e a p e r to build the whole yourself than to c o n vince a n o t h e r of the a d v a n t a g e of the c o m m o n wall; a n d w h e n you have d o n e this, the c o m m o n partition, to b e m u c h c h e a p e r , m u s t b e a thin o n e , a n d that other may prove a b a d neighbor, a n d a l s o not keep his side in repair. T h e only c o o p e r a t i o n which is c o m m o n l y p o s s i b l e is exceedingly partial a n d superficial; a n d what little true c o o p e r a t i o n there is, is a s if it were not, b e i n g a harmony i n a u d i b l e to m e n . If a m a n has faith he will c o o p e r a t e with e q u a l faith every w h e r e ; if he has not faith, he will c o n t i n u e to live like the rest of the world, whatever c o m p a n y he is j o i n e d to. T o c o o p e r a t e , in the highest a s well a s the lowest s e n s e , m e a n s to get our living together. I h e a r d it p r o p o s e d lately that two y o u n g m e n s h o u l d travel together over the world, the o n e without money, e a r n i n g his m e a n s a s he went, before the m a s t a n d b e h i n d the p l o u g h , the other carrying a bill of e x c h a n g e in his p o c k e t . It w a s e a s y to s e e that they c o u l d not long b e c o m p a n i o n s or c o o p e r a t e , s i n c e o n e would not operate at all. T h e y would part at the first interesting crisis in their adventures. A b o v e all, a s I have implied, the m a n w h o g o e s a l o n e c a n start today; but he w h o travels with a n o t h e r m u s t wait till that other is ready, a n d it may be a long time before they get off. B u t all this is very selfish, I have heard s o m e of my t o w n s m e n say. I c o n f e s s that I have hitherto indulged very little in philanthropic e n t e r p r i s e s . I have m a d e s o m e sacrifices to a s e n s e of duty, a n d a m o n g others have sacrificed this p l e a s u r e a l s o . T h e r e are t h o s e w h o have u s e d all their arts to p e r s u a d e m e to u n d e r t a k e the s u p p o r t of s o m e p o o r family in the town; a n d if I h a d nothing to d o , — f o r the devil finds e m p l o y m e n t for the i d l e , — I might try my h a n d at s o m e s u c h p a s t i m e a s that. H o w e v e r , w h e n I have t h o u g h t to i n d u l g e myself in this r e s p e c t , a n d lay their H e a v e n u n d e r an obligation by m a i n taining certain poor p e r s o n s in all r e s p e c t s a s c o m f o r t a b l y a s I m a i n t a i n myself, a n d have even ventured s o far a s to m a k e t h e m the offer, they have o n e a n d all unhesitatingly preferred to r e m a i n poor. While my t o w n s m e n a n d w o m e n are devoted in so m a n y ways to the g o o d of their fellows, I trust that o n e at least may be s p a r e d to other a n d less h u m a n e p u r s u i t s . You m u s t have a g e n i u s for charity a s well a s for any thing e l s e . As for D o i n g - g o o d , that is o n e of the p r o f e s s i o n s which are full. Moreover, I have tried it fairly, a n d , s t r a n g e a s it may s e e m , a m satisfied that it d o e s not a g r e e with my c o n s t i t u t i o n . Probably I s h o u l d not c o n s c i o u s l y a n d deliberately forsake my particular calling to d o the g o o d which society d e m a n d s of m e , to save the universe from annihilation; a n d I believe that a like but infinitely greater s t e a d f a s t n e s s e l s e w h e r e is all that now preserves it. B u t I w o u l d not s t a n d b e t w e e n any m a n a n d his g e n i u s ; a n d to him w h o d o e s this work, which I d e c l i n e , with his w h o l e heart a n d s o u l a n d life, I would say, P e r s e v e r e , even if the world call it d o i n g evil, a s it is m o s t likely they will. I a m far from s u p p o s i n g that my c a s e is a p e c u l i a r o n e ; no d o u b t m a n y of my r e a d e r s would m a k e a similar d e f e n c e . At d o i n g s o m e t h i n g , — I will not e n g a g e that my neighbors shall p r o n o u n c e it g o o d , — I do not hesitate to say that I s h o u l d be a capital fellow to hire; but what that is, it is for my e m p l o y e r to find out. W h a t good I d o , in the c o m m o n s e n s e of that word, m u s t be

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a s i d e from my m a i n p a t h , a n d for the m o s t part wholly u n i n t e n d e d . M e n say, practically, B e g i n w h e r e you a r e a n d s u c h a s you a r e , without a i m i n g mainly to b e c o m e of m o r e worth, a n d with k i n d n e s s a f o r e t h o u g h t g o a b o u t d o i n g g o o d . If I were to p r e a c h at all in this strain, I s h o u l d say rather, S e t a b o u t b e i n g g o o d . A s if the s u n s h o u l d s t o p w h e n he h a d kindled his fires up to the s p l e n d o r of a m o o n or a star of the sixth m a g n i t u d e , a n d go a b o u t like a R o b i n G o o d f e l l o w , 9 p e e p i n g in at every c o t t a g e window, inspiring l u n a t i c s , a n d tainting m e a t s , a n d m a k i n g d a r k n e s s visible, i n s t e a d of steadily i n c r e a s ing his genial heat a n d b e n e f i c e n c e till h e is of s u c h b r i g h t n e s s that n o mortal c a n look him in the f a c e , a n d then, a n d in the m e a n while too, g o i n g a b o u t the world in his own orbit, d o i n g it g o o d , or rather, a s a truer p h i l o s o p h y h a s discovered, the world g o i n g a b o u t him getting g o o d . W h e n P h a e t o n , 1 w i s h i n g to prove his heavenly birth by his b e n e f i c e n c e , h a d the sun's chariot but o n e day, a n d drove o u t of the b e a t e n track, h e b u r n e d several b l o c k s of h o u s e s in the lower streets of h e a v e n , a n d s c o r c h e d the s u r f a c e of the e a r t h , a n d dried u p every spring, a n d m a d e the great desert of S a h a r a , till at length J u p i t e r hurled him h e a d l o n g to the earth with a t h u n d e r b o l t , a n d the s u n , through grief at his d e a t h , did not s h i n e for a year. T h e r e is no o d o r s o b a d a s that which a r i s e s from g o o d n e s s tainted. It is h u m a n , it is divine, carrion. If I knew for a certainty that a m a n w a s c o m i n g to my h o u s e with the c o n s c i o u s d e s i g n of d o i n g m e g o o d , I s h o u l d run for my life, a s from that dry a n d p a r c h i n g wind of the African d e s e r t s called the s i m o o m , which fills the m o u t h a n d n o s e a n d e a r s a n d eyes with d u s t till you are s u f f o c a t e d , for fear that I s h o u l d get s o m e of his g o o d d o n e to m e , — s o m e of its virus m i n g l e d with my blood. N o , — i n this c a s e I w o u l d rather suffer evil the natural way. A m a n is not a g o o d man to m e b e c a u s e he will feed m e if I s h o u l d b e starving, or w a r m m e if I s h o u l d b e freezing, or pull m e out of a ditch if I s h o u l d ever fall into o n e . I c a n find you a N e w f o u n d l a n d d o g that will do a s m u c h . P h i l a n t h r o p y is not love for one's fellow-man in the b r o a d e s t s e n s e . H o w a r d 2 w a s n o d o u b t a n exceedingly kind a n d worthy m a n in his way, a n d h a s his reward; b u t , c o m p a r a t i v e l y s p e a k i n g , what are a h u n d r e d H o w a r d s to us, if their p h i l a n t h r o p y d o not help us in o u r b e s t e s t a t e , w h e n we are m o s t worthy to b e h e l p e d ? I never h e a r d of a p h i l a n t h r o p i c m e e t i n g in which it w a s sincerely p r o p o s e d to d o any g o o d to m e , or the like of m e . T h e J e s u i t s were quite balked by t h o s e I n d i a n s w h o , b e i n g b u r n e d at the s t a k e , s u g g e s t e d n e w m o d e s of torture to their t o r m e n t o r s . 3 B e i n g s u p e r i o r to physical suffering, it s o m e t i m e s c h a n c e d that they were s u p e r i o r to any c o n s o l a t i o n which the m i s s i o n a r i e s c o u l d offer; a n d the law to d o a s you would be d o n e by fell with less p e r s u a s i v e n e s s o n the e a r s of t h o s e , w h o , for their part, did not c a r e how they were d o n e by, w h o loved their e n e m i e s after a n e w f a s h i o n , a n d c a m e very n e a r freely forgiving t h e m all they did. B e s u r e that you give the p o o r the aid they m o s t n e e d , t h o u g h it b e your e x a m p l e which leaves t h e m far b e h i n d . If you give m o n e y , s p e n d yourself with it, a n d d o not merely a b a n d o n it to t h e m . W e m a k e c u r i o u s m i s t a k e s 9 . M i s c h i e v o u s f a i r y , k n o w n a s P u c k in S h a k e s p e a r e ' s A Midsummer Night's Dream. 1. In G r e e k m y t h o l o g y , t h e s o n o f H e l i o s . H e a t t e m p t e d to drive his father's c h a r i o t , t h e s u n , with disastrous c o n s e q u e n c e s .

2. J o h n H o w a r d ( 1 7 2 6 ? - ] 7 9 0 ) , E n g l i s h prison reformer. 3 . T h o r e a u ' s s o u r c e is u n k n o w n , b u t H a r d i n g c i t e s c o m p a r a b l e a c c o u n t s i n The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents ( 1 8 9 8 ) , vol. 17.

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s o m e t i m e s . Often the p o o r m a n is not s o cold a n d hungry a s h e is dirty a n d ragged a n d g r o s s . It is partly his t a s t e , a n d not merely his m i s f o r t u n e . If you give him m o n e y , h e will p e r h a p s buy m o r e rags with it. I w a s w o n t to pity the c l u m s y Irish laborers who c u t ice o n the p o n d , in s u c h m e a n a n d r a g g e d c l o t h e s , while I shivered in my m o r e tidy a n d s o m e w h a t m o r e f a s h i o n a b l e g a r m e n t s , till, o n e bitter c o l d day, o n e w h o had slipped into the w a t e r c a m e to my h o u s e to w a r m him, a n d I saw him strip off three pairs of p a n t s a n d two pairs of stockings ere he got down to the skin, t h o u g h they were dirty a n d ragged e n o u g h , it is true, a n d that he c o u l d afford to refuse the extra g a r m e n t s which I offered him, h e had so many intra o n e s . T h i s d u c k i n g w a s the very thing h e n e e d e d . T h e n I b e g a n to pity myself, a n d I s a w that it would be a greater charity to b e s t o w o n m e a flannel shirt than a w h o l e s l o p - s h o p on h i m . T h e r e are a t h o u s a n d h a c k i n g at the b r a n c h e s of evil to o n e w h o is striking at the root, a n d it m a y b e that h e w h o b e s t o w s the largest a m o u n t of time a n d m o n e y on the n e e d y is doing the m o s t by his m o d e of life to p r o d u c e that misery which h e strives in vain to relieve. It is the p i o u s slaveb r e e d e r devoting the p r o c e e d s of every tenth slave to buy a S u n d a y ' s liberty for the rest. S o m e s h o w their k i n d n e s s to the p o o r by e m p l o y i n g t h e m in their k i t c h e n s . W o u l d they not be kinder if they e m p l o y e d t h e m s e l v e s there? You b o a s t of s p e n d i n g a tenth part of your i n c o m e in charity; may b e you s h o u l d s p e n d the nine t e n t h s s o , a n d d o n e with it. S o c i e t y recovers only a tenth part of the property t h e n . Is this owing to the generosity of him in w h o s e p o s s e s s i o n it is f o u n d , or to the r e m i s s n e s s of the officers of j u s t i c e ? Philanthropy is a l m o s t the only virtue which is sufficiently a p p r e c i a t e d by m a n k i n d . N a y , it is greatly overrated; a n d it is our selfishness which overrates it. A r o b u s t p o o r m a n , o n e s u n n y day h e r e in C o n c o r d , p r a i s e d a fellowt o w n s m a n to m e , b e c a u s e , as he said, h e w a s kind to the p o o r ; m e a n i n g himself. T h e kind u n c l e s a n d a u n t s of the r a c e are m o r e e s t e e m e d t h a n its true spiritual fathers a n d m o t h e r s . I o n c e h e a r d a reverend lecturer o n E n g l a n d , a m a n of learning a n d intelligence, after e n u m e r a t i n g her scientific, literary, a n d political worthies, S h a k s p e a r e , B a c o n , C r o m w e l l , M i l t o n , Newton, a n d o t h e r s , s p e a k next of her C h r i s t i a n h e r o e s , w h o m , a s if his p r o f e s s i o n required it of him, he elevated to a p l a c e far a b o v e all the rest, a s the g r e a t e s t of the great. T h e y were P e n n , H o w a r d , a n d M r s . F r y . 4 Every o n e m u s t feel the f a l s e h o o d a n d c a n t of this. T h e last were not E n g l a n d ' s b e s t m e n a n d w o m e n ; only, p e r h a p s , her b e s t p h i l a n t h r o p i s t s . I would not s u b t r a c t any thing from the p r a i s e that is d u e to philanthropy, but merely d e m a n d j u s t i c e for all w h o by their lives a n d works are a b l e s s i n g to m a n k i n d . I d o not value chiefly a m a n ' s u p r i g h t n e s s a n d b e n e v o l e n c e , which a r e , a s it w e r e , his s t e m a n d leaves. T h o s e p l a n t s of w h o s e g r e e n n e s s withered we m a k e herb tea for the sick, serve but a h u m b l e u s e , a n d a r e m o s t e m p l o y e d by q u a c k s . I want the flower a n d fruit of a m a n ; that s o m e f r a g r a n c e b e wafted over from him to m e , a n d s o m e r i p e n e s s flavor o u r interc o u r s e . His g o o d n e s s m u s t not b e a partial a n d transitory act, but a c o n s t a n t superfluity, which c o s t s him nothing a n d of which he is u n c o n s c i o u s . T h i s is a charity that hides a m u l t i t u d e of sins. T h e philanthropist too often surr o u n d s m a n k i n d with the r e m e m b r a n c e of his own cast-off griefs a s a n a t m o 4.

Elizabeth Fry ( 1 7 8 0 - 1 8 4 5 ) , English Q u a k e r a n d prison reformer. William P e n n ( 1 6 4 4 - 1 7 1 8 ) ,

l e a d e r a n d p r o p r i e t o r o f P e n n s y l v a n i a . J o h n H o w a r d ( s e e n. 2 , p . 8 9 2 ) .

Quaker

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s p h e r e , a n d calls it sympathy. W e s h o u l d impart o u r c o u r a g e , a n d not our d e s p a i r , our health a n d e a s e , a n d not our d i s e a s e , a n d take c a r e that this d o e s not s p r e a d by c o n t a g i o n . F r o m what southern p l a i n s c o m e s u p the voice of wailing? U n d e r what latitudes reside the h e a t h e n to w h o m w e w o u l d s e n d light? W h o is that i n t e m p e r a t e a n d brutal m a n w h o m w e would r e d e e m ? If any thing ail a m a n , s o that he d o e s not perform his f u n c t i o n s , if h e have a p a i n in his bowels e v e n , — f o r that is the seat of s y m p a t h y , — h e forthwith s e t s a b o u t r e f o r m i n g — t h e world. B e i n g a m i c r o c o s m himself, h e d i s c o v e r s , a n d it is a true discovery, a n d he is the m a n to m a k e i t , — t h a t the world h a s b e e n eating g r e e n a p p l e s ; to his eyes, in fact, the g l o b e itself is a great green a p p l e , which there is d a n g e r awful to think of that the c h i l d r e n of m e n will nibble b e f o r e it is ripe; a n d straightway his drastic p h i l a n t h r o p y s e e k s out the E s q u i m a u x a n d the P a t a g o n i a n , a n d e m b r a c e s the p o p u l o u s I n d i a n a n d C h i n e s e villages; a n d t h u s , by a few years of p h i l a n t h r o p i c activity, the powers in the m e a n while u s i n g him for their own e n d s , no d o u b t , he c u r e s himself of his d y s p e p s i a , the g l o b e a c q u i r e s a faint b l u s h o n o n e or both of its c h e e k s , a s if it were b e g i n n i n g to be ripe, a n d life loses its crudity a n d is o n c e m o r e sweet a n d w h o l e s o m e to live. I never d r e a m e d of any enormity greater than I have c o m m i t t e d . I never knew, a n d never shall know, a worse m a n than myself. I believe that what so s a d d e n s the reformer is not his s y m p a t h y with his fellows in d i s t r e s s , b u t , t h o u g h he be the holiest son of G o d , is his private ail. Let this be righted, let the spring c o m e to him, the m o r n i n g rise over his c o u c h , a n d h e will forsake his g e n e r o u s c o m p a n i o n s without apology. M y e x c u s e for not l e c t u r i n g a g a i n s t the u s e of t o b a c c o is, that I never c h e w e d it; that is a penalty which reformed t o b a c c o - c h e w e r s have to pay; t h o u g h there are things e n o u g h I have c h e w e d , which I c o u l d lecture a g a i n s t . If you s h o u l d ever b e betrayed into any of t h e s e p h i l a n t h r o p i e s , d o not let your left h a n d know what your right hand d o e s , for it is not worth knowing. R e s c u e the d r o w n i n g a n d tie your s h o e - s t r i n g s . T a k e your t i m e , a n d set a b o u t s o m e free labor. O u r m a n n e r s have b e e n c o r r u p t e d by c o m m u n i c a t i o n with the s a i n t s . O u r hymn-books r e s o u n d with a m e l o d i o u s c u r s i n g of G o d a n d e n d u r i n g him forever. O n e would say that even the p r o p h e t s a n d r e d e e m e r s had rather c o n s o l e d the fears than c o n f i r m e d the h o p e s of m a n . T h e r e is n o w h e r e r e c o r d e d a s i m p l e a n d irrepressible satisfaction with the gift of life, any m e m orable p r a i s e of G o d . All health a n d s u c c e s s d o e s m e g o o d , however far off a n d withdrawn it m a y a p p e a r ; all d i s e a s e a n d failure helps to m a k e m e s a d a n d d o e s m e evil, however m u c h s y m p a t h y it may have with m e or I with it. If, then, we would i n d e e d restore m a n k i n d by truly I n d i a n , b o t a n i c , m a g netic, or natural m e a n s , let u s first be a s s i m p l e a n d well a s N a t u r e o u r s e l v e s , dispel the c l o u d s which h a n g over our own b r o w s , a n d take u p a little life into our p o r e s . D o not stay to be a n overseer of the poor, but e n d e a v o r to b e c o m e o n e of the worthies of the world. I read in the G u l i s t a n , or Flower G a r d e n , of S h e i k S a d i of S h i r a z , that " T h e y a s k e d a wise m a n , saying; O f the m a n y c e l e b r a t e d trees which the M o s t H i g h G o d has c r e a t e d lofty a n d u m b r a g e o u s , they call n o n e a z a d , or free, excepting the c y p r e s s , which b e a r s no fruit; what mystery is there in this? H e replied; E a c h has its a p p r o p r i a t e p r o d u c e , a n d a p p o i n t e d s e a s o n , during the c o n t i n u a n c e of which it is fresh a n d b l o o m i n g , a n d d u r i n g their

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a b s e n c e dry a n d withered; to neither of which s t a t e s is the c y p r e s s e x p o s e d , being always flourishing; a n d of this n a t u r e are the a z a d s , or religious indep e n d e n t s . — F i x not thy heart on that which is transitory; for the D i j l a h , or Tigris, will c o n t i n u e to flow through B a g d a d after the r a c e of c a l i p h s is extinct: if thy h a n d has plenty, be liberal as the d a t e tree; but if it affords n o t h i n g to give away, be a n a z a d , or free m a n , like the c y p r e s s . " 5 Complemental THE

PRETENSIONS

Verses6 OF

POVERTY

" T h o u dost p r e s u m e too m u c h , p o o r needy w r e t c h , T o claim a station in the firmament, B e c a u s e thy h u m b l e c o t t a g e , or thy t u b , N u r s e s s o m e lazy or p e d a n t i c virtue In the c h e a p s u n s h i n e or by s h a d y s p r i n g s , With roots a n d p o t - h e r b s ; w h e r e thy right h a n d , T e a r i n g t h o s e h u m a n e p a s s i o n s from the m i n d , U p o n w h o s e s t o c k s fair b l o o m i n g virtues flourish, Degradeth nature, and benumbeth sense, A n d , Gorgon-like, turns active m e n to s t o n e . 7 W e not require the dull society O f your n e c e s s i t a t e d t e m p e r a n c e , O r that u n n a t u r a l stupidity T h a t knows nor joy nor sorrow; nor your forc'd F a l s e l y exalted p a s s i v e fortitude Above the active. T h i s low a b j e c t b r o o d , T h a t fix their s e a t s in mediocrity, B e c o m e your servile m i n d s ; but we a d v a n c e S u c h virtues only a s a d m i t e x c e s s , B r a v e , b o u n t e o u s a c t s , regal m a g n i f i c e n c e , All-seeing p r u d e n c e , m a g n a n i m i t y T h a t knows no b o u n d , a n d that heroic virtue F o r which antiquity hath left n o n a m e , B u t p a t t e r n s only, s u c h as H e r c u l e s , Achilles, T h e s e u s . B a c k to thy loath'd cell; And when thou s e e s t the new e n l i g h t e n e d s p h e r e , S t u d y to know but what t h o s e worthies w e r e . " — T .

2.

Where I Lived, and What I Lived

CAREW

For

At a certain s e a s o n of our life w e a r e a c c u s t o m e d to c o n s i d e r every spot a s the p o s s i b l e site of a h o u s e . I have t h u s surveyed the country o n every side within a dozen miles of where I live. In i m a g i n a t i o n I have b o u g h t all the f a r m s in s u c c e s s i o n , for all were to be b o u g h t a n d I knew their p r i c e . I walked over e a c h farmer's p r e m i s e s , tasted his wild a p p l e s , d i s c o u r s e d on h u s b a n d r y with him, took his farm at his p r i c e , at any p r i c e , m o r t g a g i n g it 5. M u s l i h - u d - D i n (Saadi) (1184?—1291), The Gulistan or Rose Garden. 6 . F r o m Caelum Rrhannicum by t h e E n g l i s h C a v alier poet T h o m a s C a r e w {I 5 9 5 ? - 1 6 4 5 ? ) , offered

ironically a s a retort to " E c o n o m y . " 7. I n C r e e k m y t h o l o g y t h e G o r g o n s w e r e t h r e e s i s ters w h o , with s n a k e s for hair a n d e y e s , t u r n e d a n y beholder into stone.

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to him in my m i n d ; even put a higher price o n i t , — t o o k every thing but a d e e d of i t , — t o o k his word for his d e e d , for I dearly love to t a l k , — c u l t i v a t e d it, a n d him too to s o m e extent, I trust, a n d withdrew w h e n I h a d enjoyed it long e n o u g h , leaving him to carry it o n . T h i s e x p e r i e n c e entitled m e to be r e g a r d e d a s a sort of real-estate broker by my friends. W h e r e v e r I sat, there I might live, a n d the l a n d s c a p e r a d i a t e d from m e accordingly. W h a t is a h o u s e b u t a sed.es, a s e a t ? — b e t t e r if a country s e a t . I d i s c o v e r e d m a n y a site for a h o u s e not likely to be s o o n i m p r o v e d , which s o m e might have t h o u g h t too far from the village, but to my eyes the village w a s too far from it. Well, t h e r e I might live, I said; a n d there I did live, for an hour, a s u m m e r a n d a winter life; saw h o w I c o u l d let the years run off, buffet the winter t h r o u g h , a n d s e e the spring c o m e in. T h e future i n h a b i t a n t s of this region, wherever they may p l a c e their h o u s e s , m a y b e s u r e that they have b e e n a n t i c i p a t e d . An afternoon sufficed to lay o u t the l a n d into o r c h a r d w o o d l o t a n d p a s t u r e , a n d to d e c i d e what fine o a k s or p i n e s s h o u l d be left to s t a n d before the door, a n d w h e n c e e a c h b l a s t e d tree c o u l d be s e e n to the b e s t a d v a n t a g e ; a n d then I let it lie, fallow p e r c h a n c e , for a m a n is rich in proportion to the n u m b e r of things which he c a n afford to let a l o n e . M y i m a g i n a t i o n carried m e s o far that I even h a d the refusal of several f a r m s , — t h e refusal w a s all I w a n t e d , — b u t I never got my fingers b u r n e d by a c t u a l p o s s e s s i o n . T h e n e a r e s t that I c a m e to a c t u a l p o s s e s s i o n w a s w h e n I b o u g h t the Hollowell P l a c e , a n d h a d b e g u n to sort my s e e d s , a n d c o l l e c t e d materials with which to m a k e a w h e e l b a r r o w to carry it o n or off with; but before the owner gave m e a d e e d of it, his wife—every m a n h a s s u c h a w i f e — c h a n g e d her m i n d a n d w i s h e d to k e e p it, a n d h e offered m e ten dollars to r e l e a s e h i m . N o w , to s p e a k the truth, I h a d b u t ten c e n t s in the world, a n d it s u r p a s s e d my a r i t h m e t i c to tell, if I w a s that m a n w h o h a d ten c e n t s , or w h o h a d a f a r m , or ten dollars, or all together. H o w e v e r , I let him keep the ten dollars a n d the farm too, for I h a d carried it far e n o u g h ; or rather, to be g e n e r o u s , I sold him the farm for j u s t w h a t I gave for it, a n d , a s he w a s not a rich m a n , m a d e him a p r e s e n t of ten dollars, a n d still h a d my ten c e n t s , a n d s e e d s , a n d m a t e r i a l s for a w h e e l b a r r o w left. I f o u n d t h u s that I h a d b e e n a rich m a n without any d a m a g e to my poverty. B u t I retained the l a n d s c a p e , a n d I have s i n c e annually carried off w h a t it yielded without a w h e e l b a r r o w . With r e s p e c t to l a n d s c a p e s , — "I a m m o n a r c h of all I survey, M y right there is n o n e to d i s p u t e . " 8 I have frequently s e e n a p o e t withdraw, h a v i n g enjoyed the m o s t v a l u a b l e part of a farm, while the crusty f a r m e r s u p p o s e d that he h a d got a few wild a p p l e s only. Why, the owner d o e s not know it for m a n y years w h e n a p o e t h a s p u t his farm in r h y m e , the m o s t a d m i r a b l e kind of invisible f e n c e , h a s fairly i m p o u n d e d it, milked it, s k i m m e d it, a n d got all the c r e a m , a n d left the f a r m e r only the s k i m m e d milk. T h e real attractions of the Hollowell f a r m , to m e , w e r e ; its c o m p l e t e retirement, b e i n g a b o u t two miles from the village, half a mile from the n e a r e s t n e i g h b o r , a n d s e p a r a t e d from the highway by a b r o a d field; its 8. W i l l i a m C o w p e r ' s " V e r s e s S u p p o s e d to B e W r i t t e n by A l e x a n d e r S e l k i r k , " with t h e p u n italicized. S e l k i r k w a s D a n i e l D e f o e ' s m o d e l for R o b i n s o n C r u s o e .

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b o u n d i n g on the river, which the owner said p r o t e c t e d it by its fogs from frosts in the spring, t h o u g h that w a s nothing to m e ; the gray color a n d r u i n o u s state of the h o u s e a n d barn, a n d the dilapidated f e n c e s , which put s u c h a n interval b e t w e e n m e a n d the last o c c u p a n t ; the hollow a n d lichencovered a p p l e trees, g n a w e d by rabbits, showing what kind of n e i g h b o r s I s h o u l d h a v e ; but a b o v e all, the recollection I h a d of it f r o m my earliest voyages up the river, w h e n the h o u s e w a s c o n c e a l e d b e h i n d a d e n s e grove of red m a p l e s , t h r o u g h which I heard the h o u s e - d o g bark. I w a s in h a s t e to buy it, before the proprietor finished getting o u t s o m e r o c k s , c u t t i n g d o w n the hollow a p p l e trees, a n d g r u b b i n g u p s o m e y o u n g b i r c h e s w h i c h h a d s p r u n g u p in the p a s t u r e , or, in short, h a d m a d e any m o r e of his improvem e n t s . T o enjoy t h e s e a d v a n t a g e s I w a s ready to carry it o n ; like A t l a s , 9 to take the world o n my s h o u l d e r s , — I never h e a r d w h a t c o m p e n s a t i o n h e received for t h a t , — a n d do all t h o s e things which h a d no other motive or e x c u s e b u t that I might pay for it a n d be u n m o l e s t e d in my p o s s e s s i o n of it; for I knew all the while that it would yield the m o s t a b u n d a n t c r o p of the kind I w a n t e d if I c o u l d only afford to let it a l o n e . B u t it t u r n e d out a s I have said. All that I c o u l d say, then, with r e s p e c t to f a r m i n g on a large s c a l e , (I have always cultivated a g a r d e n , ) w a s , that I h a d h a d my s e e d s ready. M a n y think that s e e d s improve with a g e . I have no d o u b t that time d i s c r i m i n a t e s b e t w e e n the g o o d a n d the b a d ; a n d w h e n at last I shall plant, I shall b e less likely to b e d i s a p p o i n t e d . B u t I would say to m y fellows, o n c e for all, As l o n g a s p o s s i b l e live free a n d u n c o m m i t t e d . It m a k e s b u t little difference w h e t h e r you a r e c o m m i t t e d to a farm or the c o u n t y jail. O l d C a t o , w h o s e " D e R e R u s t i c a " is my " C u l t i v a t o r , " says, a n d the only translation I have s e e n m a k e s s h e e r n o n s e n s e of the p a s s a g e , " W h e n you think of getting a farm, turn it t h u s in your m i n d , not to b u y greedily; nor s p a r e your p a i n s to look at it, a n d do not think it e n o u g h to go r o u n d it o n c e . T h e oftener you go there the m o r e it will p l e a s e you, if it is g o o d . " 1 I think I shall not buy greedily, but go r o u n d a n d r o u n d it a s long a s I live, a n d be buried in it first, that it m a y p l e a s e m e the m o r e at last. T h e p r e s e n t w a s my next experiment of this kind, w h i c h I p u r p o s e to d e s c r i b e m o r e at length; for c o n v e n i e n c e , p u t t i n g the e x p e r i e n c e of two years into o n e . As I have said, I d o not p r o p o s e to write a n o d e to d e j e c t i o n , but to b r a g as lustily as c h a n t i c l e e r in the m o r n i n g , s t a n d i n g on his roost, if only to w a k e my neighbors u p . W h e n first I took up my a b o d e in the w o o d s , that is, b e g a n to s p e n d my nights a s well a s days there, w h i c h , by a c c i d e n t , w a s o n I n d e p e n d e n c e Day, or the fourth of J u l y , 1 8 4 5 , my h o u s e w a s not finished for winter, but w a s merely a d e f e n c e a g a i n s t the rain, without p l a s t e r i n g or c h i m n e y , the walls b e i n g of r o u g h w e a t h e r - s t a i n e d b o a r d s , with wide c h i n k s , which m a d e it cool at night. T h e upright white hewn s t u d s a n d freshly p l a n e d d o o r a n d window c a s i n g s gave it a c l e a n a n d airy look, especially in the m o r n i n g , w h e n its timbers were s a t u r a t e d with dew, s o that I f a n c i e d that by n o o n s o m e sweet g u m would e x u d e from t h e m . T o my i m a g i n a t i o n it r e t a i n e d t h r o u g h o u t the 9. A Titan w h o m Z e u s forced to s t a n d on the earth s u p p o r t i n g t h e h e a v e n s o n h i s h e a d a n d in h i s h a n d s a s p u n i s h m e n t for w a r r i n g a g a i n s t t h e

Olympian gods, 1. De agri cultura

1.1.

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day m o r e or less of this auroral c h a r a c t e r , r e m i n d i n g m e of a certain h o u s e o n a m o u n t a i n w h i c h I h a d visited the year b e f o r e . T h i s w a s a n airy a n d u n p l a s t e r e d c a b i n , fit to entertain a travelling g o d , a n d where a g o d d e s s might trail her g a r m e n t s . T h e winds which p a s s e d over my dwelling were s u c h a s s w e e p over the ridges of m o u n t a i n s , b e a r i n g the b r o k e n s t r a i n s , or celestial p a r t s only, of terrestrial m u s i c . T h e m o r n i n g wind forever blows, the p o e m of creation is u n i n t e r r u p t e d ; but few are the e a r s that h e a r it. O l y m p u s is but the o u t s i d e of the earth every w h e r e . T h e only h o u s e I h a d b e e n the o w n e r of b e f o r e , if I except a boat, w a s a tent, which I u s e d o c c a s i o n a l l y w h e n m a k i n g e x c u r s i o n s in the s u m m e r , a n d this is still rolled u p in my garret; but the boat, after p a s s i n g from h a n d to h a n d , h a s g o n e down the s t r e a m of t i m e . With this m o r e s u b s t a n t i a l shelter a b o u t m e , I h a d m a d e s o m e p r o g r e s s toward settling in the world. T h i s f r a m e , so slightly c l a d , w a s a sort of crystallization a r o u n d m e , a n d r e a c t e d on the builder. It w a s s u g g e s t i v e s o m e w h a t a s a picture in o u t l i n e s . I did not n e e d to go out d o o r s to take the air, for the a t m o s p h e r e within h a d lost n o n e of its f r e s h n e s s . It w a s not s o m u c h within doors as b e h i n d a d o o r w h e r e I sat, even in the rainiest w e a t h e r . T h e H a r i v a n s a 2 says, "An a b o d e without birds is like a m e a t without s e a s o n i n g . " S u c h w a s not my a b o d e , for I f o u n d myself s u d d e n l y n e i g h b o r to the birds; not by having i m p r i s o n e d o n e , but having c a g e d myself n e a r t h e m . I w a s not only nearer to s o m e of t h o s e w h i c h c o m monly frequent the g a r d e n a n d the o r c h a r d , but to t h o s e wilder a n d m o r e thrilling s o n g s t e r s of the forest which never, or rarely, s e r e n a d e a villager,— the w o o d - t h r u s h , the veery, the scarlet t a n a g e r , the field-sparrow, the whippoorwill, a n d m a n y o t h e r s . I w a s s e a t e d by the s h o r e of a small p o n d , a b o u t a m i l e a n d a half s o u t h of the village of C o n c o r d a n d s o m e w h a t higher t h a n it, in the midst of an extensive wood b e t w e e n that town a n d L i n c o l n , a n d a b o u t two miles s o u t h of that our only field known to f a m e , C o n c o r d B a t t l e G r o u n d ; 3 but I w a s so low in the w o o d s that the o p p o s i t e s h o r e , half a mile off, like the rest, covered with w o o d , w a s my m o s t d i s t a n t horizon. F o r the first week, w h e n e v e r I looked out on the p o n d it i m p r e s s e d m e like a t a r n 4 high u p on the side of a m o u n t a i n , its b o t t o m far a b o v e the s u r f a c e of other l a k e s , a n d , a s the s u n a r o s e , I s a w it throwing off its nightly clothing of m i s t , a n d here a n d t h e r e , by d e g r e e s , its soft ripples or its s m o o t h reflecting s u r f a c e w a s revealed, while the m i s t s , like g h o s t s , were stealthily withdrawing in every direction into the w o o d s , a s at the b r e a k i n g u p of s o m e n o c t u r n a l c o n v e n t i c l e . T h e very d e w s e e m e d to h a n g u p o n the trees later into the day t h a n u s u a l , a s o n the sides of m o u n t a i n s . T h i s small lake w a s of m o s t value a s a n e i g h b o r in the intervals of a gentle rain storm in A u g u s t , w h e n , both air a n d water b e i n g perfectly still, but the sky overcast, mid-afternoon h a d all the serenity of evening, a n d the w o o d t h r u s h s a n g a r o u n d , a n d w a s h e a r d from s h o r e to s h o r e . A lake like this is never s m o o t h e r t h a n at s u c h a t i m e ; a n d the clear portion of the air a b o v e it being shallow a n d d a r k e n e d by c l o u d s , the water, full of light a n d reflections, b e c o m e s a lower h e a v e n itself s o m u c h the m o r e i m p o r t a n t . F r o m a hill top near by, w h e r e the w o o d h a d b e e n recently c u t off, there w a s a 2. A H i n d u epic p o e m . 3 . T h e s i t e o f h a t t l e o n t h e first d a y o f t h e A m e r -

i c a n R e v o l u t i o n , April 19, 1 7 7 5 . 4. L a k e .

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p l e a s i n g vista s o u t h w a r d a c r o s s the p o n d , through a wide indentation in the hills which form the s h o r e there, where their o p p o s i t e sides s l o p i n g toward e a c h other s u g g e s t e d a s t r e a m flowing out in that direction through a w o o d e d valley, but s t r e a m there w a s n o n e . T h a t way I looked b e t w e e n a n d over the near green hills to s o m e distant a n d higher o n e s in the horizon, tinged with b l u e . I n d e e d , by s t a n d i n g on tiptoe I could c a t c h a g l i m p s e of s o m e of the p e a k s of the still bluer a n d m o r e distant m o u n t a i n r a n g e s in the north-west, t h o s e true-blue coins from heaven's own mint, a n d also of s o m e portion of the village. B u t in other directions, even from this point, I c o u l d not s e e over or beyond the w o o d s which s u r r o u n d e d m e . It is well to have s o m e water in your n e i g h b o r h o o d , to give buoyancy to a n d float the e a r t h . O n e value even of the s m a l l e s t well is, that w h e n you look into it you s e e that earth is not continent but insular. T h i s is a s important as that it k e e p s butter cool. W h e n I looked a c r o s s the p o n d from this p e a k toward the S u d b u r y m e a d o w s , which in time of flood I d i s t i n g u i s h e d elevated p e r h a p s by a m i r a g e in their s e e t h i n g valley, like a coin in a b a s i n , all the earth beyond the p o n d a p p e a r e d like a thin crust i n s u l a t e d a n d floated even by this small sheet of intervening water, a n d I was r e m i n d e d that this on which I dwelt was but dry land. T h o u g h the view from my d o o r w a s still m o r e c o n t r a c t e d , I did not feel c r o w d e d or confined in the least. T h e r e w a s p a s t u r e e n o u g h for my imagination. T h e low s h r u b - o a k p l a t e a u to which the o p p o s i t e s h o r e a r o s e , stretched away toward the prairies of the W e s t a n d the s t e p p e s of Tartary, affording a m p l e r o o m for all the roving families of m e n . " T h e r e a r e n o n e happy in the world but b e i n g s w h o enjoy freely a vast h o r i z o n , " — s a i d D a m o d a r a , 5 w h e n his herds required new a n d larger p a s t u r e s . B o t h p l a c e a n d time were c h a n g e d , a n d I dwelt n e a r e r to t h o s e p a r t s of the universe a n d to t h o s e e r a s in history which had m o s t a t t r a c t e d m e . W h e r e I lived was a s far off a s m a n y a region viewed nightly by a s t r o n o m e r s . W e are wont to i m a g i n e rare a n d d e l e c t a b l e p l a c e s in s o m e r e m o t e a n d m o r e celestial c o r n e r of the system, b e h i n d the constellation of C a s s i o p e i a ' s C h a i r , far from noise a n d d i s t u r b a n c e . I discovered that my h o u s e actually had its site in s u c h a withdrawn, but forever new a n d u n p r o f a n e d , part of the universe. If it were worth the while to settle in t h o s e parts near to the P l e i a d e s or the H y a d e s , to A l d e b a r a n or Altair, 6 then I w a s really there, or at a n e q u a l r e m o t e n e s s from the life which I had left b e h i n d , dwindled a n d twinkling with a s fine a ray to my n e a r e s t neighbor, a n d to be s e e n only in m o o n l e s s nights by him. S u c h w a s that part of creation where I had s q u a t t e d ; — " T h e r e w a s a s h e p h e r d that did live, And held his t h o u g h t s as high A s were the m o u n t s w h e r e o n his flocks Did hourly feed him b y . " 7 W h a t s h o u l d we think of the s h e p h e r d ' s life if his flocks always w a n d e r e d to higher p a s t u r e s than his t h o u g h t s ? Every m o r n i n g w a s a cheerful invitation to m a k e my life of e q u a l simplic5. A n o t h e r n a m e for K r i s h n a , the e i g h t h a v a t a r of V i s h n u in H i n d u m y t h o l o g y ; T h o r e a u t r a n s l a t e s from a French edition of Itarivansa. 6 . A s t a r in t h e c o n s t e l l a t i o n A q u i l a . T h e P l e i a d e s a n d t h e H y a d e s a r e c o n s t e l l a t i o n s . A l d e b a r a n , in

t h e c o n s t e l l a t i o n T a u r u s , is o n e o f t h e b r i g h t e s t stars. 7. A n o n y m o u s J a c o b e a n v e r s e s e t t o m u s i c in The Muses Garden ( 1 6 1 1 ) a n d p r o b a b l y f o u n d by T h o r e a u in T h o m a s E v a n s ' s Old Ballads (1810).

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ity, a n d I may say i n n o c e n c e , with N a t u r e herself. I have b e e n a s s i n c e r e a w o r s h i p p e r of A u r o r a a s the G r e e k s . I got u p early a n d b a t h e d in the p o n d ; that w a s a religious exercise, a n d o n e of the b e s t things w h i c h I did. T h e y say that c h a r a c t e r s were engraven on the b a t h i n g tub of king T c h i n g - t h a n g to this effect: " R e n e w thyself c o m p l e t e l y e a c h day; do it a g a i n , a n d a g a i n , a n d forever a g a i n . " 8 I c a n u n d e r s t a n d that. M o r n i n g b r i n g s b a c k the heroic a g e s . I w a s a s m u c h affected by the faint h u m of a m o s q u i t o m a k i n g its invisible a n d u n i m a g i n a b l e tour t h r o u g h my a p a r t m e n t at earliest d a w n , w h e n I w a s sitting with d o o r a n d w i n d o w s o p e n , a s I c o u l d b e by any t r u m p e t that ever s a n g of f a m e . It w a s H o m e r ' s r e q u i e m ; itself a n Iliad a n d O d y s s e y in the air, s i n g i n g its own wrath a n d w a n d e r i n g s . T h e r e w a s s o m e t h i n g c o s mical a b o u t it; a s t a n d i n g a d v e r t i s e m e n t , till f o r b i d d e n , 9 o f the everlasting vigor a n d fertility of the world. T h e m o r n i n g , w h i c h is the m o s t m e m o r a b l e s e a s o n of the day, is the a w a k e n i n g h o u r . T h e n t h e r e is least s o m n o l e n c e in u s ; a n d for an hour, at least, s o m e part of u s a w a k e s w h i c h s l u m b e r s all the rest of the day a n d night. Little is to b e e x p e c t e d of that day, if it c a n b e called a day, to which we are not a w a k e n e d by o u r G e n i u s , but by the m e c h a n i c a l n u d g i n g s of s o m e servitor, are not a w a k e n e d by our own newlya c q u i r e d force a n d a s p i r a t i o n s from within, a c c o m p a n i e d by the u n d u l a t i o n s of celestial m u s i c , i n s t e a d of factory bells, a n d a f r a g r a n c e filling the a i r — t o a higher life than we fell a s l e e p f r o m ; a n d t h u s the d a r k n e s s b e a r its fruit, a n d prove itself to be g o o d , n o less t h a n the light. T h a t m a n w h o d o e s not believe that e a c h day c o n t a i n s a n earlier, m o r e s a c r e d , a n d a u r o r a l h o u r t h a n he h a s yet p r o f a n e d , has d e s p a i r e d of life, a n d is p u r s u i n g a d e s c e n d i n g a n d d a r k e n i n g way. After a partial c e s s a t i o n of his s e n s u o u s life, the soul of m a n , or its o r g a n s rather, are reinvigorated e a c h day, a n d his G e n i u s tries again what n o b l e life it c a n m a k e . All m e m o r a b l e events, I s h o u l d say, transpire in m o r n i n g time a n d in a m o r n i n g a t m o s p h e r e . T h e V e d a s 1 say, "All intellig e n c e s a w a k e with the m o r n i n g . " Poetry a n d art, a n d the fairest a n d m o s t m e m o r a b l e of the a c t i o n s of m e n , d a t e from s u c h an h o u r . All p o e t s a n d h e r o e s , like M e m n o n , a r e the children of A u r o r a , a n d e m i t their m u s i c at s u n r i s e . 2 T o him w h o s e elastic a n d vigorous t h o u g h t k e e p s p a c e with the s u n , the day is a p e r p e t u a l m o r n i n g . It m a t t e r s not what the c l o c k s say or the a t t i t u d e s a n d labors of m e n . M o r n i n g is w h e n I a m a w a k e a n d there is a d a w n in m e . M o r a l reform is the effort to throw off s l e e p . W h y is it that m e n give s o p o o r an a c c o u n t of their day if they have not b e e n s l u m b e r i n g ? T h e y are not s u c h p o o r c a l c u l a t o r s . If they h a d not b e e n o v e r c o m e with d r o w s i n e s s they w o u l d have p e r f o r m e d s o m e t h i n g . T h e millions are a w a k e e n o u g h for physical labor; but only o n e in a million is a w a k e e n o u g h for effective intellectual exertion, only o n e in a h u n d r e d millions to a p o e t i c or divine life. T o b e a w a k e is to be alive. I have never yet m e t a m a n w h o w a s q u i t e a w a k e . H o w c o u l d I have looked him in the f a c e ? W e m u s t learn to r e a w a k e n a n d keep o u r s e l v e s a w a k e , not by m e c h a n i c a l aids, but by a n infinite e x p e c t a t i o n of the d a w n , which d o e s not f o r s a k e u s in our s o u n d e s t s l e e p . I know of n o m o r e e n c o u r a g i n g fact t h a n the u n q u e s t i o n a b l e ability of m a n to elevate his life by a c o n s c i o u s e n d e a v o r . It is s o m e 8 . C o n f u c i u s , The Great Learning, c h . 1. 9 . In n e w s p a p e r a d v e r t i s e m e n t s " T F " s i g n a l e d t o the c o m p o s i t o r that a n item w a s to be repeated d a i l y "till f o r b i d d e n . "

1. T h e V e d a s a r e H i n d u s c r i p t u r e s ; t h e q u o t a t i o n has not been located. 2. S e e n. 6, p . 8 7 1 .

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thing to b e able to paint a particular p i c t u r e , or to carve a s t a t u e , a n d s o to m a k e a few o b j e c t s beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve a n d paint the very a t m o s p h e r e a n d m e d i u m through which we look, which morally we c a n d o . T o affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts. Every m a n is tasked to m a k e his life, even in its details, worthy of the c o n t e m p l a t i o n of his m o s t elevated and critical hour. If we refused, or rather u s e d u p , s u c h paltry information a s we get, the o r a c l e s would distinctly inform u s how this might be d o n e . I went to the w o o d s b e c a u s e I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, a n d s e e if I c o u l d not learn what it h a d to t e a c h , a n d not, when I c a m e to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to p r a c t i s e resignation, u n l e s s it was quite n e c e s s a r y . I w a n t e d to live d e e p a n d s u c k out all the marrow of life, to live s o sturdily a n d Spartan-like a s to p u t to rout all that w a s not life, to c u t a b r o a d swath a n d s h a v e c l o s e , to drive life into a corner, a n d r e d u c e it to its lowest t e r m s , a n d , if it proved to b e m e a n , why then to get the whole a n d g e n u i n e m e a n n e s s of it, a n d publish its m e a n n e s s to the world; or if it were s u b l i m e , to know it by e x p e r i e n c e , a n d be a b l e to give a true a c c o u n t of it in my next e x c u r s i o n . F o r m o s t m e n , it a p p e a r s to m e , a r e in a s t r a n g e uncertainty a b o u t it, w h e t h e r it is of the devil or of G o d , a n d have somewhat hastily c o n c l u d e d that it is the chief e n d of m a n here to "glorify G o d a n d enjoy him forever."* Still we live meanly, like a n t s ; t h o u g h the fable tells u s that we were long a g o c h a n g e d into m e n ; 4 like pygmies we fight with c r a n e s ; it is error u p o n error, a n d clout upon clout, a n d our best virtue h a s for its o c c a s i o n a superfluous a n d evitable w r e t c h e d n e s s . O u r life is frittered away by detail. An h o n e s t m a n h a s hardly n e e d to c o u n t m o r e than his ten fingers, or in extreme c a s e s he m a y a d d his ten toes, a n d l u m p the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs b e as two or three, a n d not a h u n d r e d or a t h o u s a n d ; instead of a million c o u n t half a d o z e n , a n d keep your a c c o u n t s on your t h u m b nail. In the m i d s t of this c h o p p i n g s e a of civilized life, s u c h are the c l o u d s a n d s t o r m s a n d q u i c k s a n d s a n d t h o u s a n d - a n d - o n e items to be allowed for, that a m a n h a s to live, if he would not f o u n d e r a n d go to the bottom a n d not m a k e his port at all, by d e a d reckoning, a n d he m u s t b e a great c a l c u l a t o r indeed w h o s u c c e e d s . Simplify, simplify. I n s t e a d of three m e a l s a day, if it b e n e c e s s a r y eat but o n e ; instead of a h u n d r e d d i s h e s , five; a n d r e d u c e other things in proportion. O u r life is like a G e r m a n C o n f e d e r a c y , 5 m a d e u p of petty s t a t e s , with its b o u n d a r y forever fluctuating, so that even a G e r m a n c a n n o t tell you how it is b o u n d e d at any m o m e n t . T h e nation itself, with all its s o called internal i m p r o v e m e n t s , w h i c h , by the way, are all external a n d superficial, is j u s t s u c h an unwieldy a n d overgrown establishm e n t , cluttered with furniture a n d tripped u p by its own t r a p s , ruined by luxury a n d h e e d l e s s e x p e n s e , by want of c a l c u l a t i o n a n d a worthy a i m , a s the million h o u s e h o l d s in the land; a n d the only c u r e for it as for t h e m is in a rigid e c o n o m y , a stern a n d m o r e than S p a r t a n simplicity of life a n d elevation of p u r p o s e . It lives too fast. M e n think that it is essential that the Nation 3. F r o m England

the Shorter Primer.

Catechism

in

the

New

4. in a G r e e k fable A e a c u s p e r s u a d e d Z e u s to turn ants into m e n . T h e Trojans are c o m p a r e d to c r a n e s

l i g h t i n g w i t h p y g m i e s {Iliad, b o o k 3 ) . 5 . L a t e r in t h e c e n t u r y G e r m a n y w a s u n i f i e d under Prince Otto von Bismarck ( 1 8 1 5 - 1 8 9 8 ) . first c h a n c e l l o r o f t h e G e r m a n E m p i r e .

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have c o m m e r c e , a n d export ice, a n d talk through a t e l e g r a p h , a n d ride thirty miles a n hour, without a d o u b t , w h e t h e r they d o or not; b u t w h e t h e r we s h o u l d live like b a b o o n s or like m e n , is a little u n c e r t a i n . If w e do not get out s l e e p e r s , 6 a n d forge rails, a n d devote days a n d nights to the work, but g o to tinkering u p o n our lives to improve them, w h o will build railroads? A n d if railroads a r e not built, how shall we get to heaven in s e a s o n ? B u t if we stay at h o m e a n d m i n d our b u s i n e s s , w h o will want railroads? W e d o not ride o n the railroad; it rides u p o n u s . Did you ever think w h a t t h o s e s l e e p e r s are that underlie the railroad? E a c h o n e is a m a n , an I r i s h - m a n , or a Y a n k e e m a n . T h e rails are laid on t h e m , a n d they a r e covered with s a n d , a n d the cars run s m o o t h l y over t h e m . T h e y are s o u n d s l e e p e r s , I a s s u r e y o u . A n d every few years a new lot is laid d o w n a n d run over; s o that, if s o m e have the p l e a s u r e of riding on a rail, others have the m i s f o r t u n e to b e ridden u p o n . A n d w h e n they run over a m a n that is walking in his s l e e p , a s u p e r n u m e r a r y s l e e p e r in the w r o n g position, a n d w a k e him u p , they s u d d e n l y s t o p the c a r s , a n d m a k e a h u e a n d cry a b o u t it, a s if this were an e x c e p t i o n . I a m g l a d to know that it takes a g a n g of m e n for every five miles to k e e p the s l e e p e r s down a n d level in their b e d s a s it is, for this is a sign that they m a y s o m e t i m e get u p again. W h y s h o u l d we live with s u c h hurry a n d w a s t e of life? W e are d e t e r m i n e d to be starved before we are hungry. M e n say that a stitch in time s a v e s n i n e , a n d so they take a t h o u s a n d s t i t c h e s to-day to save nine to-morrow. As for work, we haven't any of any c o n s e q u e n c e . W e have the S a i n t V i t u s ' d a n c e , 7 a n d c a n n o t possibly keep our h e a d s still. If I s h o u l d only give a few p u l l s at the p a r i s h bell-rope, as for a fire, that is, without setting the bell, there is hardly a m a n on his farm in the outskirts of C o n c o r d , n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g that p r e s s of e n g a g e m e n t s which w a s his e x c u s e so m a n y t i m e s this m o r n i n g , nor a boy, nor a w o m a n , I might a l m o s t say, b u t w o u l d forsake all a n d follow that s o u n d , not mainly to save property from the f l a m e s , b u t , if we will c o n f e s s the truth, m u c h m o r e to s e e it b u r n , s i n c e b u r n it m u s t , a n d w e , be it known, did not set it on fire,—or to s e e it put o u t , a n d have a h a n d in it, if that is d o n e a s h a n d s o m e l y ; yes, even if it were the p a r i s h c h u r c h itself. Hardly a m a n t a k e s a half hour's n a p after dinner, but w h e n h e w a k e s he holds u p his h e a d a n d a s k s , " W h a t ' s the n e w s ? " a s if the rest of m a n k i n d h a d s t o o d his s e n t i n e l s . S o m e give directions to b e w a k e d every half hour, d o u b t less for no other p u r p o s e ; a n d t h e n , to pay for it, they tell w h a t they have d r e a m e d . After a night's s l e e p the n e w s is a s i n d i s p e n s a b l e a s the b r e a k f a s t . " P r a y tell m e any thing new that h a s h a p p e n e d to a m a n any w h e r e on this g l o b e " , — a n d he r e a d s it over his coffee a n d rolls, that a m a n h a d h a d his eyes g o u g e d out this m o r n i n g o n the W a c h i t o River; never d r e a m i n g the while that he lives in the dark u n f a t h o m e d m a m m o t h c a v e of this world, a n d h a s b u t the r u d i m e n t of a n eye himself. 8 F o r my part, I c o u l d easily do without the post-office. I think that there a r e very few i m p o r t a n t c o m m u n i c a t i o n s m a d e t h r o u g h it. T o s p e a k critically, I never received m o r e than o n e or two letters in my life—I wrote this s o m e years a g o — t h a t were worth the p o s t a g e . T h e p e n n y - p o s t is, c o m m o n l y , a n 6. W o o d e n r a i l r o a d ties ( a n o t h e r p u n ) . 7. C h o r e a , a s e v e r e n e r v o u s d i s o r d e r c h a r a c t e r i z e d by j e r k y m o t i o n s . 8. S i g h t l e s s fish h a d b e e n f o u n d i n K e n t u c k y ' s

M a m m o t h Cave. "Wachito": also spelled "Ouachita," a tributary of the R e d River. T h o r e a u refers to a c o m m o n - e n o u g h i n c i d e n t in b a c k w o o d s b r a w l ing.

WALDEN, CHAPTER 2. WHERE

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institution t h r o u g h which you seriously offer a m a n that p e n n y for his t h o u g h t s which is so often safely offered in j e s t . A n d I a m s u r e that I never read any m e m o r a b l e news in a n e w s p a p e r . If we read of o n e m a n r o b b e d , or m u r d e r e d , or killed by a c c i d e n t , or o n e h o u s e b u r n e d , or o n e vessel w r e c k e d , or o n e s t e a m b o a t blown u p , or o n e cow run over on the W e s t e r n R a i l r o a d , or o n e m a d d o g killed, or o n e lot of g r a s s h o p p e r s in the w i n t e r , — w e never n e e d read of a n o t h e r . O n e is e n o u g h . If you are a c q u a i n t e d with the principle, w h a t do you c a r e for a myriad i n s t a n c e s a n d a p p l i c a t i o n s ? T o a phil o s o p h e r all news, a s it is called, is g o s s i p , a n d they w h o edit a n d read it are old w o m e n over their tea. Yet not a few are greedy after this g o s s i p . T h e r e w a s s u c h a r u s h , as I hear, the other day at o n e of the offices to learn the foreign news by the last arrival, that several large s q u a r e s of plate g l a s s b e l o n g i n g to the e s t a b l i s h m e n t were broken by the p r e s s u r e , — n e w s which I seriously think a ready wit might write a twelvemonth or twelve years b e f o r e h a n d with sufficient a c c u r a c y . A s for S p a i n , for i n s t a n c e , if you know how to throw in D o n C a r l o s a n d the Infanta, a n d D o n P e d r o a n d Seville a n d G r a n a d a , from time to time in the right p r o p o r t i o n s , — t h e y m a y have c h a n g e d the n a m e s a little s i n c e I saw the p a p e r s , — a n d serve u p a bull-fight when other e n t e r t a i n m e n t s fail, it will b e true to the letter, a n d give u s a s g o o d an idea of the exact s t a t e or ruin of things in S p a i n a s the m o s t s u c c i n c t a n d lucid reports u n d e r this h e a d in the n e w s p a p e r s : a n d a s for E n g l a n d , a l m o s t the last significant s c r a p of news from that q u a r t e r w a s the revolution of 1649; a n d if you have l e a r n e d the history of her c r o p s for a n a v e r a g e year, you never n e e d a t t e n d to that thing a g a i n , u n l e s s your s p e c u l a t i o n s are of a merely p e c u n i a r y c h a r a c t e r . If o n e m a y j u d g e w h o rarely looks into the newsp a p e r s , n o t h i n g new d o e s ever h a p p e n in foreign p a r t s , a F r e n c h revolution not e x c e p t e d . W h a t n e w s ! how m u c h m o r e i m p o r t a n t to know what that is w h i c h w a s never old! "Kieou-pe-yu (great dignitary of the s t a t e of W e i ) s e n t a m a n to K h o u n g - t s e u to know his n e w s . K h o u n g - t s e u c a u s e d the m e s s e n g e r to be s e a t e d near h i m , a n d q u e s t i o n e d him in t h e s e t e r m s : W h a t is your m a s t e r d o i n g ? T h e m e s s e n g e r a n s w e r e d with r e s p e c t : M y m a s t e r d e s i r e s to d i m i n i s h the n u m b e r of his faults, but he c a n n o t a c c o m p l i s h it. T h e m e s s e n g e r b e i n g g o n e , the p h i l o s o p h e r r e m a r k e d : W h a t a worthy m e s s e n g e r ! W h a t a worthy m e s s e n g e r ! " 9 T h e p r e a c h e r , i n s t e a d of vexing the ears of drowsy f a r m e r s on their day of rest at the e n d of the w e e k , — f o r S u n d a y is the fit c o n c l u s i o n of an ill-spent week, a n d not the fresh a n d brave b e g i n n i n g of a new o n e , — with this o n e other draggle-tail of a s e r m o n , s h o u l d s h o u t with t h u n d e r i n g v o i c e , — " P a u s e ! Avast! W h y s o s e e m i n g fast, but deadly s l o w ? " 1 S h a m s a n d d e l u s i o n s are e s t e e m e d for s o u n d e s t t r u t h s , while reality is f a b u l o u s . If m e n w o u l d steadily observe realities only, a n d not allow t h e m selves to b e d e l u d e d , life, to c o m p a r e it with s u c h things a s we know, w o u l d b e like a fairy tale a n d the A r a b i a n N i g h t s ' E n t e r t a i n m e n t s . If w e r e s p e c t e d only what is inevitable a n d h a s a right to b e , m u s i c a n d poetry w o u l d r e s o u n d a l o n g the streets. W h e n we are u n h u r r i e d a n d w i s e , we p e r c e i v e that only great a n d worthy things have any p e r m a n e n t a n d a b s o l u t e e x i s t e n c e , — t h a t petty fears a n d petty p l e a s u r e s are b u t the s h a d o w of the reality. T h i s is 9.

C o n f u c i u s ' s , Analects

14.

1. F a t h e r T a y l o r o f t h e S e a m a n ' s B e t h e l i n B o s t o n

w a s o n e s u c h p r e a c h e r f a m o u s for t h e n a u t i c a l c a s t of his s e r m o n s .

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always exhilarating a n d s u b l i m e . By closing the eyes a n d s l u m b e r i n g , a n d c o n s e n t i n g to be deceived by s h o w s , men e s t a b l i s h a n d confirm their daily life of routine a n d habit every w h e r e , which still is built o n purely illusory f o u n d a t i o n s . C h i l d r e n , w h o play life, d i s c e r n its true law a n d relations m o r e clearly than m e n , w h o fail to live it worthily, b u t w h o think that they are wiser by e x p e r i e n c e , that is, by failure. I have r e a d in a H i n d o o book, that "there w a s a king's s o n , who, b e i n g expelled in infancy from his native city, w a s brought up by a forester, a n d , growing u p to maturity in that s t a t e , i m a g i n e d himself to b e l o n g to the b a r b a r o u s r a c e with which h e lived. O n e of his father's ministers having d i s c o v e r e d him, revealed to him what he w a s , a n d the m i s c o n c e p t i o n of his c h a r a c t e r w a s r e m o v e d , a n d h e k n e w h i m s e l f to b e a p r i n c e . S o s o u l , " c o n t i n u e s the H i n d o o p h i l o s o p h e r , "from the circ u m s t a n c e s in which it is p l a c e d , m i s t a k e s its own c h a r a c t e r , until the truth is revealed to it by s o m e holy teacher, a n d then it knows itself to b e Brahnte. " I perceive that we i n h a b i t a n t s of N e w E n g l a n d live this m e a n life that we do b e c a u s e our vision d o e s not p e n e t r a t e the s u r f a c e of t h i n g s . W e think that that is which appears to b e . If a m a n s h o u l d walk t h r o u g h this town a n d s e e only the reality, w h e r e , think you, would the " M i l l - d a m " * go to? If h e s h o u l d give u s an a c c o u n t of the realities he b e h e l d t h e r e , we s h o u l d not recognize the p l a c e in his d e s c r i p t i o n . L o o k at a m e e t i n g - h o u s e , or a c o u r t - h o u s e , or a jail, or a s h o p , or a d w e l l i n g - h o u s e , a n d say w h a t that thing really is before a true g a z e , a n d they would all go to p i e c e s in your a c c o u n t of t h e m . M e n e s t e e m truth r e m o t e , in the outskirts of the s y s t e m , b e h i n d the farthest star, before A d a m a n d after the last m a n . In eternity there is i n d e e d s o m e t h i n g true a n d s u b l i m e . B u t all t h e s e times a n d p l a c e s arid o c c a s i o n s are now a n d h e r e . G o d himself c u l m i n a t e s in the p r e s e n t m o m e n t , a n d will never be m o r e divine in the l a p s e of all the a g e s . And we a r e e n a b l e d to a p p r e h e n d at all what is s u b l i m e a n d noble only by the p e r p e t u a l instilling a n d d r e n c h i n g of the reality which s u r r o u n d s u s . T h e universe c o n s t a n t l y a n d obediently a n s w e r s to our c o n c e p t i b n s ; w h e t h e r we travel fast or slow, the track is laid for u s . Let u s s p e n d our lives in c o n c e i v i n g t h e m . T h e poet or the artist never yet h a d so fair a n d noble a design but s o m e of his posterity at least c o u l d a c c o m p l i s h it. 2

L e t u s s p e n d o n e day as deliberately a s N a t u r e , a n d not be thrown off the track by every nutshell a n d m o s q u i t o ' s w i n g that falls on the rails. L e t u s rise early a n d fast, or break fast, gently a n d without p e r t u r b a t i o n ; let c o m p a n y c o m e a n d let c o m p a n y g o , let the bells ring a n d the children cry,—determ i n e d to m a k e a day of it. W h y s h o u l d we k n o c k u n d e r a n d go with the s t r e a m ? L e t u s not be upset a n d o v e r w h e l m e d in that terrible rapid a n d whirlpool called a dinner, s i t u a t e d in the m e r i d i a n s h a l l o w s . W e a t h e r this d a n g e r a n d you are safe, for the rest of the way is d o w n hill. W i t h u n r e l a x e d nerves, with m o r n i n g vigor, sail by it, looking a n o t h e r way, tied to the m a s t like U l y s s e s . 4 If the e n g i n e whistles, let it whistle till it is h o a r s e for its p a i n s . If the bell rings, why s h o u l d we run? W e will c o n s i d e r what kind of m u s i c they are like. Let u s settle o u r s e l v e s , a n d work a n d w e d g e o u r feet d o w n w a r d

2 . In t h e H i n d u t r i a d , B r a h m a is t h e d i v i n e r e a l i t y in t h e a s p e c t o l c r e a t o r ; V i s h n u is t h e p r e s e r v e r ; and Siva, the destroyer. 3.

T h e business center of Concord.

4. A p r e c a u t i o n U l y s s e s ( O d y s s e u s ) t o o k to prevent his yielding to the call o f the S i r e n s , s e a n y m p h s w h o s e singing lured ships to destruction.

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through the m u d a n d s l u s h of opinion, and p r e j u d i c e , a n d tradition, a n d d e l u s i o n , a n d a p p e a r a n c e , that alluvion 5 which covers the g l o b e , through Paris a n d L o n d o n , through N e w York a n d B o s t o n a n d C o n c o r d , through c h u r c h a n d s t a t e , through poetry a n d philosophy a n d religion, till we c o m e to a hard b o t t o m a n d rocks in p l a c e , which we c a n call reality, a n d say, T h i s is, a n d no m i s t a k e ; a n d then begin, having a point d'appni, below freshet a n d frost a n d fire, a p l a c e where you might found a wall or a s t a t e , or set a lamp-post safely, or p e r h a p s a g a u g e , not a N i l o m e t e r , 7 but a R e a l o m e t e r , that future a g e s might know how d e e p a freshet of s h a m s a n d a p p e a r a n c e s h a d gathered from time to time. If you s t a n d right fronting a n d face to f a c e to a fact, you will s e e the s u n g l i m m e r on both its s u r f a c e s , as if it were a cimeter, a n d feel its sweet e d g e dividing you through the heart a n d marrow, a n d so you will happily c o n c l u d e your mortal career. B e it life or d e a t h , we crave only reality. If we are really dying, let u s h e a r the rattle in o u r throats a n d feel cold in the extremities; if we are alive, let u s go a b o u t our b u s i n e s s . 6

T i m e is but the s t r e a m I g o a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom a n d detect how shallow it is. Its thin c u r r e n t slides away, but eternity r e m a i n s . I would drink d e e p e r ; fish in the sky, w h o s e b o t t o m is pebbly with stars. I c a n n o t c o u n t o n e . I know not the first letter of the a l p h a b e t . I have always b e e n regretting that I was not as wise a s the day I was born. T h e intellect is a cleaver; it d i s c e r n s a n d rifts its way into the secret of things. I do not wish to be any m o r e busy with my h a n d s than is n e c e s s a r y . My h e a d is h a n d s a n d feet. I feel all my best faculties c o n c e n trated in it. M y instinct tells m e that my h e a d is an organ for burrowing, as s o m e c r e a t u r e s u s e their s n o u t a n d fore-paws, a n d with it I would m i n e a n d burrow my way through these hills. I think that the richest vein is s o m e w h e r e h e r e a b o u t s ; so by the divining rod a n d thin rising vapors I j u d g e ; a n d here I will begin to m i n e . *

4.

#

*

Sounds

B u t while we a r e confined to b o o k s , t h o u g h the m o s t select a n d c l a s s i c , a n d read only particular written l a n g u a g e s , which are t h e m s e l v e s but dialects a n d provincial, we are in d a n g e r of forgetting the l a n g u a g e which all things a n d events s p e a k without m e t a p h o r , which a l o n e is c o p i o u s a n d stand a r d . M u c h is p u b l i s h e d , but little printed. T h e rays which s t r e a m through the shutter will be no longer r e m e m b e r e d when the shutter is wholly r e m o v e d . N o m e t h o d nor discipline c a n s u p e r s e d e the necessity of b e i n g forever on the alert. W h a t is a c o u r s e of history, or philosophy, or poetry, n o m a t t e r how well s e l e c t e d , or the best society, or the m o s t a d m i r a b l e routine of life, c o m p a r e d with the discipline of looking always at what is to be s e e n ? Will you be a reader, a s t u d e n t merely, or a seer? R e a d your fate, s e e what is before you, a n d walk on into futurity. I did not read books the first s u m m e r ; I h o e d b e a n s . N a y , I often did better than this. T h e r e were times w h e n I c o u l d not afford to sacrifice the b l o o m of the p r e s e n t m o m e n t to any work, w h e t h e r of the h e a d or h a n d s . I love a 5 . S e d i m e n t d e p o s i t e d by f l o w i n g w a t e r a l o n g a shore or bank. 6.

Basis, leverage point (French).

7.

G a u g e u s e d at M e m p h i s in a n c i e n t t i m e s

m e a s u r i n g the height of the Nile.

lor

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THOREAU

b r o a d m a r g i n to my life. S o m e t i m e s , in a s u m m e r m o r n i n g , having taken my a c c u s t o m e d b a t h , I sat in my s u n n y doorway from s u n r i s e till n o o n , rapt in a revery, a m i d s t the p i n e s a n d hickories a n d s u m a c h s , in u n d i s t u r b e d solit u d e a n d stillness, while the birds s a n g a r o u n d or flitted n o i s e l e s s t h r o u g h the h o u s e , until by the s u n falling in at my west window, or the n o i s e of s o m e traveller's w a g o n on the distant highway, I w a s r e m i n d e d of the l a p s e of t i m e . I grew in t h o s e s e a s o n s like corn in the night, a n d they were far better than any work of the h a n d s would have b e e n . T h e y were not time s u b t r a c t e d from my life, but so m u c h over a n d a b o v e my u s u a l a l l o w a n c e . I realized w h a t the O r i e n t a l s m e a n by c o n t e m p l a t i o n a n d the forsaking of works. F o r the m o s t part, I m i n d e d not how the h o u r s went. T h e day a d v a n c e d a s if to light s o m e work of m i n e ; it w a s m o r n i n g , a n d lo, n o w it is evening, a n d n o t h i n g m e m o r a b l e is a c c o m p l i s h e d . I n s t e a d of singing like the birds, I silently s m i l e d at my i n c e s s a n t g o o d f o r t u n e . As the s p a r r o w h a d its trill, sitting on the hickory before my door, so h a d I my c h u c k l e or s u p p r e s s e d warble which h e might h e a r out of my n e s t . M y days were not days of the week, b e a r i n g the s t a m p of any h e a t h e n deity, 8 nor were they m i n c e d into h o u r s a n d fretted by the ticking of a clock; for I lived like the Puri I n d i a n s , 9 of w h o m it is s a i d that "for yesterday, to-day, a n d to-morrow they have only o n e word, a n d they express the variety of m e a n i n g by p o i n t i n g b a c k w a r d for yesterday, forward for to-morrow, a n d overhead for the p a s s i n g d a y . " T h i s w a s s h e e r idleness to my f e l l o w - t o w n s m e n , no d o u b t ; but if the birds a n d flowers h a d tried m e by their s t a n d a r d , I s h o u l d not have b e e n f o u n d wanting. A m a n m u s t find his o c c a s i o n s in himself, it is true. T h e natural day is very c a l m , a n d will hardly reprove his i n d o l e n c e . I h a d this a d v a n t a g e , at least, in my m o d e of life, over t h o s e w h o were obliged to look a b r o a d for a m u s e m e n t , to society a n d the t h e a t r e , that my life itself w a s b e c o m e my a m u s e m e n t a n d never c e a s e d to be novel. It w a s a d r a m a of m a n y s c e n e s a n d without a n e n d . If we were always i n d e e d getting our living, a n d r e g u l a t i n g our lives a c c o r d i n g to the last a n d b e s t m o d e we h a d l e a r n e d , we s h o u l d never be troubled with e n n u i . Follow your g e n i u s closely e n o u g h , a n d it will not fail to s h o w you a fresh p r o s p e c t every hour. H o u s e w o r k w a s a p l e a s a n t p a s t i m e . W h e n my floor w a s dirty, I rose early, a n d , setting all my furniture out of doors o n the g r a s s , b e d a n d b e d s t e a d m a k i n g but o n e b u d g e t , 1 d a s h e d water o n the floor, a n d sprinkled white s a n d from the p o n d on it, a n d then with a b r o o m s c r u b b e d it c l e a n a n d white; a n d by the time the villagers h a d broken their fast the m o r n i n g s u n h a d dried my h o u s e sufficiently to allow m e to m o v e in a g a i n , a n d my m e d i t a t i o n s were a l m o s t u n i n t e r r u p t e d . It w a s p l e a s a n t to s e e my whole h o u s e h o l d effects o u t on the g r a s s , m a k i n g a little pile like a gypsy's p a c k , a n d my three-legged table, from which I did not r e m o v e the b o o k s a n d p e n a n d ink, s t a n d i n g a m i d the p i n e s a n d hickories. T h e y s e e m e d glad to get o u t t h e m s e l v e s , a n d a s if unwilling to b e b r o u g h t in. I w a s s o m e t i m e s t e m p t e d to s t r e t c h a n a w n i n g over t h e m a n d take my seat t h e r e . It w a s worth the while to s e e the s u n s h i n e on t h e s e things, a n d h e a r the free wind blow o n t h e m ; s o m u c h m o r e inter8. T u e s d a y , W e d n e s d a y , T h u r s d a y , a n d F r i d a y all derive from gods of N o r s e mythology, while Satu r d a y is n a m e d f o r t h e R o m a n g o d S a t u r n . 9.

B r a z i l i a n I n d i a n s w h o m T h o r e a u r e a d a b o u t in

I d a P f e i f f e r ' s A Lady's (1852). 1. C o l l e c t i o n .

Voyage

round

the

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esting m o s t familiar o b j e c t s look out of doors than in the h o u s e . A bird sits on the next b o u g h , life-everlasting grows u n d e r the t a b l e , a n d blackberry vines run r o u n d its legs; p i n e c o n e s , c h e s t n u t b u r s , a n d strawberry leaves are strewn a b o u t . It looked a s if this w a s the way t h e s e f o r m s c a m e to be transferred to our furniture, to t a b l e s , c h a i r s , a n d b e d s t e a d s , — b e c a u s e they o n c e s t o o d in their midst. M y h o u s e was on the side of a hill, immediately on the e d g e of the larger w o o d , in the m i d s t of a y o u n g forest of pitch pines a n d hickories, a n d half a dozen rods from the p o n d , to which a narrow footpath led d o w n the hill. In my front yard grew the strawberry, blackberry, a n d life-everlasting, j o h n s w o r t a n d golden-rod, s h r u b - o a k s a n d sand-cherry, blueberry a n d g r o u n d - n u t . N e a r the e n d of M a y , the sand-cherry, Cerasus pumila, a d o r n e d the sides of the p a t h with its delicate flowers a r r a n g e d in u m b e l s cylindrically a b o u t its short s t e m s , which last, in the fall, weighed down with g o o d sized a n d h a n d s o m e cherries, fell over in wreaths like rays on every side. I tasted t h e m out of c o m p l i m e n t to N a t u r e , t h o u g h they were scarcely p a l a t a b l e . T h e s u m a c h , Rhus glabra, grew luxuriantly a b o u t the h o u s e , p u s h i n g u p t h r o u g h the e m b a n k m e n t which I h a d m a d e , a n d growing five or six feet the first s e a s o n . Its b r o a d p i n n a t e tropical leaf w a s p l e a s a n t t h o u g h s t r a n g e to look on. T h e large b u d s , s u d d e n l y p u s h i n g out late in the spring from dry sticks which h a d s e e m e d to be d e a d , developed t h e m s e l v e s a s by m a g i c into graceful green a n d tender b o u g h s , a n inch in d i a m e t e r ; a n d s o m e t i m e s , a s I sat at my window, so heedlessly did they grow a n d tax their w e a k j o i n t s , I h e a r d a fresh a n d tender b o u g h s u d d e n l y fall like a fan to the g r o u n d , w h e n there w a s not a b r e a t h of air stirring, broken off by its own weight. In A u g u s t , the large m a s s e s of berries, w h i c h , w h e n in flower, h a d a t t r a c t e d m a n y wild b e e s , gradually a s s u m e d their bright velvety c r i m s o n h u e , a n d by their weight a g a i n bent down a n d broke the tender limbs. As I sit at my window this s u m m e r afternoon, hawks are circling a b o u t my clearing; the tantivy 2 of wild p i g e o n s , flying by twos a n d t h r e e s athwart my view, or p e r c h i n g restless on the white-pine b o u g h s b e h i n d my h o u s e , gives a voice to the air; a fishhawk d i m p l e s the glassy s u r f a c e of the p o n d a n d brings u p a fish; a mink steals out of the m a r s h before my d o o r a n d seizes a frog by the s h o r e ; the s e d g e is b e n d i n g u n d e r the weight of the reed-birds flitting hither a n d thither; a n d for the last half h o u r I have h e a r d the rattle of railroad c a r s , now dying away a n d then reviving like the b e a t of a partridge, conveying travellers from B o s t o n to the country. F o r I did not live s o out of the world a s that boy, w h o , a s I hear, w a s p u t out to a f a r m e r in the east part of the town, but ere long ran away a n d c a m e h o m e a g a i n , quite d o w n at the heel a n d h o m e s i c k . H e h a d never s e e n s u c h a dull a n d o u t of-the-way p l a c e ; the folks were all g o n e off; why, you couldn't even hear the whistle! I d o u b t if there is s u c h a p l a c e in M a s s a c h u s e t t s n o w : — "In truth, our village h a s b e c o m e a butt F o r o n e of t h o s e fleet railroad s h a f t s , a n d o'er O u r p e a c e f u l plain its s o o t h i n g s o u n d i s — C o n c o r d . " 3 2.

Hurtling.

3.

F r o m Ellery C h a n n i n g ' s " W a l d e n Spring," pub-

l i s h e d i n The

Woodman,

and

Other

Poems.

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T h e F i t c h b u r g railroad t o u c h e s the pond a b o u t a h u n d r e d rods s o u t h of where I dwell. I usually go to the village a l o n g its c a u s e w a y , a n d a m , a s it w e r e , related to society by this link. T h e m e n o n the freight trains, w h o g o over the whole length of the road, bow to m e a s to a n old a c q u a i n t a n c e , they p a s s m e s o often, a n d apparently they take m e for a n e m p l o y e e ; a n d s o I a m . I too would fain b e a track-repairer s o m e w h e r e in the orbit of the e a r t h . T h e whistle of the locomotive p e n e t r a t e s my w o o d s s u m m e r a n d winter, s o u n d i n g like the s c r e a m of a hawk sailing over s o m e farmer's yard, informing m e that m a n y r e s t l e s s city m e r c h a n t s are arriving within the circle of the town, or a d v e n t u r o u s country traders from the other s i d e . As they c o m e u n d e r o n e horizon, they s h o u t their w a r n i n g to get off the track of the other, h e a r d s o m e t i m e s t h r o u g h the circles of two towns. H e r e c o m e your g r o c e r i e s , country; your rations, c o u n t r y m e n ! N o r is there any m a n s o i n d e p e n d e n t on his farm that he c a n say t h e m nay. A n d here's your pay for t h e m ! s c r e a m s the c o u n t r y m a n ' s whistle; timber like long battering r a m s going twenty miles a n h o u r a g a i n s t the city's walls, a n d chairs e n o u g h to s e a t all the weary a n d heavy laden that dwell within t h e m . With s u c h h u g e a n d l u m b e r i n g civility the country h a n d s a c h a i r to the city. All the Indian huckleberry hills are stripped, all the cranberry m e a d o w s are raked into the city. U p c o m e s the c o t t o n , down g o e s the woven cloth; u p c o m e s the silk, d o w n g o e s the woollen; up c o m e the b o o k s , but down g o e s the wit that writes t h e m . W h e n I m e e t the e n g i n e with its train of cars m o v i n g off with planetary m o t i o n , — o r , rather, like a c o m e t , for the beholder knows not if with that velocity a n d with that direction it will ever revisit this s y s t e m , s i n c e its orbit d o e s not look like a r e t u r n i n g c u r v e , — w i t h its s t e a m c l o u d like a b a n n e r s t r e a m i n g b e h i n d in g o l d e n a n d silver w r e a t h s , like m a n y a downy c l o u d which I have s e e n , high in the h e a v e n s , unfolding its m a s s e s to the light,— a s if this travelling d e m i g o d , this c l o u d - c o m p e l l e r , would ere long take the s u n s e t sky for the livery of his train; w h e n I hear the iron h o r s e m a k e the hills e c h o with his snort like thunder, s h a k i n g the earth with his feet, a n d b r e a t h i n g fire a n d s m o k e from his nostrils, (what kind of winged h o r s e or fiery d r a g o n they will put into the new Mythology I don't know,) it s e e m s a s if the earth had got a r a c e now worthy to inhabit it. If all were a s it s e e m s , a n d m e n m a d e the e l e m e n t s their servants for n o b l e e n d s ! If the c l o u d that h a n g s over the e n g i n e were the perspiration of heroic d e e d s , or a s b e n e f i c e n t to m e n a s that which floats over the farmer's fields, then the e l e m e n t s a n d N a t u r e herself would cheerfully a c c o m p a n y m e n on their e r r a n d s a n d be their escort. I w a t c h the p a s s a g e of the m o r n i n g c a r s with the s a m e feeling that I d o the rising of the s u n , which is hardly m o r e regular. T h e i r train of c l o u d s stretching far b e h i n d a n d rising higher a n d higher, g o i n g to heaven while the c a r s are g o i n g to B o s t o n , c o n c e a l s the s u n for a m i n u t e a n d c a s t s my distant field into the s h a d e , a celestial train b e s i d e which the petty train of cars which h u g s the earth is but the b a r b of the s p e a r . T h e stabler of the iron h o r s e w a s up early this winter m o r n i n g by the light of the stars a m i d the m o u n t a i n s , to fodder a n d h a r n e s s his s t e e d . F i r e , too, w a s a w a k e n e d t h u s early to put the vital heat in him a n d get him off. If the e n t e r p r i s e were a s i n n o c e n t a s it is early! If the s n o w lies d e e p , they strap on his s n o w - s h o e s , a n d with the giant plow, plow a furrow from the m o u n t a i n s to the s e a b o a r d , in which the c a r s , like a following drill-barrow, sprinkle all the r e s t l e s s m e n

W A L D E N , C H A P T E R 4.

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a n d floating m e r c h a n d i s e in the country for s e e d . All day the fire-steed flies over the country, s t o p p i n g only that his m a s t e r may rest, a n d I a m a w a k e n e d by his t r a m p a n d defiant snort at midnight, when in s o m e r e m o t e glen in the w o o d s h e fronts the e l e m e n t s i n c a s e d in ice a n d s n o w ; a n d h e will r e a c h his stall only with the m o r n i n g star, to start o n c e m o r e on his travels without rest or s l u m b e r . O r p e r c h a n c e , at evening, 1 hear him in his s t a b l e blowing off the s u p e r f l u o u s energy of the day, that he m a y c a l m his nerves a n d cool his liver a n d brain for a few h o u r s of iron s l u m b e r . If the e n t e r p r i s e were a s heroic a n d c o m m a n d i n g as it is protracted a n d u n w e a r i e d ! F a r t h r o u g h u n f r e q u e n t e d w o o d s on the confines of t o w n s , where o n c e only the h u n t e r p e n e t r a t e d by day, in the darkest night dart t h e s e bright s a l o o n s without the k n o w l e d g e of their i n h a b i t a n t s ; this m o m e n t s t o p p i n g at s o m e brilliant s t a t i o n - h o u s e in town or city, where a social crowd is g a t h e r e d , the next in the D i s m a l S w a m p , 4 s c a r i n g the owl a n d fox. T h e startings a n d arrivals of the cars are now the e p o c h s in the village day. T h e y go a n d c o m e with s u c h regularity a n d p r e c i s i o n , a n d their whistle c a n b e h e a r d s o far, that the farmers set their c l o c k s by t h e m , a n d t h u s o n e well c o n d u c t e d institution regulates a whole country. Have not men improved s o m e w h a t in p u n c tuality s i n c e the railroad w a s invented? D o they not talk a n d think faster in the depot than they did in the stage-office? T h e r e is s o m e t h i n g electrifying in the a t m o s p h e r e of the former p l a c e . I have b e e n a s t o n i s h e d at the m i r a c l e s it has wrought; that s o m e of my n e i g h b o r s , w h o , I s h o u l d have p r o p h e s i e d , o n c e for all, would never get to B o s t o n by so p r o m p t a c o n v e y a n c e , were o n h a n d when the bell rang. T o do things "railroad f a s h i o n " is now the by-word; a n d it is worth the while to be w a r n e d s o often a n d so sincerely by any power to get off its track. T h e r e is n o s t o p p i n g to read the riot act, no firing over the h e a d s of the m o b , in this c a s e . W e have c o n s t r u c t e d a fate, an Atropos,^ that never turns a s i d e . ( L e t that be the n a m e of your e n g i n e . ) M e n are advertised that at a certain hour a n d m i n u t e t h e s e bolts will be shot toward particular points of the c o m p a s s ; yet it interferes with no m a n ' s b u s i n e s s , a n d the children go to school on the other track. W e live the s t e a d i e r for it. W e are all e d u c a t e d t h u s to be s o n s of T e l l . 6 T h e air is full of invisible bolts. Every path but your own is the path of fate. K e e p on your own track, t h e n . W h a t r e c o m m e n d s c o m m e r c e to m e is its enterprise a n d bravery. It d o e s not clasp its h a n d s a n d pray to J u p i t e r . I s e e t h e s e m e n every day go a b o u t their b u s i n e s s with m o r e or less c o u r a g e a n d c o n t e n t , d o i n g m o r e even than they s u s p e c t , a n d p e r c h a n c e better e m p l o y e d than they c o u l d have consciously devised. I a m less affected by their h e r o i s m w h o s t o o d u p for half an hour in the front line at B u e n a V i s t a , 7 than by the s t e a d y a n d cheerful valor of the men who inhabit the snow-plough for their winter q u a r t e r s ; w h o have not merely the three-o'-clock in the m o r n i n g c o u r a g e , 8 w h i c h B o n a p a r t e thought w a s the rarest, but w h o s e c o u r a g e d o e s not go to rest s o early, w h o go to sleep only when the storm s l e e p s or the sinews of their iron steed are 4 . T h e r e a l D i s m a l S w a m p is in s o u t h e a s t e r n V i r ginia a n d northeastern North Carolina. 5 . In G r e e k m y t h o l o g y , t h e F a t e w h o c u t s t h e t h r e a d o f h u m a n life. 6 . I.e., t o live c o o l l y a m o n g d a n g e r s , like t h e s o n o f t h e S w i s s h e r o W i l l i a m T e l l , w h o s t o o d still s o Tell c o u l d s h o o t a n a p p l e off his h e a d . 7. Battlefield n e a r Saltillo, M e x i c o , w h e r e Z a c h a r y Taylor's forces defeated the Mexican army under

S a n t a A n n a in 1 8 4 7 . S u c h victories w e r e widely hailed, but many Americans, T h o r e a u among t h e m , c o u l d not ignore the fact that the betterequipped Americans were arguably the aggressors in a w a r s t r o n g l y s u p p o r t e d b y s l a v e h o l d e r s , w h o s t o o d t o g a i n s l a v e t e r r i t o r y f r o m it. 8. C o u r a g e not p a i n s t a k i n g l y w o r k e d u p b u t c o m i n g f o r t h s p o n t a n e o u s l y , a s w h e n a s o l d i e r is a w a k e n e d s u d d e n l y in t h e d e a d o f n i g h t .

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frozen. O n this m o r n i n g of the G r e a t S n o w , p e r c h a n c e , which is still raging a n d chilling m e n ' s blood, I hear the muffled tone of their e n g i n e bell from out the fog b a n k of their chilled b r e a t h , which a n n o u n c e s that the c a r s are coming, without long delay, n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g the veto of a N e w E n g l a n d north-east s n o w s t o r m , a n d I b e h o l d the p l o u g h m e n c o v e r e d with s n o w a n d rime, their h e a d s p e e r i n g a b o v e the m o u l d - b o a r d which is t u r n i n g d o w n other than daisies a n d the nests of field-mice, like bowlders of the S i e r r a N e v a d a , that o c c u p y a n o u t s i d e p l a c e in the universe. C o m m e r c e is u n e x p e c t e d l y confident a n d s e r e n e , alert, a d v e n t u r o u s , a n d u n w e a r i e d . It is very natural in its m e t h o d s withal, far m o r e s o than m a n y fantastic e n t e r p r i s e s a n d s e n t i m e n t a l e x p e r i m e n t s , a n d h e n c e its s i n g u l a r s u c c e s s . I a m refreshed a n d e x p a n d e d w h e n the freight train rattles p a s t m e , a n d I smell the stores which go d i s p e n s i n g their o d o r s all the way from L o n g W h a r f to L a k e C h a m p l a i n , 9 r e m i n d i n g m e of foreign p a r t s , of coral reefs, a n d Indian o c e a n s , a n d tropical c l i m e s , a n d the extent of the g l o b e . I feel m o r e like a citizen of the world at the sight of the p a l m - l e a f which will cover s o m a n y flaxen N e w E n g l a n d h e a d s the next s u m m e r , the M a n i l l a h e m p a n d c o c o a - n u t h u s k s , the old j u n k , g u n n y b a g s , s c r a p iron, a n d rusty n a i l s . T h i s car-load of torn sails is m o r e legible a n d interesting n o w t h a n if they s h o u l d be wrought into p a p e r a n d printed b o o k s . W h o c a n write s o graphically the history of the s t o r m s they have w e a t h e r e d a s t h e s e r e n t s have d o n e ? T h e y are p r o o f - s h e e t s which n e e d no c o r r e c t i o n . H e r e g o e s l u m b e r from the M a i n e w o o d s , which did not go out to s e a in the last freshet, risen four dollars o n the t h o u s a n d b e c a u s e of what did g o out or w a s split u p ; p i n e , s p r u c e , c e d a r , — f i r s t , s e c o n d , third a n d fourth q u a l i t i e s , s o lately all of o n e quality, to wave over the b e a r , a n d m o o s e , a n d c a r i b o u . Next rolls T h o m a s t o n l i m e , a p r i m e lot, which will get far a m o n g the hills b e f o r e it g e t s s l a c k e d . T h e s e rags in b a l e s , of all h u e s a n d q u a l i t i e s , the lowest c o n d i t i o n to which cotton a n d linen d e s c e n d , the final result of d r e s s , — o f p a t t e r n s which are no no longer cried u p , 1 u n l e s s it be in M i l w a u k i e , a s t h o s e s p l e n d i d articles, E n g l i s h , F r e n c h , or A m e r i c a n prints, g i n g h a m s , m u s l i n s , & c , g a t h e r e d from all q u a r t e r s both of fashion a n d poverty, g o i n g to b e c o m e p a p e r of o n e color or a few s h a d e s only, on which forsooth will be written tales of real life, high a n d low, a n d f o u n d e d on f a c t ! 2 T h i s c l o s e d c a r s m e l l s of salt fish, the s t r o n g N e w E n g l a n d a n d c o m m e r c i a l s c e n t , r e m i n d i n g m e of the G r a n d B a n k s 3 a n d the fisheries. W h o has not s e e n a salt fish, thoroughly c u r e d for this world, s o that nothing c a n spoil it, a n d p u t t i n g the p e r s e v e r a n c e of the s a i n t s to the b l u s h ? with which you m a y s w e e p or p a v e the s t r e e t s , a n d split your kindlings, a n d the t e a m s t e r shelter himself a n d his l a d i n g a g a i n s t s u n , wind a n d rain b e h i n d i t , — a n d the trader, a s a C o n c o r d trader o n c e did, h a n g it u p by his d o o r for a sign w h e n he c o m m e n c e s b u s i n e s s , until at last his oldest c u s t o m e r c a n n o t tell surely w h e t h e r it b e a n i m a l , v e g e t a b l e , or m i n e r a l , a n d yet it shall be a s p u r e a s a snowflake, a n d if it b e p u t into a pot a n d boiled, will c o m e o u t a n excellent d u n 4 fish for a S a t u r d a y ' s d i n n e r . N e x t S p a n i s h h i d e s , with the tails still preserving their twist a n d the a n g l e of elevation they h a d w h e n the oxen that wore t h e m were c a r e e r i n g over the p a m p a s of the 9. F r o m B o s t o n H a r b o r t o L a k e C h a m p l a i n , o n the N e w York-Vermont border. 1. P r a i s e d . 2. T h o r e a u parodies i n n u m e r a b l e subtitles of sen-

timental and sensationalistic fiction. 3. S o u t h e a s t o f N e w f o u n d l a n d . 4. D r i e d c o d f i s h , w i t h a p u n o n " d o n e . "

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S p a n i s h m a i n , — a type of all obstinacy, a n d evincing h o w a l m o s t h o p e l e s s a n d i n c u r a b l e a r e all constitutional vices. I c o n f e s s , that practically s p e a k i n g , w h e n I have learned a m a n ' s real disposition, I have no h o p e s of c h a n g i n g it for the better or worse in this s t a t e of existence. As the O r i e n t a l s say, "A cur's tail m a y be w a r m e d , a n d p r e s s e d , a n d b o u n d r o u n d with ligatures, a n d after a twelve years' labor b e s t o w e d u p o n it, still it will retain its n a t u r a l f o r m . " 5 T h e only effectual c u r e for s u c h inveteracies a s t h e s e tails exhibit is to m a k e g l u e of t h e m , which I believe is what is usually d o n e with t h e m , a n d then they will stay p u t a n d stick. H e r e is a h o g s h e a d of m o l a s s e s or of b r a n d y directed to J o h n S m i t h , Cuttingsville, V e r m o n t , s o m e trader a m o n g the G r e e n M o u n t a i n s , w h o imports for the f a r m e r s near his clearing, a n d now p e r c h a n c e s t a n d s over his bulk-head a n d thinks of the last arrivals on the c o a s t , how they m a y affect the price for him, telling his c u s t o m e r s this m o m e n t , a s he h a s told t h e m twenty times before this m o r n i n g , that h e expects s o m e by the next train of p r i m e quality. It is advertised in the C u t tingsville T i m e s . W h i l e these things g o up other things c o m e d o w n . W a r n e d by the whizzing s o u n d , I look u p from my b o o k a n d s e e s o m e tall p i n e , hewn o n far northern hills, which h a s winged its way over the G r e e n M o u n t a i n s a n d the C o n n e c t i c u t , 6 shot like a n arrow through the township within ten m i n u t e s , a n d s c a r c e a n o t h e r eye b e h o l d s it; going "to be the m a s t O f s o m e great a m m i r a l . " 7 A n d hark! here c o m e s the cattle-train b e a r i n g the cattle of a t h o u s a n d hills, s h e e p c o t s , s t a b l e s , a n d cow-yards in the air, drovers with their sticks, a n d s h e p h e r d boys in the midst of their flocks, all but the m o u n t a i n p a s tures, whirled a l o n g like leaves blown from the m o u n t a i n s by the S e p t e m ber g a l e s . T h e air is filled with the bleating of calves a n d s h e e p , a n d the hustling of oxen, a s if a p a s t o r a l valley were g o i n g by. W h e n the old bellwether at the h e a d rattles his bell, the m o u n t a i n s d o i n d e e d skip like r a m s a n d the little hills like l a m b s . 8 A car-load of drovers, too, in the m i d s t , on a level with their droves now, their vocation g o n e , b u t still clinging to their u s e l e s s sticks a s their b a d g e of office. B u t their d o g s , where a r e they? It is a s t a m p e d e to t h e m ; they are q u i t e thrown o u t ; they have lost the s c e n t . M e t h i n k s I h e a r t h e m barking behind the P e t e r b o r o ' H i l l s , 9 or p a n t i n g u p the western s l o p e of the G r e e n M o u n t a i n s . T h e y will not b e in at the d e a t h . T h e i r v o c a t i o n , too, is g o n e . T h e i r fidelity a n d sagacity are below p a r now. T h e y will slink b a c k to their k e n n e l s in d i s g r a c e , or p e r c h a n c e run wild a n d strike a l e a g u e with the wolf a n d the fox. S o is your p a s t o r a l life whirled p a s t a n d away. B u t the bell rings, a n d I m u s t get off the track a n d let the c a r s go b y ; — W h a t ' s the railroad to m e ? I never go to s e e 5. F r o m t h e f a b l e o f t h e lion a n d t h e r a b b i t in C h a r l e s W i l k i n s ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f Fables and Proverbs from the Sanskrit. 6. I.e., t h e C o n n e c t i c u t River. T h e G r e e n M o u n tains run from V e r m o n t into M a s s a c h u s e t t s . 7 . M i l t o n , Paradise Lost 1.293-94.

8 . In P s a l m 1 1 4 . 4 : " T h e m o u n t a i n s s k i p p e d l i k e r a m s , a n d t h e little hills like l a m b s " ; t h e m o t i v a t i o n f o r s k i p p i n g is t h e f e a r o f G o d , n o t j o y . 9 . T h e P e t e r b o r o u g h H i l l s a r e in s o u t h w e s t e r n New Hampshire.

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but I c r o s s it like a cart-path in the w o o d s . I will not have my eyes p u t out a n d my e a r s spoiled by its s m o k e a n d s t e a m a n d hissing. N o w that the cars are g o n e by, a n d all the r e s t l e s s world with t h e m , a n d the fishes in the p o n d no longer feel their r u m b l i n g , I a m m o r e a l o n e than ever. F o r the rest of the long a f t e r n o o n , p e r h a p s , my m e d i t a t i o n s a r e interrupted only by the faint rattle of a carriage or t e a m a l o n g the d i s t a n t highway. S o m e t i m e s , o n S u n d a y s , I h e a r d the bells, the L i n c o l n , A c t o n , B e d f o r d , or C o n c o r d bell, w h e n the wind w a s favorable, a faint, sweet, a n d , as it w e r e , natural melody, worth importing into the w i l d e r n e s s . At a sufficient d i s t a n c e over the w o o d s this s o u n d a c q u i r e s a certain vibratory h u m , a s if the pine n e e d l e s in the horizon were the strings of a harp which it swept. All s o u n d heard at the g r e a t e s t p o s s i b l e d i s t a n c e p r o d u c e s o n e a n d the s a m e effect, a vibration of the universal lyre, j u s t a s the intervening a t m o s p h e r e m a k e s a distant ridge of earth interesting to our eyes by the azure tint it i m p a r t s to it. T h e r e c a m e to m e in this c a s e a melody which the air h a d strained, a n d which h a d c o n v e r s e d with every leaf a n d n e e d l e of the w o o d , that portion of the s o u n d which the e l e m e n t s h a d taken up a n d m o d u l a t e d a n d e c h o e d from vale to vale. T h e e c h o is, to s o m e extent, a n original s o u n d , a n d therein is the m a g i c and c h a r m of it. It is not merely a repetition of w h a t w a s worth r e p e a t i n g in the bell, but partly the voice of the w o o d ; the s a m e trivial words a n d notes s u n g by a w o o d - n y m p h . At evening, the distant lowing of s o m e cow in the horizon beyond the w o o d s s o u n d e d sweet a n d m e l o d i o u s , a n d at first I would m i s t a k e it for the voices of certain minstrels by w h o m I w a s s o m e t i m e s s e r e n a d e d , who might be straying over hill a n d d a l e ; but s o o n I w a s not u n p l e a s a n t l y d i s a p p o i n t e d when it w a s p r o l o n g e d into the c h e a p a n d natural m u s i c of the cow. I d o not m e a n to be satirical, but to express my a p p r e c i a t i o n of t h o s e y o u t h s ' singing, when I state that I perceived clearly that it w a s akin to the m u s i c of the cow, a n d they were at length o n e articulation of N a t u r e . Regularly at half p a s t seven, in o n e part of the s u m m e r , after the e v e n i n g train h a d g o n e by, the whippoorwills c h a n t e d their v e s p e r s for half a n hour, sitting on a s t u m p by my door, or u p o n the ridge pole of the h o u s e . T h e y would begin to sing a l m o s t with a s m u c h p r e c i s i o n a s a clock, within five m i n u t e s of a particular t i m e , referred to the setting of the s u n , every evening. I h a d a rare opportunity to b e c o m e a c q u a i n t e d yyith their h a b i t s . S o m e t i m e s I h e a r d four or five at o n c e in different parts of the w o o d , by a c c i d e n t o n e a bar behind a n o t h e r , a n d s o near m e that I d i s t i n g u i s h e d not only the c l u c k after e a c h n o t e , but often that s i n g u l a r buzzing s o u n d like a fly in a spider's w e b , only proportionally louder. S o m e t i m e s o n e would circle r o u n d a n d r o u n d m e in the w o o d s a few feet d i s t a n t a s if tethered by a string, w h e n probably I w a s near its e g g s . T h e y s a n g at intervals t h r o u g h o u t the night, a n d were again as m u s i c a l a s ever j u s t before a n d a b o u t d a w n .

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W h e n other birds are still the s c r e e c h owls take up the strain, like m o u r n ing w o m e n their ancient u-lu-lu. T h e i r dismal s c r e a m is truly B e n J o n s o n i a n . 1 W i s e midnight h a g s ! It is no h o n e s t a n d blunt tu-whit tu-who of the p o e t s , b u t , without j e s t i n g , a m o s t s o l e m n graveyard ditty, the m u t u a l c o n s o l a t i o n s of s u i c i d e lovers r e m e m b e r i n g the p a n g s a n d the delights of s u p e r n a l love in the infernal groves. Yet I love to hear their wailing, their doleful r e s p o n s e s , trilled a l o n g the w o o d - s i d e , r e m i n d i n g m e s o m e t i m e s of m u s i c a n d singing birds; a s if it were the d a r k a n d tearful side of m u s i c , the regrets a n d sighs that would fain be s u n g . T h e y are the spirits, the low spirits a n d m e l a n c h o l y f o r e b o d i n g s , of fallen s o u l s that o n c e in h u m a n s h a p e night-walked the earth a n d did the d e e d s of d a r k n e s s , now expiating their sins with their wailing h y m n s or t h r e n o d i e s 2 in the s c e n e r y of their t r a n s g r e s s i o n s . T h e y give m e a new s e n s e of the variety a n d capacity of that n a t u r e which is our c o m m o n dwelling. Oh-o-o-o-o that I never had been bor-r-r-r-n! sighs o n e on this side of the p o n d , a n d circles with the r e s t l e s s n e s s of d e s p a i r to s o m e new p e r c h on the gray o a k s . T h e n — t h a t I never had been bor-r-r-r-n! e c h o e s a n o t h e r on the farther side with t r e m u l o u s sincerity, and—bor-r-r-r-n! c o m e s faintly from far in the L i n c o l n w o o d s . I w a s a l s o s e r e n a d e d by a hooting owl. N e a r at h a n d you c o u l d fancy it the m o s t m e l a n c h o l y s o u n d in N a t u r e , a s if s h e m e a n t by this to stereotype a n d m a k e p e r m a n e n t in her choir the dying m o a n s of a h u m a n b e i n g , — s o m e poor w e a k relic of mortality w h o has left h o p e b e h i n d , a n d howls like an a n i m a l , yet with h u m a n s o b s , on e n t e r i n g the dark valley, m a d e m o r e awful by a certain gurgling m e l o d i o u s n e s s , — I find myself b e g i n n i n g with the letters gl w h e n I try to imitate it,—expressive of a mind which has r e a c h e d the g e l a t i n o u s mildewy s t a g e in the mortification of all healthy a n d c o u r a g e o u s t h o u g h t . It r e m i n d e d m e of g h o u l s a n d idjiots a n d i n s a n e howlings. B u t now o n e a n s w e r s from far w o o d s in a strain m a d e really m e l o d i o u s by d i s t a n c e , — Hoo hoo hoo, hoorer hoo; a n d indeed for the m o s t part it s u g g e s t e d only p l e a s i n g a s s o c i a t i o n s , w h e t h e r heard by day or night, s u m m e r or winter. ^Lrejoice that there are owls. L e t them do the idiotic a n d m a n i a c a l hooting for m e n . It is a s o u n d admirably suited to s w a m p s a n d twilight w o o d s which no day illustrates, s u g g e s t i n g a vast a n d u n d e v e l o p e d n a t u r e w h i c h m e n have not recognized. T h e y represent the stark twilight a n d unsatisfied t h o u g h t s which all have. All day the s u n has s h o n e on the s u r f a c e of s o m e s a v a g e s w a m p , where the d o u b l e s p r u c e s t a n d s h u n g with u s n e a l i c h e n s , a n d small hawks c i r c u l a t e a b o v e , a n d the c h i c a d e e lisps a m i d the e v e r g r e e n s , a n d the partridge a n d rabbit skulk b e n e a t h ; but now a m o r e d i s m a l a n d fitting day d a w n s , a n d a different r a c e of c r e a t u r e s a w a k e s to express the m e a n i n g of N a t u r e there. L a t e in the evening I h e a r d the distant r u m b l i n g of w a g o n s over b r i d g e s , — a s o u n d heard farther than a l m o s t any other at n i g h t , — t h e baying of d o g s , a n d s o m e t i m e s again the lowing of s o m e d i s c o n s o l a t e c o w in a distant barnyard. In the m e a n while all the s h o r e rang with the t r u m p of bullfrogs, the sturdy spirits of a n c i e n t wine-bibbers a n d w a s s a i l e r s , still u n r e p e n t a n t , trying to sing a c a t c h in their Stygian l a k e , 1 — i f the W a l d e n n y m p h s will p a r d o n the c o m p a r i s o n , for t h o u g h there are a l m o s t no w e e d s , there a r e frogs 1. H a r d i n g s u g g e s t s t h a t T h o r e a u m i g h t h a v e b e e n t h i n k i n g o f " W e g i v e t h e e a s h o u t : H o o ! " in J o n s o n ' s Masque of Queens 2.317—18.

2. Dirges. 3. In G r e e k m y t h o l o g y t h e S t y x is t h e river of the u n d e r w o r l d .

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t h e r e , — w h o w o u l d fain k e e p u p the hilarious rules of their old festal t a b l e s , t h o u g h their voices have waxed h o a r s e a n d solemnly g r a v e , m o c k i n g at mirth, a n d the wine h a s lost its flavor, a n d b e c o m e only liquor to d i s t e n d their p a u n c h e s , a n d sweet intoxication never c o m e s to drown the m e m o r y of the p a s t , but m e r e s a t u r a t i o n a n d w a t e r l o g g e d n e s s a n d d i s t e n t i o n . T h e m o s t a l d e r m a n i c , with his chin u p o n a heart-leaf, which serves for a n a p k i n to his drooling c h a p s , u n d e r this northern s h o r e quaffs a d e e p d r a u g h t of the o n c e s c o r n e d water, a n d p a s s e s r o u n d the c u p with the e j a c u l a t i o n tr-r-r-oonk, tr-rr-oonk, tr-r-r-oonk! a n d straightway c o m e s over the water from s o m e distant cove the s a m e p a s s w o r d r e p e a t e d , w h e r e the next in seniority a n d girth has g u l p e d down to his m a r k ; a n d w h e n this o b s e r v a n c e h a s m a d e the circuit of the s h o r e s , then e j a c u l a t e s the m a s t e r of c e r e m o n i e s , with s a t i s f a c t i o n , tr-r-roonk! a n d e a c h in his turn r e p e a t s the s a m e d o w n to the least d i s t e n d e d , leakiest, a n d flabbiest p a u n c h e d , that there b e no m i s t a k e ; a n d then the bowl g o e s r o u n d a g a i n a n d a g a i n , until the s u n d i s p e r s e s the m o r n i n g mist, a n d only the patriarch is not u n d e r the p o n d , but vainly bellowing troonk from time to t i m e , a n d p a u s i n g for a reply. 4 I a m not s u r e that I ever h e a r d the s o u n d of c o c k - c r o w i n g from my clearing, a n d I t h o u g h t that it might b e worth the while to keep a c o c k e r e l for his m u s i c merely, a s a s i n g i n g bird. T h e n o t e of this o n c e wild Indian p h e a s a n t is certainly the m o s t r e m a r k a b l e of any bird's, a n d if they c o u l d be naturalized without b e i n g d o m e s t i c a t e d , it would s o o n b e c o m e the m o s t f a m o u s s o u n d in our w o o d s , s u r p a s s i n g the c l a n g o r of the g o o s e a n d the h o o t i n g of the owl; a n d then i m a g i n e the c a c k l i n g of the h e n s to fill the p a u s e s w h e n their lords' clarions rested! N o w o n d e r that m a n a d d e d this bird to his t a m e s t o c k , — t o say n o t h i n g of the e g g s a n d d r u m s t i c k s . T o walk in a winter m o r n i n g in a wood w h e r e t h e s e birds a b o u n d e d , their native w o o d s , a n d h e a r the wild c o c k e r e l s crow on the trees, clear a n d shrill for miles over the r e s o u n d i n g e a r t h , d r o w n i n g the feebler n o t e s of other b i r d s , — t h i n k of it! It would p u t n a t i o n s o n the alert. W h o would not be early to r i s e , a n d rise earlier a n d earlier every s u c c e s s i v e day of his life, till h e b e c a m e u n s p e a k a b l y healthy, wealthy, a n d wise? T h i s foreign bird's note is c e l e b r a t e d by the p o e t s of all c o u n t r i e s a l o n g with the n o t e s of their native s o n g s t e r s . All c l i m a t e s a g r e e with brave C h a n t i c l e e r . H e is m o r e i n d i g e n o u s even than the natives. H i s health is ever g o o d , his l u n g s are s o u n d , his spirits never flag. E v e n the sailor on the Atlantic a n d Pacific is a w a k e n e d by his v o i c e ; but its shrill s o u n d never r o u s e d m e from my s l u m b e r s . I kept neither d o g , c a t , cow, pig, n o r h e n s , so that you would have said there w a s a deficiency of d o m e s t i c s o u n d s ; neither the c h u r n , nor the s p i n n i n g wheel, nor even the s i n g i n g of the kettle, nor the h i s s i n g of the urn, nor children crying, to c o m f o r t o n e . An oldf a s h i o n e d m a n w o u l d have lost his s e n s e s or died of e n n u i b e f o r e this. N o t even rats in the wall, for they were starved out, or rather w e r e never b a i t e d i n , — o n l y squirrels o n the roof a n d u n d e r the floor, a whippoorwill o n the ridge p o l e , a blue-jay s c r e a m i n g b e n e a t h the window, a h a r e or w o o d c h u c k u n d e r the h o u s e , a screech-owl or a cat-owl b e h i n d it, a flock of wild g e e s e or a l a u g h i n g loon on the p o n d , a n d a fox to bark in the night. N o t even a lark or a n oriole, t h o s e mild p l a n t a t i o n birds, ever visited my clearing. N o 4. A m o c k - h e r o i c a l l u s i o n t o B r u t u s ' s w o r d s t o t h e c i t i z e n s , " I p a u s e f o r a r e p l y , " i n S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Caesar 3.2.

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c o c k e r e l s to c r o w nor h e n s to c a c k l e in the yard. N o yard! but u n f e n c e d N a t u r e r e a c h i n g u p to your very sills. A y o u n g forest g r o w i n g u p u n d e r your w i n d o w s , a n d wild s u m a c h s a n d blackberry vines b r e a k i n g t h r o u g h into your cellar; sturdy pitch-pines r u b b i n g a n d creaking a g a i n s t the s h i n g l e s for want of r o o m , their roots r e a c h i n g quite u n d e r the h o u s e . I n s t e a d of a s c u t t l e or a blind blown off in the g a l e , — a pine tree s n a p p e d off or torn u p by the roots b e h i n d your h o u s e for fuel. Instead of n o p a t h to the front-yard gate in the G r e a t S n o w , — n o g a t e , — n o front-yard,—and no p a t h to the civilized world! 5.

Solitude

T h i s is a d e l i c i o u s evening, w h e n the whole body is o n e s e n s e , a n d i m b i b e s delight through every p o r e . I g o a n d c o m e with a s t r a n g e liberty in N a t u r e , a part of herself. A s I walk a l o n g the stony s h o r e of the p o n d in my shirt sleeves, t h o u g h it is cool a s well a s cloudy a n d windy, a n d I s e e n o t h i n g special to attract m e , all the e l e m e n t s a r e u n u s u a l l y c o n g e n i a l to m e . T h e bullfrogs t r u m p to u s h e r in the night, a n d the n o t e of the whippoorwill is b o r n e on the rippling wind from over the water. S y m p a t h y with the fluttering alder a n d p o p l a r leaves a l m o s t takes away my b r e a t h ; yet, like the lake, my serenity is rippled but not ruffled. T h e s e small waves raised by the e v e n i n g wind are a s r e m o t e from the s t o r m a s the s m o o t h reflecting s u r f a c e . T h o u g h it is now dark, the wind still blows a n d roars in the w o o d , the waves still d a s h , a n d s o m e c r e a t u r e s lull the rest with their n o t e s . T h e r e p o s e is never c o m p l e t e . T h e wildest a n i m a l s do not r e p o s e , b u t s e e k their prey now; the fox, a n d s k u n k , a n d rabbit, now r o a m the fields a n d w o o d s without fear. T h e y are N a t u r e ' s w a t c h m e n , — l i n k s which c o n n e c t the days of a n i m a t e d life. W h e n I return to my h o u s e I find that visitors have b e e n there a n d left their c a r d s , either a b u n c h of flowers, or a wreath of evergreen, or a n a m e in pencil on a yellow walnut leaf or a c h i p . T h e y w h o c o m e rarely to the w o o d s take s o m e little p i e c e of the forest into their h a n d s to play with by the way, which they leave, either intentionally or accidentally. O n e h a s p e e l e d a willow w a n d , woven it into a ring, a n d d r o p p e d it o n my t a b l e . I c o u l d always tell if visitors h a d called in my a b s e n c e , either by the b e n d e d twigs or g r a s s , or the print of their s h o e s , a n d generally of what sex or a g e or quality they were by s o m e slight trace left, a s a flower d r o p p e d , or a b u n c h of g r a s s p l u c k e d a n d thrown away, even a s far off a s the railroad, half a mile d i s t a n t , or by the lingering odor of a cigar or p i p e . N a y , I w a s frequently notified of the p a s s a g e of a traveller a l o n g the highway sixty rods off by the s c e n t of his PipeT h e r e is c o m m o n l y sufficient s p a c e a b o u t u s . O u r horizon is never q u i t e at our e l b o w s . T h e thick w o o d is not j u s t at our door, nor the p o n d , but s o m e w h a t is always clearing, familiar a n d worn by u s , a p p r o p r i a t e d a n d fenced in s o m e way, a n d r e c l a i m e d from N a t u r e . F o r what r e a s o n have I this vast r a n g e a n d circuit, s o m e s q u a r e miles of u n f r e q u e n t e d forest, for my privacy, a b a n d o n e d to m e by m e n ? M y n e a r e s t n e i g h b o r is a mile distant, a n d no h o u s e is visible from any p l a c e b u t the hill-tops within half a mile of my own. I have my horizon b o u n d e d by w o o d s all to myself; a d i s t a n t view of the railroad w h e r e it t o u c h e s the p o n d on the o n e h a n d , a n d of the f e n c e which skirts the w o o d l a n d road on the other. B u t for the m o s t part it is a s solitary w h e r e I live a s on the prairies. It is a s m u c h A s i a or Africa as N e w

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E n g l a n d . I h a v e , as it w e r e , my own s u n a n d m o o n a n d s t a r s , a n d a little world all to myself. At night there w a s never a traveller p a s s e d my h o u s e , or k n o c k e d at my door, m o r e than if I were the first or last m a n ; u n l e s s it were in the spring, w h e n at long intervals s o m e c a m e from the village to fish for p o u t s , — t h e y plainly fished m u c h m o r e in the W a l d e n P o n d of their own n a t u r e s , and baited their hooks with d a r k n e s s , — b u t they s o o n retreated, usually with light b a s k e t s , a n d left " t h e world to d a r k n e s s a n d to m e , " 5 a n d the black kernel of the night w a s never p r o f a n e d by any h u m a n neighborh o o d . I believe that m e n are generally still a little afraid of the dark, t h o u g h the witches are all h u n g , a n d Christianity a n d c a n d l e s have b e e n i n t r o d u c e d . Yet I e x p e r i e n c e d s o m e t i m e s that the m o s t sweet a n d tender, the most i n n o c e n t a n d e n c o u r a g i n g society m a y be f o u n d in any n a t u r a l object, even for the poor m i s a n t h r o p e a n d m o s t m e l a n c h o l y m a n . T h e r e c a n b e no very black m e l a n c h o l y to him w h o lives in the midst of N a t u r e a n d h a s his s e n s e s still. T h e r e w a s never yet s u c h a s t o r m but it w a s / E o l i a n ' ' m u s i c to a healthy a n d i n n o c e n t ear. N o t h i n g c a n rightly c o m p e l a s i m p l e a n d brave m a n to a vulgar s a d n e s s . While I enjoy the friendship of the s e a s o n s I trust that nothing c a n m a k e life a b u r d e n to m e . T h e gentle rain which w a t e r s my b e a n s a n d k e e p s m e in the h o u s e to-day is not drear a n d m e l a n c h o l y , but g o o d for m e too. T h o u g h it prevents my h o e i n g t h e m , it is of far m o r e worth than my hoeing. If it s h o u l d c o n t i n u e s o long a s to c a u s e the s e e d s to rot in the g r o u n d a n d destroy the p o t a t o e s in the low l a n d s , it w o u l d still be g o o d for the g r a s s on the u p l a n d s , a n d , b e i n g good for the g r a s s , it would be g o o d for m e . S o m e t i m e s , w h e n I c o m p a r e myself with other m e n , it s e e m s a s if I were m o r e favored by the g o d s than they, beyond any d e s e r t s that I a m c o n s c i o u s of; as if I had a warrant a n d surety at their h a n d s which my fellows have not, a n d were especially g u i d e d a n d g u a r d e d . I d o not flatter myself, but if it be p o s s i b l e they flatter m e . I have never felt l o n e s o m e , or in the least o p p r e s s e d by a s e n s e of s o l i t u d e , but o n c e , a n d that w a s a few w e e k s after I c a m e to the w o o d s , w h e n , for a n hour, I d o u b t e d if the near n e i g h b o r h o o d of m a n w a s not e s s e n t i a l to a s e r e n e a n d healthy life. T o be a l o n e w a s s o m e t h i n g u n p l e a s a n t . B u t I w a s at the s a m e time c o n s c i o u s of a slight insanity in my m o o d , a n d s e e m e d to f o r e s e e my recovery. In the m i d s t of a gentle rain while these t h o u g h t s prevailed, I w a s s u d d e n l y s e n s i b l e of s u c h s w e e t and beneficent society in N a t u r e , in the very p a t t e r i n g of the d r o p s , a n d in every s o u n d a n d sight a r o u n d my h o u s e , an infinite a n d u n a c c o u n t a b l e friendliness all at o n c e like a n a t m o s p h e r e s u s t a i n i n g m e , a s m a d e the fancied a d v a n t a g e s of h u m a n n e i g h b o r h o o d insignificant, a n d I have never thought of t h e m s i n c e . Every little pine needle e x p a n d e d a n d swelled with s y m p a t h y a n d befriended m e . I w a s s o distinctly m a d e a w a r e of the p r e s e n c e of s o m e t h i n g kindred to m e , even in s c e n e s which we are a c c u s t o m e d to call wild a n d dreary, a n d also that the nearest of blood to m e a n d h u m a n e s t w a s not a p e r s o n nor a villager, that I thought no p l a c e c o u l d ever be s t r a n g e to m e a g a i n . — " M o u r n i n g untimely c o n s u m e s the s a d ; F e w a r e their days in the land of the living, Beautiful d a u g h t e r of T o s c a r . " 7 5. T h o m a s G r a y ' s " E l e g y W r i t t e n in a C o u n t r y Churchyard." 6. T h e A e o l i a n h a r p ( n a m e d for A e o l u s , G r e e k k e e p e r o f t h e w i n d s ) w a s t h e n c o m m o n l y p l a c e d in the o p e n air or n e a r a n o p e n window so that the

w i n d c o u l d c a u s e it t o m a k e s o f t s o u n d s . 7. H a r d i n g i d e n t i f i e s t h i s a s f r o m t h e p o e m " C r o m a " in P a t r i c k M a c G r e g o r ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f The Genuine Remains of Ossian.

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S o m e of my p l e a s a n t e s t h o u r s were d u r i n g the l o n g rain s t o r m s in the spring or fall, which confined m e to the h o u s e for the afternoon a s well as the f o r e n o o n , s o o t h e d by their c e a s e l e s s roar a n d pelting; w h e n a n early twilight u s h e r e d in a long evening in which m a n y t h o u g h t s h a d time to take root a n d unfold t h e m s e l v e s . In t h o s e driving north-east rains which tried the village h o u s e s s o , w h e n the m a i d s stood ready with m o p a n d pail in front entries to keep the d e l u g e o u t , I sat b e h i n d my door in my little h o u s e , which was all entry, a n d thoroughly enjoyed its p r o t e c t i o n . In o n e heavy t h u n d e r shower the lightning s t r u c k a large pitch-pine a c r o s s the p o n d , m a k i n g a very c o n s p i c u o u s a n d perfectly regular spiral groove from top to b o t t o m , a n inch or m o r e d e e p , a n d four or five i n c h e s wide, a s you would groove a walkingstick. I p a s s e d it again the other day, a n d w a s s t r u c k with a w e on looking up a n d b e h o l d i n g that mark, now m o r e distinct than ever, w h e r e a terrific a n d resistless bolt c a m e d o w n out of the h a r m l e s s sky eight years a g o . M e n frequently say to m e , "I s h o u l d think you would feel l o n e s o m e d o w n there, a n d want to be n e a r e r to folks, rainy a n d snowy days a n d nights e s p e c i a l l y . " I a m t e m p t e d to reply to s u c h , — T h i s w h o l e earth which we inhabit is but a point in s p a c e . H o w far a p a r t , think you, dwell the two m o s t distant i n h a b i t a n t s of yonder star, the b r e a d t h of w h o s e disk c a n n o t b e a p p r e c i a t e d by o u r instrum e n t s ? W h y s h o u l d I feel lonely? is not our p l a n e t in the Milky W a y ? T h i s which you p u t s e e m s to m e not to be the m o s t i m p o r t a n t q u e s t i o n . W h a t sort of s p a c e is that which s e p a r a t e s a m a n from his fellows a n d m a k e s him solitary? I have f o u n d that no exertion of the legs c a n b r i n g two m i n d s m u c h nearer to o n e a n o t h e r . W h a t d o we w a n t m o s t to dwell near to? N o t to m a n y m e n surely, the d e p o t , the post-office, the b a r - r o o m , the m e e t i n g - h o u s e , the s c h o o l - h o u s e , the grocery, B e a c o n Hill, or the Five P o i n t s , 8 w h e r e m e n m o s t c o n g r e g a t e , but to the perennial s o u r c e of our life, w h e n c e in all our experience we have f o u n d that to i s s u e ; a s the willow s t a n d s n e a r the water a n d s e n d s out its roots in that direction. T h i s will vary with different n a t u r e s , b u t this is the p l a c e where a wise m a n will dig his cellar. . . . I o n e e v e n i n g overtook o n e of my t o w n s m e n , who h a s a c c u m u l a t e d w h a t is called " a h a n d s o m e p r o p e r t y " , — t h o u g h I never got a fair view of i t , — o n the W a l d e n r o a d , driving a pair of cattle to market, w h o inquired of m e how I c o u l d bring my m i n d to give up so m a n y of the c o m f o r t s of life. I a n s w e r e d that I w a s very s u r e I liked it p a s s a b l y well; I w a s not j o k i n g . A n d so I went h o m e to my b e d , a n d left him to p i c k his way t h r o u g h the d a r k n e s s a n d the m u d to B r i g h t o n , — o r B r i g h t - t o w n , — w h i c h p l a c e he would reach s o m e time in the m o r n i n g . Any p r o s p e c t of a w a k e n i n g or c o m i n g to life to a d e a d m a n m a k e s indifferent all times a n d p l a c e s . T h e p l a c e w h e r e that m a y o c c u r is always the s a m e , a n d indescribably p l e a s a n t to all our s e n s e s . F o r the m o s t part we allow only outlying a n d transient c i r c u m s t a n c e s to m a k e o u r o c c a s i o n s . T h e y a r e , in fact, the c a u s e of our distraction. N e a r e s t to all things is that p o w e r which f a s h i o n s their b e i n g . Next to u s the g r a n d e s t laws a r e continually b e i n g e x e c u t e d . Next to u s is not the w o r k m a n w h o m we have hired, with w h o m we love s o well to talk, but the w o r k m a n w h o s e work we a r e . " H o w vast a n d p r o f o u n d is the i n f l u e n c e of the subtile p o w e r s of H e a v e n a n d of E a r t h ! " 8. In l o w e r M a n h a t t a n , n o t o r i o u s f o r s q u a l o r a n d c o r r u p t i o n . T h e S t a t e H o u s e is o n B o s t o n ' s B e a c o n Hill. ( W r i t i n g to G . W . C u r t i s , o n e o f the " r a i s e r s " of T h o r e a u ' s cabin, H e r m a n Melville ironically

s u g g e s t e d " a g o o d , e a r n e s t " l e c t u r e t i t l e : Daily progress of man towards state of intellectual & moral perfection, as evidenced in history of 5th Avenue & 5 Points.)

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" W e s e e k to perceive t h e m , a n d we do not s e e t h e m ; we s e e k to h e a r t h e m , a n d we do not hear t h e m ; identified with the s u b s t a n c e of things, they c a n n o t b e s e p a r a t e d from t h e m . " " T h e y c a u s e that in all the universe m e n purify a n d sanctify their h e a r t s , a n d c l o t h e t h e m s e l v e s in their holiday g a r m e n t s to offer sacrifices a n d oblations to their a n c e s t o r s . It is an o c e a n of subtile intelligences. T h e y are every where, a b o v e u s , on our left, on our right; they environ u s o n all s i d e s . " 9 W e are the s u b j e c t s of an experiment which is n o t a little interesting to m e . C a n we not d o without the society of our g o s s i p s a little while u n d e r t h e s e c i r c u m s t a n c e s , — h a v e our own t h o u g h t s to c h e e r u s ? C o n f u c i o u s says truly, "Virtue d o e s not r e m a i n as an a b a n d o n e d o r p h a n ; it m u s t of necessity have n e i g h b o r s . " 1 With thinking we may be beside o u r s e l v e s in a s a n e s e n s e . By a c o n s c i o u s effort of the mind we c a n s t a n d aloof from a c t i o n s a n d their c o n s e q u e n c e s ; a n d all things, g o o d a n d b a d , go by us like a torrent. W e a r e not wholly involved in N a t u r e . I may be either the drift-wood in the s t r e a m , or I n d r a 2 in the sky looking d o w n on it. I may be affected by a theatrical exhibition; on the other h a n d , I may not be affected by an a c t u a l event which a p p e a r s to c o n c e r n m e m u c h m o r e . I only know myself a s a h u m a n entity; the s c e n e , so to s p e a k , of t h o u g h t s a n d affections; a n d a m s e n s i b l e of a certain d o u b l e n e s s by which I c a n s t a n d a s r e m o t e from myself a s from a n o t h e r . H o w e v e r i n t e n s e my e x p e r i e n c e , I a m c o n s c i o u s of the p r e s e n c e a n d criticism of a part of m e , w h i c h , a s it w e r e , is not a part of m e , but s p e c t a t o r , s h a r i n g n o e x p e r i e n c e , but taking note of it; a n d that is no m o r e I than it is y o u . W h e n the play, it m a y be the tragedy, of life is over, the s p e c t a t o r g o e s his way. It w a s a kind of fiction, a work of the i m a g i n a t i o n only, s o far a s he w a s conc e r n e d . T h i s d o u b l e n e s s m a y easily m a k e u s p o o r n e i g h b o r s a n d friends sometimes. I find it w h o l e s o m e to be a l o n e the greater part of the t i m e . T o be in c o m p a n y , even with the best, is s o o n w e a r i s o m e a n d d i s s i p a t i n g . I love to be a l o n e . I never f o u n d the c o m p a n i o n that w a s so c o m p a n i o n a b l e a s s o l i t u d e . W e are for the m o s t part m o r e lonely w h e n we go a b r o a d a m o n g m e n t h a n w h e n we stay in our c h a m b e r s . A m a n thinking or working is always a l o n e , let him b e w h e r e he will. S o l i t u d e is not m e a s u r e d by the m i l e s of s p a c e that intervene b e t w e e n a m a n a n d his fellows. T h e really diligent s t u d e n t in o n e of the c r o w d e d hives of C a m b r i d g e C o l l e g e is a s solitary a s a dervish in the desert. T h e farmer can work a l o n e in the field or the w o o d s all day, h o e i n g or c h o p p i n g , a n d not feel l o n e s o m e , b e c a u s e he is e m p l o y e d ; but w h e n he c o m e s h o m e at night he c a n n o t sit d o w n in a r o o m a l o n e , at the mercy of his t h o u g h t s , but m u s t be where he c a n " s e e the folks," a n d r e c r e a t e , a n d a s he thinks r e m u n e r a t e himself for his day's s o l i t u d e ; a n d h e n c e he w o n d e r s how the s t u d e n t c a n sit a l o n e in the h o u s e all night a n d m o s t of the day without e n n u i a n d "the b l u e s ; " but he d o e s not realize that the s t u d e n t , though in the h o u s e , is still at work in his field, a n d c h o p p i n g in his w o o d s , a s the farmer in his, a n d in turn s e e k s the s a m e r e c r e a t i o n a n d society that the latter d o e s , though it may be a m o r e c o n d e n s e d form of it. S o c i e t y is c o m m o n l y too c h e a p . W e m e e t at very short intervals, not having 9. C o n f u c i u s ' s The Doctrine 1. C o n f u c i u s ' s Analects 4.

of the Mean

14.

2. In t h e V e d a s , t h e H i n d u g o d o f t h e a i r , a s s o c i ated with rain a n d t h u n d e r .

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h a d time to a c q u i r e any new value for e a c h other. W e m e e t at m e a l s three times a day, a n d give e a c h other a new t a s t e of that old m u s t y c h e e s e that we a r e . W e have h a d to a g r e e on a certain set of rules, c a l l e d e t i q u e t t e a n d p o l i t e n e s s , to m a k e this f r e q u e n t m e e t i n g tolerable, a n d that we n e e d not c o m e to o p e n war. W e meet at the post-office, a n d at the s o c i a b l e , a n d a b o u t the fireside every night; we live thick a n d are in e a c h other's way, a n d s t u m b l e over o n e a n o t h e r , a n d 1 think that we t h u s lose s o m e r e s p e c t for o n e a n o t h e r . Certainly less f r e q u e n c y would suffice for all i m p o r t a n t a n d hearty c o m m u n i c a t i o n s . C o n s i d e r the girls in a factory,—never a l o n e , hardly in their d r e a m s . It would b e better if there were but o n e inhabitant to a s q u a r e mile, as where I live. T h e value of a m a n is not in his skin, that we s h o u l d t o u c h him. I have h e a r d of a m a n lost in the w o o d s a n d dying of f a m i n e a n d e x h a u s t i o n at the foot of a tree, w h o s e loneliness w a s relieved by the g r o t e s q u e visions with w h i c h , owing to bodily w e a k n e s s , his d i s e a s e d i m a g i n a t i o n s u r r o u n d e d him, a n d which he believed to be real. S o a l s o , owing to bodily a n d m e n t a l health a n d s t r e n g t h , we may be continually c h e e r e d by a like but m o r e normal a n d natural society, a n d c o m e to know that we are never a l o n e . I have a great deal of c o m p a n y in my h o u s e ; especially in the m o r n i n g , when nobody c a l l s . Let m e s u g g e s t a few c o m p a r i s o n s , that s o m e o n e may convey a n idea of my situation. I a m no m o r e lonely than the loon in the p o n d that l a u g h s so loud, or than W a l d e n P o n d itself. W h a t c o m p a n y h a s that lonely lake, I pray? A n d yet it h a s not the b l u e devils,* b u t the b l u e a n g e l s in it, in the azure tint of its waters. T h e s u n is a l o n e , except in thick weather, w h e n there s o m e t i m e s a p p e a r to b e two, but o n e is a m o c k s u n . G o d is a l o n e , — b u t the devil, he is far from b e i n g a l o n e ; he s e e s a great deal of c o m p a n y ; he is legion. I a m no m o r e lonely than a single mullein or d a n d e l i o n in a p a s t u r e , or a b e a n leaf, or sorrel, or a horse-fly, or a h u m b l e b e e . I a m n o m o r e lonely than the Mill B r o o k , or a w e a t h e r c o c k , or the northstar, or the s o u t h wind, or a n April shower, or a J a n u a r y thaw, or the first spider in a new h o u s e . I have o c c a s i o n a l visits in the long winter e v e n i n g s , w h e n the s n o w falls fast a n d the wind howls in the w o o d , from an old settler 4 a n d original proprietor, who is reported to have d u g W a l d e n P o n d , a n d s t o n e d it, a n d fringed it with pine w o o d s ; who tells m e stories of old time a n d of new eternity; a n d b e t w e e n u s we m a n a g e to p a s s a cheerful e v e n i n g with social mirth a n d p l e a s a n t views of things, even without a p p l e s or c i d e r , — a m o s t wise a n d h u m o r o u s friend, w h o m I love m u c h , w h o k e e p s h i m s e l f m o r e s e c r e t than ever did Goffe or W h a l l e y ; 5 a n d t h o u g h he is t h o u g h t to be d e a d , n o n e c a n show w h e r e he is b u r i e d . An elderly d a m e , 6 too, dwells in my n e i g h b o r h o o d , invisible to m o s t p e r s o n s , in w h o s e o d o r o u s herb g a r d e n I love to stroll s o m e t i m e s , g a t h e r i n g s i m p l e s a n d listening to her f a b l e s ; for s h e has a g e n i u s of u n e q u a l l e d fertility, a n d her m e m o r y r u n s b a c k farther than mythology, a n d s h e c a n tell m e the original of every fable, a n d on what fact every o n e is f o u n d e d , for the incidents o c c u r r e d when s h e w a s y o u n g . A ruddy a n d lusty 3. B l u e s . 4 . T h e o l d s e t t l e r is s o m e s o r t o f d i v i n e p o w e r , t h o u g h not t h e G o d T h o r e a u ' s n e i g h b o r s w o u l d have worshiped. 5. E n g l i s h P u r i t a n s w h o s u p p o r t e d the e x e c u t i o n

o f C h a r l e s 1 o f E n g l a n d a n d later, w h e n s o u g h t a s r e g i c i d e s , h i d in C o n n e c t i c u t a n d M a s s a c h u s e t t s settlements. Hawthorne's "The Gray Champion" m a k e s their story into a patriotic allegory. 6. M o t h e r N a t u r e .

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old d a m e , w h o delights in all w e a t h e r s a n d s e a s o n s , a n d is likely to outlive all her children yet. T h e i n d e s c r i b a b l e i n n o c e n c e a n d b e n e f i c e n c e of N a t u r e , — o f s u n a n d wind a n d rain, of s u m m e r a n d w i n t e r , — s u c h h e a l t h , s u c h cheer, they afford forever! a n d s u c h s y m p a t h y have they ever with our r a c e , that all N a t u r e would b e a f f e c t e d , a n d the sun's b r i g h t n e s s f a d e , a n d the w i n d s would sigh h u m a n e l y , a n d the c l o u d s rain t e a r s , a n d the w o o d s s h e d their leaves a n d put on m o u r n i n g in m i d s u m m e r , if any m a n s h o u l d ever for a j u s t c a u s e grieve. S h a l l I not have intelligence with the e a r t h ? A m I not partly leaves a n d vegetable m o u l d myself? W h a t is the pill which will keep u s well, s e r e n e , c o n t e n t e d ? N o t my or thy great-grandfather's, but o u r g r e a t - g r a n d m o t h e r N a t u r e ' s universal, vegetable, b o t a n i c m e d i c i n e s , by which s h e h a s kept herself y o u n g always, outlived so m a n y old P a r r s 7 in her day, a n d fed her health with their d e c a y i n g f a t n e s s . F o r my p a n a c e a , i n s t e a d of o n e of t h o s e q u a c k vials of a mixture d i p p e d from A c h e r o n 8 a n d the D e a d S e a , which c o m e o u t of t h o s e long shallow blacks c h o o n e r looking w a g o n s which we s o m e t i m e s s e e m a d e to carry b o t t l e s , let m e have a d r a u g h t of undiluted m o r n i n g air. M o r n i n g air! If m e n will not drink of this at the f o u n t a i n - h e a d of the day, why, t h e n , we m u s t even bottle up s o m e a n d sell it in the s h o p s , for the benefit of t h o s e w h o have lost their s u b s c r i p t i o n ticket to m o r n i n g time in this world. B u t r e m e m b e r , it will not keep q u i t e till noon-day even in the c o o l e s t cellar, but drive out the s t o p p l e s long ere that a n d follow w e s t w a r d the s t e p s of A u r o r a . I a m no w o r s h i p p e r of Hygeia, w h o w a s the d a u g h t e r of that old h e r b - d o c t o r / E s c u l a p i u s , 9 a n d who is r e p r e s e n t e d on m o n u m e n t s holding a s e r p e n t in o n e h a n d , a n d in the other a c u p out of which the s e r p e n t s o m e t i m e s drinks; but rather of H e b e , c u p b e a r e r to J u p i t e r , w h o w a s the d a u g h t e r of J u n o a n d wild l e t t u c e , a n d who h a d the power of restoring g o d s a n d m e n to the vigor of youth. S h e w a s probably the only thoroughly s o u n d - c o n d i t i o n e d , healthy, a n d r o b u s t y o u n g lady that ever walked the g l o b e , a n d wherever s h e c a m e it w a s spring.

17.

Spring

T h e o p e n i n g of large tracts by the ice-cutters c o m m o n l y c a u s e s a p o n d to b r e a k u p earlier; for the water, agitated by the wind, even in c o l d w e a t h e r , w e a r s away the s u r r o u n d i n g ice. B u t s u c h w a s not the effect o n W a l d e n that year, for s h e h a d s o o n got a thick new g a r m e n t to take the p l a c e of the old. T h i s p o n d never b r e a k s u p so s o o n a s the o t h e r s in this n e i g h b o r h o o d , o n a c c o u n t both of its greater d e p t h a n d its having n o s t r e a m p a s s i n g t h r o u g h it to melt or wear away the ice. I never knew it to o p e n in the c o u r s e of a winter, not e x c e p t i n g that of '52—3, which gave the p o n d s s o severe a trial. It c o m m o n l y o p e n s a b o u t the first of April, a w e e k or ten days later t h a n Flint's P o n d a n d F a i r - H a v e n , b e g i n n i n g to melt on the north s i d e a n d in the shallower p a r t s where it b e g a n to freeze. It i n d i c a t e s better t h a n any water h e r e a b o u t s the a b s o l u t e p r o g r e s s of the s e a s o n , b e i n g least affected by transient c h a n g e s of t e m p e r a t u r e . A severe cold of a few days' d u r a t i o n in M a r c h 7. A n E n g l i s h m a n n a m e d T h o m a s P a r r w a s s a i d to have b e e n alive d u r i n g three centuries ( 1 4 8 3 1635).

8 . I n G r e e k m y t h o l o g y a p r i n c i p a l r i v e r in H a d e s , 9. R o m a n god of medicine. Hygeia w a s the G r e e k goddess of health.

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may very m u c h retard the o p e n i n g of the former p o n d s , while the t e m p e r a ture of W a l d e n i n c r e a s e s a l m o s t uninterruptedly. A t h e r m o m e t e r thrust into the m i d d l e of W a l d e n on the 6 t h of M a r c h , 1 8 4 7 , s t o o d at 3 2 ° , or freezing point; near the s h o r e at 3 3 ° ; in the m i d d l e of Flint's P o n d , the s a m e day, at 3 2 ' / 2 ° ; at a dozen rods from the s h o r e , in shallow water, u n d e r ice a foot thick, at 3 6 ° . T h i s difference of three a n d a half d e g r e e s b e t w e e n the temp e r a t u r e of the d e e p water a n d the shallow in the latter p o n d , a n d the fact that a great proportion of it is comparatively shallow, s h o w why it s h o u l d b r e a k up so m u c h s o o n e r than W a l d e n . T h e ice in the shallowest part w a s at this time several i n c h e s thinner than in the m i d d l e . In mid-winter the m i d d l e had b e e n the w a r m e s t a n d the ice thinnest there. S o , a l s o , every o n e w h o h a s w a d e d a b o u t the s h o r e s of a p o n d in s u m m e r m u s t have p e r c e i v e d how m u c h w a r m e r the water is c l o s e to the s h o r e , where only three or four i n c h e s d e e p , t h a n a little d i s t a n c e o u t , a n d on the s u r f a c e w h e r e it is d e e p , than n e a r the b o t t o m . In spring the s u n not only exerts a n influence through the i n c r e a s e d t e m p e r a t u r e of the air a n d e a r t h , b u t its heat p a s s e s through ice a foot or m o r e thick, a n d is reflected from the b o t t o m in shallow water, a n d so a l s o w a r m s the water a n d melts the u n d e r side of the ice, at the s a m e time that it is m e l t i n g it m o r e directly a b o v e , m a k i n g it u n e v e n , a n d c a u s i n g the air b u b b l e s which it c o n t a i n s to extend t h e m s e l v e s u p w a r d a n d d o w n w a r d until it is c o m p l e t e l y h o n e y - c o m b e d , a n d at last d i s a p p e a r s s u d d e n l y in a single spring rain. Ice has its grain a s well a s w o o d , a n d w h e n a c a k e b e g i n s to rot or " c o m b , " that is, a s s u m e the a p p e a r a n c e of h o n e y - c o m b , whatever m a y be its position, the air cells are at right a n g l e s with what w a s the water s u r f a c e . W h e r e there is a rock or a log rising n e a r to the s u r f a c e the ice over it is m u c h thinner, a n d is frequently q u i t e dissolved by this reflected h e a t ; a n d I have b e e n told that in the e x p e r i m e n t at C a m b r i d g e to freeze water in a shallow w o o d e n p o n d , t h o u g h the cold air c i r c u l a t e d u n d e r n e a t h , a n d so h a d a c c e s s to both s i d e s , the reflection of the s u n from the b o t t o m m o r e than c o u n t e r b a l a n c e d this a d v a n t a g e . W h e n a w a r m rain in the m i d d l e of the winter melts off the snow-ice from W a l d e n , a n d leaves a hard d a r k or t r a n s p a r e n t ice o n the m i d d l e , there will be a strip of rotten t h o u g h thicker white i c e , a rod or m o r e wide, a b o u t the s h o r e s , c r e a t e d by this reflected heat. A l s o , a s I have said, the b u b b l e s t h e m s e l v e s within the ice o p e r a t e a s b u r n i n g g l a s s e s to melt the ice b e n e a t h . T h e p h e n o m e n a of the year take p l a c e every day in a p o n d on a small s c a l e . Every m o r n i n g , generally s p e a k i n g , the shallow water is b e i n g w a r m e d m o r e rapidly than the d e e p , t h o u g h it m a y not b e m a d e so w a r m after all, a n d every e v e n i n g it is b e i n g c o o l e d m o r e rapidly until the m o r n i n g . T h e day is a n e p i t o m e of the year. T h e night is the winter, the m o r n i n g a n d e v e n i n g are the spring a n d fall, a n d the n o o n is the s u m m e r . T h e c r a c k i n g a n d b o o m i n g of the ice indicate a c h a n g e of t e m p e r a t u r e . O n e p l e a s a n t m o r n i n g after a cold night, F e b r u a r y 2 4 t h , 1 8 5 0 , having g o n e to Flint's P o n d to s p e n d the day, I noticed with s u r p r i s e , that w h e n I s t r u c k the ice with the h e a d of my axe, it r e s o u n d e d like a g o n g for m a n y rods a r o u n d , or a s if I h a d s t r u c k on a tight d r u m - h e a d . T h e p o n d b e g a n to b o o m a b o u t a n h o u r after s u n r i s e , w h e n it felt the influence of the s u n ' s rays s l a n t e d u p o n it from the hills; it s t r e t c h e d itself a n d yawned like a w a k i n g m a n with a gradually i n c r e a s i n g t u m u l t , which w a s kept u p three or four h o u r s . It took a short siesta at n o o n , a n d b o o m e d o n c e m o r e toward night, a s the s u n w a s withdrawing his influe n c e . In the right s t a g e of the w e a t h e r a p o n d fires its evening g u n with great

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regularity. B u t in the m i d d l e of the day, b e i n g full of c r a c k s , a n d the air a l s o b e i n g less e l a s t i c , it h a d c o m p l e t e l y lost its r e s o n a n c e , a n d probably fishes a n d m u s k r a t s c o u l d not then have b e e n s t u n n e d by a blow on it. T h e fishe r m e n say that the " t h u n d e r i n g of the p o n d " s c a r e s the fishes a n d prevents their biting. T h e p o n d d o e s not t h u n d e r every evening, a n d I c a n n o t tell surely w h e n to expect its t h u n d e r i n g ; but t h o u g h I m a y perceive no d i f f e r e n c e in the weather, it d o e s . W h o would have s u s p e c t e d s o large a n d c o l d a n d thick-skinned a thing to b e so sensitive? Yet it h a s its law to which it t h u n d e r s o b e d i e n c e w h e n it s h o u l d as surely a s the b u d s e x p a n d in the s p r i n g . T h e earth is all alive a n d covered with papillae. T h e largest p o n d is a s sensitive to a t m o s p h e r i c c h a n g e s a s the g l o b u l e of m e r c u r y in its t u b e . O n e attraction in c o m i n g to the w o o d s to live w a s that I s h o u l d have leisure a n d opportunity to s e e the spring c o m e in. T h e ice in the p o n d at length begins to be h o n e y - c o m b e d , a n d I c a n set my heel in it a s I walk. F o g s a n d rains a n d w a r m e r s u n s are gradually m e l t i n g the s n o w ; the days have grown sensibly longer; a n d I s e e how I shall get t h r o u g h the winter without a d d i n g to my wood-pile, for large fires are n o longer n e c e s s a r y . I a m o n the alert for the first signs of spring, to h e a r the c h a n c e note of s o m e arriving bird, or the striped squirrel's chirp, for his stores m u s t be now nearly e x h a u s t e d , or s e e the w o o d c h u c k venture out of his winter q u a r t e r s . O n the 13th of M a r c h , after I had h e a r d the bluebird, s o n g - s p a r r o w , a n d red-wing, the ice w a s still nearly a foot thick. As the w e a t h e r grew w a r m e r , it w a s not sensibly worn away by the water, nor broken up a n d floated off a s in rivers, b u t , t h o u g h it w a s c o m p l e t e l y m e l t e d for half a rod in width a b o u t the s h o r e , the m i d d l e w a s merely h o n e y - c o m b e d a n d s a t u r a t e d with water, so that you c o u l d put your foot t h r o u g h it w h e n six i n c h e s thick; b u t by the next day evening, p e r h a p s , after a warm rain followed by fog, it would have wholly d i s a p p e a r e d , all g o n e off with the fog, spirited away. O n e year I went a c r o s s the middle only five days before it d i s a p p e a r e d entirely. In 1 8 4 5 W a l d e n w a s first c o m pletely o p e n on the 1st of April; in ' 4 6 , the 2 5 t h of M a r c h ; in ' 4 7 , the 8th of April; in ' 5 1 , the 2 8 t h of M a r c h ; in ' 5 2 , the 18th of April; in ' 5 3 , the 2 3 r d of M a r c h ; in ' 5 4 , a b o u t the 7th of April. Every incident c o n n e c t e d with the b r e a k i n g u p of the rivers a n d p o n d s a n d the settling of the w e a t h e r is particularly interesting to u s w h o live in a c l i m a t e of s o great e x t r e m e s . W h e n the w a r m e r days c o m e , they w h o dwell n e a r the river hear the ice c r a c k at night with a startling w h o o p a s loud a s artillery, a s if its icy fetters were rent from e n d to e n d , a n d within a few days s e e it rapidly g o i n g out. S o the alligator c o m e s o u t of the m u d with q u a k i n g s of the e a r t h . O n e old m a n , w h o h a s b e e n a c l o s e o b s e r v e r of N a t u r e , a n d s e e m s a s thoroughly wise in regard to all her o p e r a t i o n s a s if s h e h a d b e e n put u p o n the s t o c k s w h e n he w a s a boy, a n d he h a d h e l p e d to lay her k e e l , — who has c o m e to his growth, a n d c a n hardly a c q u i r e m o r e of n a t u r a l lore if he s h o u l d live to the a g e of M e t h u s e l a h ' — t o l d m e , a n d I w a s s u r p r i s e d to hear him e x p r e s s w o n d e r at any of N a t u r e ' s o p e r a t i o n s , for I t h o u g h t that there were no s e c r e t s b e t w e e n t h e m , that o n e s p r i n g day he t o o k his g u n a n d boat, a n d t h o u g h t that he would have a little sport with the d u c k s . T h e r e 1. " A n d 5.27).

the

davs

of

Methuselah

were

nine

hundred

sixtv

and

nine

vears:

and

he

died"

(Genesis

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17. SPRING

/

923

was ice still on the m e a d o w s , but it w a s all g o n e o u t of the river, a n d he dropped d o w n without o b s t r u c t i o n from S u d b u r y , w h e r e he lived, to FairH a v e n P o n d , which he f o u n d , unexpectedly, c o v e r e d for the m o s t part with a firm field of ice. It was a w a r m day, a n d he w a s s u r p r i s e d to s e e s o great a body of ice r e m a i n i n g . N o t s e e i n g any d u c k s , he hid his b o a t on the north or back side of a n island in the p o n d , a n d then c o n c e a l e d h i m s e l f in the b u s h e s on the s o u t h s i d e , to await t h e m . T h e ice w a s m e l t e d for three or four rods from the s h o r e , a n d there w a s a s m o o t h a n d w a r m s h e e t of water, with a m u d d y b o t t o m , s u c h as the d u c k s love, within, a n d he thought it likely that s o m e would b e a l o n g pretty s o o n . After h e h a d lain still there a b o u t a n hour he heard a low a n d seemingly very distant s o u n d , but singularly g r a n d a n d impressive, unlike any thing he h a d ever h e a r d , gradually swelling a n d increasing a s if it would have a universal a n d m e m o r a b l e e n d i n g , a sullen rush a n d roar, which s e e m e d to him all at o n c e like the s o u n d of a vast body of fowl c o m i n g in to settle there, a n d , seizing his g u n , he started u p in h a s t e a n d excited; but he f o u n d , to his s u r p r i s e , that the w h o l e body of the ice h a d started while he lay there, a n d drifted in to the s h o r e , a n d the s o u n d he h a d heard w a s m a d e by its e d g e grating on the s h o r e , — a t first gently nibbled a n d c r u m b l e d off, but at length heaving up a n d s c a t t e r i n g its w r e c k s a l o n g the island to a c o n s i d e r a b l e height before it c a m e to a s t a n d still. At length the sun's rays have attained the right a n g l e , a n d w a r m winds blow up mist a n d rain a n d melt the s n o w b a n k s , a n d the s u n d i s p e r s i n g the mist smiles on a c h e c k e r e d l a n d s c a p e of r u s s e t a n d white s m o k i n g with i n c e n s e , through which the traveller picks his way from islet to islet, c h e e r e d by the m u s i c of a t h o u s a n d tinkling rills a n d rivulets w h o s e veins are filled with the blood of winter which they are b e a r i n g off. F e w p h e n o m e n a gave m e m o r e delight than to o b s e r v e the f o r m s which thawing s a n d a n d clay a s s u m e in flowing down the s i d e s of a d e e p c u t on the railroad through which I p a s s e d on my way to the village, a p h e n o m e n o n not very c o m m o n on s o large a s c a l e , t h o u g h the n u m b e r of freshly e x p o s e d b a n k s of the right material m u s t have b e e n greatly multiplied s i n c e railroads were invented. T h e material w a s s a n d of every d e g r e e of fineness a n d of various rich c o l o r s , c o m m o n l y mixed with a little clay. W h e n the frost c o m e s out in the spring, a n d even in a thawing day in the winter, the s a n d b e g i n s to flow down the s l o p e s like lava, s o m e t i m e s b u r s t i n g out through the s n o w a n d overflowing it where no s a n d was to be s e e n b e f o r e . I n n u m e r a b l e little s t r e a m s overlap a n d interlace o n e with a n o t h e r , exhibiting a sort of hybrid p r o d u c t , which obeys half way the law of c u r r e n t s , a n d half way that of vegetation. As it flows it takes the f o r m s of s a p p y leaves or vines, m a k i n g h e a p s of pulpy sprays a foot or m o r e in d e p t h , a n d r e s e m b l i n g , a s you look down on t h e m , the laciniated lobed a n d i m b r i c a t e d 2 t h a l l u s e s of s o m e l i c h e n s ; or you are r e m i n d e d of coral, of l e o p a r d s ' p a w s or birds' feet, of brains or lungs or b o w e l s , a n d e x c r e m e n t s of all kinds. It is a truly grotesque vegetation, w h o s e f o r m s a n d color we s e e imitated in b r o n z e , a sort of architectural foliage m o r e a n c i e n t a n d typical t h a n a c a n t h u s , chiccory, ivy, vine, or any vegetable leaves; d e s t i n e d p e r h a p s , u n d e r s o m e c i r c u m s t a n c e s , to b e c o m e a puzzle to future g e o l o g i s t s . T h e w h o l e c u t i m p r e s s e d m e a s if it were a c a v e with its stalactites laid o p e n to the light. T h e various s h a d e s of 2.

L a p p e d o v e r in r e g u l a r o r d e r like r o o f tiles. " L a c i n i a t e d " : d e e p l y , i r r e g u l a r l y l o b e d .

924

/

H E N R Y DAVID

THOREAU

the s a n d are singularly rich a n d a g r e e a b l e , e m b r a c i n g the different iron colors, b r o w n , gray, yellowish, a n d reddish. W h e n the flowing m a s s r e a c h e s the drain at the foot of the b a n k it s p r e a d s out flatter into strands, the s e p a r a t e s t r e a m s losing their semi-cylindrical form a n d gradually b e c o m i n g m o r e flat a n d b r o a d , r u n n i n g together a s they are m o r e m o i s t , till they form a n a l m o s t flat sand, still variously a n d beautifully s h a d e d , b u t in which you c a n trace the original f o r m s of vegetation; till at length, in the w a t e r itself, they a r e converted into banks, like t h o s e f o r m e d off the m o u t h s of rivers, a n d the f o r m s of vegetation are lost in the ripple m a r k s o n the b o t t o m . T h e whole b a n k , which is from twenty to forty feet high, is s o m e t i m e s overlaid with a m a s s of this kind of foliage, or sandy r u p t u r e , for a q u a r t e r of a mile on o n e or b o t h s i d e s , the p r o d u c e of o n e s p r i n g day. W h a t m a k e s this s a n d foliage r e m a r k a b l e is its s p r i n g i n g into e x i s t e n c e t h u s s u d d e n l y . W h e n I s e e on the o n e side the inert b a n k , — f o r the s u n a c t s on o n e side first,—and o n the other this luxuriant foliage, the c r e a t i o n of a n hour, I a m affected as if in a p e c u l i a r s e n s e I s t o o d in the laboratory of the Artist w h o m a d e the world a n d m e , — h a d c o m e to w h e r e h e w a s still at work, s p o r t i n g on this b a n k , a n d with e x c e s s of energy strewing his fresh d e s i g n s a b o u t . I feel a s if I were nearer to the vitals of the g l o b e , for this s a n d y overflow is s o m e t h i n g s u c h a f o l i a c e o u s m a s s a s the vitals of the a n i m a l body. You find t h u s in the very s a n d s a n a n t i c i p a t i o n of the v e g e t a b l e leaf. N o w o n d e r that the e a r t h e x p r e s s e s itself outwardly in l e a v e s , it s o labors with the idea inwardly. T h e a t o m s have already l e a r n e d this law, a n d a r e p r e g n a n t by it. T h e o v e r h a n g i n g leaf s e e s here its prototype. Internally, w h e t h e r in the globe or a n i m a l body, it is a moist thick lobe, a word especially a p p l i c a b l e to the liver a n d l u n g s a n d the leaves of fat. {Xufim, labor, lapsus, to flow or slip d o w n w a r d , a l a p s i n g ; kofio., globus, l o b e , g l o b e ; a l s o lap, flap, a n d m a n y other words,) externally a dry thin leaf, even a s t h e / a n d v are a p r e s s e d a n d dried b. T h e radicals of lobe a r e lb, the soft m a s s of the b (single l o b e d , or B , d o u b l e lobed,) with a liquid I b e h i n d it p r e s s i n g it forward. In g l o b e , g i b , the guttural g a d d s to the m e a n i n g the c a p a c i t y of the throat. T h e feathers a n d wings of birds are still drier a n d thinner leaves. T h u s , a l s o , you p a s s from the l u m p i s h g r u b in the e a r t h to the airy a n d fluttering butterfly. T h e very globe continually t r a n s c e n d s a n d t r a n s l a t e s itself, a n d b e c o m e s w i n g e d in its orbit. E v e n ice b e g i n s with d e l i c a t e crystal leaves, a s if it h a d flowed into m o u l d s which the fronds of water p l a n t s have i m p r e s s e d on the watery mirror. T h e whole tree itself is b u t o n e leaf, a n d rivers are still vaster leaves w h o s e p u l p is intervening earth, a n d towns a n d cities a r e the ova of i n s e c t s in their axils. W h e n the s u n withdraws the s a n d c e a s e s to flow, b u t in the m o r n i n g the s t r e a m s will start o n c e m o r e a n d b r a n c h a n d b r a n c h a g a i n into a myriad of o t h e r s . You h e r e s e e p e r c h a n c e how b l o o d v e s s e l s a r e f o r m e d . If you look closely you o b s e r v e that first there p u s h e s forward from the t h a w i n g m a s s a s t r e a m of s o f t e n e d s a n d with a drop-like p o i n t , like the ball of the finger, feeling its way slowly a n d blindly d o w n w a r d , until at last with m o r e h e a t a n d m o i s t u r e , a s the s u n gets higher, the m o i s t fluid portion, in its effort to obey the law to which the m o s t inert a l s o yields, s e p a r a t e s from the latter a n d forms for itself a m e a n d e r i n g c h a n n e l or artery within that, in w h i c h is s e e n a little silvery s t r e a m g l a n c i n g like lightning from o n e s t a g e of p u l p y leaves

WALDEN, CHAPTER

17. SPRING

/

925

or b r a n c h e s to a n o t h e r , a n d ever a n d a n o n swallowed up in the s a n d . It is wonderful how rapidly yet perfectly the s a n d organizes itself a s it flows, u s i n g the b e s t material its m a s s affords to form the s h a r p e d g e s of its c h a n n e l . S u c h are the s o u r c e s of rivers. In the silicious m a t t e r which the water d e p o s its is p e r h a p s the bony s y s t e m , a n d in the still finer soil a n d organic m a t t e r the fleshy fibre or cellular t i s s u e . W h a t is m a n but a m a s s of t h a w i n g clay? T h e ball of the h u m a n finger is but a drop c o n g e a l e d . T h e fingers a n d toes flow to their extent from the thawing m a s s of the body. W h o k n o w s w h a t the h u m a n body would e x p a n d a n d flow out to u n d e r a m o r e genial h e a v e n ? Is not the h a n d a s p r e a d i n g palm leaf with its lobes a n d veins? T h e ear may b e regarded, fancifully, as a lichen, umbilicaria, on the side of the h e a d , with its lobe or drop. T h e lip (labium from labor (?)) laps or l a p s e s from the s i d e s of the c a v e r n o u s m o u t h . T h e n o s e is a m a n i f e s t c o n g e a l e d drop or s t a l a c t i t e . T h e chin is a still larger d r o p , the confluent d r i p p i n g of the f a c e . T h e c h e e k s are a slide from the brows into the valley of the f a c e , o p p o s e d a n d diffused by the c h e e k b o n e s . E a c h r o u n d e d lobe of the v e g e t a b l e leaf, too, is a thick a n d now loitering d r o p , larger or smaller; the lobes are the fingers of the leaf; a n d a s m a n y l o b e s as it h a s , in so m a n y directions it t e n d s to flow, a n d m o r e heat or other genial influences would have c a u s e d it to flow yet farther. T h u s it s e e m e d that this o n e hillside illustrated the principle of all the o p e r a t i o n s of N a t u r e . T h e M a k e r of this earth b u t p a t e n t e d a leaf. W h a t C h a m p o l l i o n ' will d e c i p h e r this hieroglyphic for u s , that we m a y turn over a n e w leaf at last? T h i s p h e n o m e n o n is m o r e exhilarating to m e than the luxur i a n c e a n d fertility of vineyards. T r u e , it is s o m e w h a t e x c r e m e n t i t i o u s in its c h a r a c t e r , a n d there is no e n d to the h e a p s of liver, lights a n d b o w e l s , a s if the g l o b e were t u r n e d w r o n g side o u t w a r d ; but this s u g g e s t s at least that N a t u r e has s o m e b o w e l s , a n d there again is m o t h e r of h u m a n i t y . 4 T h i s is the frost c o m i n g out of the g r o u n d ; this is S p r i n g . It p r e c e d e s the g r e e n a n d flowery spring, as mythology p r e c e d e s regular poetry. I know of n o t h i n g m o r e purgative of winter f u m e s a n d i n d i g e s t i o n s . It c o n v i n c e s m e that E a r t h is still in her s w a d d l i n g c l o t h e s , a n d s t r e t c h e s forth baby fingers o n every s i d e . F r e s h curls spring from the b a l d e s t brow. T h e r e is n o t h i n g i n o r g a n i c . T h e s e foliac e o u s h e a p s lie a l o n g the b a n k like the s l a g of a f u r n a c e , s h o w i n g that N a t u r e is "in full b l a s t " within. T h e earth is not a m e r e f r a g m e n t of d e a d history, strat u m u p o n s t r a t u m like the leaves of a book, to b e s t u d i e d by g e o l o g i s t s a n d a n t i q u a r i e s chiefly, but living poetry like the leaves of a tree, which p r e c e d e flowers a n d fruit,—not a fossil earth, but a living e a r t h ; c o m p a r e d with w h o s e great central life all a n i m a l a n d vegetable life is merely p a r a s i t i c . Its throes will h e a v e our exuviae from their graves. You may melt y o u r m e t a l s a n d c a s t t h e m into the m o s t beautiful m o u l d s you c a n ; they will never excite m e like the f o r m s which this m o l t e n earth flows o u t into. A n d not only it, b u t the institutions u p o n it, are plastic like clay in the h a n d s of the potter. E r e long, not only on these b a n k s , but o n every hill a n d plain a n d in every hollow, the frost c o m e s out of the g r o u n d like a d o r m a n t q u a d r u p e d from its burrow, a n d s e e k s the s e a with m u s i c , or m i g r a t e s to other c l i m e s in 3. J e a n Francois Champollion (1790—1832), F r e n c h archaeologist w h o s e deciphering of the inscriptions on the Rosetta S t o n e fueled great pop-

u l a r i n t e r e s t in E g y p t o l o g y . 4. T h o r e a u p u n s on the s e n s e of " b o w e l s " as the seat of c o m p a s s i o n . "Lights": lungs.

926

/

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c l o u d s . T h a w with his gentle p e r s u a s i o n is m o r e powerful than T h o r with his h a m m e r . 5 T h e o n e m e l t s , the other b u t breaks in p i e c e s . W h e n the g r o u n d was partially b a r e of snow, a n d a few w a r m days h a d dried its s u r f a c e s o m e w h a t , it w a s p l e a s a n t to c o m p a r e the first tender s i g n s of the infant year j u s t p e e p i n g forth with the stately b e a u t y of the withered vegetation which h a d withstood the winter,—life-everlasting, g o l d e n - r o d s , p i n w e e d s , a n d graceful wild g r a s s e s , m o r e obvious a n d interesting frequently than in s u m m e r e v e n , a s if their b e a u t y w a s not ripe till t h e n ; even cottong r a s s , cat-tails, m u l l e i n s , j o h n s w o r t , hard-hack, m e a d o w - s w e e t , a n d other strong s t e m m e d p l a n t s , t h o s e u n e x h a u s t e d g r a n a r i e s which entertain the earliest b i r d s , — d e c e n t w e e d s , 6 at least, which widowed N a t u r e w e a r s . I a m particularly a t t r a c t e d by the a r c h i n g a n d sheaf-like top of the w o o l - g r a s s ; it brings b a c k the s u m m e r to our winter m e m o r i e s , a n d is a m o n g the forms which art loves to copy, a n d w h i c h , in the vegetable k i n g d o m , have the s a m e relation to types already in the m i n d of m a n that a s t r o n o m y h a s . It is a n a n t i q u e style older than G r e e k or E g y p t i a n . M a n y of the p h e n o m e n a of Winter are suggestive of an inexpressible t e n d e r n e s s a n d fragile delicacy. W e are a c c u s t o m e d to hear this king d e s c r i b e d a s a r u d e a n d b o i s t e r o u s tyrant; b u t with the g e n t l e n e s s of a lover he a d o r n s the t r e s s e s of S u m m e r . At the a p p r o a c h of spring the red-squirrels got u n d e r my h o u s e , two at a t i m e , directly u n d e r my feet a s I sat r e a d i n g or writing, a n d kept up the q u e e r e s t c h u c k l i n g a n d c h i r r u p i n g a n d vocal p i r o u e t t i n g a n d gurgling s o u n d s that ever were h e a r d ; a n d when I s t a m p e d they only c h i r r u p e d the louder, a s if p a s t all fear a n d r e s p e c t in their m a d p r a n k s , defying h u m a n i t y to stop t h e m . N o you d o n ' t — c h i c k a r e e — c h i c k a r e e . T h e y w e r e wholly d e a f to my a r g u m e n t s , or failed to perceive their f o r c e , a n d fell into a strain of invective that was irresistible. T h e first s p a r r o w of spring! T h e year b e g i n n i n g with y o u n g e r h o p e than ever! T h e faint silvery warblings heard over the partially b a r e a n d moist fields from the blue-bird, the s o n g - s p a r r o w , a n d the red-wing, a s if the last flakes of winter tinkled a s they fell! W h a t at s u c h a time are histories, c h r o n o l o g i e s , traditions, a n d all written revelations? T h e brooks s i n g carols a n d g l e e s to the spring. T h e m a r s h - h a w k sailing low over the m e a d o w is already s e e k i n g the first slimy life that a w a k e s . T h e sinking s o u n d of m e l t i n g s n o w is heard in all dells, a n d the ice dissolves a p a c e in the p o n d s . T h e g r a s s flames up o n the hillsides like a spring fire,—"et p r i m i t u s oritur h e r b a i m b r i b u s p r i m o r i b u s e v o c a t a , " 7 — a s if the earth sent forth an inward heat to greet the r e t u r n i n g s u n ; not yellow but green is the color of its f l a m e ; — t h e symbol of p e r p e t u a l youth, the g r a s s - b l a d e , like a long g r e e n ribbon, s t r e a m s from the s o d into the s u m m e r , c h e c k e d indeed by the frost, but a n o n p u s h i n g o n a g a i n , lifting its s p e a r of last year's hay with the fresh life below. It grows a s steadily a s the rill oozes out of the g r o u n d . It is a l m o s t identical with that, for in the growing days of J u n e , w h e n the rills are dry, the g r a s s b l a d e s are their c h a n nels, a n d from year to year the h e r d s drink at this p e r e n n i a l g r e e n s t r e a m , a n d the m o w e r d r a w s from it b e t i m e s their winter supply. S o our h u m a n life but dies down to its roots, a n d still p u t s forth its green b l a d e to eternity. W a l d e n is melting a p a c e . T h e r e is a c a n a l two rods wide a l o n g the north5. A s a N e w E n g l a n d e r , T h o r e a u a p p a r e n t l y pron o u n c e d thaw t o s o u n d l i k e Thor, t h e N o r s e g o d of thunder.

6.

Mourning garments.

7 . V a r r o ' s Rerum on to t r a n s l a t e .

rusticarum

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erly a n d westerly s i d e s , a n d wider still at the e a s t e n d . A great field of ice has c r a c k e d off from the m a i n body. I hear a s o n g - s p a r r o w s i n g i n g from the b u s h e s on the shore,—olit, olit, olit,—chip, chip, chip, che char,—che wiss, wiss, wiss. H e too is helping to c r a c k it. H o w h a n d s o m e the great s w e e p i n g curves in the e d g e of the i c e , a n s w e r i n g s o m e w h a t to t h o s e of the s h o r e , but m o r e regular! It is u n u s u a l l y hard, owing to the recent severe but transient cold, a n d all watered or waved like a p a l a c e floor. B u t the wind slides eastward over its o p a q u e s u r f a c e in vain, till it r e a c h e s the living s u r f a c e b e y o n d . It is glorious to b e h o l d this ribbon of water sparkling in the s u n , the b a r e f a c e of the p o n d full of glee a n d youth, as if it s p o k e the j o y of the fishes within it, a n d of the s a n d s on its s h o r e , — a silvery s h e e n as from the s c a l e s of a leuciscus, a s it were all o n e active fish. S u c h is the c o n t r a s t b e t w e e n winter a n d spring. W a l d e n was d e a d a n d is alive a g a i n . B u t this spring it broke u p m o r e steadily, as I have said. T h e c h a n g e from storm a n d winter to s e r e n e a n d mild weather, from dark a n d s l u g g i s h h o u r s to bright a n d elastic o n e s , is a m e m o r a b l e crisis which all things p r o c l a i m . It is seemingly i n s t a n t a n e o u s at last. S u d d e n l y a n influx of light filled my h o u s e , t h o u g h the evening w a s at h a n d , a n d the c l o u d s of winter still o v e r h u n g it, a n d the eaves were dripping with sleety rain. I looked out the window, a n d lo! w h e r e yesterday w a s cold gray ice there lay the t r a n s p a r e n t p o n d already c a l m a n d full of h o p e as o n a s u m m e r evening, reflecting a s u m m e r evening sky in its b o s o m , t h o u g h n o n e w a s visible overh e a d , as if it had intelligence with s o m e r e m o t e horizon. I h e a r d a robin in the d i s t a n c e , the first I h a d h e a r d for m a n y a t h o u s a n d y e a r s , m e t h o u g h t , w h o s e note I shall not forget for m a n y a t h o u s a n d m o r e , — t h e s a m e sweet a n d powerful s o n g of yore. O the e v e n i n g robin, at the e n d of a N e w E n g l a n d s u m m e r day! If I c o u l d ever find the twig h e sits u p o n ! I m e a n he; I m e a n the twig. T h i s at least is not the Turdus migratorius. T h e p i t c h - p i n e s a n d s h r u b - o a k s a b o u t my h o u s e , which h a d so long d r o o p e d , s u d d e n l y r e s u m e d their several c h a r a c t e r s , looked brighter, greener, a n d m o r e erect a n d alive, as if effectually c l e a n s e d a n d restored by the rain. I knew that it would not rain any m o r e . You may tell by looking at any twig of the forest, ay, at your very wood-pile, w h e t h e r its winter is p a s t or not. A s it grew darker, I was startled by the honking of g e e s e flying low over the w o o d s , like weary travellers getting in late from s o u t h e r n lakes, a n d i n d u l g i n g at last in unrestrained c o m p l a i n t a n d m u t u a l c o n s o l a t i o n . S t a n d i n g at my door, I c o u l d hear the r u s h of their w i n g s ; w h e n , driving toward my h o u s e , they s u d d e n l y spied my light, a n d with h u s h e d c l a m o r w h e e l e d a n d settled in the p o n d . S o I c a m e in, a n d shut the door, a n d p a s s e d my first spring night in the w o o d s . In the m o r n i n g I w a t c h e d the g e e s e from the d o o r t h r o u g h the mist, sailing in the middle of the p o n d , fifty rods off, s o large a n d t u m u l t u o u s that W a l d e n a p p e a r e d like a n aritifical p o n d for their a m u s e m e n t . B u t w h e n I s t o o d on the s h o r e they at o n c e rose up with a great flapping of wings at the signal of their c o m m a n d e r , a n d when they h a d got into rank circled a b o u t over my h e a d , twenty-nine of t h e m , a n d then steered straight to C a n a d a , with a regular honk from the leader at intervals, trusting to b r e a k their fast in m u d d i e r p o o l s . A " p l u m p " of d u c k s rose at the s a m e time a n d took the route to the north in the wake of their noisier c o u s i n s . F o r a w e e k I heard the circling groping c l a n g o r of s o m e solitary g o o s e in the foggy m o r n i n g s , s e e k i n g its c o m p a n i o n , a n d still p e o p l i n g the w o o d s with

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the s o u n d of a larger life than they c o u l d s u s t a i n . In April the p i g e o n s were s e e n again flying e x p r e s s in small flocks, a n d in d u e time I h e a r d the m a r t i n s twittering over my clearing, t h o u g h it h a d not s e e m e d that the t o w n s h i p c o n t a i n e d so m a n y that it c o u l d afford m e any, a n d I f a n c i e d that they were peculiarly of the a n c i e n t r a c e that dwelt in hollow trees ere white m e n c a m e . In a l m o s t all c l i m e s the tortoise a n d the frog are a m o n g the p r e c u r s o r s a n d heralds of this s e a s o n , a n d birds fly with s o n g a n d g l a n c i n g p l u m a g e , a n d p l a n t s spring a n d b l o o m , a n d winds blow, to correct this slight oscillation of the poles a n d preserve the e q u i l i b r i u m of N a t u r e . A s every s e a s o n s e e m s b e s t to u s in its turn, s o the c o m i n g in of spring is like the creation of C o s m o s o u t of C h a o s a n d the realization of the G o l d e n Age.— "Eurus ad Auroram, Nabathaeaque regna recessit, P e r s i d a q u e , et radiis j u g a s u b d i t a m a t u t i n i s . " " T h e E a s t - W i n d withdrew to A u r o r a a n d the N a b a t h a e a n k i n g d o m , And the P e r s i a n , a n d the ridges p l a c e d u n d e r the m o r n i n g rays.

• • • M a n w a s b o r n . W h e t h e r that Artificer of things, T h e origin of a better world, m a d e h i m from the divine s e e d ; O r the e a r t h b e i n g r e c e n t a n d lately s u n d e r e d from the high Ether, retained s o m e s e e d s of c o g n a t e h e a v e n . " 8 A single g e n t l e rain m a k e s the g r a s s m a n y s h a d e s greener. S o o u r p r o s p e c t s brighten on the influx of better t h o u g h t s . W e s h o u l d be b l e s s e d if we lived in the p r e s e n t always, a n d took a d v a n t a g e of every a c c i d e n t that befell u s , like the g r a s s which c o n f e s s e s the i n f l u e n c e of the slightest d e w that falls on it; a n d did not s p e n d our time in a t o n i n g for the n e g l e c t of p a s t opportunities, which we call d o i n g our duty. W e loiter in winter while it is already spring. In a p l e a s a n t spring m o r n i n g all m e n ' s sins a r e forgiven. S u c h a day is a t r u c e to vice. W h i l e s u c h a s u n holds o u t to b u r n , the vilest sinner m a y return. T h r o u g h o u r own recovered i n n o c e n c e we d i s c e r n the i n n o c e n c e of o u r n e i g h b o r s . You m a y have known your n e i g h b o r yesterday for a thief, a d r u n k a r d , or a s e n s u a l i s t , a n d merely pitied or d e s p i s e d h i m , a n d d e s p a i r e d of the world; but the s u n s h i n e s bright a n d w a r m this first spring m o r n i n g , re-creating the world, a n d you m e e t him at s o m e s e r e n e work, a n d s e e how his e x h a u s t e d a n d d e b a u c h e d veins e x p a n d with still j o y a n d b l e s s the n e w day, feel the spring influence with the i n n o c e n c e of infancy, a n d all his faults are forgotten. T h e r e is not only an a t m o s p h e r e of g o o d will a b o u t h i m , but even a savor of holiness g r o p i n g for e x p r e s s i o n , blindly a n d ineffectually p e r h a p s , like a new-born instinct, a n d for a short h o u r the s o u t h hill-side e c h o e s to n o vulgar j e s t . You s e e s o m e i n n o c e n t fair s h o o t s p r e p a r i n g to b u r s t from his g n a r l e d rind a n d try a n o t h e r year's life, t e n d e r a n d fresh a s the y o u n g e s t plant. E v e n h e h a s e n t e r e d into the j o y of his L o r d . W h y the j a i l e r d o e s not leave o p e n his prison d o o r s , — w h y the j u d g e d o e s not d i s m i s s his c a s e , — w h y the p r e a c h e r d o e s not d i s m i s s his c o n g r e g a t i o n ! It is b e c a u s e they d o not obey the hint which G o d gives t h e m , nor a c c e p t the p a r d o n which h e freely offers to all. 8.

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"A return to g o o d n e s s p r o d u c e d e a c h day in the tranquil a n d beneficent breath of the m o r n i n g , c a u s e s that in r e s p e c t to the love of virtue a n d the hatred of vice, o n e a p p r o a c h e s a little the primitive n a t u r e of m a n , a s the s p r o u t s of the forest which has b e e n felled. In like m a n n e r the evil which o n e d o e s in the interval of a day prevents the g e r m s of virtues which b e g a n to spring up a g a i n from developing t h e m s e l v e s a n d destroys t h e m . "After the g e r m s of virtue have t h u s b e e n prevented m a n y t i m e s from developing t h e m s e l v e s , then the beneficent b r e a t h of e v e n i n g d o e s not suffice to preserve t h e m . A s s o o n as the b r e a t h of e v e n i n g d o e s not suffice longer to preserve t h e m , then the n a t u r e of m a n d o e s not differ m u c h from that of the brute. M e n s e e i n g the n a t u r e of this m a n like that of the b r u t e , think that he h a s never p o s s e s s e d the innate faculty of r e a s o n . Are t h o s e the true a n d natural s e n t i m e n t s of m a n ? " 9 " T h e G o l d e n Age w a s first c r e a t e d , which without a n y a v e n g e r S p o n t a n e o u s l y without law c h e r i s h e d fidelity a n d r e c t i t u d e . P u n i s h m e n t a n d fear were not; nor were t h r e a t e n i n g w o r d s read O n s u s p e n d e d b r a s s ; nor did the s u p p l i a n t crowd fear T h e w o r d s of their j u d g e ; but were s a f e without a n avenger. N o t yet the pine felled on its m o u n t a i n s h a d d e s c e n d e d T o the liquid waves that it might s e e a foreign world, A n d mortals knew no s h o r e but their own.

• • •

T h e r e w a s eternal spring, a n d placid zephyrs with w a r m B l a s t s s o o t h e d the flowers born without s e e d . " 1 O n the 2 9 t h of April, a s I w a s fishing from the b a n k of the river n e a r the N i n e - A c r e - C o r n e r b r i d g e , s t a n d i n g o n the q u a k i n g g r a s s a n d willow roots, w h e r e the m u s k r a t s lurk, I h e a r d a singular rattling s o u n d , s o m e w h a t like that of the sticks which boys play with their fingers, w h e n , looking u p , I o b s e r v e d a very slight a n d graceful hawk, like a night-hawk, alternately soaring like a ripple a n d t u m b l i n g a rod or two over a n d over, s h o w i n g the underside of its w i n g s , which g l e a m e d like a satin ribbon in the s u n , or like the pearly inside of a shell. T h i s sight r e m i n d e d m e of falconry a n d w h a t n o b l e n e s s a n d poetry are a s s o c i a t e d with that sport. T h e M e r l i n 2 it s e e m e d to m e it might be called: but I c a r e not for its n a m e . It w a s the m o s t ethereal flight I had ever w i t n e s s e d . It did not simply flutter like a butterfly, nor soar like the larger h a w k s , but it s p o r t e d with p r o u d r e l i a n c e in the fields of air; m o u n t i n g again a n d again with its s t r a n g e c h u c k l e , it r e p e a t e d its free a n d beautiful fall, turning over a n d over like a kite, a n d then recovering from its lofty t u m b l i n g , as if it h a d never set its foot on terra firtna. It a p p e a r e d to have no c o m p a n i o n in the u n i v e r s e , — s p o r t i n g there a l o n e , — a n d to n e e d n o n e but the m o r n i n g a n d the ether with which it played. It w a s not lonely, but m a d e all the earth lonely b e n e a t h it. W h e r e w a s the p a r e n t which h a t c h e d it, its kindred, a n d its father in the h e a v e n s ? T h e t e n a n t of the air, it s e e m e d related to the earth b u t by a n e g g h a t c h e d s o m e time in the crevice 9 . M e n c i u s ' s ( M e n g - t z u ' s ) Works 6 . 1 . 1. O v i d ' s Metamorphoses 1.89-96, 107-08. 2 . In A r t h u r i a n l e g e n d , M e r l i n is a m a g i c i a n a n d soothsayer, but Thoreau uses him as Emerson does

in t h e p o e m " M e r l i n , " a s a m a s t e r p o e t . T h e h a w k is u s u a l l y t a k e n a s T h o r e a u ' s i d e a l i m a g e o f h i m self. A m e r l i n is a l s o a s m a l l f a l c o n or p i g e o n h a w k .

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of a c r a g ; — o r w a s its native nest m a d e in the a n g l e of a c l o u d , w o v e n of the rainbow's t r i m m i n g s a n d the s u n s e t sky, a n d lined with s o m e soft m i d s u m m e r haze c a u g h t up from earth? Its eyry now s o m e cliffy c l o u d . B e s i d e this I got a rare m e s s of g o l d e n a n d silver a n d bright c u p r e o u s 1 fishes, which looked like a string of j e w e l s . Ah! I have p e n e t r a t e d to t h o s e m e a d o w s on the m o r n i n g of m a n y a first spring day, j u m p i n g from h u m m o c k to h u m m o c k , from willow root to willow root, w h e n the wild river valley a n d the w o o d s were b a t h e d in s o p u r e a n d bright a light a s w o u l d have w a k e d the d e a d , if they h a d b e e n s l u m b e r i n g in their graves, a s s o m e s u p p o s e . T h e r e n e e d s no stronger p r o o f of immortality. All things m u s t live in s u c h a light. O D e a t h , w h e r e w a s thy sting? O G r a v e , where w a s thy victory, t h e n ? 4 O u r village life would s t a g n a t e if it were not for the u n e x p l o r e d forests a n d m e a d o w s which s u r r o u n d it. W e n e e d the tonic of w i l d n e s s , — t o w a d e s o m e times in m a r s h e s w h e r e the bittern a n d the m e a d o w - h e n lurk, a n d h e a r the b o o m i n g of the s n i p e ; to smell the w h i s p e r i n g s e d g e w h e r e only s o m e wilder a n d m o r e solitary fowl builds her n e s t , a n d the m i n k crawls with its belly c l o s e to the g r o u n d . At the s a m e time that we are e a r n e s t to explore a n d learn all things, we require that all things b e m y s t e r i o u s a n d u n e x p l o r a b l e , that land a n d s e a b e infinitely wild, u n s u r v e y e d a n d u n f a t h o m e d by u s b e c a u s e u n f a t h o m a b l e . W e c a n never have e n o u g h of N a t u r e . W e m u s t b e refreshed by the sight of inexhaustible vigor, vast a n d T i t a n i c f e a t u r e s , the s e a - c o a s t with its w r e c k s , the wilderness with its living a n d its d e c a y i n g trees, the t h u n d e r c l o u d , a n d the rain which lasts three w e e k s a n d p r o d u c e s freshe t s . W e n e e d to witness our own limits t r a n s g r e s s e d , a n d s o m e life p a s t u r i n g freely where we never w a n d e r . W e are c h e e r e d w h e n we o b s e r v e the vulture feeding on the carrion which d i s g u s t s a n d d i s h e a r t e n s us a n d deriving health a n d strength from the r e p a s t . T h e r e w a s a d e a d h o r s e in the hollow by the p a t h to my h o u s e , which c o m p e l l e d m e s o m e t i m e s to g o o u t of my way, especially in the night w h e n the air w a s heavy, but the a s s u r a n c e it gave m e of the strong a p p e t i t e a n d inviolable health of N a t u r e w a s my c o m p e n s a t i o n for this. I love to s e e that N a t u r e is so rife with life that myriads c a n be afforded to b e sacrificed a n d suffered to prey on o n e a n o t h e r ; that tender organizations c a n be so serenely s q u a s h e d out of existence like p u l p , — t a d p o l e s which h e r o n s g o b b l e u p , a n d tortoises a n d t o a d s run over in the r o a d ; and that s o m e t i m e s it h a s rained flesh a n d blood! With the liability to accid e n t , we m u s t s e e how little a c c o u n t is to b e m a d e of it. T h e i m p r e s s i o n m a d e on a wise m a n is that of universal i n n o c e n c e . P o i s o n is not p o i s o n o u s after all, nor are any w o u n d s fatal. C o m p a s s i o n is a very u n t e n a b l e g r o u n d . It m u s t b e e x p e d i t i o u s . Its p l e a d i n g s will not b e a r to be s t e r e o t y p e d . Early in M a y , the o a k s , hickories, m a p l e s , a n d other t r e e s , j u s t p u t t i n g o u t a m i d s t the pine w o o d s a r o u n d the p o n d , i m p a r t e d a b r i g h t n e s s like s u n s h i n e to the l a n d s c a p e , especially in c l o u d y d a y s , a s if the s u n were b r e a k i n g t h r o u g h mists a n d s h i n i n g faintly o n the hill-sides here a n d t h e r e . O n the third or fourth of M a y I s a w a loon in the p o n d , a n d d u r i n g the first w e e k of the m o n t h I heard the whippoorwill, the b r o w n - t h r a s h e r , the veery, the w o o d - p e w e e , the chewink, a n d other birds. I had h e a r d the w o o d t h r u s h long before. T h e phcebe h a d already c o m e o n c e m o r e a n d looked in at my d o o r 3. 4.

Coppery. 1 Corinthians

s t i n g ? O g r a v e , w h e r e is t h y v i c t o r y ? " 1 5 . 5 5 : " O d e a t h , w h e r e is t h y

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a n d window, to s e e if my h o u s e w a s cavern-like e n o u g h for her, s u s t a i n i n g herself on h u m m i n g wings with c l i n c h e d t a l o n s , a s if s h e held hy the air, while she surveyed the p r e m i s e s . T h e sulphur-like pollen of the pitch-pine s o o n covered the p o n d a n d the s t o n e s a n d rotten w o o d a l o n g the s h o r e , so that you c o u l d have collected a barrel-ful. T h i s is the " s u l p h u r s h o w e r s " we hear of. Even in C a l i d a s ' d r a m a of S a c o n t a l a , we read of "rills dyed yellow with the golden d u s t of the l o t u s . " 5 A n d so the s e a s o n s went rolling on into s u m m e r , a s o n e r a m b l e s into higher a n d higher g r a s s . T h u s was my first year's life in the woods c o m p l e t e d ; a n d the s e c o n d year was similar to it. I finally left W a l d e n S e p t e m b e r 6 t h , 1 8 4 7 . 18.

Conclusion

T o the sick the d o c t o r s wisely r e c o m m e n d a c h a n g e of air a n d scenery. T h a n k H e a v e n , here is not all the world. T h e buck-eye d o e s not grow in N e w E n g l a n d , a n d the mocking-bird is rarely h e a r d h e r e . T h e wild-goose is m o r e of a c o s m o p o l i t e than w e ; he breaks his fast in C a n a d a , takes a l u n c h e o n in the O h i o , a n d p l u m e s himself for the night in a s o u t h e r n b a y o u . Even the b i s o n , to s o m e extent, k e e p s p a c e with the s e a s o n s , c r o p p i n g the p a s t u r e s of the C o l o r a d o only till a g r e e n e r a n d sweeter g r a s s awaits him by the Yellows t o n e . Yet we think that if rail-fences are pulled d o w n , a n d stone-walls piled up on our f a r m s , b o u n d s are henceforth set to our lives a n d our fates d e c i d e d . If you are c h o s e n town-clerk, f o r s o o t h , you c a n n o t go to T i e r r a del F u e g o 6 this s u m m e r : b u t you m a y go to the land of infernal fire nevertheless. T h e universe is wider than our views of it. Yet we s h o u l d oftener look over the tafferel of our craft, like c u r i o u s p a s s e n g e r s , a n d not m a k e the voyage like stupid sailors p i c k i n g o a k u m . " T h e other side of the g l o b e is but the h o m e of our c o r r e s p o n d e n t . O u r voyaging is only great-circle sailing, a n d the d o c t o r s p r e s c r i b e for d i s e a s e s of the skin merely. O n e h a s t e n s to S o u t h e r n Africa to c h a s e the giraffe; but surely that is not the g a m e h e would be after. H o w long, pray, would a m a n hunt giraffes if he c o u l d ? S n i p e s a n d w o o d c o c k s also may afford rare sport; but I trust it would be nobler g a m e to shoot one's self.— "Direct your eye sight inward, a n d you'll find A t h o u s a n d regions in your mind Yet u n d i s c o v e r e d . Travel t h e m , a n d be Expert in h o m e - c o s m o g r a p h y . " 8 W h a t d o e s A f r i c a , — w h a t d o e s the W e s t s t a n d for? Is not our own interior white on the c h a r t ? black though it may prove, like the c o a s t , w h e n discovered. Is it the s o u r c e of the N i l e , or the Niger, or the M i s s i s s i p p i , or a N o r t h W e s t P a s s a g e a r o u n d this c o n t i n e n t , that we would find? Are t h e s e the p r o b lems which m o s t c o n c e r n m a n k i n d ? Is Franklin" the only m a n w h o is lost, that his wife s h o u l d be so e a r n e s t to find him? D o e s M r . G r i n n e l l ' know 5.

S i r W i l l i a m J o n e s ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f Sacontala,

act

5 . by C a l i d a s ( 5 t h c e n t u r y ) . H i n d u w r i t e r . 6. T h o r e a u p u n s o n t h e m e a n i n g o f t h e n a m e o f t h e a r c h i p e l a g o at t h e s o u t h e r n tip of S o u t h A m e r i c a : l a n d o f fire ( S p a n i s h ) . 7. C o m m o n n a u t i c a l b u s y w o r k : p i c k i n g o l d r o p e apart so the pieces of h e m p could be tarred and u s e d for calking.

8. W i l l i a m H a b i n g t o n ( 1 6 0 5 - 1 6 5 4 ) , " T o M y H o n o u r e d F r i e n d S i r E d . P. K n i g h t . " 9. Sir J o h n F r a n k l i n ( 1 7 8 5 - 1 8 4 7 ) , lost o n a British e x p e d i t i o n to t h e Arctic. 1. H e n r y G r i n n e l l (1 7 9 9 - 1 8 7 4 ) , a r i c h N e w Y o r k whale-oil m e r c h a n t from a N e w Bedford tamily w h o s p o n s o r e d two a t t e m p t s to r e s c u e Sir Frankl i n , o n e in 1 8 5 0 a n d a n o t h e r in 1 8 5 3 .

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w h e r e he h i m s e l f is? B e rather the M u n g o Park, the L e w i s a n d C l a r k e a n d F r o b i s h e r , 2 of your own s t r e a m s a n d o c e a n s ; explore your own higher latit u d e s , — w i t h s h i p l o a d s of preserved m e a t s to s u p p o r t you, if they b e n e c e s sary; a n d pile the e m p t y c a n s sky-high for a sign. W e r e preserved m e a t s invented to preserve m e a t merely? N a y , be a C o l u m b u s to w h o l e new continents a n d worlds within you, o p e n i n g new c h a n n e l s , not of t r a d e , b u t of t h o u g h t . Every m a n is the lord of a r e a l m b e s i d e w h i c h the earthly e m p i r e of the C z a r is but a petty s t a t e , a h u m m o c k left by the ice. Yet s o m e c a n b e patriotic w h o have n o self-respect, a n d sacrifice the greater to the l e s s . T h e y love the soil which m a k e s their graves, but have n o s y m p a t h y with the spirit which may still a n i m a t e their clay. P a t r i o t i s m is a m a g g o t in their h e a d s . W h a t w a s the m e a n i n g of that S o u t h - S e a Exploring E x p e d i t i o n , 3 with all its p a r a d e a n d e x p e n s e , but an indirect r e c o g n i t i o n of the fact, that there are c o n t i n e n t s a n d s e a s in the moral world, to which every m a n is an i s t h m u s or an inlet, yet u n e x p l o r e d by h i m , b u t that it is e a s i e r to sail m a n y t h o u s a n d miles t h r o u g h cold a n d s t o r m a n d c a n n i b a l s , in a g o v e r n m e n t s h i p , with five h u n d r e d m e n a n d boys to a s s i s t o n e , t h a n it is to explore the private s e a , the Atlantic a n d Pacific O c e a n of one's b e i n g a l o n e . — HI-.

Lrret, et e x t r e m o s alter s c r u t e t u r I b e r o s . P l u s h a b e t hie vitae, p l u s h a b e t ille viae." 4 i

ii

L e t t h e m w a n d e r a n d scrutinize the o u t l a n d i s h A u s t r a l i a n s . I have m o r e of G o d , they m o r e of the road. It is not worth the while to go r o u n d the world to c o u n t the c a t s in Z a n z i b a r . 5 Yet do this even till you c a n do better, a n d you m a y p e r h a p s find s o m e " S y m m e s ' H o l e " 6 by which to get at the inside at last. E n g l a n d a n d F r a n c e , S p a i n a n d P o r t u g a l , G o l d C o a s t a n d S l a v e C o a s t , all front o n this private s e a ; but no bark from t h e m h a s v e n t u r e d o u t of sight of l a n d , t h o u g h it is without d o u b t the direct way to India. If you w o u l d learn to s p e a k all t o n g u e s a n d c o n f o r m to the c u s t o m s of all n a t i o n s , if you w o u l d travel farther than all travellers, b e naturalized in all c l i m e s , a n d c a u s e the S p h i n x to d a s h her h e a d a g a i n s t a s t o n e , 7 even obey the p r e c e p t of the old p h i l o s o p h e r , a n d Explore thyself. H e r e i n are d e m a n d e d the eye a n d the nerve. Only the d e f e a t e d a n d d e s e r t e r s g o to the w a r s , c o w a r d s that run away a n d enlist. Start n o w o n that farthest w e s t e r n way, which d o e s not p a u s e at the M i s s i s sippi or the Pacific, nor c o n d u c t toward a worn-out C h i n a or J a p a n , but l e a d s on direct a t a n g e n t to this s p h e r e , s u m m e r a n d winter, day a n d night, s u n d o w n , m o o n d o w n , a n d at last earth d o w n too. 2. I.e., an explorer like M a r t i n F r o b i s h e r (1535?— 1594), English mariner. M u n g o Park ( 1 7 7 1 1 8 0 6 ) , Scottish explorer of Africa. Meriwether Lewis ( 1 7 7 4 - 1 8 0 9 ) and William Clark ( 1 7 7 0 1 8 3 8 ) , leaders of the A m e r i c a n expedition into the Louisiana Territory ( 1 8 0 4 - 0 6 ) . 3. T h e f a m o u s e x p e d i t i o n to t h e P a c i f i c A n t a r c t i c led by C h a r l e s W i l k e s d u r i n g 1 8 3 8 - 4 2 .

Spaniards to " A u s t r a l i a n , " a d d e d " o u t l a n d i s h , " a n d c h a n g e d the p r o n o u n s . T h e last line w o u l d be better translated as " h e [the traveler] may have m o r e o f a j o u r n e y , b u t h e w h o r e m a i n s in V e r o n a h a s m o r e of a life."

4. T h o r e a u ' s j o u r n a l for M a y 10, 1 8 4 1 , b e g i n s : "A g o o d w a r n i n g to the restless tourists of these days is c o n t a i n e d in t h e l a s t v e r s e s o f C l a u d i a n ' s ' O l d M a n of Verona.' " Claudius Claudianus was the l a s t o f t h e L a t i n c l a s s i c p o e t s (fl. 3 9 5 c . E . ) a n d a u t h o r o f Epigrammata, where Thoreau found the passage he loosely translates here. H e c h a n g e d

6 . In 1 8 1 8 C a p t a i n J o h n S y m m e s t h e o r i z e d t h a t the earth w a s hollow with o p e n i n g s at both the North and the S o u t h Poles. 7. A s t h e T h e b a n S p h i n x d i d w h e n O e d i p u s g u e s s e d h e r r i d d l e . T h e b e s h e r e is t h e a n c i e n t G r e e k city, n o t t h e E g y p t i a n city T h o r e a u h a s p r e viously referred to.

5. T h o r e a u h a d r e a d C h a r l e s P i c k e r i n g ' s The Races of Man ( 1 8 5 1 ) , w h i c h r e p o r t s o n t h e d o m e s tic c a t s in Z a n z i b a r [ H a r d i n g ' s n o t e ] ,

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It is said that M i r a b e a u took to highway robbery "to a s c e r t a i n what d e g r e e of resolution w a s n e c e s s a r y in order to p l a c e one's self in formal o p p o s i t i o n to the m o s t s a c r e d laws of society." H e d e c l a r e d that "a soldier who fights in the ranks d o e s not require half s o m u c h c o u r a g e a s a f o o t - p a d , " — " t h a t honor a n d religion have never s t o o d in the way of a well-considered a n d a firm resolve."" T h i s w a s manly, a s the world g o e s ; a n d yet it w a s idle, if not desp e r a t e . A s a n e r m a n would have f o u n d himself often e n o u g h "in formal o p p o sition" to what are d e e m e d "the m o s t s a c r e d laws of society," through o b e d i e n c e to yet m o r e s a c r e d laws, a n d so have tested his resolution without going out of his way. It is not for a m a n to put himself in s u c h an attitude to society, but to m a i n t a i n himself in whatever attitude he find h i m s e l f through o b e d i e n c e to the laws of his being, which will never be o n e of o p p o sition to a j u s t g o v e r n m e n t , if he s h o u l d c h a n c e to m e e t with s u c h . I left the w o o d s for a s g o o d a r e a s o n a s I went there. P e r h a p s it s e e m e d to m e that I h a d several m o r e lives to live, a n d c o u l d not s p a r e any m o r e time for that o n e . It is r e m a r k a b l e how easily a n d insensibly we fall into a particular r o u t e , a n d m a k e a beaten track for ourselves. I h a d not lived there a week before my feet wore a p a t h from my d o o r to the p o n d - s i d e ; a n d t h o u g h it is five or six years s i n c e I trod it, it is still q u i t e distinct. It is t r u e , I fear that others may have fallen into it, a n d so h e l p e d to keep it o p e n . T h e s u r f a c e of the earth is soft a n d i m p r e s s i b l e by the feet of m e n ; a n d s o with the p a t h s which the mind travels. H o w worn a n d dusty, then, m u s t be the highways of the world, how d e e p the ruts of tradition a n d conformity! I did not wish to take a cabin p a s s a g e , but rather to go before the m a s t a n d o n the d e c k of the world, for there I c o u l d best see the moonlight amid the m o u n t a i n s . I do not wish to go below now. I learned this, at least, by my experiment; that if o n e a d v a n c e s confidently in the direction of his d r e a m s , a n d e n d e a v o r s to live the life which he has i m a g i n e d , he will m e e t with a s u c c e s s u n e x p e c t e d in c o m m o n h o u r s . H e will put s o m e things b e h i n d , will p a s s a n invisible b o u n d a r y ; new, universal, a n d m o r e liberal laws will begin to establish t h e m s e l v e s a r o u n d a n d within him; or the old laws be e x p a n d e d , a n d interpreted in his favor in a m o r e liberal s e n s e , a n d he will live with the license of a higher order of b e i n g s . In proportion a s h e simplifies his life, the laws of the universe will a p p e a r less complex, a n d solitude will not be s o l i t u d e , nor poverty poverty, nor w e a k n e s s w e a k n e s s . If you have built c a s t l e s in the air, your work n e e d not b e lost; that is where they s h o u l d b e . N o w put the f o u n d a t i o n s u n d e r them. It is a ridiculous d e m a n d which E n g l a n d a n d A m e r i c a m a k e , that you shall s p e a k so that they c a n u n d e r s t a n d you. N e i t h e r m e n nor toad-stools grow so. As if that were i m p o r t a n t , a n d there were not e n o u g h to u n d e r s t a n d you without t h e m . As if N a t u r e c o u l d s u p p o r t but o n e order of u n d e r s t a n d i n g s , could not sustain birds a s well as q u a d r u p e d s , flying a s well a s c r e e p i n g things, and hush a n d who, which Bright 1 * c a n u n d e r s t a n d , were the b e s t E n g l i s h . As if there were safety in stupidity a l o n e . I fear chiefly lest my expression may not be extra-vagant e n o u g h , may not w a n d e r far e n o u g h beyond the narrow limits of my daily e x p e r i e n c e , s o a s to be a d e q u a t e to the 8. T h o r e a u e n c o u n t e r e d this p a s s a g e by t h e C o m t e d e M i r a b e a u ( 1 7 4 9 - 1 7 9 1 ) i n Harper's 1

(1850). 9 . N a m e for a n ox.

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truth of which I have b e e n c o n v i n c e d . Extra vagance! it d e p e n d s on h o w you are yarded. T h e m i g r a t i n g buffalo, which s e e k s new p a s t u r e s in a n o t h e r lati t u d e , is not extravagant like the cow which kicks over the pail, l e a p s the cow-yard f e n c e , a n d r u n s after her calf, in milking t i m e . I d e s i r e to s p e a k s o m e w h e r e without b o u n d s ; like a m a n in a w a k i n g m o m e n t , to m e n in their waking m o m e n t s ; for I a m c o n v i n c e d that I c a n n o t e x a g g e r a t e e n o u g h even to lay the f o u n d a t i o n of a true e x p r e s s i o n . W h o that h a s h e a r d a strain of m u s i c feared then lest h e s h o u l d s p e a k extravagantly any m o r e forever? In view of the future or p o s s i b l e , w e s h o u l d live q u i t e laxly a n d u n d e f i n e d in front, our outlines d i m a n d misty on that s i d e ; a s o u r s h a d o w s reveal a n i n s e n s i b l e perspiration toward the s u n . T h e volatile truth of our w o r d s s h o u l d continually betray the i n a d e q u a c y of the residual s t a t e m e n t . T h e i r truth is instantly translated; its literal m o n u m e n t a l o n e r e m a i n s . T h e w o r d s which express our faith a n d piety a r e not definite; yet they a r e significant a n d fragrant like f r a n k i n c e n s e to s u p e r i o r n a t u r e s . Why level d o w n w a r d to our dullest p e r c e p t i o n always, a n d p r a i s e that a s c o m m o n s e n s e ? T h e c o m m o n e s t s e n s e is the s e n s e of m e n a s l e e p , which they express by snoring. S o m e t i m e s we a r e inclined to c l a s s t h o s e w h o are once-and-a-half witted with the half-witted, b e c a u s e we a p p r e c i a t e only a third part of their wit. S o m e would find fault with the m o r n i n g - r e d , if they ever got up early e n o u g h . " T h e y p r e t e n d , " a s I hear, "that the v e r s e s of Kabir have four different s e n s e s ; illusion, spirit, intellect, a n d the exoteric doctrine of the V e d a s ; " 1 b u t in this part of the world it is c o n s i d e r e d a g r o u n d for c o m p l a i n t if a m a n ' s writings a d m i t of m o r e t h a n o n e interpretation. W h i l e E n g l a n d e n d e a v o r s to c u r e the potato-rot, will not any e n d e a v o r to c u r e the brain-rot, which prevails so m u c h m o r e widely a n d fatally? I do not s u p p o s e that I have attained to obscurity, b u t I s h o u l d b e p r o u d if no m o r e fatal fault were f o u n d with my p a g e s o n this s c o r e t h a n w a s f o u n d with the W a l d e n ice. S o u t h e r n c u s t o m e r s o b j e c t e d to its b l u e color, which is the e v i d e n c e of its purity, a s if it were m u d d y , a n d preferred the C a m b r i d g e i c e , which is white, b u t t a s t e s of w e e d s . T h e purity m e n love is like the m i s t s which envelop the earth, a n d not like the a z u r e ether b e y o n d . S o m e are d i n n i n g in our e a r s that we A m e r i c a n s , a n d m o d e r n s generally, are intellectual dwarfs c o m p a r e d with the a n c i e n t s , or even the E l i z a b e t h a n m e n . 2 B u t what is that to the p u r p o s e ? A living d o g is better t h a n a d e a d lion. 3 S h a l l a m a n g o a n d h a n g h i m s e l f b e c a u s e h e b e l o n g s to the r a c e of p y g m i e s , a n d not b e the biggest pygmy that he c a n ? L e t every o n e m i n d his own b u s i n e s s , a n d e n d e a v o r to b e what h e w a s m a d e . W h y s h o u l d w e b e in s u c h d e s p e r a t e h a s t e to s u c c e e d , a n d in s u c h d e s p e r a t e e n t e r p r i s e s ? If a m a n d o e s not keep p a c e with his c o m p a n i o n s , perh a p s it is b e c a u s e he h e a r s a different d r u m m e r . L e t him s t e p to the m u s i c which h e h e a r s , however m e a s u r e d or far away. It is not i m p o r t a n t that h e s h o u l d m a t u r e a s s o o n a s a n apple-tree or a n oak. S h a l l he turn his spring into s u m m e r ? If the condition of things w h i c h we were m a d e for is not yet, w h a t were any reality which we c a n s u b s t i t u t e ? W e will not b e s h i p w r e c k e d 1. M . G a r c i n d e T a s s y ' s Histoire de la literature hindoui (1839). 2. T h e r e h a d b e e n s e r i o u s a s well a s satirical s p e c ulation as to the debilitating effects of the American climate, a continuation of the older question

a s to w h e t h e r or not m o d e r n civilization c o u l d ever achieve the heights of ancient G r e e k and R o m a n civilization. 3. E c c l e s i a s t e s 9 . 4 .

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CONCLUSION

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on a vain reality. Shall we with p a i n s erect a h e a v e n of b l u e g l a s s over ourselves, t h o u g h w h e n it is d o n e we shall b e sure to gaze still at the true ethereal heaven far a b o v e , a s if the former were not? T h e r e w a s a n artist in the city of K o u r o o w h o w a s d i s p o s e d to strive after perfection. O n e day it c a m e into his m i n d to m a k e a staff. H a v i n g c o n s i d e r e d that in a n imperfect work time is a n ingredient, but into a perfect work time d o e s not enter, he said to himself, It shall be perfect in all r e s p e c t s , t h o u g h I s h o u l d do n o t h i n g else in my life. H e p r o c e e d e d instantly to the forest for wood, b e i n g resolved that it s h o u l d not be m a d e of u n s u i t a b l e m a t e r i a l ; a n d as he s e a r c h e d for a n d rejected stick after stick, his friends gradually d e s e r t e d him, for they grew old in their works a n d died, but he grew not older by a m o m e n t . His s i n g l e n e s s of p u r p o s e a n d r e s o l u t i o n , a n d his elevated piety, e n d o w e d h i m , without his k n o w l e d g e , with p e r e n n i a l y o u t h . As h e m a d e n o c o m p r o m i s e with T i m e , T i m e kept out of his way, a n d only s i g h e d at a dist a n c e b e c a u s e he c o u l d not o v e r c o m e him. B e f o r e h e h a d f o u n d a s t o c k in all r e s p e c t s suitable the city of K o u r o o w a s a hoary ruin, a n d h e sat o n o n e of its m o u n d s to peel the stick. B e f o r e h e h a d given it the p r o p e r s h a p e the dynasty of the C a n d a h a r s w a s at an e n d , a n d with the point of the stick h e wrote the n a m e of the last of that r a c e in the s a n d , a n d then r e s u m e d his work. By the time he h a d s m o o t h e d a n d p o l i s h e d the staff K a l p a w a s n o longer the pole-star; a n d ere h e h a d p u t o n the ferule a n d the h e a d a d o r n e d with p r e c i o u s s t o n e s , B r a h m a h a d a w o k e a n d s l u m b e r e d m a n y t i m e s . B u t why do I stay to m e n t i o n t h e s e things? W h e n the finishing stroke w a s put to his work, it s u d d e n l y e x p a n d e d before the eyes of the a s t o n i s h e d artist into the fairest of all the c r e a t i o n s of B r a h m a . H e h a d m a d e a n e w s y s t e m in m a k i n g a staff, a world with full a n d fair p r o p o r t i o n s ; in w h i c h , t h o u g h the old cities a n d dynasties h a d p a s s e d away, fairer a n d m o r e glorious o n e s h a d taken their p l a c e s . A n d now h e saw by the h e a p of shavings still fresh at his feet, that, for him a n d his work, the former l a p s e of time h a d b e e n a n illusion, a n d that no m o r e time h a d e l a p s e d than is r e q u i r e d for a single scintillation from the brain of B r a h m a to fall on a n d inflame the tinder of a mortal brain. T h e material w a s p u r e , a n d his art was p u r e ; how c o u l d the result b e other than wonderful? N o f a c e which we c a n give to a m a t t e r will s t e a d u s s o well at last a s the truth. T h i s a l o n e w e a r s well. F o r the m o s t part, we a r e not w h e r e we a r e , but in a false position. T h r o u g h an infirmity of our n a t u r e s , we s u p p o s e a c a s e , a n d p u t ourselves into it, a n d h e n c e are in two c a s e s at the s a m e t i m e , a n d it is d o u b l y difficult to get out. In s a n e m o m e n t s we regard only the facts, the c a s e that is. S a y what you have to say, not what you o u g h t . Any truth is better than make-believe. T o m H y d e , the tinker, s t a n d i n g on the gallows, w a s a s k e d if h e h a d any thing to say. "Tell the tailors," said h e , "to r e m e m b e r to m a k e a knot in their thread before they take the first s t i t c h . " 4 H i s c o m p a n i o n ' s prayer is forgotten. However m e a n your life is, m e e t it a n d live it; do not s h u n it a n d call it hard n a m e s . It is not s o b a d a s you a r e . It looks p o o r e s t w h e n you are richest. T h e fault-finder will find faults even in p a r a d i s e . L o v e your life, p o o r a s it is. You m a y p e r h a p s have s o m e p l e a s a n t , thrilling, glorious h o u r s , even in a 4 . P r e s u m a b l y a r e f e r e n c e to t h e t a i l o r s w h o will s e w H y d e ' s s h r o u d , a l t h o u g h s o m e c u s t o m m a y b e i n v o l v e d s u c h a s t h a t o f m a k i n g t h e last s t i t c h t h r o u g h t h e n o s e in p r e p a r i n g a s a i l o r for b u r i a l a t s e a .

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p o o r - h o u s e . T h e setting s u n is reflected from the windows of the a l m s - h o u s e a s brightly a s from the rich m a n ' s a b o d e ; the s n o w m e l t s before its door a s early in the spring. I do not s e e but a quiet m i n d may live a s contentedly there, a n d have a s c h e e r i n g t h o u g h t s , a s in a p a l a c e . T h e town's p o o r s e e m to m e often to live the m o s t i n d e p e n d e n t lives of any. M a y b e they a r e simply great e n o u g h to receive without misgiving. M o s t think that they are a b o v e b e i n g s u p p o r t e d by the town; but it oftener h a p p e n s that they are not a b o v e s u p p o r t i n g t h e m s e l v e s by d i s h o n e s t m e a n s , which s h o u l d be m o r e disreputable. C u l t i v a t e poverty like a g a r d e n herb, like s a g e . D o not trouble yourself m u c h to get new things, w h e t h e r c l o t h e s or friends. T u r n the old; return to t h e m . T h i n g s d o not c h a n g e ; we c h a n g e . Sell your c l o t h e s a n d keep your t h o u g h t s . G o d will s e e that you do not want society. If I were confined to a c o r n e r of a garret all my d a y s , like a spider, the world would b e j u s t a s large to m e while I h a d my t h o u g h t s a b o u t m e . T h e p h i l o s o p h e r said: " F r o m a n army of three divisions o n e can take away its g e n e r a l , a n d put it in disorder; from the m a n the m o s t abject a n d vulgar o n e c a n n o t take away his t h o u g h t . " 5 D o not s e e k so anxiously to be d e v e l o p e d , to s u b j e c t yourself to m a n y influe n c e s to be played o n ; it is all d i s s i p a t i o n . Humility like d a r k n e s s reveals the heavenly lights. T h e s h a d o w s of poverty a n d m e a n n e s s gather a r o u n d u s , " a n d Io! creation w i d e n s to our view." 6 W e are often r e m i n d e d that if there were b e s t o w e d on u s the wealth of C r o e s u s , 7 our a i m s m u s t still b e the s a m e , a n d our m e a n s essentially the s a m e . M o r e o v e r , if you are restricted in your range by poverty, if you c a n n o t buy b o o k s a n d n e w s p a p e r s , for i n s t a n c e , you are but confined to the most significant a n d vital e x p e r i e n c e s ; you a r e c o m pelled to deal with the material which yields the m o s t s u g a r a n d the m o s t s t a r c h . It is life near the b o n e where it is s w e e t e s t . You are d e f e n d e d from b e i n g a trifler. N o m a n l o s e s ever on a lower level by m a g n a n i m i t y on a higher. S u p e r f l u o u s wealth c a n buy superfluities only. M o n e y is not r e q u i r e d to buy o n e n e c e s s a r y of the s o u l . I live in the a n g l e of a leaden wall, into w h o s e c o m p o s i t i o n w a s p o u r e d a little alloy of bell metal. O f t e n , in the r e p o s e of my mid-day, there r e a c h e s my ears a c o n f u s e d tintinnabulum from without. It is the n o i s e of my c o n t e m p o r a r i e s . M y n e i g h b o r s tell m e of their a d v e n t u r e s with f a m o u s gentlem e n a n d ladies, what notabilities they m e t at the d i n n e r - t a b l e ; but I a m no m o r e interested in s u c h things than in the c o n t e n t s of the Daily T i m e s . T h e interest a n d the c o n v e r s a t i o n are a b o u t c o s t u m e a n d m a n n e r s chiefly; but a g o o s e is a g o o s e still, d r e s s it a s you will. T h e y tell m e of C a l i f o r n i a a n d T e x a s , of E n g l a n d a n d the I n d i e s , of the H o n . Mr. of G e o r g i a or of M a s s a c h u s e t t s , all transient a n d fleeting p h e n o m e n a , till I a m ready to l e a p from their court-yard like the M a m e l u k e b e y . 9 I delight to c o m e to my b e a r i n g s , — not walk in p r o c e s s i o n with p o m p a n d p a r a d e , in a c o n s p i c u o u s p l a c e , but to walk even with the Builder of the u n i v e r s e , if I m a y , — n o t to live in this restl e s s , n e r v o u s , bustling, trivial N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y , but s t a n d or sit thoughtfully while it g o e s by. W h a t a r e m e n c e l e b r a t i n g ? T h e y a r e all on a c o m m i t t e e of a r r a n g e m e n t s , a n d hourly expect a s p e e c h from s o m e b o d y . G o d is only the president of the day, a n d W e b s t e r is his orator. 1 I love to w e i g h , to settle, to 8

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WALDEN, CHAPTER

18. CONCLUSION

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937

gravitate toward that which m o s t strongly a n d rightfully attracts m e ; — n o t h a n g by the b e a m of the s c a l e a n d try to weigh l e s s , — n o t s u p p o s e a c a s e , but take the c a s e that is; to travel the only path 1 c a n , a n d that on which no power c a n resist m e . It affords m e no satisfaction to c o m m e n c e to s p r i n g an a r c h before I have got a solid f o u n d a t i o n . Let us not play at kittlybenders. 2 T h e r e is a solid b o t t o m every w h e r e . W e read that the traveller a s k e d the boy if the s w a m p before him had a hard b o t t o m . T h e boy replied that it h a d . B u t presently the traveller's h o r s e s a n k in up to the girths, a n d he o b s e r v e d to the boy, "I thought you said that this b o g h a d a hard b o t t o m . " " S o it h a s , " a n s w e r e d the latter, "but you have not got half way to it yet." S o it is with the b o g s a n d q u i c k s a n d s of society; but he is an old boy that knows it. Only what is thought said or d o n e at a certain rare c o i n c i d e n c e is g o o d . I would not be o n e of t h o s e w h o will foolishly drive a nail into m e r e lath a n d plastering; s u c h a d e e d would keep m e a w a k e nights. Give m e a h a m m e r , a n d let m e feel for the furring.' D o not d e p e n d on the putty. Drive a nail h o m e a n d clinch it s o faithfully that you c a n w a k e u p in the night a n d think of your work with s a t i s f a c t i o n , — a work at which you would not be a s h a m e d to invoke the M u s e . S o will help you G o d , a n d s o only. Every nail driven s h o u l d b e as a n o t h e r rivet in the m a c h i n e of the universe, you carrying o n the work. Rather than love, than money, than f a m e , give m e truth. I sat at a table where were rich food a n d wine in a b u n d a n c e , a n d o b s e q u i o u s a t t e n d a n c e , but sincerity a n d truth were not; a n d I went away hungry from the inhospitable b o a r d . T h e hospitality w a s as cold a s the i c e s . I t h o u g h t that there w a s no n e e d of ice to freeze t h e m . T h e y talked, to m e of the a g e of the wine a n d the f a m e of the v i n t a g e ; but I thought of an older, a newer, a n d purer w i n e , of a m o r e glorious vintage, which they had not got, a n d c o u l d not buy. T h e style, the h o u s e a n d g r o u n d s a n d " e n t e r t a i n m e n t " p a s s for n o t h i n g with m e . I called on the king, but he m a d e m e wait in his hall, a n d c o n d u c t e d like a m a n i n c a p a c i t a t e d for hospitality. T h e r e w a s a m a n in my n e i g h b o r h o o d w h o lived in a hollow tree. His m a n n e r s were truly regal. I s h o u l d have d o n e better h a d I called on him. H o w long shall we sit in our porticoes p r a c t i s i n g idle a n d m u s t y virtues, which any work would m a k e impertinent? As if o n e were to begin the day with long-suffering, a n d hire a m a n to hoe his p o t a t o e s ; a n d in the a f t e r n o o n go forth to practise C h r i s t i a n m e e k n e s s a n d charity with g o o d n e s s aforet h o u g h t ! C o n s i d e r the C h i n a 4 pride a n d s t a g n a n t s e l f - c o m p l a c e n c y of m a n kind. T h i s g e n e r a t i o n reclines a little to c o n g r a t u l a t e itself o n being the last of an illustrious line; a n d in Roston a n d L o n d o n a n d Paris a n d R o m e , thinking of its long d e s c e n t , it s p e a k s of its p r o g r e s s in art a n d s c i e n c e a n d literature with satisfaction. T h e r e are the R e c o r d s of the P h i l o s o p h i c a l S o c i e t i e s , and the public E u l o g i e s of Great Men! It is the good A d a m c o n t e m p l a t i n g his own virtue. "Yes, we have d o n e great d e e d s , a n d s u n g divine s o n g s , which shall never d i e , " — t h a t is, a s long a s we c a n r e m e m b e r t h e m . T h e learned societies a n d great m e n of A s s y r i a , — w h e r e a r e they? W h a t youthful philoso p h e r s a n d experimentalists we a r e ! T h e r e is not o n e of my r e a d e r s w h o h a s yet lived a whole h u m a n life. T h e s e may be but the spring m o n t h s in the life sons." T h o r e a u plays on the e a t c h p h r a s e from I s l a m " T h e r e is n o o t h e r G o d t h a n A l l a h , a n d M o h a m m e d is h i s p r o p h e t . " T h o r e a u r e g a r d e d Daniel W e b s t e r with contempt. 2. H a r d i n g defines this a s a "child's g a m e of running out onto thin ice without breaking t h r o u g h . "

3. N a r r o w l u m b e r n a i l e d a s b a c k i n g f o r l a t h . T h e first e d i t i o n r e a d s " f u r r o w i n g , " a n d o n e m a n u s c r i p t draft r e a d s " s t u d . " 4. F r o m C h i n a ' s l i n g e r i n g i s o l a t i o n i s m , d e s p i t e the C h i n a trade so important to the N e w E n g l a n d economy.

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HENRY DAVID

THOREAU

of the r a c e . If we have h a d the seven-years' itch, we have not s e e n the seventeen-year l o c u s t yet in C o n c o r d . W e a r e a c q u a i n t e d with a m e r e pellicle of the globe on which we live. M o s t have not delved six feet b e n e a t h the s u r f a c e , nor l e a p e d a s m a n y a b o v e it. W e know not w h e r e we a r e . B e s i d e , we are s o u n d a s l e e p nearly half our t i m e . Yet we e s t e e m ourselves w i s e , a n d have an e s t a b l i s h e d order on the s u r f a c e . Truly, we are d e e p thinkers, w e a r e a m b i t i o u s spirits! As I s t a n d over the insect crawling a m i d the p i n e n e e d l e s on the forest floor, a n d e n d e a v o r i n g to c o n c e a l itself from my sight, a n d a s k myself why it will c h e r i s h t h o s e h u m b l e t h o u g h t s , a n d hide its h e a d from m e w h o might p e r h a p s be its b e n e f a c t o r , a n d impart to its r a c e s o m e c h e e r i n g information, I a m r e m i n d e d of the g r e a t e r B e n e f a c t o r a n d Intelligence that s t a n d s over m e the h u m a n insect. T h e r e is a n i n c e s s a n t influx of novelty into the world, a n d yet we tolerate incredible d u l n e s s . I n e e d only s u g g e s t what kind of s e r m o n s are still listened to in the m o s t e n l i g h t e n e d c o u n t r i e s . T h e r e are s u c h w o r d s a s j o y a n d sorrow, but they are only the b u r d e n of a p s a l m , s u n g with a n a s a l twang, while we believe in the ordinary a n d m e a n . W e think that we c a n c h a n g e o u r clothes only. It is said that the British E m p i r e is very large a n d r e s p e c t a b l e , a n d that the U n i t e d S t a t e s are a first-rate power. W e do not believe that a tide rises a n d falls b e h i n d every m a n which c a n float the British E m p i r e like a c h i p , if he s h o u l d ever harbor it in his m i n d . W h o knows w h a t sort of s e v e n t e e n year locust will next c o m e o u t of the g r o u n d ? T h e g o v e r n m e n t of the world I live in w a s not f r a m e d , like that of Britain, in after-dinner c o n v e r s a t i o n s over the w i n e . T h e life in u s is like the water in the river. It m a y rise this year higher than m a n h a s ever known it, a n d flood the p a r c h e d u p l a n d s ; even this m a y b e the eventful year, which will drown o u t all o u r m u s k r a t s . It w a s not always dry land w h e r e w e dwell. I s e e far inland the b a n k s w h i c h the s t r e a m anciently w a s h e d , before s c i e n c e b e g a n to record its f r e s h e t s . Every o n e h a s h e a r d the story which h a s g o n e the r o u n d s of N e w E n g l a n d , of a strong a n d beautiful b u g which c a m e o u t of the dry leaf of a n old table of apple-tree w o o d , which h a d s t o o d in a farmer's kitchen for sixty years, first in C o n n e c t i c u t , a n d afterward in M a s s a c h u s e t t s , — f r o m a n e g g d e p o s i t e d in the living tree m a n y years earlier still, a s a p p e a r e d by c o u n t i n g the a n n u a l layers b e y o n d it; which w a s h e a r d g n a w i n g o u t for several w e e k s , h a t c h e d p e r c h a n c e by the heat of a n u r n . 5 W h o d o e s not feel his faith in a r e s u r r e c t i o n a n d immortality s t r e n g t h e n e d by h e a r i n g of this? W h o knows w h a t beautiful a n d w i n g e d life, w h o s e e g g h a s b e e n b u r i e d for a g e s u n d e r m a n y c o n c e n t r i c layers of w o o d e n n e s s in the d e a d dry life of society, d e p o s i t e d at first in the a l b u r n u m of the green a n d living tree, which h a s b e e n gradually c o n v e r t e d into the s e m b l a n c e of its w e l l - s e a s o n e d t o m b , — h e a r d p e r c h a n c e g n a w i n g o u t n o w for years by the a s t o n i s h e d family of m a n , a s they sat r o u n d the festive b o a r d , — may u n e x p e c t e d l y c o m e forth from a m i d s t society's m o s t trivial a n d h a n d selled furniture, to enjoy its perfect s u m m e r life at last! I do not say that J o h n or J o n a t h a n 6 will realize all this; b u t s u c h is the c h a r a c t e r of that m o r r o w which m e r e l a p s e of t i m e c a n never m a k e to d a w n . 5 . A m a j o r a c c o u n t o f t h e i n c i d e n t is in T i m o t h y D w i g h t ' s Travels in New England and New York ( 1 8 2 1 ) , vol. 2 . 6. J o h n Bull or B r o t h e r J o n a t h a n , i.e., E n g l a n d or

A m e r i c a . T h o r e a u is n o w a d d r e s s i n g n o t t h e restricted a u d i e n c e of the o p e n i n g of " E c o n o m y , " b u t all r e a d e r s o f t h e E n g l i s h l a n g u a g e .

FREDERICK DOUGLASS

/

939

T h e light w h i c h p u t s out o u r eyes is d a r k n e s s to u s . Only that d a y d a w n s to which we a r e a w a k e . T h e r e is m o r e day to d a w n . T h e s u n is b u t a m o r n i n g star. THE

E N D

1846, 1850

FREDERICK DOUGLASS 1818-1895 In h i s l o n g lifetime F r e d e r i c k D o u g l a s s w a s a prolific s p e e c h m a k e r , s o c i a l activist, j o u r n a l i s t , a n d a u t h o r o f a novella, The Heroic

Slave

( 1 8 5 3 ) , a s well a s t h r e e v o l u m e s

of a u t o b i o g r a p h y . T h e a u t o b i o g r a p h i e s , e a c h c o v e r i n g D o u g l a s s ' s life in i n c r e a s i n g detail, n a r r a t e t h e story o f o n e of t h e m o s t r e m a r k a b l e , s u c c e s s f u l , a n d influential A m e r i c a n lives o f t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y . W e print here c h a p t e r s f r o m D o u g l a s s ' s first a u t o b i o g r a p h y , Narrative of Frederick

Douglass,

an American

Slave,

Written

by Himself

of the

Life

( 1 8 4 5 ) . T h i s highly

p o p u l a r a n d influential a c c o u n t d e l i b e r a t e l y o m i t s m u c h specific detail a b o u t his life b o t h to f e a t u r e h i m s e l f a s a typical b l a c k m a n (thereby to serve t h e g e n e r a l c a u s e o f a b o l i t i o n ) a n d to p r o t e c t s o m e o f t h o s e w h o h e l p e d h i m e s c a p e . T h e Narrative

would

b e r e v i s e d t w i c e , first a s My Bondage

and My Freedom

Life

originally p u b l i s h e d in 1 8 8 1 a n d r e v i s e d a n d

and

Times

of Frederick

Douglass,

in 1 8 5 5 , a n d finally a s The

e x p a n d e d in 1 8 9 3 . D o u g l a s s , w e n o w k n o w , w a s born F r e d e r i c k A u g u s t u s W a s h i n g t o n B a i l e y in February

1 8 1 8 a t H o l m e Hill F a r m in T a l b o t C o u n t y o n t h e E a s t e r n S h o r e o f

M a r y l a n d . H i s m o t h e r w a s H a r r i e t Bailey; his f a t h e r w a s a n u n k n o w n w h i t e m a n (widely s u s p e c t e d a s b e i n g h i s m o t h e r ' s o w n e r , A a r o n A n t h o n y ) . In 1 8 2 6 , a b o u t a y e a r after t h e d e a t h o f his m o t h e r a n d shortly after t h e d e a t h o f A a r o n A n t h o n y , h e w a s s e n t f r o m t h e p l a n t a t i o n to live a s a h o u s e s e r v a n t with S o p h i a a n d H u g h A u l d (Anthony's d a u g h t e r a n d son-in-law) in B a l t i m o r e , M a r y l a n d . It w a s t h e r e t h a t h e first r e c e i v e d r e a d i n g l e s s o n s f r o m S o p h i a . W h e n h e r h u s b a n d d i s c o v e r e d this p r a c tice, h e f o r b a d e it with t h e o b s e r v a t i o n that l e a r n i n g " w o u l d forever unfit h i m to b e a s l a v e . " In a n y event, t e a c h i n g slaves r e a d i n g a n d writing w a s a g a i n s t t h e l a w throughout the South. B u t D o u g l a s s u n d e r s t o o d e v e n a s a y o u n g c h i l d that w h a t e v e r h i s white o w n e r s w a n t e d h i m not to h a v e w a s c e r t a i n l y t h e m o s t v a l u a b l e t h i n g for h i m to s e e k , a n d , a s t h e Narrative

r e c o u n t s , h e w a s i n g e n i o u s in finding ways to l e a r n b o t h r e a d i n g a n d

writing. D u r i n g h i s t i m e in B a l t i m o r e D o u g l a s s b o u g h t a n d r e a d intently t h e bian

Orator,

Colum-

a p o p u l a r s c h o o l text c o n t a i n i n g m a n y s p e e c h e s d e n o u n c i n g o p p r e s s i o n .

H e a l s o d i s c o v e r e d in t h e Baltimore

American

articles a b o u t a b o l i t i o n a s a n o r g a n i z e d

m o v e m e n t , a n d e s t a b l i s h e d a c l o s e r e l a t i o n s h i p with C h a r l e s L a w s o n , a fatherly b l a c k C h r i s t i a n w h o b e c a m e h i s spiritual m e n t o r a n d told D o u g l a s s that h e h a d b e e n c h o s e n to d o " g r e a t w o r k . " In 1 8 3 3 , after s e v e n y e a r s in B a l t i m o r e , D o u g l a s s w a s r e t u r n e d to t h e p l a n t a t i o n of H u g h ' s b r o t h e r T h o m a s A u l d in 1 8 3 3 , w h e r e h e f o u n d life i n t o l e r a b l e . D o u g l a s s quickly b e c a m e k n o w n for h i s r e b e l l i o u s d e m e a n o r a n d w a s s e n t to w o r k on t h e f a r m of T h o m a s C o v e y , a s p e c i a l i s t in " s l a v e b r e a k i n g . " T h e a c c o u n t o f h i s d e c l i n e a n d r e a w a k e n i n g a t C o v e y ' s f a r m , c u l m i n a t i n g in t h e h a n d - t o - h a n d b a t t l e b e t w e e n C o v e y

940

/

FREDERICK

DOUGLASS

a n d D o u g l a s s , is t h e t u r n i n g point o f t h e Narrative,

a s it s e e m s to h a v e b e e n in

D o u g l a s s ' s life a s well. In 1 8 3 6 D o u g l a s s w a s r e t u r n e d to B a l t i m o r e , w h e r e h e l e a r n e d t h e c a u l k i n g t r a d e in t h e s h i p y a r d s . T h o u g h t h e elder T h o m a s A u l d kept m o s t o f t h e m o n e y F r e d e r i c k e a r n e d , D o u g l a s s w a s a b l e to s a v e e n o u g h to m a k e his p l a n o f e s c a p e f e a s i b l e . In this plan he was helped both

financially

a n d e m o t i o n a l l y by A n n a M u r r a y , to w h o m h e

b e c a m e e n g a g e d on S e p t e m b e r 3, 1 8 3 8 , t h e very d a y o n w h i c h h e b o a r d e d a train for N e w York d i s g u i s e d a s a s a i l o r a n d c a r r y i n g the b o r r o w e d p a p e r s o f a free b l a c k s e a m a n . W i t h i n days A n n a j o i n e d h i m , a n d they were m a r r i e d o n S e p t e m b e r 1 5 . T h e y s o o n left for N e w B e d f o r d , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , w h e r e t h e likelihood o f h i s b e i n g c a p t u r e d w a s r e d u c e d by h i s t a k i n g o n a n e w n a m e . T h o u g h D o u g l a s s e m p h a s i z e s in t h e Narrative

the splendor of N e w Bedford com-

p a r e d to slave territory, life in N e w B e d f o r d w a s not e a s y for t h e newly m a r r i e d c o u p l e . D o u g l a s s w a s d i s c r i m i n a t e d a g a i n s t w h e n h e s o u g h t w o r k a s a c a u l k e r a n d h a d to p i e c e t o g e t h e r a living d o i n g o d d j o b s o f every kind. A few m o n t h s after arriving in N e w B e d f o r d , D o u g l a s s s u b s c r i b e d to a b o l i t i o n i s t W i l l i a m Lloyd G a r r i s o n ' s

Liberator.

T h r e e years later, in 1 8 4 1 , at a n a n t i s l a v e r y c o n v e n t i o n in N a n t u c k e t , D o u g l a s s m a d e his first p u b l i c a d d r e s s to a m i x e d - r a c e a u d i e n c e . H i s h u g e l y s u c c e s s f u l c a r e e r a s a n o r a t o r h a d b e g u n . W i t h t h e p u b l i c a t i o n in 1 8 4 5 o f Narrative Douglass,

an American

Slave,

Written

by Himself,

of the Life

of

Frederick

his c a r e e r a s a writer m a d e h i m ,

within a few y e a r s , a n i n t e r n a t i o n a l s p o k e s p e r s o n for f r e e d o m a n d e q u a l i t y . T h o u g h s o m e earlier slave n a r r a t i v e s h a d b e e n g h o s t - w r i t t e n , t h e vivid detail, t h e u n m i s t a k a b l e individuality of its style, a n d t h e r e p u t a t i o n D o u g l a s s h a d e a r n e d a s a traveling s p e a k e r of e l o q u e n c e left n o d o u b t that D o u g l a s s h a d in f a c t written h i s o w n story in his o w n w o r d s — e v e n if they w e r e in t h e service o f G a r r i s o n i a n a b o l i t i o n i s m . T h e r e is a m p l e e v i d e n c e to s u p p o r t t h e view that D o u g l a s s w a s a p o w e r f u l s p e a k e r . O n e of h i s a d m i r e r s d e s c r i b e d h i m t h u s : H e w a s m o r e t h a n six feet in h e i g h t , a n d h i s m a j e s t i c f o r m , a s h e r o s e to s p e a k , s t r a i g h t a s a n a r r o w , m u s c u l a r , yet lithe a n d g r a c e f u l , his f l a s h i n g e y e , a n d m o r e t h a n all, his v o i c e , that rivaled [ D a n i e l ] W e b s t e r ' s in its r i c h n e s s , a n d in t h e d e p t h a n d s o n o r o u s n e s s o f its c a d e n c e s , m a d e u p s u c h a n ideal of a n o r a t o r a s the l i s t e n e r s never forgot. S u r e l y , n o o n e in R o c h e s t e r , N e w York, w h o h e a r d D o u g l a s s ' s s p e e c h " T h e M e a n i n g of J u l y F o u r t h for t h e N e g r o " o n J u l y 5 , 1 8 5 2 , w a s likely to h a v e f o r g o t t e n w h a t h i s b i o g r a p h e r W i l l i a m S. M c F e e l y h a s c h a r a c t e r i z e d j u d i c i o u s l y a s " p e r h a p s t h e g r e a t e s t antislavery o r a t i o n ever g i v e n . " In 1 8 5 5 D o u g l a s s p u b l i s h e d a revised a n d e n l a r g e d v e r s i o n of t h e Narrative under the title My Bondage and My Freedom. This work s u p p l e m e n t e d a more detailed a c c o u n t o f h i s life a s a s l a v e with t h e i m p r e s s i v e r e c o r d of h i s i n t e l l e c t u a l grow th a n d p e r s o n a l a c h i e v e m e n t s i n c e h e h a d j o i n e d f o r c e s with t h e a b o l i t i o n i s t m o v e m e n t . It told, t o o , o f h i s s u c c e s s f u l s p e a k i n g l o u r o f t h e B r i t i s h I s l e s , t h e p u r c h a s e of h i s f r e e d o m for s e v e n h u n d r e d d o l l a r s by a g r o u p o f h i s a d m i r e r s , a n d h i s m o v e to R o c h ester, N e w York, w h e r e h e b r o u g h t o u t in D e c e m b e r 1 8 4 7 t h e first i s s u e o f t h e i n c r e a s i n g l y o u t s p o k e n weekly n e w s p a p e r h e p u b l i s h e d for t h i r t e e n y e a r s (first a s The North

Star,

later a s Frederick

Douglass's

Weekly

a n d Monthly).

My Bondage

and

My

Freedom is a s u b s t a n t i a l l y l o n g e r v e r s i o n o f h i s life a n d i n c l u d e s m u c h m o r e inform a t i o n a b o u t t h e f a m i l i e s o f t h e m a s t e r s h e h a d lived u n d e r , m e m b e r s o f h i s o w n family, e s p e c i a l l y his m o t h e r , t h e daily life in t h e g r e a t h o u s e a n d t h e p l a n t a t i o n fields, a n d t h e m i s t r e a t m e n t of s l a v e s . In c o v e r i n g t h e ten y e a r s that h a d e l a p s e d s i n c e t h e Narrative o f 1 8 4 5 , D o u g l a s s h a s m u c h to s a y a b o u t t h e d r a m a t i c g r o w t h o f his c o n c e p t i o n of f r e e d o m , his b r e a k with G a r r i s o n , a n d his e n c o u n t e r s with r a c i s m in t h e N o r t h . N o l o n g e r willing to " l e a v e t h e p h i l o s o p h y " o f a b o l i t i o n to G a r r i s o n a n d o t h e r white a b o l i t i o n i s t s , D o u g l a s s a s s e r t s his i n t e l l e c t u a l a n d i n t e r p r e t i v e i n d e p e n d e n c e —

FREDERICK DOUGLASS

/

941

"his m o r a l a n d s o c i a l right to e x p r e s s h i s o w n individuality," a s W i l l i a m L. A n d r e w s aptly p u t s it. My Bondage

and My Freedom

d e m o n s t r a t e s t h e g r o w t h in D o u g l a s s ' s r h e t o r i c a l

skill a s it d e v e l o p e d in t h e d e c a d e following t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f Narrative.

If, in t h e

first version of his a u t o b i o g r a p h y , D o u g l a s s h a d p r e s e n t e d h i m s e l f a s a m a n s t a n d i n g a l o n e , in this version h e c e l e b r a t e d t h e i n f l u e n c e o f h i s g r a n d m o t h e r a n d m o t h e r , which h e h a d e i t h e r i g n o r e d or m i n i m i z e d b e f o r e . T h i s n e w t r e a t m e n t r e s o n a t e s with the rhetoric of s e n t i m e n t a s s o c i a t e d with Harriet B e e c h e r S t o w e a n d o t h e r p o p u l a r m i d - n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y w o m e n writers, a n d testifies to his a w a r e n e s s that w o m e n were a powerful f o r c e within t h e a b o l i t i o n i s t m o v e m e n t . T h e third o f D o u g l a s s ' s a u t o b i o g r a p h i e s , The Life

and Times

of Frederick

Douglass

( 1 8 8 1 , revised a n d e x p a n d e d in 1 8 9 2 ) , s u b s u m e s t h e first two a n d a d d s to t h e m t h e events o f his c a r e e r j u s t b e f o r e , d u r i n g , a n d after t h e Civil W a r ; it a l s o t r a c e s t h e rising a r c of his f a m e a n d i n f l u e n c e , a n d t h e u l t i m a t e l y h o n o r e d r e c o g n i t i o n o f h i s c o m p a t r i o t s , b l a c k a n d white alike. W h i l e this v o l u m e a l s o e x p o s e s s o m e o f D o u g l a s s ' s naive o p t i m i s m a b o u t t h e f u t u r e o f r a c e r e l a t i o n s , e s p e c i a l l y in t h e S o u t h , t h e 1 8 9 2 u p d a t e of Life

and Times

d e m o n s t r a t e d o n c e a g a i n that on d e v e l o p m e n t s s u c h a s

lynching a n d J i m C r o w l e g i s l a t i o n , e s p e c i a l l y t h e d i s e n f r a n c h i s e m e n t o f b l a c k s in t h e S o u t h , D o u g l a s s w a s in his last years j u s t a s fierce a critic o f i n j u s t i c e a s h e h a d ever been. C r i t i c s d i s a g r e e over t h e relative i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e Narrative age and My Freedom Douglass Narrative Freedom

( 1 8 5 5 ) , t h o u g h m o s t a g r e e that The Life

( 1 8 4 5 ) a n d My and Times

of

BondFrederick

( 1 8 8 1 ) is o f l e s s c o n s e q u e n c e . W h a t w e k n o w with c e r t a i n t y is that t h e s o l d s o m e 3 0 , 0 0 0 c o p i e s in t h e first five y e a r s , a n d My Bondage 1 8 , 0 0 0 c o p i e s in its first two y e a r s . T h e m o r e "official" Life and Times,

and My while

it a d d e d m u c h to t h e r e c o r d of D o u g l a s s ' s a c h i e v e m e n t , d i d n o t fare a s well in t h e marketplace. W r o n g l y a c c u s e d o f c o m p l i c i t y in J o h n B r o w n ' s raid o n t h e a r s e n a l at H a r p e r s Ferry in 1 8 5 9 , D o u g l a s s w a s o b l i g e d to flee to C a n a d a a n d t h e n c e to E n g l a n d . O n c e t h e Civil W a r b e g a n , h e took a n a c t i v e role in t h e c a m p a i g n to m a k e free b l a c k m e n eligible for U n i o n service; he b e c a m e a s u c c e s s f u l r e c r u i t e r o f b l a c k s o l d i e r s , w h o s e r a n k s s o o n i n c l u d e d two o f h i s o w n s o n s . H a v i n g h e l p e d to enlist t h e s e m e n , D o u g l a s s w a s only a c t i n g in c h a r a c t e r w h e n he t o o k h i s p r o t e s t s over their u n e q u a l p a y a n d t r e a t m e n t directly to P r e s i d e n t L i n c o l n . It w a s a l s o in c h a r a c t e r for D o u g l a s s to criticize L i n c o l n ' s s u c c e s s o r s over w h a t D o u g l a s s believed w a s a n insufficiently p r o m p t a n d j u s t R e c o n s t r u c t i o n policy o n c e t h e w a r h a d b e e n w o n . D o u g l a s s w a s p a r t i c u l a r l y i n s i s t e n t o n t h e n e c e s s i t y for swift p a s s a g e o f t h e F i f t e e n t h A m e n d m e n t g u a r a n t e e i n g s u f f r a g e to t h e newly e m a n c i p a t e d m a l e s l a v e s . N e v e r satisfied with t h e g r u d g i n g legal c o n c e s s i o n s t h e Civil W a r yielded, D o u g l a s s c o n t i n u e d to o b j e c t to every sign o f d i s c r i m i n a t i o n — e c o n o m i c , g e n d e r , legal, a n d social. E v e n after h e h a d b e e n a p p o i n t e d U . S . m a r s h a l in 1 8 7 7 a n d t h e n r e c o r d e r o f d e e d s for t h e D i s t r i c t o f C o l u m b i a , h e c o n t i n u e d to s p e a k o u t o n s u c h m a t t e r s a s t h e e x p l o i t a t i o n o f b l a c k s h a r e c r o p p e r s in t h e S o u t h , to d e m a n d a n t i l y n c h ing legislation, to p r o t e s t t h e e x c l u s i o n o f African A m e r i c a n s f r o m p u b l i c a c c o m m o d a t i o n s . H e a l s o w a s active in s u f f r a g e m o v e m e n t s , b e l i e v i n g firmly in t h e p o w e r o f the ballot a s o n e o f t h e n e c e s s i t i e s o f f r e e d o m . It w o u l d b e h a r d to e x a g g e r a t e t h e i m p o r t a n c e for later A f r i c a n A m e r i c a n l e a d e r s s u c h a s B o o k e r T . W a s h i n g t o n a n d W . E . B. D u B o i s o f D o u g l a s s ' s e x e m p l a r y c a r e e r a s a c h a m p i o n o f h u m a n rights.

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Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave, Written by Himself' Chapter

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I w a s born in T u c k a h o e , near H i l l s b o r o u g h , a n d a b o u t twelve miles from E a s t o n , in T a l b o t c o u n t y , M a r y l a n d . I have no a c c u r a t e k n o w l e d g e of my a g e , never having s e e n any a u t h e n t i c record c o n t a i n i n g it. By far the larger part of the slaves know a s little of their a g e s a s h o r s e s know of theirs, a n d it is the wish of m o s t m a s t e r s within my k n o w l e d g e to k e e p their slaves t h u s ignorant. I do not r e m e m b e r to have ever m e t a slave w h o c o u l d tell of his birthday. T h e y s e l d o m c o m e nearer to it t h a n p l a n t i n g - t i m e , h a r v e s t - t i m e , cherry-time, spring-time, or fall-time. A w a n t of i n f o r m a t i o n c o n c e r n i n g my own w a s a s o u r c e of u n h a p p i n e s s to m e even d u r i n g c h i l d h o o d . T h e white children c o u l d tell their a g e s . I c o u l d not tell why I o u g h t to b e deprived of the s a m e privilege. I w a s not allowed to m a k e any inquiries of my m a s t e r c o n c e r n i n g it. H e d e e m e d all s u c h inquiries o n the part of a slave i m p r o p e r a n d i m p e r t i n e n t , a n d evidence of a restless spirit. T h e n e a r e s t e s t i m a t e I c a n give m a k e s m e now b e t w e e n twenty-seven a n d twenty-eight years of a g e . I c o m e to this, from h e a r i n g my m a s t e r say, s o m e time d u r i n g 1 8 3 5 , I w a s a b o u t seventeen years old. M y m o t h e r w a s n a m e d Harriet Bailey. S h e w a s the d a u g h t e r of I s a a c a n d B e t s e y Bailey, both c o l o r e d , a n d q u i t e dark. M y m o t h e r w a s of a darker complexion t h a n either my g r a n d m o t h e r or g r a n d f a t h e r . M y father w a s a white m a n . H e w a s a d m i t t e d to b e s u c h by all I ever h e a r d s p e a k of my p a r e n t a g e . T h e opinion w a s a l s o w h i s p e r e d that my m a s t e r w a s my father; but of the c o r r e c t n e s s of this o p i n i o n , I know nothing; the m e a n s of knowing w a s withheld from m e . M y m o t h e r a n d I were s e p a r a t e d w h e n I w a s but a n i n f a n t — b e f o r e I k n e w her a s my m o t h e r . It is a c o m m o n c u s t o m , in the part of M a r y l a n d from which I ran away, to part children from their m o t h e r s at a very early a g e . F r e q u e n t l y , before the child has r e a c h e d its twelfth m o n t h , its m o t h e r is taken from it, a n d hired o u t on s o m e farm a c o n s i d e r a b l e d i s t a n c e off, a n d the child is p l a c e d u n d e r the c a r e of an old w o m a n , too old for field labor. F o r w h a t this s e p a r a t i o n is d o n e , I do not know, u n l e s s it be to hinder the d e v e l o p m e n t of the child's affection toward its m o t h e r , a n d to blunt a n d destroy the n a t u r a l affection of the m o t h e r for the child. T h i s is the inevitable result. I never saw my m o t h e r , to know her a s s u c h , m o r e t h a n four or five times in my life; a n d e a c h of t h e s e times w a s very short in d u r a t i o n , a n d at night. S h e w a s hired by a M r . S t e w a r t , w h o lived a b o u t twelve miles from my h o m e . S h e m a d e her j o u r n e y s to s e e m e in the night, travelling the w h o l e d i s t a n c e on foot, after the p e r f o r m a n c e of her day's work. S h e w a s a field h a n d , a n d a w h i p p i n g is the penalty of not b e i n g in the field at s u n r i s e , u n l e s s a slave h a s special p e r m i s s i o n from his or her m a s t e r to the c o n t r a r y — a p e r m i s s i o n which they s e l d o m get, a n d o n e that gives to him that gives it the p r o u d n a m e of b e i n g a kind m a s t e r . I do not recollect of ever s e e i n g my m o t h e r by

1. F i r s t p r i n t e d i n M a y 1 8 4 5 b y t h e A n t i - S l a v e r y O f f i c e i n B o s t o n , t h e s o u r c e o f t h e p r e s e n t t e x t . P u n c t u a t i o n a n d h y p h e n a t i o n have b e e n slightly regularized a n d a few typographical e m e n d a t i o n s have a l s o b e e n m a d e .

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the light of day. S h e w a s with m e in the night. S h e w o u l d lie d o w n with m e , a n d get m e to s l e e p , but long before I waked s h e w a s g o n e . Very little c o m m u n i c a t i o n ever took p l a c e b e t w e e n u s . D e a t h s o o n e n d e d w h a t little we could have while s h e lived, a n d with it her h a r d s h i p s a n d suffering. S h e died when I was a b o u t seven years old, on o n e of my m a s t e r ' s f a r m s , n e a r L e e ' s Mill. I w a s not allowed to be p r e s e n t during her illness, at her d e a t h , or burial. S h e w a s g o n e long before I knew any thing a b o u t it. N e v e r having enjoyed, to any c o n s i d e r a b l e extent, her s o o t h i n g p r e s e n c e , her t e n d e r a n d watchful c a r e , I received the tidings of her d e a t h with m u c h the s a m e e m o tions I s h o u l d have probably felt at the d e a t h of a stranger. C a l l e d t h u s s u d d e n l y away, s h e left m e without the slightest intimation of who my father w a s . T h e w h i s p e r that my m a s t e r w a s my father, m a y or may not be t r u e ; a n d , true or false, it is of b u t little c o n s e q u e n c e to my p u r p o s e whilst the fact r e m a i n s , in all its glaring o d i o u s n e s s , that slaveholders have o r d a i n e d , a n d by law e s t a b l i s h e d , that the children of slave w o m e n shall in all c a s e s follow the condition of their m o t h e r s ; a n d this is d o n e too obviously to a d m i n i s t e r to their own l u s t s , a n d m a k e a gratification of their wicked desires profitable a s well a s p l e a s u r a b l e ; for by this c u n n i n g a r r a n g e m e n t , the slaveholder, in c a s e s not a few, s u s t a i n s to his slaves the d o u b l e relation of m a s t e r a n d father. I know of s u c h c a s e s ; a n d it is worthy of r e m a r k that s u c h slaves invariably suffer greater h a r d s h i p s , a n d have m o r e to c o n t e n d with, t h a n o t h e r s . T h e y are, in the first p l a c e , a c o n s t a n t offence to their m i s t r e s s . S h e is ever disp o s e d to find fault with t h e m ; they c a n s e l d o m d o any thing to p l e a s e her; she is never better p l e a s e d than w h e n s h e s e e s t h e m u n d e r the l a s h , e s p e cially w h e n s h e s u s p e c t s her h u s b a n d of s h o w i n g to his m u l a t t o c h i l d r e n favors which h e withholds from his black slaves. T h e m a s t e r is frequently c o m p e l l e d to sell this c l a s s of his slaves, out of d e f e r e n c e to the feelings of his white wife; a n d , cruel a s the d e e d m a y strike any o n e to b e , for a m a n to sell his own children to h u m a n f l e s h - m o n g e r s , it is often the dictate of h u m a n i t y for him to do s o ; for, u n l e s s h e d o e s this, h e m u s t not only whip t h e m himself, b u t m u s t s t a n d by a n d s e e o n e white son tie u p his brother, of but few s h a d e s darker c o m p l e x i o n than himself, a n d ply the gory l a s h to his n a k e d b a c k ; a n d if h e lisp o n e word of disapproval, it is set d o w n to his parental partiality, a n d only m a k e s a b a d m a t t e r w o r s e , both for h i m s e l f a n d the slave w h o m h e would protect a n d d e f e n d . Every year brings with it m u l t i t u d e s of this c l a s s of slaves. It w a s d o u b t l e s s in c o n s e q u e n c e of a k n o w l e d g e of this fact, that o n e great s t a t e s m a n of the s o u t h p r e d i c t e d the downfall of slavery by the inevitable laws of p o p u l a t i o n . W h e t h e r this p r o p h e c y is ever fulfilled or not, it is n e v e r t h e l e s s plain that a very different-looking c l a s s of p e o p l e a r e springing u p at the s o u t h , a n d are now held in slavery, from t h o s e originally b r o u g h t to this country from Africa; a n d if their i n c r e a s e will d o n o other g o o d , it will do away the force of the a r g u m e n t , that G o d c u r s e d H a m , 2 a n d therefore A m e r i c a n slavery is right. If the lineal d e s c e n d a n t s of H a m are a l o n e to be scripturally e n s l a v e d , it is certain that slavery at the s o u t h m u s t s o o n b e c o m e u n s c r i p t u r a l ; for t h o u s a n d s are u s h e r e d into the world, annually, w h o , like myself, owe their 2 . T h e s p e c i o u s a r g u m e n t r e f e r r e d t o is b a s e d o n a n i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f G e n e s i s 9 . 2 0 — 2 7 , i n w h i c h c u r s e s his s o n H a m a n d c o n d e m n s h i m to b o n d a g e to his b r o t h e r s .

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e x i s t e n c e to white f a t h e r s , a n d t h o s e fathers m o s t frequently their own masters. 1 have had two m a s t e r s . M y first m a s t e r ' s n a m e w a s Anthony. I do not r e m e m b e r his first n a m e . H e was generally called C a p t a i n A n t h o n y — a title which, I p r e s u m e , he a c q u i r e d by sailing a craft o n the C h e s a p e a k e Bay. H e w a s not c o n s i d e r e d a rich slaveholder. H e o w n e d two or three f a r m s , a n d a b o u t thirty slaves. H i s f a r m s a n d slaves were u n d e r the c a r e of a n overseer. T h e overseer's n a m e w a s P l u m m e r . M r . P l u m m e r w a s a m i s e r a ble d r u n k a r d , a p r o f a n e swearer, a n d a savage m o n s t e r . H e always went a r m e d with a c o w s k i n * a n d a heavy c u d g e l . I have known him to c u t a n d slash the w o m e n ' s h e a d s so horribly, that even m a s t e r would b e e n r a g e d at his cruelty, a n d would threaten to whip him if h e did not mind himself. M a s t e r , however, w a s not a h u m a n e slaveholder. It r e q u i r e d extraordinary barbarity on the part of an overseer to affect h i m . H e w a s a cruel m a n , harde n e d by a long life of slaveholding. H e would at t i m e s s e e m to take great p l e a s u r e in w h i p p i n g a slave. I have often b e e n a w a k e n e d at the d a w n of day by the m o s t heart-rending shrieks of a n own a u n t of m i n e , w h o m h e u s e d to tie up to a j o i s t , a n d whip u p o n her n a k e d b a c k till s h e w a s literally covered with blood. N o w o r d s , no tears, no prayers, from his gory victim, s e e m e d to move his iron heart from its bloody p u r p o s e . T h e l o u d e r s h e s c r e a m e d , the harder he w h i p p e d ; a n d where the blood ran fastest, there he w h i p p e d longest. H e would whip her to m a k e her s c r e a m , a n d whip her to m a k e her h u s h ; a n d not until o v e r c o m e by f a t i g u e , would he c e a s e to swing the blood-clotted c o w s k i n . I r e m e m b e r the first time I ever w i t n e s s e d this horrible exhibition. I w a s quite a child, but I well r e m e m b e r it. I never shall forget it whilst I r e m e m b e r any thing. It w a s the first of a long series of s u c h o u t r a g e s , of which I w a s d o o m e d to be a witness a n d a participant. It s t r u c k m e with awful f o r c e . It w a s the b l o o d - s t a i n e d g a t e , the e n t r a n c e to the hell of slavery, t h r o u g h which I w a s a b o u t to p a s s . It w a s a m o s t terrible s p e c t a c l e . I wish I could c o m m i t to p a p e r the feelings with which I b e h e l d it. T h i s o c c u r r e n c e took p l a c e very s o o n after I went to live with my old m a s t e r , a n d u n d e r the following c i r c u m s t a n c e s . A u n t H e s t e r went out o n e n i g h t , — w h e r e or for what I do not k n o w , — a n d h a p p e n e d to be a b s e n t w h e n my m a s t e r desired her p r e s e n c e . H e h a d ordered her not to go out e v e n i n g s , a n d w a r n e d her that s h e m u s t never let him c a t c h her in c o m p a n y with a y o u n g m a n , w h o w a s paying attention to her, b e l o n g i n g to C o l o n e l Lloyd. T h e y o u n g m a n ' s n a m e w a s N e d R o b e r t s , generally called Lloyd's N e d . W h y m a s t e r w a s so careful of her, may be safely left to c o n j e c t u r e . S h e w a s a w o m a n of n o b l e form, a n d of graceful p r o p o r t i o n s , having very few e q u a l s , a n d fewer s u p e r i o r s , in personal a p p e a r a n c e , a m o n g the c o l o r e d or white w o m e n of o u r n e i g h b o r h o o d . Aunt H e s t e r h a d not only d i s o b e y e d his orders in g o i n g out, b u t h a d b e e n f o u n d in c o m p a n y with Lloyd's N e d ; which c i r c u m s t a n c e , I f o u n d , from what he said while w h i p p i n g her, w a s the c h i e f o f f e n c e . H a d h e b e e n a m a n of p u r e m o r a l s himself, he might have b e e n t h o u g h t i n t e r e s t e d in p r o t e c t i n g the i n n o c e n c e of my a u n t ; but t h o s e w h o knew him will not s u s p e c t him of any s u c h virtue. B e f o r e h e c o m m e n c e d w h i p p i n g A u n t H e s t e r , he t o o k her into the k i t c h e n , a n d stripped her from n e c k to waist, leaving her n e c k , 3. A whip m a d e of raw c o w h i d e .

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s h o u l d e r s , a n d back, entirely n a k e d . H e then told her to c r o s s her h a n d s , calling her at the s a m e time a d — d b — h . After c r o s s i n g her h a n d s , he tied them with a s t r o n g r o p e , a n d led her to a stool u n d e r a large h o o k in the joist, put in for the p u r p o s e . H e m a d e her get u p o n the stool, a n d tied her h a n d s to the hook. S h e now stood fair for his infernal p u r p o s e . H e r a r m s were stretched up at their full length, s o that s h e s t o o d u p o n the e n d s of her toes. H e then said to her, " N o w , you d — d b — h , I'll learn you how to disobey my o r d e r s ! " a n d after rolling u p his sleeves, he c o m m e n c e d to lay on the heavy cowskin, a n d soon the w a r m , red blood (amid heart-rending shrieks from her, a n d horrid o a t h s from him) c a m e dripping to the floor. I w a s so terrified a n d horror-stricken at the sight, that I hid myself in a closet, a n d dared not v e n t u r e out till long after the bloody t r a n s a c t i o n w a s over. I expected it would be my turn next. It w a s all new to m e . I h a d never s e e n any thing like it before. I h a d always lived with my g r a n d m o t h e r on the outskirts of the plantation, where she w a s put to raise the children of the younger w o m e n . I h a d therefore b e e n , until now, o u t of the way of the bloody s c e n e s that often o c c u r r e d on the p l a n t a t i o n . *

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Chapter

* VI

My new m i s t r e s s proved to be all she a p p e a r e d w h e n I first m e t her at the d o o r , — a w o m a n of the kindest heart a n d finest feelings. S h e h a d never h a d a slave u n d e r her control previously to myself, a n d prior to her m a r r i a g e s h e had b e e n d e p e n d e n t upon her own industry for a living. S h e w a s by trade a weaver; a n d by c o n s t a n t application to her b u s i n e s s , s h e had b e e n in a g o o d d e g r e e preserved from the blighting a n d d e h u m a n i z i n g effects of slavery. I was utterly a s t o n i s h e d at her g o o d n e s s . I scarcely knew how to b e h a v e towards her. S h e w a s entirely unlike any other white w o m a n I h a d ever s e e n . I c o u l d not a p p r o a c h her a s I w a s a c c u s t o m e d to a p p r o a c h other white ladies. M y early instruction w a s all out of p l a c e . T h e c r o u c h i n g servility, usually so a c c e p t a b l e a quality in a slave, did not a n s w e r w h e n m a n i f e s t e d toward her. H e r favor w a s not g a i n e d by it; s h e s e e m e d to be d i s t u r b e d by it. S h e did not d e e m it i m p u d e n t or u n m a n n e r l y for a slave to look her in the f a c e . T h e m e a n e s t slave w a s put fully at e a s e in her p r e s e n c e , a n d n o n e left without feeling better for having s e e n her. H e r f a c e w a s m a d e of heavenly s m i l e s , a n d her voice of tranquil m u s i c . B u t , alas! this kind heart h a d but a short time to r e m a i n s u c h . T h e fatal p o i s o n of irresponsible p o w e r w a s already in her h a n d s , a n d s o o n c o m m e n c e d its infernal work. T h a t cheerful eye, u n d e r the influence of slavery, soon b e c a m e red with rage; that voice, m a d e all of sweet a c c o r d , c h a n g e d to o n e of harsh a n d horrid discord; a n d that angelic f a c e g a v e p l a c e to that of a demon. Very s o o n after I went to live with Mr. a n d M r s . Auld, s h e very kindly c o m m e n c e d to t e a c h m e the A, B, C . After I had learned this, she a s s i s t e d m e in learning to spell words of three or four letters. J u s t at this point of my p r o g r e s s , Mr. Auld found out what w a s g o i n g o n , a n d at o n c e f o r b a d e M r s . Auld to instruct m e further, telling her, a m o n g other things, that it w a s unlawful, a s well a s u n s a f e , to t e a c h a slave to r e a d . T o u s e his own w o r d s , further, he said, "If you give a nigger a n i n c h , he will take an ell. A nigger should know n o t h i n g but to obey his m a s t e r — t o do a s he is told to do.

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L e a r n i n g would spoil the b e s t nigger in the world. N o w , " s a i d h e , "if you t e a c h that nigger ( s p e a k i n g of myself) how to r e a d , t h e r e w o u l d b e n o k e e p i n g h i m . It would forever unfit him to b e a slave. H e w o u l d at o n c e b e c o m e u n m a n a g e a b l e , a n d of n o value to his m a s t e r . As to himself, it c o u l d d o h i m n o g o o d , but a great deal of h a r m . It would m a k e him d i s c o n t e n t e d a n d u n h a p p y . " T h e s e w o r d s s a n k d e e p into my heart, stirred u p s e n t i m e n t s within that lay s l u m b e r i n g , a n d called into existence a n entirely n e w train of t h o u g h t . It w a s a n e w a n d s p e c i a l revelation, explaining dark a n d m y s t e r i o u s things, with w h i c h my youthful u n d e r s t a n d i n g h a d s t r u g g l e d , b u t struggled in vain. I now u n d e r s t o o d what h a d b e e n to m e a m o s t perplexing difficulty— to wit, the white m a n ' s p o w e r to e n s l a v e the b l a c k m a n . It w a s a g r a n d a c h i e v e m e n t , a n d I prized it highly. F r o m that m o m e n t , I u n d e r s t o o d the p a t h w a y from slavery to f r e e d o m . It w a s j u s t w h a t I w a n t e d , a n d I got it at a time w h e n I the least e x p e c t e d it. W h i l s t I w a s s a d d e n e d by the t h o u g h t of losing the aid of my kind m i s t r e s s , I w a s g l a d d e n e d by the i n v a l u a b l e instruction w h i c h , by the m e r e s t a c c i d e n t , I h a d g a i n e d from my m a s t e r . T h o u g h c o n s c i o u s of the difficulty of l e a r n i n g without a t e a c h e r , I set o u t with high h o p e , a n d a fixed p u r p o s e , at w h a t e v e r c o s t of t r o u b l e , to learn how to r e a d . T h e very d e c i d e d m a n n e r with which he s p o k e , a n d strove to i m p r e s s his wife with the evil c o n s e q u e n c e s of giving m e i n s t r u c t i o n , served to c o n v i n c e m e that he w a s deeply s e n s i b l e of the truths he w a s uttering. It g a v e m e the b e s t a s s u r a n c e that I might rely with the u t m o s t c o n f i d e n c e o n the results which, h e said, would flow from t e a c h i n g m e to r e a d . W h a t h e m o s t d r e a d e d , that I m o s t d e s i r e d . W h a t he m o s t loved, that I m o s t h a t e d . T h a t which to him w a s a great evil, to be carefully s h u n n e d , w a s to m e a great g o o d , to b e diligently s o u g h t ; a n d the a r g u m e n t which h e s o warmly u r g e d , a g a i n s t my learning to r e a d , only served to inspire m e with a desire a n d d e t e r m i n a t i o n to learn. In learning to r e a d , I owe a l m o s t a s m u c h to the bitter o p p o s i t i o n of my m a s t e r , a s to the kindly aid of my m i s t r e s s . I a c k n o w l e d g e the benefit of both. I h a d r e s i d e d but a short time in B a l t i m o r e b e f o r e I o b s e r v e d a m a r k e d difference, in the t r e a t m e n t of slaves, from that which I h a d w i t n e s s e d in the country. A city slave is a l m o s t a f r e e m a n , c o m p a r e d with a slave on the p l a n t a t i o n . H e is m u c h better fed a n d c l o t h e d , a n d enjoys privileges altog e t h e r u n k n o w n to the slave on the p l a n t a t i o n . T h e r e is a vestige of d e c e n c y , a s e n s e of s h a m e , that d o e s m u c h to c u r b a n d c h e c k t h o s e o u t b r e a k s of a t r o c i o u s cruelty s o c o m m o n l y e n a c t e d u p o n the p l a n t a t i o n . H e is a despera t e slaveholder, w h o will s h o c k the h u m a n i t y of his n o n - s l a v e h o l d i n g neighb o r s with the cries of his l a c e r a t e d slave. F e w a r e willing to i n c u r the o d i u m a t t a c h i n g to the r e p u t a t i o n of b e i n g a cruel m a s t e r ; a n d a b o v e all things, they would not b e known a s not giving a slave e n o u g h to eat. Every city slaveholder is anxious to have it known of h i m , that h e f e e d s his slaves well; a n d it is d u e to t h e m to say, that m o s t of t h e m do give their slaves e n o u g h to eat. T h e r e a r e , however, s o m e painful e x c e p t i o n s to this rule. Directly o p p o s i t e to u s , on Philpot S t r e e t , lived M r . T h o m a s H a m i l t o n . H e o w n e d two s l a v e s . T h e i r n a m e s were H e n r i e t t a a n d M a r y . H e n r i e t t a w a s a b o u t twenty-two years of a g e , M a r y w a s a b o u t f o u r t e e n ; a n d of all the m a n g l e d a n d e m a c i a t e d c r e a t u r e s I ever looked u p o n , t h e s e two were the m o s t s o . H i s heart m u s t be harder than s t o n e , that c o u l d look u p o n t h e s e u n m o v e d . T h e h e a d , n e c k , a n d s h o u l d e r s of M a r y were literally c u t to p i e c e s . I have frequently felt her h e a d , a n d f o u n d it nearly c o v e r e d with festering s o r e s , c a u s e d

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by the lash of her cruel m i s t r e s s . I d o not know that her m a s t e r ever w h i p p e d her, but I have b e e n a n eye-witness to the cruelty of M r s . H a m i l t o n . I u s e d to be in Mr. H a m i l t o n ' s h o u s e nearly every day. M r s . H a m i l t o n u s e d to sit in a large chair in the m i d d l e of the r o o m , with a heavy cowskin always by her s i d e , a n d s c a r c e a n h o u r p a s s e d d u r i n g the day but w a s m a r k e d by the blood of o n e of t h e s e slaves. T h e girls s e l d o m p a s s e d her without her saying, " M o v e faster, you black gi-p!" at the s a m e time giving t h e m a blow with the cowskin over the h e a d or s h o u l d e r s , often d r a w i n g the b l o o d . S h e would then say, " T a k e that, you black gip!"—continuing, "If you don't m o v e faster, I'll m o v e y o u ! " A d d e d to the cruel lashings to which t h e s e slaves were s u b j e c t e d , they were kept nearly half-starved. T h e y s e l d o m knew what it w a s to eat a full m e a l . I have s e e n M a r y c o n t e n d i n g with the pigs for the offal thrown into the street. S o m u c h w a s Mary kicked a n d c u t to p i e c e s , that s h e w a s oftener called "pecked" than by her n a m e . Chapter

VII

I lived in M a s t e r H u g h ' s family a b o u t seven years. D u r i n g this t i m e , I s u c c e e d e d in learning to read a n d write. In a c c o m p l i s h i n g this, 1 w a s c o m pelled to resort to various s t r a t a g e m s . I h a d n o regular t e a c h e r . M y m i s t r e s s , who h a d kindly c o m m e n c e d to instruct m e , h a d , in c o m p l i a n c e with the advice a n d direction of her h u s b a n d , not only c e a s e d to instruct, but h a d set her f a c e a g a i n s t my b e i n g i n s t r u c t e d by any o n e e l s e . It is d u e , however, to my m i s t r e s s to say of her, that s h e did not a d o p t this c o u r s e of t r e a t m e n t immediately. S h e at first lacked the depravity i n d i s p e n s a b l e to s h u t t i n g m e u p in m e n t a l d a r k n e s s . It w a s at least n e c e s s a r y for her to have s o m e training in the exercise of irresponsible power, to m a k e her e q u a l to the t a s k of treating m e a s t h o u g h I were a b r u t e . M y m i s t r e s s w a s , a s I have said, a kind a n d t e n d e r - h e a r t e d w o m a n ; a n d in the simplicity of her soul s h e c o m m e n c e d , w h e n I first went to live with her, to treat m e as s h e s u p p o s e d o n e h u m a n b e i n g o u g h t to treat a n o t h e r . In e n t e r i n g u p o n the d u t i e s of a slaveholder, s h e did not s e e m to p e r c e i v e that I s u s t a i n e d to her the relation of a m e r e chattel, a n d that for her to treat m e as a h u m a n b e i n g w a s not only wrong, but d a n g e r o u s l y s o . Slavery proved as injurious to her a s it did to m e . W h e n I went there, s h e w a s a p i o u s , w a r m , a n d tender-hearted w o m a n . T h e r e w a s n o sorrow or suffering for which s h e h a d not a tear. S h e h a d b r e a d for the hungry, c l o t h e s for the n a k e d , a n d comfort for every m o u r n e r that c a m e within her r e a c h . Slavery s o o n proved its ability to divest her of t h e s e heavenly qualities. U n d e r its i n f l u e n c e , the tender heart b e c a m e s t o n e , a n d the Iamblike d i s p o s i t i o n gave way to o n e of tiger-like fierceness. T h e first s t e p in her d o w n w a r d c o u r s e w a s in her c e a s i n g to instruct m e . S h e n o w c o m m e n c e d to p r a c t i s e her h u s b a n d ' s p r e c e p t s . S h e finally b e c a m e even m o r e violent in her o p p o s i t i o n than her h u s b a n d himself. S h e w a s not satisfied with simply doing a s well a s he h a d c o m m a n d e d ; s h e s e e m e d anxious to do better. N o t h i n g s e e m e d to m a k e her m o r e angry than to see m e with a n e w s p a p e r . S h e s e e m e d to think that here lay the d a n g e r . I have h a d her r u s h at m e with a f a c e m a d e all u p of fury, a n d s n a t c h from m e a n e w s p a p e r , in a m a n n e r that fully revealed her a p p r e h e n s i o n . S h e w a s an apt w o m a n ; a n d a little e x p e r i e n c e s o o n d e m o n s t r a t e d , to her s a t i s f a c t i o n , that e d u c a t i o n a n d slavery were i n c o m p a t i b l e with e a c h other. F r o m this time I w a s m o s t narrowly w a t c h e d . If I w a s in a s e p a r a t e r o o m

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any c o n s i d e r a b l e length of t i m e , I w a s s u r e to be s u s p e c t e d of having a book, a n d w a s at o n c e called to give an a c c o u n t of myself. All this, however, w a s too late. T h e first step h a d b e e n taken. M i s t r e s s , in t e a c h i n g m e the a l p h a b e t , h a d given m e the inch, a n d no p r e c a u t i o n c o u l d prevent m e from taking the ell T h e plan which I a d o p t e d , a n d the o n e by which I was m o s t s u c c e s s f u l , w a s that of m a k i n g friends of all the little white boys w h o m I m e t in the street. A s many of t h e s e a s I c o u l d , I c o n v e r t e d into t e a c h e r s . With their kindly aid, o b t a i n e d at different times a n d in different p l a c e s , I finally s u c c e e d e d in learning to read. W h e n I w a s sent of e r r a n d s , I always took my b o o k with m e , a n d by g o i n g o n e part of my e r r a n d quickly, I f o u n d time to get a l e s s o n before my return. I u s e d a l s o to carry b r e a d with m e , e n o u g h of which w a s always in the h o u s e , a n d to which I w a s always w e l c o m e ; for I w a s m u c h better off in this regard than m a n y of the p o o r white children in our n e i g h b o r h o o d . T h i s bread I u s e d to bestow u p o n the hungry little u r c h i n s , who, in return, would give m e that m o r e v a l u a b l e b r e a d of knowle d g e . I a m strongly t e m p t e d to give the n a m e s of two or three of t h o s e little boys, a s a testimonial of the gratitude a n d affection I b e a r t h e m ; but prud e n c e f o r b i d s ; — n o t that it would injure m e , but it might e m b a r r a s s t h e m ; for it is a l m o s t a n u n p a r d o n a b l e offence to t e a c h slaves to read in this C h r i s tian country. It is e n o u g h to say of the d e a r little fellows, that they lived on Philpot S t r e e t , very near D u r g i n a n d Bailey's shipyard. I u s e d to talk this m a t t e r of slavery over with t h e m . I would s o m e t i m e s say to t h e m , I w i s h e d I c o u l d be as free a s they would be when they got to be m e n . "You will be free a s s o o n as you a r e twenty-one, but I am a slave for life! H a v e not I a s good a right to be free as you h a v e ? " T h e s e w o r d s u s e d to trouble t h e m ; they would express for m e the liveliest sympathy, a n d c o n s o l e m e with the h o p e that s o m e t h i n g would o c c u r by which I m i g h t be free. I w a s now a b o u t twelve years old, a n d the t h o u g h t of b e i n g a slave for life b e g a n to b e a r heavily u p o n my heart. J u s t a b o u t this t i m e , I got hold of a b o o k entitled " T h e C o l u m b i a n O r a t o r . " 4 Every opportunity I got, I u s e d to read this book. A m o n g m u c h of other interesting matter, I f o u n d in it a d i a l o g u e b e t w e e n a m a s t e r a n d his slave. T h e slave w a s r e p r e s e n t e d a s having run away from his m a s t e r three t i m e s . T h e d i a l o g u e r e p r e s e n t e d the conversation which took p l a c e b e t w e e n t h e m , w h e n the slave w a s retaken the third t i m e . In this d i a l o g u e , the whole a r g u m e n t in behalf of slavery w a s brought forward by the m a s t e r , all of which w a s d i s p o s e d of by the slave. T h e slave was m a d e to say s o m e very s m a r t a s well a s i m p r e s s i v e things in reply to his m a s t e r — t h i n g s which had the desired t h o u g h u n e x p e c t e d effect; for the conversation resulted in the voluntary e m a n c i p a t i o n of the slave on the part of the m a s t e r . In the s a m e book, I met with o n e of S h e r i d a n ' s 5 mighty s p e e c h e s on a n d in behalf of C a t h o l i c e m a n c i p a t i o n . T h e s e were c h o i c e d o c u m e n t s to m e . I read t h e m over a n d over again with u n a b a t e d interest. T h e y g a v e t o n g u e to interesting t h o u g h t s of my own soul, which had frequently flashed t h r o u g h my m i n d , a n d died away for want of u t t e r a n c e . T h e moral w h i c h I g a i n e d from the d i a l o g u e w a s the power of truth over the c o n s c i e n c e of even a 4. A popular collection of classic p o e m s , dialogues, plays, a n d s p e e c h e s that D o u g l a s s u s e d as a m o d e l for his o w n s p e e c h e s . " C o l u m b i a n " : A m e r -

ican. 5. R i c h a r d Brinsley S h e r i d a n ( 1 7 5 1 - 1 8 1 6 ) , Irish d r a m a t i s t and political leader.

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slaveholder. W h a t I got from S h e r i d a n w a s a bold d e n u n c i a t i o n of slavery, a n d a powerful vindication of h u m a n rights. T h e r e a d i n g of t h e s e d o c u m e n t s e n a b l e d m e to utter my t h o u g h t s , a n d to m e e t the a r g u m e n t s b r o u g h t forward to s u s t a i n slavery; b u t while they relieved m e of o n e difficulty, they b r o u g h t on a n o t h e r even m o r e painful t h a n the o n e of which I w a s relieved. T h e m o r e I r e a d , the m o r e I w a s led to a b h o r a n d detest my e n s l a v e r s . I c o u l d regard t h e m in no other light than a b a n d of s u c c e s s f u l r o b b e r s , w h o h a d left their h o m e s , a n d g o n e to Africa, a n d stolen u s from our h o m e s , a n d in a s t r a n g e land r e d u c e d u s to slavery. I l o a t h e d t h e m as b e i n g the m e a n e s t a s well a s the m o s t wicked of m e n . As I read a n d c o n t e m p l a t e d the s u b j e c t , behold! that very d i s c o n t e n t m e n t which M a s t e r H u g h h a d p r e d i c t e d would follow my learning to read h a d already c o m e , to t o r m e n t a n d sting my soul to u n u t t e r a b l e a n g u i s h . As I writhed u n d e r it, I w o u l d at t i m e s feel that learning to read h a d b e e n a c u r s e rather t h a n a b l e s s i n g . It h a d given m e a view of my w r e t c h e d c o n d i t i o n , without the r e m e d y . It o p e n e d my eyes to the horrible pit, but to no ladder u p o n which to get o u t . In m o m e n t s of agony, I envied my fellow-slaves for their stupidity. I have often w i s h e d myself a b e a s t . I preferred the condition of the m e a n e s t reptile to my own. Any thing, no m a t t e r w h a t , to get rid of thinking! It w a s this everlasting thinking of my condition that t o r m e n t e d m e . T h e r e w a s n o getting rid of it. It w a s p r e s s e d u p o n m e by every object within sight or h e a r i n g , a n i m a t e or i n a n i m a t e . T h e silver t r u m p of freedom h a d r o u s e d my s o u l to eternal wakef u l n e s s . F r e e d o m now a p p e a r e d , to d i s a p p e a r n o m o r e forever. It w a s h e a r d in every s o u n d , a n d s e e n in every thing. It w a s ever p r e s e n t to t o r m e n t m e with a s e n s e of my w r e t c h e d condition. I s a w n o t h i n g without s e e i n g it, I h e a r d n o t h i n g without h e a r i n g it, a n d felt n o t h i n g without feeling it. It looked from every star, it s m i l e d in every c a l m , b r e a t h e d in every wind, a n d m o v e d in every s t o r m . I often f o u n d myself regretting my own e x i s t e n c e , a n d w i s h i n g myself d e a d ; a n d but for the h o p e of b e i n g free, I have no d o u b t b u t that I s h o u l d have killed myself, or d o n e s o m e t h i n g for which I s h o u l d have b e e n killed. W h i l e in this state of m i n d , I w a s e a g e r to h e a r any o n e s p e a k of slavery. I w a s a ready listener. Every little while, I could h e a r s o m e t h i n g a b o u t the abolitionists. It w a s s o m e time b e f o r e I f o u n d what the word m e a n t . It w a s always u s e d in s u c h c o n n e c t i o n s a s to m a k e it a n interesting word to m e . If a slave ran away a n d s u c c e e d e d in getting clear, or if a slave killed his m a s t e r , set fire to a b a r n , or did any thing very w r o n g in the m i n d of a slaveholder, it w a s s p o k e n of a s the fruit of abolition. H e a r i n g the w o r d in this c o n n e c t i o n very often, I set a b o u t learning w h a t it m e a n t . T h e dictionary afforded m e little or no help. I f o u n d it w a s "the act o f a b o l i s h i n g ; " b u t then I did not know what w a s to b e a b o l i s h e d . H e r e I w a s p e r p l e x e d . I did not d a r e to a s k any o n e a b o u t its m e a n i n g , for I w a s satisfied that it w a s s o m e t h i n g they w a n t e d m e to know very little a b o u t . After a patient waiting, I got o n e of our city p a p e r s , c o n t a i n i n g a n a c c o u n t of the n u m b e r of petitions from the north, praying for the abolition of slavery in the District of C o l u m b i a , a n d of the slave trade b e t w e e n the S t a t e s . F r o m this time I u n d e r s t o o d the w o r d s abolition a n d abolitionist, a n d always drew n e a r w h e n that word w a s s p o k e n , expecting to h e a r s o m e t h i n g of i m p o r t a n c e to myself a n d fellow-slaves. T h e light broke in u p o n m e by d e g r e e s . I went o n e day d o w n o n the w h a r f of M r . W a t e r s ; a n d s e e i n g two I r i s h m e n u n l o a d i n g a s c o w of s t o n e , I went, u n a s k e d ,

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a n d helped t h e m . W h e n we had finished, o n e of t h e m c a m e to m e a n d a s k e d m e if I were a slave. 1 told him I w a s . H e a s k e d , "Are ye a slave for life?" I told him that I w a s . T h e g o o d I r i s h m a n s e e m e d to be deeply affected by the s t a t e m e n t . H e said to the other that it w a s a pity s o fine a little fellow a s myself s h o u l d be a slave for life. H e said it w a s a s h a m e to hold m e . T h e y both advised m e to run away to the north; that I s h o u l d find friends t h e r e , a n d that I s h o u l d be free. I p r e t e n d e d not to b e interested in what they s a i d , a n d treated t h e m a s if I did not u n d e r s t a n d t h e m ; for I feared they might be t r e a c h e r o u s . W h i t e m e n have b e e n k n o w n to e n c o u r a g e slaves to e s c a p e , a n d t h e n , to get the reward, c a t c h t h e m a n d return t h e m to their m a s t e r s . I w a s afraid that t h e s e seemingly g o o d m e n might u s e m e s o ; but I nevertheless r e m e m b e r e d their advice, a n d from that time I resolved to run away. I looked forward to a time at which it w o u l d be s a f e for m e to e s c a p e . I w a s too y o u n g to think of d o i n g so immediately; b e s i d e s , I w i s h e d to learn how to write, as I might have o c c a s i o n to write my own p a s s . I c o n s o l e d myself with the h o p e that I s h o u l d o n e day find a good c h a n c e . M e a n w h i l e , I would learn to write. T h e idea as to how I might learn to write w a s s u g g e s t e d to m e by b e i n g in D u r g i n a n d Bailey's ship-yard, a n d frequently s e e i n g the ship c a r p e n t e r s , after hewing, a n d getting a p i e c e of timber ready for u s e , write on the timber the n a m e of that part of the ship for which it w a s i n t e n d e d . W h e n a p i e c e of timber w a s i n t e n d e d for the larboard s i d e , it w o u l d be m a r k e d t h u s — " L . " W h e n a p i e c e w a s for the s t a r b o a r d s i d e , it w o u l d be m a r k e d t h u s — " S . " A p i e c e for the larboard side forward, would be m a r k e d t h u s — " L . F . " W h e n a p i e c e w a s for s t a r b o a r d side forward, it would be m a r k e d t h u s — " S . F . " F o r larboard aft, it would be m a r k e d t h u s — " L . A . " F o r s t a r b o a r d aft, it would be m a r k e d t h u s — " S . A . " I s o o n learned the n a m e s of t h e s e letters, a n d for what they were i n t e n d e d w h e n p l a c e d u p o n a p i e c e of t i m b e r in the ship-yard. I immediately c o m m e n c e d copying t h e m , a n d in a short time w a s a b l e to m a k e the four letters n a m e d . After that, w h e n I met with any boy w h o I knew c o u l d write, I would tell him I c o u l d write a s well a s h e . T h e next word would b e , "I don't believe you. L e t m e s e e you try it." I w o u l d then m a k e the letters which I h a d b e e n s o f o r t u n a t e a s to learn, a n d a s k him to beat that. In this way I got a g o o d m a n y l e s s o n s in writing, which it is q u i t e p o s s i b l e I s h o u l d never have gotten in any other way. D u r i n g this t i m e , my copy-book w a s the board f e n c e , brick wall, a n d p a v e m e n t ; my p e n a n d ink w a s a l u m p of chalk. With t h e s e , I learned mainly how to write. I then c o m m e n c e d a n d c o n t i n u e d copying the Italics in W e b s t e r ' s S p e l l i n g B o o k , until I c o u l d m a k e t h e m all without looking on the b o o k . By this t i m e , my little M a s t e r T h o m a s h a d g o n e to s c h o o l , a n d l e a r n e d how to write, a n d h a d written over a n u m b e r of copyb o o k s . T h e s e h a d b e e n b r o u g h t h o m e , a n d s h o w n to s o m e of our near neighb o r s , a n d then laid a s i d e . M y m i s t r e s s u s e d to g o to c l a s s m e e t i n g at the Wilk Street m e e t i n g h o u s e every M o n d a y a f t e r n o o n , a n d leave m e to take c a r e of the h o u s e . W h e n left t h u s , I u s e d to s p e n d the time in writing in the s p a c e s left in M a s t e r T h o m a s ' s copy-book, c o p y i n g w h a t he h a d written. I c o n t i n u e d to do this until I could write a h a n d very similar to that of M a s t e r T h o m a s . T h u s , after a long, t e d i o u s effort for years, I finally s u c c e e d e d in l e a r n i n g how to write.

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I have now r e a c h e d a period of my life w h e n I c a n give d a t e s . I left Baltimore, a n d went to live with M a s t e r T h o m a s Auld, at S t . M i c h a e l ' s , in M a r c h , 1 8 3 2 . It w a s now m o r e than seven years s i n c e I lived with him in the family of my old m a s t e r , on C o l o n e l Lloyd's p l a n t a t i o n . W e of c o u r s e were now a l m o s t entire s t r a n g e r s to e a c h other. H e w a s to m e a n e w m a s t e r , a n d I to him a new slave. I w a s ignorant of his t e m p e r a n d d i s p o s i t i o n ; he was equally s o of m i n e . A very short t i m e , however b r o u g h t u s into full a c q u a i n t a n c e with e a c h other. I was m a d e a c q u a i n t e d with his wife not less than with himself. T h e y were well m a t c h e d , b e i n g equally m e a n a n d cruel. I w a s now, for the first time d u r i n g a s p a c e of m o r e than seven years, m a d e to feel the painful g n a w i n g s of h u n g e r — a s o m e t h i n g which I h a d not experienced before s i n c e I left C o l o n e l Lloyd's p l a n t a t i o n . It went hard e n o u g h with m e t h e n , w h e n I c o u l d look b a c k to n o period at which I h a d enjoyed a sufficiency. It w a s tenfold harder after living in M a s t e r H u g h ' s family, w h e r e I had always h a d e n o u g h to eat, a n d of that which w a s g o o d . I have said M a s t e r T h o m a s w a s a m e a n m a n . H e w a s s o . N o t to give a slave e n o u g h to e a t , is r e g a r d e d a s the m o s t a g g r a v a t e d d e v e l o p m e n t of m e a n n e s s even a m o n g slaveholders. T h e rule is, no m a t t e r how c o a r s e the food, only let there be e n o u g h of it. T h i s is the theory; a n d in the part of M a r y l a n d from which I c a m e , it is the general p r a c t i c e , — t h o u g h there a r e m a n y e x c e p t i o n s . M a s t e r T h o m a s gave u s e n o u g h of neither c o a r s e nor fine food. T h e r e were four slaves of u s in the k i t c h e n — m y sister Eliza, my a u n t Priscilla, H e n n y , a n d myself; a n d we were allowed less than half of a b u s h e l of c o r n m e a l per week, a n d very little e l s e , either in the s h a p e of m e a t or v e g e t a b l e s . It w a s not e n o u g h for u s to s u b s i s t u p o n . W e were therefore r e d u c e d to the w r e t c h e d necessity of living at the e x p e n s e of our n e i g h b o r s . T h i s we did by b e g g i n g a n d stealing, whichever c a m e handy in the time of n e e d , the o n e being c o n s i d e r e d a s legitimate as the other. A great m a n y t i m e s have we p o o r c r e a t u r e s b e e n nearly p e r i s h i n g with h u n g e r , w h e n food in a b u n d a n c e lay m o u l d e r i n g in the s a f e a n d s m o k e - h o u s e , 6 a n d o u r p i o u s m i s t r e s s w a s a w a r e of the fact; a n d yet that m i s t r e s s a n d her h u s b a n d would kneel every m o r n i n g , a n d pray that G o d would bless t h e m in basket a n d store! B a d a s all slaveholders a r e , we s e l d o m m e e t o n e d e s t i t u t e of every e l e m e n t of c h a r a c t e r c o m m a n d i n g r e s p e c t . M y m a s t e r w a s o n e of this rare sort. I d o not know of o n e single noble act ever p e r f o r m e d by h i m . T h e l e a d i n g trait in his c h a r a c t e r was m e a n n e s s ; a n d if there were any other e l e m e n t in his n a t u r e , it was m a d e s u b j e c t to this. H e w a s m e a n ; a n d , like m o s t other m e a n m e n , he lacked the ability to c o n c e a l his m e a n n e s s . C a p t a i n A u l d w a s not born a slaveholder. H e h a d b e e n a poor m a n , m a s t e r only of a Bay craft. H e c a m e into p o s s e s s i o n of all his slaves by m a r r i a g e ; a n d of all m e n , a d o p t e d slaveholders a r e the worst. H e w a s cruel, but cowardly. H e c o m m a n d e d without firmness. In the e n f o r c e m e n t of his rules he w a s at times rigid, a n d at times lax. At t i m e s , h e s p o k e to his slaves with the firmness of N a p o l e o n a n d the fury of a d e m o n ; at other t i m e s , he might well be m i s t a k e n for an inquirer w h o h a d lost his way. H e did n o t h i n g of himself. H e might have p a s s e d for

6.

U s e d b o t h t o c u r e a n d t o s t o r e m e a t a n d fish. " S a f e " : a m e a t s a f e is a s t r u c t u r e f o r p r e s e r v i n g f o o d .

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a lion, but for his e a r s . 7 In all things n o b l e which he a t t e m p t e d , his own m e a n n e s s s h o n e m o s t c o n s p i c u o u s . H i s airs, w o r d s , a n d a c t i o n s , were the airs, w o r d s , a n d a c t i o n s of born s l a v e h o l d e r s , a n d , b e i n g a s s u m e d , w e r e awkward e n o u g h . H e w a s not even a g o o d imitator. H e p o s s e s s e d all the d i s p o sition to d e c e i v e , b u t w a n t e d the power. H a v i n g n o r e s o u r c e s within himself, he w a s c o m p e l l e d to b e the copyist of m a n y , a n d b e i n g s u c h , h e w a s forever the victim of i n c o n s i s t e n c y ; a n d of c o n s e q u e n c e h e w a s a n object of cont e m p t , a n d w a s held a s s u c h even by his s l a v e s . T h e luxury of having slaves of his own to wait u p o n him w a s s o m e t h i n g new a n d u n p r e p a r e d for. H e w a s a slaveholder without the ability to hold s l a v e s . H e f o u n d h i m s e l f i n c a p a b l e of m a n a g i n g his slaves either by force, fear, or f r a u d . W e s e l d o m called him " m a s t e r ; " we generally called him " C a p t a i n A u l d , " a n d were hardly d i s p o s e d to title him at all. I d o u b t not that our c o n d u c t h a d m u c h to d o with m a k i n g him a p p e a r awkward, a n d of c o n s e q u e n c e fretful. O u r want of r e v e r e n c e for him m u s t have perplexed him greatly. H e w i s h e d to have u s call h i m m a s t e r , b u t lacked the firmness n e c e s s a r y to c o m m a n d u s to do s o . H i s wife u s e d to insist u p o n our calling him s o , but to n o p u r p o s e . In A u g u s t , 1 8 3 2 , my m a s t e r a t t e n d e d a M e t h o d i s t c a m p - m e e t i n g held in the B a y - s i d e , T a l b o t county, a n d there e x p e r i e n c e d religion. I i n d u l g e d a faint h o p e that his c o n v e r s i o n would lead him to e m a n c i p a t e his slaves, a n d that, if h e did not do this, it w o u l d , at any rate, m a k e him m o r e kind a n d h u m a n e . I w a s d i s a p p o i n t e d in both t h e s e r e s p e c t s . It neither m a d e him to b e h u m a n e to his slaves, nor to e m a n c i p a t e t h e m . If it h a d any effect o n his c h a r a c t e r , it m a d e him m o r e cruel a n d hateful in all his ways; for I believe h i m to have b e e n a m u c h w o r s e m a n after his conversion than b e f o r e . Prior to his c o n v e r s i o n , h e relied u p o n his own depravity to shield a n d s u s t a i n him in his s a v a g e barbarity; b u t after his c o n v e r s i o n , h e f o u n d religious s a n c t i o n a n d s u p p o r t for his s l a v e h o l d i n g cruelty. H e m a d e the g r e a t e s t p r e t e n s i o n s to piety. His h o u s e w a s the h o u s e of prayer. H e prayed m o r n i n g , n o o n , a n d night. H e very s o o n d i s t i n g u i s h e d himself a m o n g his b r e t h r e n , a n d w a s s o o n m a d e a c l a s s - l e a d e r a n d exhorter. His activity in revivals w a s great, a n d h e p r o v e d himself a n i n s t r u m e n t in the h a n d s of the c h u r c h in converting m a n y s o u l s . H i s h o u s e w a s the p r e a c h e r s ' h o m e . T h e y u s e d to take great p l e a s u r e in c o m i n g there to p u t u p ; for while he starved u s , h e stuffed t h e m . W e have h a d three or four p r e a c h e r s t h e r e at a t i m e . T h e n a m e s of t h o s e w h o u s e d to c o m e m o s t frequently while I lived t h e r e , were M r . S t o r k s , M r . Ewery, Mr. H u m p h r y , a n d M r . Hickey. I have a l s o s e e n M r . G e o r g e C o o k m a n at our h o u s e . W e slaves loved M r . C o o k m a n . W e believed him to be a g o o d m a n . W e t h o u g h t him i n s t r u m e n t a l in getting Mr. S a m u e l H a r r i s o n , a very rich slaveholder, to e m a n c i p a t e his slaves; a n d by s o m e m e a n s got the i m p r e s s i o n that h e w a s laboring to effect the e m a n c i p a t i o n of all the s l a v e s . W h e n h e w a s at our h o u s e , w e were s u r e to b e called in to prayers. W h e n the o t h e r s were t h e r e , we were s o m e t i m e s called in a n d s o m e t i m e s not. M r . C o o k m a n took m o r e notice of u s t h a n either of the other m i n i s t e r s . H e c o u l d not c o m e a m o n g u s with betraying his s y m p a t h y for u s , a n d , stupid a s we w e r e , w e h a d the s a g a c i t y to s e e it. W h i l e I lived with my m a s t e r in S t . M i c h a e l ' s , there w a s a white y o u n g m a n , a M r . W i l s o n , w h o p r o p o s e d to keep a S a b b a t h s c h o o l for the instruc7. A m o c k i n g c o m m e n t a r y o n h i s m a s t e r ' s i n a u t h e n t i c d i s p l a y o f n o b i l i t y a n d s t r e n g t h , w h i c h c a n e a s i l y b e seen to disguise m e a n n e s s a n d w e a k n e s s .

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tion of s u c h slaves a s might be d i s p o s e d to learn to read the N e w T e s t a m e n t . W e m e t but three t i m e s , w h e n Mr. W e s t a n d Mr. F a i r b a n k s , both c l a s s l e a d e r s , with m a n y o t h e r s , c a m e u p o n u s with sticks a n d other m i s s i l e s , drove u s off, a n d f o r b a d e u s to m e e t a g a i n . T h u s e n d e d our little S a b b a t h school in the p i o u s town of S t . M i c h a e l ' s . I have said my m a s t e r f o u n d religious s a n c t i o n for his cruelty. A s an example, I will state o n e of m a n y facts g o i n g to prove the c h a r g e . I have s e e n him tie up a l a m e y o u n g w o m a n , a n d whip her with a heavy c o w s k i n u p o n her naked s h o u l d e r s , c a u s i n g the w a r m red blood to drip; a n d , in justification of the bloody d e e d , h e would q u o t e this p a s s a g e of S c r i p t u r e — " H e that knoweth his m a s t e r ' s will, a n d d o e t h it not, shall be b e a t e n with m a n y s t r i p e s . " 8 M a s t e r would k e e p this l a c e r a t e d y o u n g w o m a n tied u p in this horrid situation four or five h o u r s at a t i m e . I have known him to tie her u p early in the m o r n i n g , a n d whip her before b r e a k f a s t ; leave her, go to his s t o r e , return at dinner, a n d whip her a g a i n , c u t t i n g her in the p l a c e s already m a d e raw with his cruel lash. T h e secret of m a s t e r ' s cruelty toward " H e n n y " is found in the fact of her b e i n g a l m o s t h e l p l e s s . W h e n q u i t e a child, s h e fell into the fire, a n d b u r n e d herself horribly. H e r h a n d s were s o b u r n t that s h e never got the u s e of t h e m . S h e c o u l d do very little b u t b e a r heavy b u r d e n s . S h e was to m a s t e r a bill of e x p e n s e ; a n d a s he w a s a m e a n m a n , s h e w a s a c o n s t a n t offence to h i m . H e s e e m e d d e s i r o u s of getting the p o o r girl o u t of e x i s t e n c e . H e gave her away o n c e to his sister; b u t , b e i n g a p o o r gift, s h e w a s not d i s p o s e d to keep her. Finally, my benevolent m a s t e r , to u s e his own words, "set her adrift to take c a r e of herself." H e r e w a s a recently-converted m a n , holding on u p o n the m o t h e r , a n d at the s a m e time t u r n i n g out her helpless child, to starve a n d die! M a s t e r T h o m a s w a s o n e of the m a n y p i o u s slaveholders w h o hold slaves for the very c h a r i t a b l e p u r p o s e of taking c a r e of t h e m . M y m a s t e r a n d myself h a d q u i t e a n u m b e r of d i f f e r e n c e s . H e f o u n d m e u n s u i t a b l e to his p u r p o s e . M y city life, he s a i d , h a d h a d a very p e r n i c i o u s effect u p o n m e . It h a d a l m o s t ruined m e for every g o o d p u r p o s e , a n d fitted m e for every thing which w a s b a d . O n e of my g r e a t e s t faults w a s that of letting his h o r s e run away, a n d go down to his father-in-law's f a r m , w h i c h w a s a b o u t five miles from S t . M i c h a e l ' s . I would then have to go after it. M y r e a s o n for this kind of c a r e l e s s n e s s , or c a r e f u l n e s s , w a s , that I c o u l d always get s o m e t h i n g to eat w h e n I went there. M a s t e r William H a m i l t o n , my m a s ter's father-in-law, always g a v e his slaves e n o u g h to eat. I never left there hungry, n o m a t t e r how great the n e e d of my s p e e d y return. M a s t e r T h o m a s at length said h e would s t a n d it no longer. I had lived with him nine m o n t h s , d u r i n g which time h e h a d given m e a n u m b e r of severe w h i p p i n g s , all to no g o o d p u r p o s e . H e resolved to put m e o u t , a s he said, to b e b r o k e n ; a n d , for this p u r p o s e , h e let m e for o n e year to a m a n n a m e d E d w a r d Covey. M r . C o v e y w a s a p o o r m a n , a farm-renter. H e rented the p l a c e u p o n which he lived, a s a l s o the h a n d s with which he tilled it. M r . C o v e y h a d a c q u i r e d a very high reputation for b r e a k i n g y o u n g slaves, a n d this r e p u t a t i o n w a s of i m m e n s e value to h i m . It e n a b l e d him to get his farm tilled with m u c h less e x p e n s e to himself than he c o u l d have h a d it d o n e without s u c h a r e p u t a t i o n . 8. L u k e 1 2 . 4 7 . O n l y t h o s e o f h i s s e r v a n t s w h o h a v e a n u n e n d i n g faith in C h r i s t a r e s a f e f r o m all o p p o s i n g f o r c e s in t h e i r l i v e s .

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S o m e slaveholders t h o u g h t it not m u c h loss to allow M r . C o v e y to have their slaves o n e year, for the s a k e of training to which they were s u b j e c t e d , without any other c o m p e n s a t i o n . H e could hire y o u n g help with great e a s e , in c o n s e q u e n c e of this r e p u t a t i o n . A d d e d to the natural g o o d qualities of M r . Covey, he w a s a p r o f e s s o r of r e l i g i o n — a p i o u s s o u l — a m e m b e r a n d a c l a s s leader in the M e t h o d i s t c h u r c h . All of this a d d e d weight to his r e p u t a t i o n a s a "nigger-breaker." I w a s a w a r e of all the facts, having b e e n m a d e a c q u a i n t e d with t h e m by a y o u n g m a n who h a d lived t h e r e . I n e v e r t h e l e s s m a d e the c h a n g e gladly; for I w a s s u r e of getting e n o u g h to e a t , which is not the smallest c o n s i d e r a t i o n to a hungry m a n . Chapter

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I left M a s t e r T h o m a s ' s h o u s e , a n d went to live with Mr. C o v e y , on the 1st of J a n u a r y , 1 8 3 3 . I w a s now, for the first time in my life, a field h a n d . In my new e m p l o y m e n t , I f o u n d myself even m o r e awkward than a country boy a p p e a r e d to be in a large city. I h a d b e e n at my new h o m e but o n e w e e k before M r . C o v e y g a v e m e a very severe w h i p p i n g , c u t t i n g my b a c k , c a u s i n g the b l o o d to r u n , a n d raising ridges on my flesh a s large a s my little finger. T h e details of this affair are a s follows: M r . C o v e y sent m e , very early in the m o r n i n g of o n e of our coldest days in the m o n t h of J a n u a r y , to the w o o d s , to get a load of w o o d . H e gave m e a t e a m of u n b r o k e n oxen. H e told m e which w a s the in-hand ox, a n d which the off-hand o n e . 9 H e then tied the end of a large rope a r o u n d the h o r n s of the in-hand-ox, a n d gave m e the other end of it, a n d told m e , if the oxen started to r u n , that I m u s t hold on u p o n the rope. I h a d never driven oxen b e f o r e , a n d of c o u r s e I w a s very awkward. I, however, s u c c e e d e d in g e t t i n g to the e d g e of the w o o d s with little difficulty; but I h a d got a very few rods into the w o o d s , w h e n the oxen took fright, a n d started full tilt, carrying the cart a g a i n s t trees, a n d over s t u m p s , in the m o s t frightful m a n n e r . I e x p e c t e d every m o m e n t that my brains w o u l d be d a s h e d o u t a g a i n s t the trees. After r u n n i n g t h u s for a c o n siderable d i s t a n c e , they finally u p s e t the cart, d a s h i n g it with great force a g a i n s t a tree, a n d threw t h e m s e l v e s into a d e n s e thicket. H o w I e s c a p e d d e a t h , I d o not know. T h e r e I w a s , entirely a l o n e , in a thick w o o d , in a p l a c e new to m e . My cart w a s u p s e t a n d s h a t t e r e d , my oxen were e n t a n g l e d a m o n g the y o u n g t r e e s , a n d there w a s n o n e to help m e . After a l o n g spell of effort, I s u c c e e d e d in getting my cart righted, my oxen d i s e n t a n g l e d , a n d again yoked to the cart. I now p r o c e e d e d with my t e a m to the p l a c e w h e r e 1 h a d , the day b e f o r e , b e e n c h o p p i n g w o o d , a n d l o a d e d my cart pretty heavily, thinking in this way to t a m e my oxen. I then p r o c e e d e d on my way h o m e . I h a d now c o n s u m e d o n e half of the day. I got out of the w o o d s safely, a n d now felt o u t of d a n g e r . I s t o p p e d my oxen to o p e n the w o o d s g a t e ; a n d j u s t a s I did s o , before I c o u l d get hold of my ox-rope, the oxen again started, r u s h e d t h r o u g h the g a t e , c a t c h i n g it b e t w e e n the wheel a n d the b o d y of the cart, tearing it to p i e c e s , a n d c o m i n g within a few i n c h e s of c r u s h i n g m e a g a i n s t the g a t e - p o s t . T h u s twice, in o n e short day, I e s c a p e d d e a t h by the m e r e s t c h a n c e . O n my return, I told Mr. C o v e y w h a t h a d h a p p e n e d , a n d how it h a p p e n e d . H e o r d e r e d m e to return to the w o o d s again i m m e d i a t e l y . I did 9 . T h e o n e o n t h e r i g h t op a p a i r h i t c h e d t o a w a g o n . " I n - h a n d o x " : t h e o n e t o t h e left.

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so, a n d he followed on after m e . J u s t a s I got into the w o o d s , he c a m e u p and told m e to s t o p my cart, a n d that he would t e a c h m e how to trifle away my t i m e , a n d b r e a k g a t e s . H e then went to a large g u m - t r e e , a n d with his axe cut three large s w i t c h e s , a n d , after t r i m m i n g t h e m u p neatly with his pocket-knife, he ordered m e to take off my c l o t h e s . I m a d e him no a n s w e r , but stood with my c l o t h e s on. H e r e p e a t e d his order. I still m a d e him n o answer, nor did I m o v e to strip myself. U p o n this he r u s h e d at m e with the fierceness of a tiger, tore off my c l o t h e s , a n d l a s h e d m e till he h a d worn o u t his s w i t c h e s , c u t t i n g m e s o savagely as to leave the m a r k s visible for a long time after. T h i s w h i p p i n g was the first of a n u m b e r j u s t like it, a n d for similar offences. I lived with Mr. C o v e y o n e year. D u r i n g the first six m o n t h s , of that year, s c a r c e a week p a s s e d without his whipping m e . I w a s s e l d o m free from a sore back. My a w k w a r d n e s s w a s a l m o s t always his e x c u s e for w h i p p i n g m e . W e were worked fully u p to the point of e n d u r a n c e . L o n g before day we were u p , our horses fed, a n d by the first a p p r o a c h of day we were off to the field with our h o e s a n d p l o u g h i n g t e a m s . Mr. C o v e y gave us e n o u g h to eat, but s c a r c e time to eat it. W e were often less than five m i n u t e s taking o u r m e a l s . W e were often in the field from the first a p p r o a c h of day till its last lingering ray had left u s ; a n d at saving-fodder t i m e , midnight often c a u g h t u s in the field b i n d i n g b l a d e s . 1 C o v e y would be o u t with u s . T h e way h e u s e d to s t a n d it, w a s this. H e would s p e n d the m o s t of his afternoons in bed. H e would then c o m e out fresh in the evening, ready to urge u s on with his w o r d s , e x a m p l e , a n d frequently with the whip. M r . C o v e y was o n e of the few slaveholders w h o c o u l d a n d did work with his h a n d s . H e w a s a hard-working m a n . H e knew by himself j u s t what a m a n or a boy c o u l d d o . T h e r e w a s no d e c e i v i n g him. His work went on in his a b s e n c e a l m o s t as well a s in his p r e s e n c e ; a n d h e h a d the faculty of m a k i n g u s feel that he w a s ever p r e s e n t with u s . T h i s he did by surprising u s . H e s e l d o m a p p r o a c h e d the spot w h e r e we were at work openly, if he could d o it secretly. H e always a i m e d at taking us by s u r p r i s e . S u c h w a s his c u n n i n g , that we u s e d to call him, a m o n g o u r s e l v e s , " t h e s n a k e . " W h e n we were at work in the cornfield, he would s o m e t i m e s crawl on his h a n d s a n d knees to avoid d e t e c t i o n , a n d all at o n c e h e would rise nearly in our midst, a n d s c r e a m o u t , " H a , ha! C o m e , c o m e ! D a s h o n , d a s h o n ! " T h i s being his m o d e of attack, it w a s never s a f e to s t o p a single m i n u t e . His c o m i n g s were like a thief in the night. H e a p p e a r e d to u s a s being ever at h a n d . H e was u n d e r every tree, b e h i n d every s t u m p , in every b u s h , a n d at every window, on the p l a n t a t i o n . H e would s o m e t i m e s m o u n t his h o r s e , a s if b o u n d to S t . M i c h a e l ' s , a d i s t a n c e of seven miles, a n d in half a n h o u r afterwards you would s e e him coiled up in the c o r n e r of the w o o d - f e n c e , w a t c h i n g every m o t i o n of the slaves. H e w o u l d , for this p u r p o s e , leave his horse tied u p in the w o o d s . Again, he would s o m e t i m e s walk u p to u s , a n d give u s orders a s t h o u g h he w a s u p o n the point of starting on a long j o u r n e y , turn his b a c k u p o n u s , and m a k e a s t h o u g h h e w a s g o i n g to the h o u s e to get ready; a n d , before he would get half way thither, he would turn short a n d crawl into a fence-corner, or b e h i n d s o m e tree, a n d t h e r e w a t c h u s till the g o i n g down of the s u n . 1.

I.e., of w h e a t or o t h e r p l a n t s . " S a v i n g - f o d d e r t i m e " : harvest t i m e .

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M r . Covey's forte c o n s i s t e d in his power to d e c e i v e . H i s life w a s d e v o t e d to p l a n n i n g a n d p e r p e t r a t i n g the g r o s s e s t d e c e p t i o n s . Every thing he p o s s e s s e d in the s h a p e of learning or religion, he m a d e c o n f o r m to his disposition to deceive. H e s e e m e d to think h i m s e l f e q u a l to d e c e i v i n g the Almighty. H e w o u l d m a k e a short prayer in the m o r n i n g , a n d a long prayer at night; a n d , s t r a n g e a s it m a y s e e m , few m e n would at t i m e s a p p e a r m o r e devotional than h e . T h e exercises of his family devotions were always c o m m e n c e d with singing; a n d , a s h e w a s a very p o o r singer himself, the duty of raising the hymn generally c a m e u p o n m e . H e w o u l d read his h y m n , a n d n o d at m e to c o m m e n c e . I would at times d o s o ; at o t h e r s , I w o u l d not. M y n o n c o m p l i a n c e would a l m o s t always p r o d u c e m u c h c o n f u s i o n . T o s h o w h i m s e l f i n d e p e n d e n t of m e , h e would start a n d stagger t h r o u g h with his hymn in the m o s t d i s c o r d a n t m a n n e r . In this s t a t e of m i n d , h e prayed with m o r e t h a n ordinary spirit. P o o r m a n ! s u c h w a s his d i s p o s i t i o n , a n d s u c c e s s at deceiving, I do verily believe that h e s o m e t i m e s d e c e i v e d h i m s e l f into the s o l e m n belief, that he w a s a s i n c e r e w o r s h i p e r of the m o s t high G o d ; a n d this, t o o , at a time w h e n he m a y b e said to have b e e n guilty of c o m p e l l i n g his w o m a n slave to c o m m i t the sin of adultery. T h e facts in the c a s e are t h e s e : M r . C o v e y w a s a p o o r m a n ; he w a s j u s t c o m m e n c i n g in life; h e w a s only able to buy o n e slave; a n d , s h o c k i n g a s is the fact, h e b o u g h t her, a s h e s a i d , for a breeder. T h i s w o m a n w a s n a m e d C a r o l i n e . M r . C o v e y b o u g h t her from M r . T h o m a s L o w e , a b o u t six m i l e s from S t . M i c h a e l ' s . S h e w a s a large, able-bodied w o m a n , a b o u t twenty years old. S h e h a d already given birth to o n e child, which proved her to b e j u s t what h e w a n t e d . After b u y i n g her, h e hired a married m a n of M r . S a m u e l H a r r i s o n , to live with him o n e year; a n d him he u s e d to fasten u p with her every night! T h e result w a s , that, at the e n d of the year, the m i s e r a b l e w o m a n gave birth to twins. At this result M r . C o v e y s e e m e d to be highly p l e a s e d , both with the m a n a n d the w r e t c h e d w o m a n . S u c h w a s his joy, a n d that of his wife, that n o t h i n g they c o u l d d o for C a r o l i n e d u r i n g her c o n f i n e m e n t w a s too g o o d , or too h a r d , to b e d o n e . T h e children were r e g a r d e d a s b e i n g q u i t e a n addition to his w e a l t h . If at any o n e time of my life m o r e than a n o t h e r , I w a s m a d e to drink the bitterest dregs of slavery, that time w a s d u r i n g the first six m o n t h s of my stay with M r . Covey. W e w e r e worked in all w e a t h e r s . It w a s never too hot or too cold; it c o u l d never rain, blow, hail, or s n o w , too hard for u s to work in the field. Work, work, work, w a s scarcely m o r e the order of the day than of the night. T h e l o n g e s t days were t o o short for him, a n d the s h o r t e s t nights too long for h i m . I w a s s o m e w h a t u n m a n a g e a b l e w h e n I first went there, but a few m o n t h s of this discipline t a m e d m e . M r . C o v e y s u c c e e d e d in b r e a k i n g m e . I w a s broken in body, soul, a n d spirit. M y n a t u r a l elasticity w a s c r u s h e d , my intellect l a n g u i s h e d , the d i s p o s i t i o n to read d e p a r t e d , the cheerful s p a r k that lingered a b o u t my eye d i e d ; the dark night of slavery c l o s e d in u p o n m e ; a n d b e h o l d a m a n t r a n s f o r m e d into a b r u t e ! S u n d a y w a s my only leisure time. I s p e n t this in a sort of beast-like s t u p o r , b e t w e e n s l e e p a n d w a k e , u n d e r s o m e large tree. At t i m e s I w o u l d rise u p , a flash of energetic f r e e d o m would dart t h r o u g h my soul, a c c o m p a n i e d with a faint b e a m of h o p e , that flickered for a m o m e n t , a n d then v a n i s h e d . I s a n k down a g a i n , m o u r n i n g over my w r e t c h e d c o n d i t i o n . I w a s s o m e t i m e s p r o m p t e d to take my life, a n d that of Covey, but w a s p r e v e n t e d by a c o m bination of h o p e a n d fear. M y sufferings on this p l a n t a t i o n s e e m now like a d r e a m rather than a stern reality.

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O u r h o u s e s t o o d within a few rods of the C h e s a p e a k e Bay, w h o s e b r o a d b o s o m w a s ever white with sails from every q u a r t e r of the h a b i t a b l e g l o b e . T h o s e beautiful v e s s e l s , robed in p u r e s t white, so delightful to the eye of f r e e m e n , were to m e so m a n y s h r o u d e d g h o s t s , to terrify a n d t o r m e n t m e with t h o u g h t s of my w r e t c h e d condition. I have often, in the d e e p stillness of a s u m m e r ' s S a b b a t h , s t o o d all a l o n e u p o n the lofty b a n k s of that n o b l e bay, a n d t r a c e d , with s a d d e n e d heart a n d tearful eye, the c o u n t l e s s n u m b e r of sails m o v i n g off to the mighty o c e a n . T h e sight of t h e s e always affected m e powerfully. M y t h o u g h t s would c o m p e l u t t e r a n c e ; a n d there, with n o a u d i e n c e b u t the Almighty, I would p o u r o u t my soul's c o m p l a i n t , in my r u d e way, with a n a p o s t r o p h e to the m o v i n g m u l t i t u d e of s h i p s : — "You are l o o s e d from your m o o r i n g s , a n d are free; I a m fast in my c h a i n s , a n d a m a slave! You m o v e merrily before the gentle g a l e , a n d I sadly before the bloody whip! You are f r e e d o m ' s swift-winged a n g e l s , that fly r o u n d the world; I a m confined in b a n d s of iron! O that I were free! O h , that I were on o n e of your gallant d e c k s , a n d u n d e r your p r o t e c t i n g wing! A l a s ! betwixt m e a n d you, the turbid w a t e r s roll. G o o n , go on. O that I c o u l d a l s o go! C o u l d I but swim! If I c o u l d fly! O , why w a s I born a m a n , of w h o m to m a k e a b r u t e ! T h e glad ship is g o n e ; s h e hides in the d i m d i s t a n c e . I a m left in the hottest hell of u n e n d i n g slavery. O G o d , save m e ! G o d , deliver m e ! L e t m e b e free! Is there any G o d ? W h y a m I a slave? I will run away. I will not s t a n d it. G e t c a u g h t , or get clear, I'll try it. I h a d a s well die with a g u e a s the fever. I have only o n e life to lose. I h a d a s well be killed r u n n i n g a s die s t a n d i n g . Only think of it; o n e h u n d r e d miles straight north, a n d I a m free! Try it? Yes! G o d helping m e , I will. It c a n n o t be that I shall live a n d die a slave. I will take to the water. T h i s very bay shall yet b e a r m e into f r e e d o m . T h e s t e a m b o a t s steered in a north-east c o u r s e from N o r t h Point. I will do the s a m e ; a n d w h e n I get to the h e a d of the bay, I will turn my c a n o e adrift, a n d walk straight t h r o u g h D e l a w a r e into Pennsylvania. W h e n I get t h e r e , I shall not b e required to have a p a s s ; I c a n travel without b e i n g d i s t u r b e d . L e t b u t the first opportunity offer, a n d , c o m e what will, I a m off. M e a n w h i l e , I will try to b e a r u p u n d e r the yoke. I a m not the only slave in the world. W h y s h o u l d I fret? I c a n b e a r a s m u c h as any of t h e m . B e s i d e s , I a m b u t a boy, a n d all boys a r e b o u n d to s o m e o n e . It m a y be that my misery in slavery will only i n c r e a s e my h a p p i n e s s w h e n I get free. T h e r e is a better day c o m i n g . " T h u s I u s e d to think, a n d t h u s I u s e d to s p e a k to myself; g o a d e d a l m o s t to m a d n e s s at o n e m o m e n t , a n d at the next r e c o n c i l i n g myself to my w r e t c h e d lot. I have already intimated that my c o n d i t i o n w a s m u c h w o r s e , d u r i n g the first six m o n t h s of my stay at M r . Covey's, than in the last six. T h e c i r c u m s t a n c e s leading to the c h a n g e in Mr. Covey's c o u r s e toward m e form a n e p o c h in my h u m b l e history. You have s e e n how a m a n w a s m a d e a slave; you shall s e e how a slave w a s m a d e a m a n . O n o n e of the hottest days of the m o n t h of A u g u s t , 1 8 3 3 , Bill S m i t h , William H u g h e s , a slave n a m e d Eli, a n d myself, were e n g a g e d in f a n n i n g w h e a t . 2 H u g h e s w a s c l e a r i n g the f a n n e d wheat from before the fan, Eli w a s turning, S m i t h w a s feeding, a n d I w a s carrying wheat to the fan. T h e work w a s s i m p l e , requiring strength rather than intellect; yet, to o n e entirely u n u s e d to s u c h work, it c a m e very hard. A b o u t three o'clock of that day, I broke d o w n ; my s t r e n g t h failed m e ; I w a s 2.

I.e., s e p a r a t i n g the w h e a t from the chaff.

958

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FREDERICK

DOUGLASS

seized with a violent a c h i n g of the h e a d , a t t e n d e d with e x t r e m e dizziness; I t r e m b l e d in every limb. F i n d i n g what w a s c o m i n g , I nerved myself u p , feeling it would never d o to s t o p work. I s t o o d as long a s I c o u l d s t a g g e r to the h o p p e r with grain. W h e n I c o u l d s t a n d no longer, I fell, a n d felt a s if held down by an i m m e n s e weight. T h e fan of c o u r s e s t o p p e d ; every o n e h a d his own work to d o ; a n d no o n e could d o the work of the other, a n d have his own go on at the s a m e t i m e . Mr. C o v e y w a s at the h o u s e , a b o u t o n e h u n d r e d yards from the treadingyard where we were f a n n i n g . O n h e a r i n g the fan s t o p , he left immediately, a n d c a m e to the spot w h e r e we w e r e . H e hastily inquired w h a t the m a t t e r w a s . Bill a n s w e r e d that I w a s sick, a n d there w a s n o o n e to bring w h e a t to the fan. I had by this time crawled away u n d e r the side of the p o s t a n d railf e n c e by which the yard w a s e n c l o s e d , h o p i n g to find relief by getting o u t of the s u n . H e then a s k e d w h e r e I w a s . H e w a s told by o n e of the h a n d s . H e c a m e to the s p o t , a n d , after looking at m e awhile, a s k e d m e what w a s the matter. I told him a s well a s I c o u l d , for I s c a r c e h a d s t r e n g t h to s p e a k . H e then gave m e a s a v a g e kick in the s i d e , a n d told m e to get u p . I tried to d o so, but fell b a c k in the a t t e m p t . H e g a v e m e a n o t h e r kick, a n d again told m e to rise. I again tried, a n d s u c c e e d e d in g a i n i n g my feet; b u t , s t o o p i n g to get the tub with which I w a s feeding the fan, I again s t a g g e r e d a n d fell. W h i l e down in this situation, Mr. C o v e y took u p the hickory slat with which H u g h e s h a d b e e n striking off the half-bushel m e a s u r e , a n d with it gave m e a heavy blow upon the h e a d , m a k i n g a large w o u n d , a n d the blood ran freely; a n d with this again told m e to get u p . I m a d e no effort to c o m p l y , having now m a d e up my m i n d to let him do his worst. In a short time after receiving this blow, my h e a d grew better. M r . C o v e y h a d now left m e to my f a t e . At this m o m e n t I resolved, for the first t i m e , to g o to my m a s t e r , enter a c o m p l a i n t , a n d a s k his protection. In order to do this, I m u s t that a f t e r n o o n walk seven miles; a n d this, u n d e r the c i r c u m s t a n c e s , w a s truly a severe u n d e r t a k i n g . I was exceedingly feeble; m a d e so a s m u c h by the kicks a n d blows w h i c h I received, a s by the severe fit of s i c k n e s s to which I h a d b e e n s u b j e c t e d . I, however, w a t c h e d my c h a n c e , while C o v e y w a s looking in a n o p p o s i t e direction, a n d started for S t . M i c h a e l ' s . I s u c c e e d e d in getting a c o n s i d e r a b l e d i s t a n c e on my way to the w o o d s , w h e n C o v e y d i s c o v e r e d m e , a n d called after m e to c o m e b a c k , t h r e a t e n i n g what he would d o if I did not c o m e . I d i s r e g a r d e d both his calls a n d his threats, a n d m a d e my way to the w o o d s a s fast a s my feeble state would allow; a n d thinking I might be o v e r h a u l e d by him if I kept the road, I walked t h r o u g h the w o o d s , k e e p i n g far e n o u g h from the road to avoid d e t e c t i o n , a n d near e n o u g h to prevent losing my way. I h a d not g o n e far before my little strength again failed m e . I c o u l d go no farther. I fell d o w n , a n d lay for a c o n s i d e r a b l e t i m e . T h e b l o o d w a s yet o o z i n g from the w o u n d on my h e a d . F o r a time I thought I s h o u l d b l e e d to d e a t h ; a n d think now that I s h o u l d have d o n e s o , but that the b l o o d so m a t t e d my hair a s to s t o p the w o u n d . After lying there a b o u t three q u a r t e r s of a n hour, I nerved myself up a g a i n , a n d started on my way, t h r o u g h b o g s a n d briers, b a r e f o o t e d a n d b a r e h e a d e d , tearing my feet s o m e t i m e s at nearly every s t e p ; a n d after a j o u r n e y of a b o u t seven m i l e s , o c c u p y i n g s o m e five h o u r s to perform it, I arrived at m a s t e r ' s s t o r e . I then p r e s e n t e d an a p p e a r a n c e e n o u g h to affect any but a heart of iron. F r o m the crown of my h e a d to my feet, I w a s covered with blood. M y hair w a s all clotted with d u s t a n d b l o o d ; my

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shirt was stiff with blood. M y legs a n d feet were torn in s u n d r y p l a c e s with briers a n d t h o r n s , a n d were a l s o covered with blood. I s u p p o s e I looked like a m a n who h a d e s c a p e d a den of wild b e a s t s , a n d barely e s c a p e d t h e m . In this state I a p p e a r e d before my m a s t e r , humbly e n t r e a t i n g him to i n t e r p o s e his authority for my protection. I told him all the c i r c u m s t a n c e s a s well a s I c o u l d , a n d it s e e m e d , a s I s p o k e , at times to affect h i m . H e would then walk the floor, a n d s e e k to justify C o v e y by saying he e x p e c t e d I deserved it. H e asked m e what I w a n t e d . I told him, to let m e get a new h o m e ; that a s s u r e a s I lived with Mr. C o v e y a g a i n , I s h o u l d live with but to die with him; that Covey would surely kill m e ; he w a s in a fair way for it. M a s t e r T h o m a s ridiculed the idea that there w a s any d a n g e r of Mr. Covey's killing m e , a n d said that he knew Mr. C o v e y ; that he w a s a g o o d m a n , a n d that he c o u l d not think of taking m e from h i m ; that, s h o u l d he do s o , he would lose the w h o l e year's w a g e s ; that I b e l o n g e d to Mr. C o v e y for o n e year, a n d that I m u s t go b a c k to him, c o m e what might; a n d that I m u s t not trouble him with any m o r e stories, or that he would himself get hold of me. After t h r e a t e n i n g m e t h u s , he gave m e a very large d o s e of salts, telling m e that I might r e m a i n in St. M i c h a e l ' s that night, (it being quite late,) but that I m u s t be off b a c k to Mr. Covey's early in the m o r n i n g ; a n d that if I did not, he would get hold of me, which m e a n t that he would whip m e . I r e m a i n e d all night, a n d , a c c o r d i n g to his orders, I started off to Covey's in the m o r n i n g , ( S a t u r d a y m o r n i n g ) , wearied in body a n d broken in spirit. I got no s u p p e r that night, or breakfast that m o r n i n g . I r e a c h e d Covey's a b o u t nine o'clock; a n d j u s t a s I w a s getting over the f e n c e that divided M r s . K e m p ' s fields from o u r s , o u t ran C o v e y with his cowskin, to give m e a n o t h e r whipping. B e f o r e he c o u l d r e a c h m e , I s u c c e e d e d in getting to the cornfield; a n d a s the corn was very high, it afforded m e the m e a n s of hiding. H e s e e m e d very angry, a n d s e a r c h e d for m e a long time. M y behavior w a s altogether u n a c c o u n t a b l e . H e finally gave u p the c h a s e , thinking, I s u p p o s e , that I m u s t c o m e h o m e for s o m e t h i n g to e a t ; he would give h i m s e l f no further trouble in looking for m e . I s p e n t that day mostly in the w o o d s , having the alternative before m e , — t o go h o m e a n d be w h i p p e d to d e a t h , or stay in the w o o d s a n d be starved to d e a t h . T h a t night, I fell in with S a n d y J e n k i n s , a slave with w h o m I w a s s o m e w h a t a c q u a i n t e d . S a n d y h a d a free w i f e 1 w h o lived a b o u t four miles from M r . Covey's; a n d it being S a t u r d a y , he w a s o n his way to s e e her. I told him my c i r c u m s t a n c e s , a n d he very kindly invited m e to go h o m e with him. I went h o m e with him, a n d talked this w h o l e m a t t e r over, a n d got his advice a s to what c o u r s e it was best for m e to p u r s u e . I f o u n d S a n d y an old adviser. H e told m e , with great solemnity, I m u s t go b a c k to Covey; but that before I went, I m u s t g o with him into a n o t h e r part of the w o o d s , w h e r e there w a s a certain root, which, if I would take s o m e of it with m e , carrying it always on my right side, would r e n d e r it i m p o s s i b l e for Mr. Covey, or any other white m a n , to whip m e . H e said h e had carried it for years; a n d s i n c e he h a d d o n e s o , he h a d never received a blow, a n d never e x p e c t e d to while h e carried it. I at first rejected the idea, that the s i m p l e carrying of a root in my p o c k e t would have any s u c h effect a s he h a d said, a n d w a s not d i s p o s e d to take it; but S a n d y i m p r e s s e d the necessity with m u c h e a r n e s t n e s s , telling m e it c o u l d do no h a r m , if it did no g o o d . T o p l e a s e him, I at length took the root, a n d , a c c o r d 3.

I.e., his wife had b e e n set free a n d w a s not legally a slave.

960

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FREDERICK

DOUGLASS

ing to his direction, carried it u p o n my right s i d e . T h i s w a s S u n d a y m o r n i n g . I i m m e d i a t e l y started for h o m e ; a n d u p o n entering the yard g a t e , o u t c a m e M r . C o v e y on his way to m e e t i n g . H e s p o k e to m e very kindly, b a d e m e drive the pigs from a lot n e a r by, a n d p a s s e d on t o w a r d s the c h u r c h . N o w , this singular c o n d u c t of M r . C o v e y really m a d e m e begin to think that t h e r e w a s s o m e t h i n g in the root which S a n d y h a d given m e ; a n d h a d it b e e n on any other day than S u n d a y , I c o u l d have attributed the c o n d u c t to n o other c a u s e then the influence of that root; a n d a s it w a s , I w a s half inclined to think the root to be s o m e t h i n g m o r e t h a n I at first h a d taken it to b e . All went well till M o n d a y m o r n i n g . O n this m o r n i n g , the virtue of the root w a s fully t e s t e d . L o n g before daylight, I w a s called to g o a n d r u b , curry, a n d feed, the h o r s e s . I o b e y e d , a n d w a s glad to obey. B u t whilst t h u s e n g a g e d , whilst in the act of throwing d o w n s o m e b l a d e s from the loft, Mr. C o v e y e n t e r e d the s t a b l e with a long r o p e ; a n d j u s t a s I w a s half o u t of the loft, h e c a u g h t hold of my legs, a n d w a s a b o u t tying m e . A s s o o n a s I f o u n d what h e w a s up to, I g a v e a s u d d e n spring, a n d a s I did s o , h e h o l d i n g to my legs, I w a s b r o u g h t sprawling on the s t a b l e floor. M r . C o v e y s e e m e d n o w to think h e h a d m e , a n d c o u l d do w h a t he p l e a s e d ; b u t at this m o m e n t — f r o m w h e n c e c a m e the spirit I don't k n o w — I resolved to fight; a n d , s u i t i n g my a c t i o n to the r e s o l u t i o n , I seized C o v e y hard by the throat; a n d a s I did s o , I r o s e . H e held o n to m e , a n d I to h i m . M y r e s i s t a n c e w a s so entirely u n e x p e c t e d , that C o v e y s e e m e d taken all a b a c k . H e t r e m b l e d like a leaf. T h i s gave m e a s s u r a n c e , a n d I held him u n e a s y , c a u s i n g the blood to run w h e r e I t o u c h e d him with the e n d s of my fingers. M r . C o v e y s o o n called out to H u g h e s for h e l p . H u g h e s c a m e , a n d , while C o v e y held m e , a t t e m p t e d to tie my right h a n d . W h i l e he w a s in the a c t of d o i n g s o , I w a t c h e d my c h a n c e , a n d gave him a heavy kick c l o s e u n d e r the ribs. T h i s kick fairly s i c k e n e d H u g h e s , s o that h e left m e in the h a n d s of Mr. Covey. T h i s kick h a d the effect of not only w e a k e n i n g H u g h e s , but C o v e y a l s o . W h e n h e s a w H u g h e s b e n d i n g over with p a i n , his c o u r a g e q u a i l e d . H e a s k e d m e if I m e a n t to persist in my r e s i s t a n c e . I told him I did, c o m e what m i g h t ; that he h a d u s e d m e like a b r u t e for six m o n t h s , a n d that I w a s d e t e r m i n e d to be u s e d s o no longer. W i t h that, he strove to d r a g m e to a stick that w a s lying j u s t o u t of the s t a b l e door. H e m e a n t to k n o c k m e down. B u t j u s t a s he w a s l e a n i n g over to g e t the stick, I seized h i m with both h a n d s by his collar, a n d b r o u g h t him by a s u d d e n s n a t c h to the g r o u n d . By this t i m e , Bill c a m e . C o v e y called u p o n him for a s s i s t a n c e . Bill w a n t e d to know what h e c o u l d d o . C o v e y s a i d , " T a k e hold of h i m , take hold of h i m ! " Bill said his m a s t e r hired him o u t to work, a n d not to h e l p to whip m e ; so he left C o v e y a n d myself to fight o u r own b a t t l e out. W e were at it for nearly two h o u r s . C o v e y at length let m e g o , puffing a n d blowing at a great rate, saying that if I h a d not r e s i s t e d , h e would not have w h i p p e d m e half so m u c h . T h e truth w a s , that h e h a d not w h i p p e d m e at all. I c o n s i d e r e d h i m a s getting entirely the worst e n d of the b a r g a i n ; for h e h a d d r a w n no b l o o d from m e , but I h a d from h i m . T h e w h o l e six m o n t h s a f t e r w a r d s , that I s p e n t with M r . C o v e y , h e never laid the weight of his finger u p o n m e in a n g e r . H e w o u l d o c c a s i o n a l l y say, h e didn't want to get hold of m e a g a i n . " N o , " t h o u g h t 1, "you n e e d not; for you will c o m e off w o r s e t h a n you did b e f o r e . " T h i s battle with M r . C o v e y w a s the turning-point in my c a r e e r a s a slave. It rekindled the few expiring e m b e r s of f r e e d o m , a n d revived within m e a s e n s e of my own m a n h o o d . It recalled the d e p a r t e d self-confidence, a n d

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inspired m e a g a i n with a d e t e r m i n a t i o n to be free. T h e gratification afforded by the t r i u m p h w a s a full c o m p e n s a t i o n for whatever else might follow, even d e a t h itself. H e only c a n u n d e r s t a n d the deep satisfaction which I experie n c e d , w h o has h i m s e l f repelled by force the bloody a r m of slavery. I felt a s I never felt b e f o r e . It w a s a glorious resurrection, from the t o m b of slavery, to the heaven of f r e e d o m . M y long-crushed spirit r o s e , c o w a r d i c e d e p a r t e d , bold defiance took its p l a c e ; a n d I now resolved that, however l o n g I might r e m a i n a slave in form, the day h a d p a s s e d forever w h e n I c o u l d be a slave in fact. I did not hesitate to let it be known of m e , that the white m a n w h o expected to s u c c e e d in whipping, m u s t also s u c c e e d in killing m e . F r o m this time I w a s never again what might b e called fairly w h i p p e d , though I r e m a i n e d a slave four years afterwards. I h a d several fights, but w a s never w h i p p e d . It w a s for a long time a m a t t e r of surprise to m e why M r . C o v e y did not immediately have m e taken by the c o n s t a b l e to the whipping-post, a n d there regularly w h i p p e d for the c r i m e of raising my h a n d a g a i n s t a white m a n in d e f e n c e of myself. A n d the only explanation I c a n n o w think of d o e s not entirely satisfy m e ; but s u c h a s it is, I will give it. M r . C o v e y enjoyed the m o s t u n b o u n d e d reputation for b e i n g a first-rate overseer a n d negro-breaker. It was of c o n s i d e r a b l e i m p o r t a n c e to him. T h a t r e p u t a t i o n w a s at s t a k e ; a n d had he sent m e — a boy a b o u t sixteen years o l d — t o the p u b l i c whipping-post, his reputation would have b e e n lost; s o , to save his r e p u t a t i o n , h e suffered m e to go u n p u n i s h e d . M y term of a c t u a l service to M r . E d w a r d C o v e y e n d e d on C h r i s t m a s day, 1 8 3 3 . T h e days b e t w e e n C h r i s t m a s a n d N e w Year's day a r e allowed a s holidays; a n d , accordingly, we were not required to p e r f o r m any labor, m o r e than to feed a n d take c a r e of the stock. T h i s time we r e g a r d e d a s our o w n , by the g r a c e of our m a s t e r s ; a n d we therefore u s e d or a b u s e d it nearly a s we p l e a s e d . T h o s e of u s w h o h a d families at a d i s t a n c e , were generally allowed to s p e n d the whole six days in their society. T h i s t i m e , however, w a s s p e n t in various ways. T h e staid, sober, thinking a n d i n d u s t r i o u s o n e s of our n u m ber would e m p l o y t h e m s e l v e s in m a k i n g c o r n - b r o o m s , m a t s , horse-collars, a n d b a s k e t s ; a n d a n o t h e r c l a s s of u s would s p e n d the time h u n t i n g o p o s s u m s , h a r e s , a n d c o o n s . B u t by far the larger part e n g a g e d in s u c h sports a n d m e r r i m e n t s a s playing ball, wrestling, r u n n i n g foot-races, fiddling, d a n c i n g , a n d drinking whisky; a n d this latter m o d e of s p e n d i n g the time w a s by far the m o s t a g r e e a b l e to the feelings of our m a s t e r . A slave w h o would work d u r i n g the holidays w a s c o n s i d e r e d by our m a s t e r s a s s c a r c e l y deserving t h e m . H e was r e g a r d e d a s o n e w h o rejected the favor of his m a s t e r . It w a s d e e m e d a d i s g r a c e not to get d r u n k at C h r i s t m a s ; a n d h e w a s r e g a r d e d a s lazy i n d e e d , w h o h a d not provided h i m s e l f with the n e c e s s a r y m e a n s , d u r i n g the year, to get whisky e n o u g h to last him t h r o u g h C h r i s t m a s . F r o m what I know of the effect of t h e s e holidays u p o n the slave, I believe t h e m to b e a m o n g the m o s t effective m e a n s in the h a n d s of the slaveholder in k e e p i n g down the spirit of i n s u r r e c t i o n . W e r e the s l a v e h o l d e r s at o n c e to a b a n d o n this p r a c t i c e , I have not the slightest d o u b t it would lead to a n i m m e d i a t e insurrection a m o n g the s l a v e s . T h e s e holidays serve a s c o n d u c tors, or safety-valves, to carry off the rebellious spirit of e n s l a v e d h u m a n i t y . B u t for t h e s e , the slave would be forced u p to the wildest d e s p e r a t i o n ; a n d woe betide the slaveholder, the day he v e n t u r e s to r e m o v e or hinder the

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operation of t h o s e c o n d u c t o r s ! I warn him that, in s u c h a n event, a spirit will g o forth in their midst, m o r e to be d r e a d e d t h a n the m o s t a p p a l l i n g earthquake. T h e holidays are part a n d parcel of the gross fraud, w r o n g , a n d i n h u m a n i t y of slavery. T h e y are professedly a c u s t o m e s t a b l i s h e d by the b e n e v o l e n c e of the s l a v e h o l d e r s ; but I u n d e r t a k e to say, it is the result of s e l f i s h n e s s , a n d o n e of the g r o s s e s t frauds c o m m i t t e d u p o n the d o w n - t r o d d e n slave. T h e y d o not give the slaves this time b e c a u s e they would not like to have their work d u r i n g its c o n t i n u a n c e , but b e c a u s e they know it would b e u n s a f e to deprive t h e m of it. T h i s will be s e e n by the fact, that the slaveholders like to have their slaves s p e n d t h o s e days j u s t in s u c h a m a n n e r a s to m a k e t h e m a s glad of their e n d i n g a s of their beginning. T h e i r object s e e m s to b e , to d i s g u s t their slaves with f r e e d o m , by p l u n g i n g t h e m into the lowest d e p t h s of dissip a t i o n . F o r i n s t a n c e , the slaveholders not only like to s e e the slave drink of his own a c c o r d , but will adopt various p l a n s to m a k e him drunk. O n e plan is, to m a k e bets on their slaves, a s to w h o c a n drink the m o s t whisky without getting d r u n k ; a n d in this way they s u c c e e d in getting w h o l e m u l t i t u d e s to drink to e x c e s s . T h u s , w h e n the slave a s k s for virtuous f r e e d o m , the c u n n i n g slaveholder, knowing his i g n o r a n c e , c h e a t s him with a d o s e of vicious dissipation, artfully labelled with the n a m e of liberty. T h e m o s t of us u s e d to drink it d o w n , a n d the result w a s j u s t what might b e s u p p o s e d : m a n y of us were led to think that there w a s little to c h o o s e b e t w e e n liberty a n d slavery. W e felt, a n d very properly too, that we h a d a l m o s t a s well be slaves to m a n a s to r u m . S o , w h e n the holidays e n d e d , we s t a g g e r e d up from the filth of our wallowing, took a long b r e a t h , a n d m a r c h e d to the field,—feeling, u p o n the w h o l e , rather glad to g o , from what o u r m a s t e r h a d d e c e i v e d us into a belief w a s f r e e d o m , b a c k to the a r m s of slavery. I have s a i d that this m o d e of t r e a t m e n t is a part of the w h o l e s y s t e m of fraud a n d i n h u m a n i t y of slavery. It is s o . T h e m o d e here a d o p t e d to d i s g u s t the slave with f r e e d o m , by allowing him to s e e only the a b u s e of it, is carried out in other things. F o r i n s t a n c e , a slave loves m o l a s s e s ; he s t e a l s s o m e . His m a s t e r , in m a n y c a s e s , g o e s off to town, a n d buys a large quantity; he r e t u r n s , takes his whip, a n d c o m m a n d s the slave to eat the m o l a s s e s , until the p o o r fellow is m a d e sick at the very m e n t i o n of it. T h e s a m e m o d e is s o m e t i m e s a d o p t e d to m a k e the slaves refrain from a s k i n g for m o r e food than their regular a l l o w a n c e . A slave r u n s t h r o u g h his a l l o w a n c e , a n d a p p l i e s for m o r e . H i s m a s t e r is e n r a g e d at him; but, not willing to s e n d h i m off w i t h o u t f o o d , gives him m o r e than is n e c e s s a r y , a n d c o m p e l s him to e a t it within a given t i m e . T h e n , if he c o m p l a i n s that h e c a n n o t eat it, h e is s a i d to be satisfied neither full nor fasting, a n d is w h i p p e d for b e i n g hard to p l e a s e ! I have a n a b u n d a n c e of s u c h illustrations of the s a m e principle, d r a w n from my own o b s e r v a t i o n , but think the c a s e s I have cited sufficient. T h e p r a c t i c e is a very common one. O n the first of J a n u a r y , 1 8 3 4 , I left M r . Covey, a n d went to live with M r . William F r e e l a n d , w h o lived a b o u t t h r e e miles from S t . M i c h a e l ' s . I s o o n f o u n d Mr. F r e e l a n d a very different m a n from M r . C o v e y . T h o u g h not rich, he w a s w h a t w o u l d be called a n e d u c a t e d s o u t h e r n g e n t l e m a n . M r . Covey, a s I have s h o w n , w a s a well-trained negro-breaker a n d slave-driver. T h e form e r (slaveholder t h o u g h he w a s ) s e e m e d to p o s s e s s s o m e r e g a r d for honor, s o m e reverence for j u s t i c e , a n d s o m e r e s p e c t for h u m a n i t y . T h e latter

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s e e m e d totally i n s e n s i b l e to all s u c h s e n t i m e n t s . M r . F r e e l a n d h a d m a n y of the faults p e c u l i a r to s l a v e h o l d e r s , s u c h as b e i n g very p a s s i o n a t e a n d fretful; but I m u s t do him the j u s t i c e to say, that he w a s exceedingly free from t h o s e d e g r a d i n g vices to which M r . C o v e y w a s constantly a d d i c t e d . T h e o n e w a s o p e n a n d frank, a n d we always knew where to find h i m . T h e other w a s a most artful deceiver, a n d c o u l d b e u n d e r s t o o d only by s u c h a s were skilful e n o u g h to d e t e c t his cunningly-devised f r a u d s . A n o t h e r a d v a n t a g e 1 g a i n e d in my new m a s t e r w a s , he m a d e no p r e t e n s i o n s to, or p r o f e s s i o n of, religion; a n d this, in my opinion, w a s truly a great a d v a n t a g e . I a s s e r t m o s t u n h e s i tatingly, that the religion of the s o u t h is a m e r e covering for the m o s t horrid c r i m e s , — a justifier of the m o s t a p p a l l i n g b a r b a r i t y , — a sanctifier of the m o s t hateful f r a u d s , — a n d a dark shelter under, which the d a r k e s t , f o u l e s t , grossest, a n d m o s t infernal d e e d s of slaveholders find the s t r o n g e s t p r o t e c t i o n . W e r e I to b e again r e d u c e d to the c h a i n s of slavery, next to that e n s l a v e m e n t , I s h o u l d regard b e i n g the slave of a religious m a s t e r the g r e a t e s t calamity that could befall m e . F o r of all slaveholders with w h o m I have ever m e t , religious slaveholders a r e the worst. I have ever f o u n d t h e m the m e a n e s t a n d b a s e s t , the m o s t cruel a n d cowardly, of all o t h e r s . It w a s my u n h a p p y lot not only to b e l o n g to a religious slaveholder, but to live in a c o m m u n i t y of s u c h religionists. Very n e a r Mr. F r e e l a n d lived the Rev. D a n i e l W e e d e n , a n d in the s a m e n e i g h b o r h o o d lived the Rev. Rigby H o p k i n s . T h e s e w e r e m e m b e r s a n d ministers in the R e f o r m e d M e t h o d i s t C h u r c h . M r . W e e d e n o w n e d , a m o n g o t h e r s , a w o m a n slave, w h o s e n a m e I have forgotten. T h i s w o m a n ' s b a c k , for w e e k s , w a s kept literally raw, m a d e s o by the l a s h of this m e r c i l e s s , religious wretch. H e u s e d to hire h a n d s . His m a x i m w a s , B e h a v e well or b e h a v e ill, it is the duty of a m a s t e r o c c a s i o n a l l y to whip a slave, to r e m i n d him of his master's authority. S u c h w a s his theory, a n d s u c h his p r a c t i c e . Mr. H o p k i n s w a s even w o r s e than M r . W e e d e n . His chief b o a s t w a s his ability to m a n a g e slaves. T h e p e c u l i a r feature of his g o v e r n m e n t w a s that of w h i p p i n g slaves in a d v a n c e of deserving it. H e always m a n a g e d to have o n e or m o r e of his slaves to whip every M o n d a y m o r n i n g . H e did this to a l a r m their fears, a n d strike terror into t h o s e w h o e s c a p e d . His plan w a s to whip for the s m a l l e s t o f f e n c e s , to prevent the c o m m i s s i o n of large o n e s . M r . H o p kins could always find s o m e e x c u s e for w h i p p i n g a slave. It w o u l d a s t o n i s h o n e , u n a c c u s t o m e d to a slaveholding life, to s e e with w h a t wonderful e a s e a slaveholder c a n find things, of which to m a k e o c c a s i o n to whip a slave. A m e r e look, word, or m o t i o n , — a m i s t a k e , a c c i d e n t , or want of p o w e r , — a r e all m a t t e r s for which a slave may be w h i p p e d at any t i m e . D o e s a slave look dissatisfied? It is said, h e h a s the devil in h i m , a n d it m u s t b e w h i p p e d out. D o e s he s p e a k loudly w h e n s p o k e n to by his m a s t e r ? T h e n h e is getting highm i n d e d , a n d s h o u l d be taken down a button-hole lower. D o e s he forget to pull off his hat at the a p p r o a c h of a white p e r s o n ? T h e n h e is w a n t i n g in r e v e r e n c e , a n d s h o u l d be w h i p p e d for it. D o e s he ever venture to vindicate his c o n d u c t , w h e n c e n s u r e d for it? T h e n h e is guilty of i m p u d e n c e , — o n e of the greatest c r i m e s of which a slave c a n be guilty. D o e s he ever venture to s u g g e s t a different m o d e of d o i n g things from that p o i n t e d out by his m a s t e r ? H e is i n d e e d p r e s u m p t u o u s , a n d getting a b o v e himself; a n d n o t h i n g less than a flogging will do for him. D o e s h e , while p l o u g h i n g , b r e a k a p l o u g h , — o r , while hoeing, b r e a k a hoe? It is owing to his c a r e l e s s n e s s , a n d for it a slave m u s t always be w h i p p e d . Mr. H o p k i n s c o u l d always find s o m e t h i n g of this

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sort to justify the u s e of the lash, a n d h e s e l d o m failed to e m b r a c e s u c h o p p o r t u n i t i e s . T h e r e w a s not a m a n in the whole c o u n t y , with w h o m the slaves w h o h a d the getting their own h o m e , would not prefer to live, rather t h a n with this Rev. M r . H o p k i n s . A n d yet there w a s n o t a m a n any w h e r e r o u n d , w h o m a d e higher p r o f e s s i o n s of religion, or w a s m o r e active in reviva l s — m o r e attentive to the c l a s s , love-feast, prayer a n d p r e a c h i n g m e e t i n g s , or m o r e devotional in his f a m i l y , — t h a t prayed earlier, later, louder, a n d l o n g e r , — t h a n this s a m e reverend slave-driver, Rigby H o p k i n s . B u t to return to Mr. F r e e l a n d , a n d to my e x p e r i e n c e while in his employm e n t . H e , like M r . Covey, gave u s e n o u g h to e a t ; but unlike M r . Covey, h e a l s o gave u s sufficient time to take our m e a l s . H e worked u s h a r d , b u t always b e t w e e n s u n r i s e a n d s u n s e t . H e r e q u i r e d a g o o d deal of work to be d o n e , but gave u s g o o d tools with which to work. H i s f a r m w a s large, b u t h e e m p l o y e d h a n d s e n o u g h to work it, a n d with e a s e , c o m p a r e d with m a n y of his n e i g h b o r s . M y t r e a t m e n t , while in his e m p l o y m e n t , w a s heavenly, c o m p a r e d with w h a t I e x p e r i e n c e d at the h a n d s of M r . E d w a r d Covey. M r . F r e e l a n d w a s h i m s e l f the o w n e r of but two s l a v e s . T h e i r n a m e s were H e n r y H a r r i s a n d J o h n H a r r i s . T h e rest of his h a n d s he hired. T h e s e c o n s i s t e d of myself, S a n d y J e n k i n s 4 a n d H a n d y C a l d w e l l . H e n r y a n d J o h n were q u i t e intelligent, a n d in a very little while after I w e n t there, I s u c c e e d e d in c r e a t i n g in t h e m a s t r o n g desire to learn h o w to r e a d . T h i s d e s i r e s o o n s p r a n g u p in the o t h e r s a l s o . T h e y very s o o n m u s t e r e d u p s o m e old spelling-books, a n d n o t h i n g w o u l d d o b u t that I m u s t k e e p a S a b b a t h s c h o o l . I a g r e e d to d o s o , a n d accordingly devoted my S u n d a y s to t e a c h i n g t h e s e my loved fellowslaves h o w to r e a d . N e i t h e r of t h e m k n e w his letters w h e n I went t h e r e . S o m e of the slaves of the n e i g h b o r i n g f a r m s f o u n d w h a t w a s g o i n g o n , a n d a l s o availed t h e m s e l v e s of this little o p p o r t u n i t y to learn to r e a d . It w a s u n d e r s t o o d , a m o n g all w h o c a m e , that there m u s t b e a s little display a b o u t it a s p o s s i b l e . It w a s n e c e s s a r y to k e e p our religious m a s t e r s at S t . M i c h a e l ' s u n a c q u a i n t e d with the fact, that, i n s t e a d of s p e n d i n g the S a b b a t h in wrestling, boxing, a n d drinking whisky, w e w e r e trying to learn h o w to read the will of G o d ; for they h a d m u c h rather s e e u s e n g a g e d in t h o s e d e g r a d i n g s p o r t s , t h a n to s e e u s b e h a v i n g like intellectual, m o r a l , a n d a c c o u n t a b l e b e i n g s . M y blood boils a s I think of the bloody m a n n e r in w h i c h M e s s r s . Wright F a i r b a n k s a n d G a r r i s o n W e s t , both c l a s s - l e a d e r s , in c o n n e c t i o n with m a n y o t h e r s , r u s h e d in u p o n u s with sticks a n d s t o n e s , a n d b r o k e u p o u r virtuous little S a b b a t h s c h o o l , at S t . M i c h a e l ' s — a l l calling t h e m s e l v e s C h r i s tians! h u m b l e followers of the L o r d J e s u s C h r i s t ! B u t I a m again d i g r e s s i n g . I held my S a b b a t h school at the h o u s e of a free c o l o r e d m a n , w h o s e n a m e I d e e m it i m p r u d e n t to m e n t i o n ; for s h o u l d it be k n o w n , it m i g h t e m b a r r a s s h i m greatly, t h o u g h the c r i m e of h o l d i n g the s c h o o l w a s c o m m i t t e d ten years a g o . I h a d at o n e time over forty s c h o l a r s , a n d t h o s e of the right sort, ardently d e s i r i n g to learn. T h e y w e r e of all a g e s , t h o u g h mostly m e n a n d w o m e n . I look b a c k to t h o s e S u n d a y s with a n a m o u n t of p l e a s u r e not to b e e x p r e s s e d . T h e y were great days to my s o u l . T h e work of i n s t r u c t i n g my d e a r fellowslaves w a s the s w e e t e s t e n g a g e m e n t with w h i c h I w a s ever b l e s s e d . W e loved 4 . T h i s is t h e s a m e m a n w h o g a v e m e t h e r o o t s t o prevent my being w h i p p e d by Mr. Covey. H e w a s a "clever s o u l . " W e u s e d frequently to talk a b o u t t h e fight w i t h C o v e y , a n d a s o f t e n a s w e d i d s o , h e would claim my s u c c e s s as the result of the roots

h e g a v e m e . T h i s s u p e r s t i t i o n is v e r y c o m m o n a m o n g the more ignorant slaves. A slave seldom d i e s b u t t h a t his d e a t h is a t t r i b u t e d to trickery [Douglass's note].

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e a c h other, a n d to leave t h e m at the close of the S a b b a t h w a s a severe cross indeed. W h e n I think that t h o s e p r e c i o u s s o u l s are to-day s h u t u p in the p r i s o n - h o u s e of slavery, my feelings o v e r c o m e m e , a n d I a m a l m o s t ready to ask, " D o e s a r i g h t e o u s G o d govern the universe? a n d for what d o e s he hold the t h u n d e r s in his right h a n d , if not to s m i t e the o p p r e s s o r , a n d deliver the spoiled out of the h a n d of the s p o i l e r ? " T h e s e d e a r s o u l s c a m e not to S a b b a t h school b e c a u s e it w a s p o p u l a r to do s o , nor did I t e a c h t h e m b e c a u s e it w a s r e p u t a b l e to b e t h u s e n g a g e d . Every m o m e n t they spent in that s c h o o l , they were liable to be taken u p , a n d given thirty-nine l a s h e s . T h e y c a m e b e c a u s e they wished to learn. T h e i r m i n d s had b e e n starved by their cruel m a s t e r s . T h e y h a d b e e n s h u t up in m e n t a l d a r k n e s s . I t a u g h t t h e m , b e c a u s e it was the delight of my soul to be doing s o m e t h i n g that looked like bettering the condition of my r a c e . I kept u p my school nearly the w h o l e year I lived with M r . F r e e l a n d ; a n d , b e s i d e my S a b b a t h s c h o o l , I d e v o t e d three evenings in the week, d u r i n g the winter, to t e a c h i n g the slaves at h o m e . A n d I have the h a p p i n e s s to know, that several of t h o s e who c a m e to S a b b a t h school learned how to r e a d ; a n d that o n e , at least, is now free through my agency. T h e year p a s s e d off smoothly. It s e e m e d only a b o u t half a s long a s the year which p r e c e d e d it. I went through it without receiving a single blow. I will give Mr. F r e e l a n d the credit of b e i n g the b e s t m a s t e r I ever h a d , till I became my own master. F o r the e a s e with which I p a s s e d the year, I w a s , however, s o m e w h a t indebted to the society of my fellow-slaves. T h e y were n o b l e s o u l s ; they not only p o s s e s s e d loving h e a r t s , but brave o n e s . W e were linked a n d interlinked with e a c h other. I loved t h e m with a love stronger than any thing I have e x p e r i e n c e d s i n c e . It is s o m e t i m e s said that we slaves do not love a n d confide in e a c h other. In a n s w e r to this a s s e r t i o n , I c a n say, I never loved any or confided in any p e o p l e m o r e than my fellow-slaves, a n d especially t h o s e with w h o m I lived at M r . F r e e l a n d ' s . I believe we would have died for e a c h other. W e never u n d e r t o o k to do any thing, of any i m p o r t a n c e , without a m u t u a l c o n s u l t a t i o n . W e never m o v e d separately. W e were o n e ; a n d a s m u c h so by our t e m p e r s a n d d i s p o s i t i o n s , a s by the m u t u a l h a r d s h i p s to which we were n e c e s s a r i l y s u b j e c t e d by our c o n d i t i o n a s slaves. At the c l o s e of the year 1 8 3 4 , M r . F r e e l a n d again hired m e of my m a s t e r , for the year 1 8 3 5 . B u t , by this t i m e , I b e g a n to want to live upon free land a s well as with Freeland; a n d I w a s n o longer c o n t e n t , therefore, to live with him or any other slaveholder. I b e g a n , with the c o m m e n c e m e n t of the year, to p r e p a r e myself for a final struggle, which s h o u l d d e c i d e my fate o n e way or the other. M y t e n d e n c y w a s u p w a r d . I w a s fast a p p r o a c h i n g m a n h o o d , a n d year after year h a d p a s s e d , a n d I w a s still a slave. T h e s e t h o u g h t s r o u s e d m e — I m u s t do s o m e t h i n g . I therefore resolved that 1 8 3 5 s h o u l d not p a s s without w i t n e s s i n g a n a t t e m p t , on my part, to s e c u r e my liberty. B u t I w a s not willing to cherish this d e t e r m i n a t i o n a l o n e . M y fellow-slaves were d e a r to m e . I w a s anxious to have t h e m p a r t i c i p a t e with m e in this, my life-giving d e t e r m i n a t i o n . I therefore, t h o u g h with great prucjence, c o m m e n c e d early to a s c e r t a i n their views a n d feelings in regard to their c o n d i t i o n , a n d to i m b u e their m i n d s with t h o u g h t s of f r e e d o m . I b e n t myself to devising ways a n d m e a n s for our e s c a p e , a n d m e a n w h i l e strove, on all fitting o c c a s i o n s , to i m p r e s s t h e m with the gross fraud a n d i n h u m a n i t y of slavery. I went first to Henry, next to J o h n , then to the o t h e r s . I f o u n d , in t h e m all, w a r m h e a r t s a n d noble spirits. T h e y were ready to hear, a n d ready to a c t w h e n a feasible plan s h o u l d b e p r o p o s e d . T h i s was what I w a n t e d . I talked to t h e m of our

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w a n t of m a n h o o d , if we s u b m i t t e d to our e n s l a v e m e n t without at least o n e noble effort to be free. W e m e t often, a n d c o n s u l t e d frequently, a n d told our h o p e s a n d fears, r e c o u n t e d the difficulties, real a n d i m a g i n e d , w h i c h w e s h o u l d be called o n to m e e t . At times we were a l m o s t d i s p o s e d to give u p , a n d try to c o n t e n t ourselves with our w r e t c h e d lot; at o t h e r s , w e were firm a n d u n b e n d i n g in our d e t e r m i n a t i o n to g o . W h e n e v e r we s u g g e s t e d any p l a n , there w a s s h r i n k i n g — t h e o d d s were fearful. O u r p a t h w a s b e s e t with the g r e a t e s t o b s t a c l e s ; a n d if we s u c c e e d e d in g a i n i n g the e n d of it, our right to b e free w a s yet q u e s t i o n a b l e — w e were yet liable to b e r e t u r n e d to b o n d a g e . W e c o u l d s e e n o spot, this side of the o c e a n , where we c o u l d be free. W e knew n o t h i n g a b o u t C a n a d a . O u r k n o w l e d g e of the north did not extend farther than N e w York; a n d to g o t h e r e , a n d b e forever h a r a s s e d with the frightful liability of b e i n g returned to slavery—with the certainty of b e i n g treated tenfold w o r s e than b e f o r e — t h e t h o u g h t w a s truly a horrible o n e , a n d o n e which it w a s not e a s y to o v e r c o m e . T h e c a s e s o m e t i m e s s t o o d t h u s : At every gate t h r o u g h which we were to p a s s , we saw a w a t c h m a n — a t every ferry a g u a r d — o n every bridge a s e n t i n e l — a n d in every w o o d a patrol. W e were h e m m e d in u p o n every s i d e . H e r e were the difficulties, real or i m a g i n e d — t h e g o o d to b e s o u g h t , a n d the evil to b e s h u n n e d . O n the o n e h a n d , there s t o o d slavery, a stern reality, glaring frightfully u p o n u s , — i t s r o b e s already c r i m s o n e d with the b l o o d of millions, a n d even now f e a s t i n g itself greedily u p o n o u r own flesh. O n the other h a n d , away b a c k in the d i m d i s t a n c e , u n d e r the flickering light of the north star, b e h i n d s o m e craggy hill or s n o w - c o v e r e d m o u n t a i n , s t o o d a doubtful f r e e d o m — h a l f f r o z e n — b e c k o n i n g u s to c o m e a n d s h a r e its hospitality. T h i s in itself w a s s o m e t i m e s e n o u g h to s t a g g e r u s ; b u t w h e n we p e r m i t t e d ourselves to survey the road, we were frequently a p p a l l e d . U p o n either side we s a w grim d e a t h , a s s u m i n g the m o s t horrid s h a p e s . N o w it w a s starvation, c a u s i n g u s to eat our own f l e s h ; — n o w we were c o n t e n d i n g with the waves, a n d were d r o w n e d ; — n o w we were overtaken, a n d torn to p i e c e s by the f a n g s of the terrible b l o o d h o u n d . W e were s t u n g by s c o r p i o n s , c h a s e d by wild b e a s t s , bitten by s n a k e s , a n d finally, after having nearly r e a c h e d the desired s p o t , — a f t e r s w i m m i n g rivers, e n c o u n t e r i n g wild b e a s t s , s l e e p i n g in the w o o d s , suffering h u n g e r a n d n a k e d n e s s , — w e were overtaken by our purs u e r s , a n d in our r e s i s t a n c e , we were shot d e a d u p o n the spot! I say, this picture s o m e t i m e s a p p a l l e d u s , a n d m a d e u s "rather b e a r t h o s e ills we h a d , T h a n fly to o t h e r s , that we knew not of." 5 In c o m i n g to a fixed d e t e r m i n a t i o n to run away, we did m o r e t h a n Patrick Henry, w h e n he resolved u p o n liberty or d e a t h . W i t h u s it w a s a d o u b t f u l liberty at m o s t , a n d a l m o s t certain d e a t h if we failed. F o r my p a r t , I s h o u l d prefer d e a t h to h o p e l e s s b o n d a g e . S a n d y , o n e of our n u m b e r , gave up the notion, b u t still e n c o u r a g e d u s . O u r c o m p a n y then c o n s i s t e d of H e n r y H a r r i s , J o h n H a r r i s , H e n r y Bailey, C h a r l e s R o b e r t s , a n d myself. H e n r y Bailey w a s my u n c l e , a n d b e l o n g e d to my m a s t e r . C h a r l e s married my a u n t : h e b e l o n g e d to my m a s t e r ' s father-inlaw, M r . William H a m i l t o n . T h e plan we finally c o n c l u d e d u p o n w a s , to get a large c a n o e b e l o n g i n g to 5.

S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Hamlet

3.1.81-82.

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Mr. H a m i l t o n , a n d u p o n the S a t u r d a y night previous to E a s t e r holidays, paddle directly u p the C h e s a p e a k e Bay. O n our arrival at the h e a d of the bay, a d i s t a n c e of seventy or eighty miles from where we lived, it w a s our p u r p o s e to turn our c a n o e adrift, a n d follow the g u i d a n c e of the north star till we got beyond the limits of M a r y l a n d . O u r r e a s o n for taking the w a t e r route w a s , that we were less liable to be s u s p e c t e d as r u n a w a y s ; we h o p e d to b e regarded as fishermen; w h e r e a s , if we s h o u l d take the land r o u t e , w e s h o u l d b e s u b j e c t e d to interruptions of a l m o s t every kind. Any o n e having a white f a c e , a n d being so d i s p o s e d , c o u l d s t o p u s , a n d s u b j e c t u s to e x a m i n a t i o n . T h e week before our i n t e n d e d start, I wrote several p r o t e c t i o n s , o n e for e a c h of u s . A s well a s I c a n r e m e m b e r , they were in the following w o r d s , to wit:— " T h i s is to certify that I, the u n d e r s i g n e d , have given the bearer, my servant, full liberty to go to B a l t i m o r e , a n d s p e n d the E a s t e r holidays. Written with m i n e own h a n d , e t c . , 1 8 3 5 . "WILLIAM

HAMILTON,

" N e a r S t . M i c h a e l ' s , in T a l b o t c o u n t y , M a r y l a n d . " W e were not g o i n g to B a l t i m o r e ; b u t , in going u p the bay, we went toward B a l t i m o r e , a n d t h e s e p r o t e c t i o n s were only i n t e n d e d to p r o t e c t u s while on the bay. As the time drew near for our d e p a r t u r e , our anxiety b e c a m e m o r e a n d m o r e i n t e n s e . It w a s truly a m a t t e r of life a n d d e a t h with u s . T h e strength of our d e t e r m i n a t i o n w a s a b o u t to be fully tested. At this t i m e , I w a s very active in explaining every difficulty, removing every d o u b t , dispelling every fear, a n d inspiring all with the firmness i n d i s p e n s a b l e to s u c c e s s in our u n d e r t a k i n g ; a s s u r i n g t h e m that half w a s g a i n e d the instant we m a d e the m o v e ; we h a d talked long e n o u g h ; we were now ready to m o v e ; if not now, we never s h o u l d b e ; a n d if we did not i n t e n d to m o v e now, we h a d a s well fold our a r m s , sit d o w n , a n d a c k n o w l e d g e ourselves fit only to be s l a v e s . T h i s , n o n e of u s were p r e p a r e d to a c k n o w l e d g e . Every m a n s t o o d firm; a n d at our last m e e t i n g , we p l e d g e d ourselves a f r e s h , in the m o s t s o l e m n m a n n e r , that, at the time a p p o i n t e d , we would certainly start in p u r s u i t of f r e e d o m . T h i s w a s in the m i d d l e of the week, at the e n d of which w e were to be off. W e went, a s u s u a l , to o u r several fields of labor, b u t with b o s o m s highly a g i t a t e d with t h o u g h t s of our truly h a z a r d o u s undertaking. W e tried to c o n c e a l our feelings a s m u c h as p o s s i b l e ; a n d I think we s u c c e e d e d very well. After a painful waiting, the S a t u r d a y m o r n i n g , w h o s e night w a s to witness our d e p a r t u r e , c a m e . I hailed it with joy, bring what of s a d n e s s it might. Friday night w a s a s l e e p l e s s o n e for m e . I probably felt m o r e a n x i o u s t h a n the rest, b e c a u s e I w a s , by c o m m o n c o n s e n t , at the h e a d of the w h o l e affair. T h e responsibility of s u c c e s s or failure lay heavily u p o n m e . T h e glory of the o n e , a n d the c o n f u s i o n of the other, were alike m i n e . T h e first two h o u r s of that m o r n i n g were s u c h a s I never e x p e r i e n c e d b e f o r e , a n d h o p e never to a g a i n . Early in the m o r n i n g , we went, a s u s u a l , to the field. W e were s p r e a d ing m a n u r e ; a n d all at o n c e , while t h u s e n g a g e d , I w a s o v e r w h e l m e d with an i n d e s c r i b a b l e feeling, in the fulness of which I turned to S a n d y , w h o w a s near by, a n d said, " W e are b e t r a y e d ! " " W e l l , " said h e , "that t h o u g h t h a s this m o m e n t s t r u c k m e . " W e s a i d no m o r e . I w a s never m o r e certain of any thing. T h e horn w a s blown a s u s u a l , a n d we went u p from the field to the h o u s e

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for b r e a k f a s t . I went for the form, m o r e than for w a n t of any thing to eat that m o r n i n g . J u s t a s I got to the h o u s e , in looking out at the l a n e g a t e , I s a w four white m e n , with two c o l o r e d m e n . T h e white m e n were o n h o r s e b a c k , a n d the c o l o r e d o n e s were walking b e h i n d , a s if tied. I w a t c h e d t h e m a few m o m e n t s till they got u p to o u r lane g a t e . H e r e they h a l t e d , a n d tied the colored m e n to the gate-post. I w a s not yet certain a s to what t h e m a t t e r w a s . In a few m o m e n t s , in r o d e M r . H a m i l t o n , with a s p e e d b e t o k e n ing great e x c i t e m e n t . H e c a m e to the door, a n d inquired if M a s t e r William w a s in. H e w a s told h e was at the b a r n . M r . H a m i l t o n , without d i s m o u n t i n g , r o d e u p to the barn with extraordinary s p e e d . In a few m o m e n t s , he a n d M r . F r e e l a n d returned to the h o u s e . By this t i m e , the three c o n s t a b l e s rode u p , a n d in great h a s t e d i s m o u n t e d , tied their h o r s e s , a n d m e t M a s t e r William a n d M r . H a m i l t o n returning from the h a m ; a n d after talking awhile, they all walked u p to the kitchen door. T h e r e w a s no o n e in t h e kitchen b u t myself a n d J o h n . Henry a n d S a n d y were u p at the b a r n . M r . F r e e l a n d p u t his h e a d in at the door, a n d called m e by n a m e , saying, there were s o m e g e n t l e m e n at the door w h o w i s h e d to s e e m e . I s t e p p e d to the d o o r , a n d i n q u i r e d what they w a n t e d . T h e y at o n c e seized m e , a n d , without giving m e any s a t i s f a c t i o n , tied m e — l a s h i n g my h a n d s closely together. I insisted u p o n k n o w i n g what the m a t t e r w a s . T h e y at length said, that they h a d learned I h a d b e e n in a " s c r a p e , " a n d that I w a s to b e e x a m i n e d before my m a s t e r ; a n d if their inform a t i o n proved false, I s h o u l d not b e hurt. In a few m o m e n t s , they s u c c e e d e d in tying J o h n . T h e y then t u r n e d to Henry, w h o h a d by this time r e t u r n e d , a n d c o m m a n d e d h i m to c r o s s his h a n d s . "I won't!" said Henry, in a firm t o n e , i n d i c a t i n g his r e a d i n e s s to meet the c o n s e q u e n c e s of his refusal. "Won't y o u ? " said T o m G r a h a m , the cons t a b l e . " N o , I won't!" said Henry, in a still stronger t o n e . W i t h this, two of the c o n s t a b l e s pulled out their s h i n i n g pistols, a n d s w o r e , by their C r e a t o r , that they w o u l d m a k e him c r o s s his h a n d s or kill h i m . E a c h c o c k e d his pistol, a n d , with fingers on the trigger, walked u p to Henry, saying, at the s a m e t i m e , if he did not cross his h a n d s , they would blow his d a m n e d heart o u t . " S h o o t m e , s h o o t m e ! " said Henry; "you can't kill m e but o n c e . S h o o t , s h o o t , — a n d b e d a m n e d ! / won't be tied!" T h i s he said in a tone of loud d e f i a n c e ; a n d at the s a m e t i m e , with a motion a s q u i c k a s lightning, h e with o n e single stroke d a s h e d the pistols from the h a n d of e a c h c o n s t a b l e . As h e did this, all h a n d s fell u p o n him, a n d , after b e a t i n g h i m s o m e t i m e , they finally overpowered h i m , a n d got him tied. D u r i n g the scuffle, I m a n a g e d , I know not how, to get m y p a s s o u t , a n d , without being discovered, p u t it into t h e fire. W e were all n o w tied; a n d j u s t a s we were to leave for E a s t o n jail, Betsy F r e e l a n d , m o t h e r of W i l l i a m F r e e land, c a m e to the door with her h a n d s full of b i s c u i t s , a n d divided t h e m b e t w e e n Henry a n d J o h n . S h e then delivered herself of a s p e e c h , to the following e f f e c t : — a d d r e s s i n g herself to m e , s h e said, "YOM devil! You yellow devil! it was you that p u t it into the h e a d s of H e n r y a n d J o h n to r u n away. B u t for you, you long-legged m u l a t t o devil! H e n r y nor J o h n w o u l d never have t h o u g h t of s u c h a t h i n g . " I m a d e no reply, a n d w a s i m m e d i a t e l y hurried off towards S t . M i c h a e l ' s . J u s t a m o m e n t previous to the scuffle with Henry, Mr. H a m i l t o n s u g g e s t e d the propriety of m a k i n g a s e a r c h for t h e p r o t e c t i o n s which he h a d u n d e r s t o o d F r e d e r i c k h a d written for himself a n d the rest. B u t , j u s t at the m o m e n t h e w a s a b o u t carrying his p r o p o s a l into effect, his

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aid w a s n e e d e d in helping to tie Henry; a n d the e x c i t e m e n t a t t e n d i n g the scuffle c a u s e d t h e m either to forget, or to d e e m it u n s a f e , u n d e r the c i r c u m s t a n c e s , to s e a r c h . S o we were not yet convicted of the intention to run away. W h e n we got a b o u t half way to S t . M i c h a e l ' s , while the c o n s t a b l e s having u s in c h a r g e were looking a h e a d , Henry inquired of m e what he s h o u l d do with his p a s s . I told him to eat it with his biscuit, a n d own nothing; a n d we p a s s e d the word a r o u n d , "Own nothing;" and "Own nothing!" said we all. O u r confidence in e a c h other w a s u n s h a k e n . W e were resolved to s u c c e e d or fail together, after the calamity h a d befallen us as m u c h as before. W e were now p r e p a r e d for any thing. W e were to be d r a g g e d that m o r n i n g fifteen miles behind h o r s e s , a n d then to be p l a c e d in the E a s t o n jail. W h e n we r e a c h e d St. M i c h a e l ' s , we u n d e r w e n t a sort of e x a m i n a t i o n . W e all d e n i e d that we ever intended to run away. W e did this m o r e to bring out the e v i d e n c e a g a i n s t u s , than from any h o p e of getting clear of b e i n g sold; for, a s I have said, we were ready for that. T h e fact w a s , we c a r e d but little w h e r e we went, s o we went together. O u r greatest c o n c e r n w a s a b o u t s e p a r a t i o n . W e d r e a d e d that m o r e than any thing this side of d e a t h . W e found the e v i d e n c e a g a i n s t u s to be the testimony of o n e p e r s o n ; our m a s t e r would not tell w h o it w a s ; but we c a m e to a u n a n i m o u s d e c i s i o n a m o n g ourselves a s to w h o their informant w a s . W e were sent off to the jail at E a s t o n . W h e n we got t h e r e , we were delivered up to the sheriff, Mr. J o s e p h G r a h a m , a n d by him p l a c e d in jail. Henry, J o h n , a n d myself, were p l a c e d in o n e r o o m t o g e t h e r — C h a r l e s , a n d Henry Bailey, in another. T h e i r object in s e p a r a t i n g us was to hinder concert. W e h a d b e e n in jail scarcely twenty m i n u t e s , w h e n a s w a r m of slave traders, a n d a g e n t s for slave traders, flocked into jail to look at u s , a n d to ascertain if we were for s a l e . S u c h a set of b e i n g s I never saw b e f o r e ! I felt myself s u r r o u n d e d by so m a n y fiends from perdition. A b a n d of pirates never looked more like their father, the devil. T h e y l a u g h e d a n d grinned over u s , saying, "Ah, my boys! we have got you, haven't w e ? " A n d after t a u n t i n g u s in various ways, they o n e by o n e went into a n e x a m i n a t i o n of u s , with intent to a s c e r t a i n our value. T h e y would i m p u d e n t l y a s k u s if we would not like to have t h e m for our m a s t e r s . W e would m a k e them no a n s w e r , a n d leave t h e m to find out as best they c o u l d . T h e n they would c u r s e a n d swear at u s , telling u s that they c o u l d take the devil out of u s in a very little while, if we were only in their h a n d s . While in jail, we f o u n d ourselves in m u c h m o r e c o m f o r t a b l e q u a r t e r s than we expected w h e n we went there. W e did not get m u c h to eat, nor that which w a s very g o o d ; but we h a d a g o o d c l e a n r o o m , from the windows of which we could s e e what was g o i n g on in the street, which w a s very m u c h better than t h o u g h we had b e e n p l a c e d in o n e of the dark, d a m p cells. U p o n the whole, we got a l o n g very well, so far a s the jail a n d its k e e p e r were c o n c e r n e d . I m m e d i a t e l y after the holidays were over, contrary to all our e x p e c t a t i o n s , Mr. H a m i l t o n a n d Mr. F r e e l a n d c a m e u p to E a s t o n , a n d took C h a r l e s , the two Henrys, a n d J o h n , out of jail, a n d carried t h e m h o m e , leaving m e a l o n e . I r e g a r d e d this s e p a r a t i o n a s a final o n e . It c a u s e d m e m o r e pain than any thing else in the whole t r a n s a c t i o n . I was ready for any thing rather than s e p a r a t i o n . I s u p p o s e d that they h a d c o n s u l t e d together, a n d had d e c i d e d that, a s I w a s the whole c a u s e of the intention of the others to run away, it was hard to m a k e the i n n o c e n t suffer with the guilty; a n d that they h a d , therefore, c o n c l u d e d to take the others h o m e , a n d sell m e , a s a w a r n i n g to

970

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FREDERICK

DOUGLASS

the others that r e m a i n e d . It is d u e to the noble H e n r y to say, h e s e e m e d a l m o s t a s reluctant at leaving the prison as at leaving h o m e to c o m e to the p r i s o n . B u t we knew we s h o u l d , in all probability, b e s e p a r a t e d , if we w e r e sold; a n d s i n c e he w a s in their h a n d s , h e c o n c l u d e d to g o p e a c e a b l y h o m e . I w a s now left to my fate. I w a s all a l o n e , a n d within the walls of a s t o n e p r i s o n . B u t a few days before, a n d I w a s full of h o p e . I e x p e c t e d to have b e e n s a f e in a land of f r e e d o m ; but now I w a s covered with g l o o m , s u n k d o w n to the u t m o s t d e s p a i r . I thought the possibility of f r e e d o m w a s g o n e . I w a s kept in this way a b o u t o n e week, at the end of which, C a p t a i n A u l d , my m a s t e r , to my s u r p r i s e a n d utter a s t o n i s h m e n t , c a m e u p , a n d took m e o u t , with the intention of s e n d i n g m e , with a g e n t l e m a n of his a c q u a i n t a n c e , into Alab a m a . B u t , from s o m e c a u s e or other, h e did not s e n d m e to A l a b a m a , but c o n c l u d e d to s e n d m e b a c k to B a l t i m o r e , to live again with his brother H u g h , a n d to learn a t r a d e . T h u s , after a n a b s e n c e of three years a n d o n e m o n t h , I w a s o n c e m o r e p e r m i t t e d to return to my old h o m e at B a l t i m o r e . M y m a s t e r sent m e away, b e c a u s e there existed a g a i n s t m e a very great p r e j u d i c e in the c o m m u n i t y , a n d h e feared I might b e killed. In a few w e e k s after I went to B a l t i m o r e , M a s t e r H u g h hired m e to M r . William G a r d n e r , a n extensive ship-builder, on Fell's P o i n t . I w a s p u t there to learn how to calk. It, however, proved a very u n f a v o r a b l e p l a c e for the a c c o m p l i s h m e n t of this o b j e c t . M r . G a r d n e r w a s e n g a g e d that spring in b u i l d i n g two large man-of-war brigs, professedly for the M e x i c a n governm e n t . T h e v e s s e l s were to b e l a u n c h e d in the J u l y of that year, a n d in failure thereof, M r . G a r d n e r w a s to lose a c o n s i d e r a b l e s u m ; s o that w h e n I e n t e r e d , all w a s hurry. T h e r e w a s no time to learn any thing. Every m a n h a d to do that which h e knew how to d o . In e n t e r i n g the ship-yard, my orders from M r . G a r d n e r were, to do whatever the c a r p e n t e r s c o m m a n d e d m e to d o . T h i s w a s p l a c i n g m e at the b e c k a n d call of a b o u t seventy-five m e n . I w a s to regard all t h e s e a s m a s t e r s . T h e i r word w a s to b e my law. M y situation w a s a m o s t trying o n e . At times I n e e d e d a dozen pair of h a n d s . I w a s c a l l e d a d o z e n ways in the s p a c e of a single m i n u t e . T h r e e or four v o i c e s w o u l d strike m y ear at the s a m e m o m e n t . It w a s — " F r e d . , c o m e help m e to c a n t this t i m b e r h e r e . " — " F r e d . , c o m e carry this timber y o n d e r . " — " F r e d . , b r i n g that roller h e r e . " — " F r e d . , go get a fresh c a n of w a t e r . " — " F r e d . , c o m e h e l p s a w off the e n d of this t i m b e r . " — " F r e d . , go q u i c k , a n d get the c r o w b a r . " — " F r e d . , hold o n the e n d of this f a l l . " 6 — " F r e d . , go to the b l a c k s m i t h ' s s h o p , a n d get a n e w p u n c h . " — " H u r r a , F r e d . ! run a n d bring m e a cold c h i s e l . " — " I say, F r e d . , b e a r a h a n d , a n d get u p a fire a s q u i c k a s lightning u n d e r that s t e a m - b o x . " — " H a l l o o , nigger! c o m e , turn this g r i n d s t o n e . " — " C o m e , c o m e ! m o v e , m o v e ! a n d bowse7 this timber f o r w a r d . " — " I say, darky, blast your e y e s , why don't you heat u p s o m e p i t c h ? " — " H a l l o o ! halloo! h a l l o o ! " ( T h r e e v o i c e s at the s a m e time.) " C o m e h e r e ! — G o t h e r e ! — H o l d on w h e r e you a r e ! D a m n you, if you m o v e , I'll k n o c k your b r a i n s o u t ! " T h i s w a s my school for eight m o n t h s ; a n d I m i g h t have r e m a i n e d there longer, but for a m o s t horrid fight I h a d with four of the white a p p r e n t i c e s , in which my left eye w a s nearly k n o c k e d out, a n d I w a s horribly m a n g l e d in other r e s p e c t s . T h e facts in the c a s e were t h e s e : Until a very little while after 6. N a u t i c a l t e r m for t h e free e n d o f a r o p e o f a tackle or hoisting device.

7.

T o h a u l t h e t i m b e r by p u l l i n g o n t h e r o p e ,

N A R R A T I V E OF T H E L I F E , C H A P T E R X

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9 7 1

I went there, white a n d black ship-carpenters worked side by s i d e , a n d no o n e s e e m e d to s e e any impropriety in it. All h a n d s s e e m e d to b e very well satisfied. M a n y of the b l a c k c a r p e n t e r s were f r e e m e n . T h i n g s s e e m e d to be going on very well. All at o n c e , the white c a r p e n t e r s k n o c k e d off, a n d s a i d they would not work with free colored w o r k m e n . T h e i r r e a s o n for this, as alleged, w a s , that if free c o l o r e d c a r p e n t e r s were e n c o u r a g e d , they would soon take the trade into their own h a n d s , a n d p o o r white m e n would be thrown out of e m p l o y m e n t . T h e y therefore felt called u p o n at o n c e to p u t a s t o p to it. A n d , taking a d v a n t a g e of Mr. G a r d n e r ' s n e c e s s i t i e s , they broke off, swearing they would work no longer, unless he w o u l d d i s c h a r g e his black c a r p e n t e r s . N o w , t h o u g h this did not extend to m e in form, it did r e a c h m e in fact. M y fellow-apprentices very s o o n b e g a n to feel it d e g r a d i n g to t h e m to work with m e . T h e y b e g a n to p u t o n airs, a n d talk a b o u t the " n i g g e r s " taking the country, saying we all ought to b e killed; a n d , b e i n g e n c o u r a g e d by the j o u r n e y m e n , they c o m m e n c e d m a k i n g my c o n d i t i o n a s hard a s they c o u l d , by hectoring m e a r o u n d , a n d s o m e t i m e s striking m e . I, of c o u r s e , kept the vow I m a d e after the fight with Mr. Covey, a n d s t r u c k b a c k a g a i n , regardless of c o n s e q u e n c e s ; a n d while I kept t h e m from c o m b i n i n g , I s u c c e e d e d very well; for I c o u l d whip the whole of t h e m , taking t h e m separately. T h e y , however, at length c o m b i n e d , a n d c a m e u p o n m e , a r m e d with sticks, s t o n e s , a n d heavy h a n d s p i k e s . O n e c a m e in front with a half brick. T h e r e w a s o n e at e a c h side of m e , a n d o n e b e h i n d m e . While I w a s a t t e n d i n g to t h o s e in front, a n d on either s i d e , the o n e b e h i n d ran up with the h a n d s p i k e , a n d struck m e a heavy blow u p o n the h e a d . It s t u n n e d m e . I fell, a n d with this they all ran u p o n m e , a n d fell to b e a t i n g m e with their fists. I let t h e m lay on for a while, g a t h e r i n g strength. In an i n s t a n t , I gave a s u d d e n s u r g e , a n d rose to my h a n d s a n d k n e e s . J u s t a s I did that, o n e of their n u m b e r gave m e , with his heavy boot, a powerful kick in the left eye. M y eyeball s e e m e d to have burst. W h e n they s a w my eye c l o s e d , a n d badly swollen, they left m e . With this I seized the h a n d s p i k e , a n d for a time p u r s u e d t h e m . B u t here the c a r p e n t e r s interfered, a n d I thought I might a s well give it u p . It w a s i m p o s sible to s t a n d my h a n d a g a i n s t so m a n y . All this took p l a c e in sight of not less than fifty white s h i p - c a r p e n t e r s , a n d not o n e i n t e r p o s e d a friendly w o r d ; but s o m e cried, "Kill the d a m n e d nigger! Kill him! kill h i m ! H e s t r u c k a white p e r s o n . " I f o u n d my only c h a n c e for life w a s in flight. I s u c c e e d e d in getting away without a n additional blow, a n d barely s o ; for to strike a white m a n is death by L y n c h l a w , 8 — a n d that w a s the law in M r . G a r d n e r ' s ship-yard; nor is there m u c h of any other o u t of M r . G a r d n e r ' s ship-yard. I went directly h o m e , a n d told the story of my w r o n g s to M a s t e r H u g h ; a n d I a m h a p p y to say of h i m , irreligious a s he w a s , his c o n d u c t w a s heavenly, c o m p a r e d with that of his brother T h o m a s u n d e r similar c i r c u m s t a n c e s . H e listened attentively to my narration of the c i r c u m s t a n c e s l e a d i n g to the savage o u t r a g e , a n d gave m a n y proofs of his strong indignation at it. T h e heart of my o n c e overkind m i s t r e s s w a s a g a i n m e l t e d into pity. M y puffed-out eye a n d blood-covered f a c e m o v e d her to tears. S h e took a c h a i r by m e , w a s h e d the blood from my f a c e , a n d , with a mother's t e n d e r n e s s , b o u n d u p my h e a d , covering the w o u n d e d eye with a lean p i e c e of fresh beef. It w a s a l m o s t c o m p e n s a t i o n for my suffering to w i t n e s s , o n c e m o r e , a m a n i f e s t a t i o n of k i n d n e s s from this, my o n c e affectionate old m i s t r e s s . M a s t e r H u g h w a s very 8.

I.e., to b e subject to lynching, without benefit of legal p r o c e d u r e s .

9 7 2

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FREDERICK

DOUGLASS

m u c h e n r a g e d . H e gave expression to his feelings by p o u r i n g out c u r s e s u p o n the h e a d s of t h o s e who did the d e e d . As s o o n a s I got a little the better of my b r u i s e s , h e took m e with him to E s q u i r e W a t s o n ' s , on B o n d S t r e e t , to s e e what c o u l d b e d o n e a b o u t the matter. Mr. W a t s o n i n q u i r e d w h o s a w the a s s a u l t c o m m i t t e d . M a s t e r H u g h told him it was d o n e in M r . G a r d n e r ' s shipyard, at m i d d a y , w h e r e there were a large c o m p a n y of m e n at work. "As to t h a t , " he s a i d , "the d e e d was d o n e , a n d there was n o q u e s t i o n as to w h o did it." H i s a n s w e r w a s , h e could d o nothing in the c a s e , u n l e s s s o m e white m a n would c o m e forward a n d testify. H e c o u l d i s s u e no warrant o n my word. If I h a d b e e n killed in the p r e s e n c e of a t h o u s a n d c o l o r e d p e o p l e , their testim o n y c o m b i n e d would have b e e n insufficient to have a r r e s t e d o n e of the m u r d e r e r s . M a s t e r H u g h , for o n c e , w a s c o m p e l l e d to say this state of things w a s too b a d . O f c o u r s e , it w a s i m p o s s i b l e to get any white m a n to v o l u n t e e r his testimony in my behalf, a n d a g a i n s t the white y o u n g m e n . E v e n t h o s e w h o m a y have s y m p a t h i z e d with m e were not p r e p a r e d to d o this. It r e q u i r e d a d e g r e e of c o u r a g e u n k n o w n to t h e m to do s o ; for j u s t at that t i m e , the slightest m a n i f e s t a t i o n of h u m a n i t y toward a colored p e r s o n w a s d e n o u n c e d a s a b o l i t i o n i s m , a n d that n a m e s u b j e c t e d its b e a r e r to frightful liabilities. T h e w a t c h w o r d s of the bloody-minded in that region, a n d in t h o s e d a y s , w e r e , " D a m n the abolitionists!" a n d " D a m n the n i g g e r s ! " T h e r e w a s n o t h i n g d o n e , a n d probably nothing would have b e e n d o n e if I h a d b e e n killed. S u c h w a s , a n d s u c h r e m a i n s , the state of things in the C h r i s t i a n city of B a l t i m o r e . M a s t e r H u g h , finding h e c o u l d get n o r e d r e s s , r e f u s e d to let m e g o b a c k again to Mr. G a r d n e r . H e kept m e himself, a n d his wife d r e s s e d my w o u n d till I w a s again restored to h e a l t h . H e then took m e into the ship-yard of which h e w a s f o r e m a n , in the e m p l o y m e n t of Mr. W a l t e r P r i c e . T h e r e I w a s i m m e d i a t e l y set to calking, a n d very s o o n learned the art of u s i n g my mallet a n d irons. In the c o u r s e of o n e year from the time I left M r . G a r d n e r ' s , I w a s able to c o m m a n d the highest w a g e s given to the m o s t e x p e r i e n c e d c a l k e r s . I w a s now of s o m e i m p o r t a n c e to my m a s t e r . I w a s b r i n g i n g him from six to seven dollars p e r week. I s o m e t i m e s b r o u g h t him nine dollars p e r week: my w a g e s were a dollar a n d a half a day. After learning h o w to calk, I s o u g h t my own e m p l o y m e n t , m a d e my own c o n t r a c t s , a n d c o l l e c t e d the m o n e y w h i c h I e a r n e d . M y p a t h w a y b e c a m e m u c h m o r e s m o o t h t h a n b e f o r e ; my c o n d i t i o n w a s n o w m u c h m o r e c o m f o r t a b l e . W h e n I c o u l d get no calking to d o , I did nothing. D u r i n g t h e s e leisure t i m e s , t h o s e old n o t i o n s a b o u t f r e e d o m w o u l d steal over m e a g a i n . W h e n in M r . G a r d n e r ' s e m p l o y m e n t , I w a s kept in s u c h a p e r p e t u a l whirl of e x c i t e m e n t , I c o u l d think of n o t h i n g , scarcely, b u t my life; a n d in thinking of my life, I a l m o s t forgot my liberty. I have o b s e r v e d this in my e x p e r i e n c e of slavery,—that whenever my c o n d i t i o n w a s i m p r o v e d , i n s t e a d of its i n c r e a s i n g my c o n t e n t m e n t , it only i n c r e a s e d my d e s i r e to b e free, a n d set m e to thinking of p l a n s to gain my f r e e d o m . I have f o u n d that, to m a k e a c o n t e n t e d slave, it is n e c e s s a r y to m a k e a t h o u g h t l e s s o n e . It is n e c e s s a r y to darken his moral a n d m e n t a l vision, a n d , a s far a s p o s s i b l e , to a n n i h i l a t e the power of r e a s o n . H e m u s t b e able to d e t e c t n o i n c o n s i s t e n c i e s in slavery; he m u s t b e m a d e to feel that slavery is right; a n d h e c a n b e b r o u g h t to that only w h e n h e c e a s e s to b e a m a n . I w a s now getting, a s I have said, o n e dollar a n d fifty c e n t s p e r day. I c o n t r a c t e d for it; I e a r n e d it; it w a s p a i d to m e ; it w a s rightfully my o w n ; yet, u p o n e a c h returning S a t u r d a y night, I was c o m p e l l e d to deliver every cent of that m o n e y to M a s t e r H u g h . A n d why? N o t b e c a u s e h e e a r n e d i t , — n o t

LOUISE AMELIA SMITH CLAPPE

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973

b e c a u s e h e h a d any h a n d in e a r n i n g i t , — n o t b e c a u s e I o w e d it to h i m , — n o r b e c a u s e he p o s s e s s e d the slightest s h a d o w of a right to it; but solely b e c a u s e he had the p o w e r to c o m p e l m e to give it u p . T h e right of the grim-visaged pirate u p o n the high s e a s is exactly the s a m e . *

*

* 1845

LOUISE AMELIA SMITH CLAPPE 1819-1906 L o u i s e A m e l i a K n a p p S m i t h C l a p p (later, C l a p p e ) , a N e w E n g l a n d e r , wrote twentythree letters to a sister in M a s s a c h u s e t t s that c o n s t i t u t e a vivid a c c o u n t of life in t h e m i n e s of t h e S i e r r a N e v a d a in the early years of t h e C a l i f o r n i a G o l d R u s h . P r e s u m a b l y the letters m a d e t h e p e r i l o u s trip e a s t a n d b a c k , b e c a u s e in 1 8 5 5 C l a p p e p u b l i s h e d t h e m a s " C a l i f o r n i a , in 1 8 5 1 a n d 1 8 5 2 . R e s i d e n c e in the M i n e s " in a n e w short-lived S a n F r a n c i s c o m a g a z i n e , The Pioneer. W h e n the letters b e g a n arriving in N e w E n g l a n d late in 1 8 5 1 , C l a p p e ' s sister c o u l d h a v e sold t h e m to a N e w York, B o s t o n , or P h i l a d e l p h i a n e w s p a p e r or m a g a z i n e , for E a s t e r n e r s h u n g e r e d for s t o r i e s a b o u t g o l d m i n i n g in the new s t a t e , a n d b o t h in s u b j e c t m a t t e r a n d in style C l a p p e ' s a c c o u n t s w e r e r e m a r k a b l e . E v e n b e f o r e g o i n g to S a n F r a n c i s c o , s h e k n e w that o t h e r s h a d s u c c e e d e d with travel letters ( c o n s p i c u o u s l y , B a y a r d T a y l o r , w h o left C a l i f o r n i a j u s t a s s h e arrived t h e r e ) . C l a p p e lost her c h a n c e for n a t i o n a l f a m e by not p u b l i s h i n g the letters while e x c i t e m e n t over the G o l d R u s h w a s high. By 1 8 5 5 , n a t i o n a l f o c u s h a d shifted to slavery, a n d the latest C a l i f o r n i a n e w s w a s a b o u t the fast, safer way to t h e G o l d e n S t a t e — t h e n e w r a i l r o a d a c r o s s the i s t h m u s of P a n a m a . W e l l b e f o r e C l a p p e d i e d , h i s t o r i a n s of the G o l d R u s h realized that her letters w e r e a n u n p a r a l l e l e d r e s o u r c e , s h r e w d a n d ironical, for d e t a i l s a b o u t m o d e s of travel (always h a z a r d o u s ) , g r o t e s q u e l o d g i n g a n d inventive a t t e m p t s at e s t a b l i s h i n g d o m e s t i c c o m f o r t , m e t h o d s of m i n i n g (often d a n g e r o u s ) , vigilante j u s t i c e , a n d t h e a w e - s t r i k i n g s p l e n d o r s of n a t u r e . S h e d r e w m e m o r a b l e portraits of m i n e r s a n d the h a n d f u l of w h i t e w o m e n w h o a c c o m p a n i e d t h e m , a s well a s a few C a l i f o r n i a I n d i a n s s h e e n c o u n t e r e d , a n d s h e vividly d e s c r i b e d t h e arrival of i m m i g r a n t s w h o h a d survived the o v e r l a n d trek f r o m M i s s o u r i . In t h e t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y , h i s t o r i a n s of C a l i f o r n i a c o l l e c t e d t h e letters in b o o k f o r m , a n d g r a d u a l l y their literary m e r i t s b e c a m e k n o w n . C l a p p e h a d a m o s t unlikely b a c k g r o u n d for her a d v e n t u r e in t h e G o l d R u s h . S h e w a s b o r n in E l i z a b e t h t o w n , N e w J e r s e y , o n J u l y 2 8 , 1 8 1 9 . H e r father, a m a t h e m a t i c i a n , m o v e d the family to A m h e r s t , M a s s a c h u s e t t s , w h e r e h e t a u g h t at the a c a d e m y until h e d i e d in 1 8 3 2 . After her m o t h e r ' s d e a t h in 1 8 3 7 , her g u a r d i a n , O s m y n B a k e r (a c l a s s m a t e of E m i l y D i c k i n s o n ' s f a t h e r ) , k e p t her in s c h o o l s , i n c l u d i n g t h e A m h e r s t A c a d e m y , until s h e w a s n i n e t e e n or twenty. D u r i n g t h e next few years s h e t a u g h t F r e n c h a n d p e r h a p s o t h e r s u b j e c t s . In 1 8 3 9 s h e m e t the d i p l o m a t A l e x a n d e r Hill Everett, w h o c o r r e s p o n d e d with her on political a n d i n t e l l e c t u a l i s s u e s until his d e a t h in 1 8 4 7 ; her letters to h i m , now lost, m u s t h a v e facilitated her c o m p o s i t i o n of the letters o n w h i c h her r e p u t a t i o n r e s t s . In S e p t e m b e r 1 8 4 8 s h e m a r r i e d F a y e t t e C l a p p , a g r a d u a t e of B r o w n University w h o w a s a p p r e n t i c e d to a d o c t o r . S h e a n d her h u s b a n d (by then Dr. C l a p p ) a n d m e m b e r s of their f a m i l i e s s a i l e d f r o m N e w York in A u g u s t 1 8 4 9 , r o u n d e d C a p e H o r n , a n d s a i l e d t h r o u g h the G o l d e n G a t e into S a n F r a n c i s c o

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B a y in J a n u a r y 1 8 5 0 . T h e y r e m a i n e d a y e a r in S a n F r a n c i s c o , D r . C l a p p s u f f e r i n g from i l l n e s s , i n c l u d i n g w h a t w a s c a l l e d " b r a i n fever." A m i n e r c o u l d m a k e a f o r t u n e in a d a y , a n d a d o c t o r c o u l d c h a r g e G o l d R u s h p r i c e s for t r e a t i n g m i n e r s w e a k e n e d f r o m their w o r k i n g c o n d i t i o n s (particularly s u s c e p t i b l e , C l a p p s a i d , t o e r y s i p e l a s ) a n d liable t o i n c u r b r o k e n b o n e s in a c c i d e n t s ( a n d suffer f r o m peritonitis d u r i n g r e c o v e r y ) . Early in 1 8 5 1 t h e C l a p p s t o o k a s t e a m b o a t to M a r y s v i l l e , a t t h e c o n f l u e n c e of t h e F e a t h e r a n d Y u b a rivers. H e a r i n g that a t h o u s a n d m i n e r s at R i c h B a r were w i t h o u t a d o c t o r , C l a p p w e n t o n to s e t u p a r o u g h " o f f i c e " w h i l e L o u i s e s t a y e d b e h i n d a few w e e k s , c o n t r i b u t i n g s k e t c h e s a n d p o e m s to t h e M a r y s v i l l e Herald.

In t h e fall o f 1 8 5 1 ,

from Rich B a r , s h e b e g a n writing h e r l o n g l e t t e r s t o h e r s i s t e r Molly. D r . C l a p p f o u n d that t w o d o z e n d o c t o r s h a d p r e c e d e d h i m t o R i c h B a r , a n d t h e C l a p p s left t h e m i n e s for S a n F r a n c i s c o l a t e in 1 8 5 2 . D r . C l a p p s o o n s a i l e d for H a w a i i , t h e n r e t u r n e d t o M a s s a c h u s e t t s , a l o n e . W h a t h a p p e n e d b e t w e e n t h e m is u n k n o w n . S h e b e g a n t e a c h ing s c h o o l in S a n F r a n c i s c o in 1 8 5 4 . Effectively a b a n d o n e d , s h e filed for d i v o r c e in 1 8 5 6 ; after this t i m e s h e s p e l l e d h e r last n a m e C l a p p e . In 1 8 7 8 , o n retiring after a q u a r t e r c e n t u r y o f t e a c h i n g in S a n F r a n c i s c o , s h e m o v e d to N e w Y o r k City, t h e n t o M o r r i s t o w n , N e w J e r s e y , w h e r e s h e d i e d early in 1 9 0 6 . As strong a "character" as any of the miners, C l a p p e knew she was "obstinate" a n d "wilful," d e t e r m i n e d f r o m c h i l d h o o d to d o w h a t p e o p l e s a i d s h e c o u l d n ' t . P a s t thirty, s h e r o d e a l m o s t twenty-four h o u r s at a s t r e t c h w i t h o u t c o m p l a i n i n g , s e e i n g h e r s e l f a s " a r e g u l a r N o m a d " in h e r p a s s i o n for w a n d e r i n g . S h e d i d n o t e n d u r e u n n e c e s s a r y hardships (she had a cook when she could get one, and other w o m e n did her laundry), b u t s h e w a s t o u g h , i n d e p e n d e n t , a n d n e v e r t o o s h o c k e d to r e c o r d t h e w a y m i n e r s s w o r e , d r a n k a n d g a m b l e d , a n d knifed e a c h o t h e r , f o u g h t d u e l s , l a s h e d m i n o r offenders, a n d h a n g e d t h i e v e s . A s s h e w i t n e s s e d a n d p o r t r a y e d a l e n g t h e n i n g p a n o r a m a o f life in t h e m i n e s , C l a p p e s a w h e r s e l f in r e l a t i o n to s u c c e s s f u l j o u r n a l i s t s : " G r a c e Greenwood," the pen n a m e of Sarah J a n e Lippincott ( 1 8 2 3 - 1 9 0 4 ) , "Fanny Forester," t h e p e n n a m e o f E m i l y C . J u d s o n ( 1 8 1 7 - 1 8 5 4 ) , a n d N a t h a n i e l P a r k e r Willis ( 1 8 0 6 1 8 6 7 ) . B u t s h e a l s o s a w h e r s e l f ( s h e w o u l d h a v e s a i d s e l f - m o c k i n g l y ) a s a letter writer like t h e M a r q u i s e d e S e v i g n e ( 1 6 2 6 — 1 6 9 6 ) , f a m o u s for h e r c o r r e s p o n d e n c e with h e r d a u g h t e r , a n d L a d y M a r y W o r t l e y M o n t a g u ( 1 6 8 9 - 1 7 6 2 ) , a u t h o r of Turkish

Letters.

S t e e p e d in t h e B i b l e a n d t h o r o u g h l y f a m i l i a r with S p e n s e r a n d S h a k e s p e a r e , t h e E n g l i s h R o m a n t i c s , D i c k e n s , a n d m a n y c o n t e m p o r a r y A m e r i c a n writers, C l a p p e b e l o n g e d in g o o d literary c o m p a n y . W i t h j u s t a slight turn o f h e r f o r t u n e , s h e m i g h t h a v e h a d a c a r e e r in j o u r n a l i s m in h e r o w n t i m e r a t h e r t h a n a literary r e p u t a t i o n a c e n t u r y a n d a half later.

California, in 1852' RESIDENCE

Letter

IN T H E MINES

Twelfth.

F R O M OUR L O G C A B I N , Indian Rar,2 January 2 7 , 1 8 5 2 .

I wish that it w e r e p o s s i b l e , d e a r M . , 3 to give you a n i d e a o f t h e perfect S a t u r n a l i a , 4 w h i c h h a s b e e n held u p o n t h e river for t h e last t h r e e w e e k s , 1. T h e t e x t i s f r o m t h e S a n F r a n c i s c o Pioneer ( F e b r u a r y 1 8 5 5 ) . P e r h a p s identifying herself with the strong-willed heroine of C h a r l o t t e Bronte's 1 8 4 9 b o o k Shirley, C l a p p e signed t h e letters "Shirley," a p s e u d o n y m s h e h a d u s e d for p i e c e s in a Marysville, C a l i f o r n i a , p a p e r in 1 8 5 1 . In t h e text o f " R e s i d e n c e in t h e M i n e s " C l a p p e r e f e r r e d t o h e r s e l f a s " D a m e S h i r l e y " — p o s s i b l y a s a selfmocking way of saying " S c h o o l m a ' r m Shirley," for s h e h a d t a u g h t i n N e w E n g l a n d a n d in 1 8 5 4 s h e

h a d b e c o m e a s c h o o l t e a c h e r in S a n F r a n c i s c o . 2. O n t h e E a s t B r a n c h o f t h e N o r t h F o r k o f t h e F e a t h e r R i v e r , a s w a s t h e n e a r b y R i c h B a r . ( A bar is a b a n k o f s a n d , g r a v e l , a n d o t h e r m a t t e r b u i l t u p in a r i v e r , c r e a t i n g a p e n i n s u l a . ) 3. C l a p p e ' s s i s t e r M o l l y . 4. In R o m a n religion, t h e festival o f t h e g o d Satu r n , b e g i n n i n g D e c e m b e r 1 7 ; in C h r i s t i a n c o u n tries, a n y period of g e n e r a l l i c e n s e , particularly from Christmas through N e w Year's.

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without at the s a m e time c a u s i n g you to think too severely of our g o o d M o u n tains. In truth, it requires not only a large intellect, but a large heart, to j u d g e with b e c o m i n g charity of the p e c u l i a r t e m p t a t i o n s of r i c h e s . A m o r e genero u s , h o s p i t a b l e , intelligent a n d i n d u s t r i o u s p e o p l e , than the i n h a b i t a n t s of the half-dozen B a r s — o f which Rich B a r is the n u c l e u s — n e v e r existed; for you know how proverbially w e a r i n g it is to the nerves of m a n h o o d , to b e entirely without either o c c u p a t i o n or a m u s e m e n t ; a n d that h a s b e e n preeminently the c a s e d u r i n g the p r e s e n t m o n t h . I m a g i n e a c o m p a n y of enterprising a n d excitable y o u n g m e n , settled u p o n a sandy level, a b o u t as large a s a p o o r widow's p o t a t o e p a t c h , walled in by sky-kissing h i l l s — a b s o l u t e l y compelled to r e m a i n , on a c c o u n t of the w e a t h e r , which h a s vetoed indefinitely their E x o d u s — w i t h no p l a c e to ride or drive, even if they h a d the n e c e s s a r y vehicles a n d q u a d r u p e d s , — w i t h n o n e w s p a pers nor politics to interest t h e m , — d e p r i v e d of all b o o k s but a few d o g - e a r e d novels of the p o o r e s t c l a s s , — c h u r c h e s , l e c t u r e s , I y c e u m s , t h e a t e r s a n d ( m o s t u n k i n d e s t c u t of a l l ! ) 5 pretty girls, having b e c o m e to t h e s e u n h a p p y m e n m e r e m y t h s , — w i t h o u t one of the t h o u s a n d ways of p a s s i n g time p e c u l i a r to civilization,—most of t h e m living in d a m p , g l o o m y c a b i n s , w h e r e H e a v e n ' s dear light c a n enter only by the d o o r , — a n d , w h e n you a d d to all t h e s e disa g r e e a b l e s the fact that, d u r i n g the never-to-be-forgotten m o n t h , the m o s t r e m o r s e l e s s , p e r s e v e r i n g rain which ever set itself to work to drive h u m a n i t y m a d , h a s b e e n p o u r i n g doggedly down, s w e e p i n g away b r i d g e s , lying in u n c o m f o r t a b l e p u d d l e s a b o u t nearly all the h a b i t a t i o n s , wickedly i n s i n u a t i n g itself b e n e a t h u n - u m b r e l l a - p r o t e c t e d shirtcollars, g e n e r o u s l y treating to a shower-bath and the r h e u m a t i s m s l e e p i n g b i p e d s , w h o did not h a p p e n to have an I n d i a - r u b b e r 6 b l a n k e t , — a n d , to crown all, r e n d e r i n g m i n i n g utterly i m p o s s i b l e , — y o u c a n n o t w o n d e r that even the m o s t moral s h o u l d have become somewhat reckless. T h e S a t u r n a l i a c o m m e n c e d o n C h r i s t m a s evening, at the H u m b o l d t , 7 which on that very day, h a d p a s s e d into the h a n d s of new p r o p r i e t o r s . T h e m o s t g o r g e o u s p r e p a r a t i o n s were m a d e for c e l e b r a t i n g the two events. T h e bar w a s re-trimmed with red c a l i c o , the bowling alley h a d a n e w lining of the c o a r s e s t a n d whitest cotton cloth, a n d the broken l a m p s h a d e s were r e p l a c e d by whole o n e s . AH day long, patient m u l e s c o u l d b e s e e n d e s c e n d i n g the hill, b e n d i n g b e n e a t h c a s k s of brandy a n d b a s k e t s of c h a m p a g n e , a n d , for the first time in the history of that c e l e b r a t e d building, the floor (wonderful to relate, it has a floor,) w a s washed, at a lavish e x p e n d i t u r e of s o m e fifty pails of water, the u s i n g up of o n e entire b r o o m , a n d the m e l t i n g away of sundry b a r s of the b e s t yellow s o a p ; after w h i c h , I a m told that the enterprising a n d benevolent individuals, who h a d u n d e r t a k e n the H e r c u l e a n 8 task, s u c c e e d e d in w a s h i n g the b o a r d s through the h o p e l e s s load of dirt, which h a d a c c u m u l a t e d u p o n t h e m d u r i n g the s u m m e r a n d a u t u m n . All t h e s e inter5 . F a t a l l y s t a b b e d , C a e s a r , i n S h a k e s p e a r e ' s Julius Caesar 3 . 2 . 1 8 3 , calls the blow f r o m his friend Brutus "the most unkindest cut of all," a f a m o u s p h r a s e m u c h m o c k e d for r e d u n d a n c y . 6. R u b b e r , c a o u t c h o u c , f r o m t h e t i m e w h e n m o s t rubber c a m e from southeast Asia. T h e California rainy season is v a r i a b l e , roughly November through March. 7. T h e H u m b o l d t H o t e l , like t h e c o u n t y a n d b a y in n o r t h e r n C a l i f o r n i a , h o n o r s t h e g r e a t P r u s s i a n scientist Alexander, Baron von Humboldt ( 1 7 6 9 1 8 5 9 ) , r e v e r e d i n t h e m i d - 1 9 t h c e n t u r y a s t h e first

g r e a t e x p l o r e r for scientific r a t h e r t h a n r e l i g i o u s , political, or c o m m e r c i a l r e a s o n s , a n d as the s e e m i n g l y a l l - k n o w i n g a u t h o r o f The American Journey, a m u l t i v o l u m e a c c o u n t of his scientific expedition into S o u t h a n d Central America. H e visited W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . a s P r e s i d e n t J e f f e r s o n ' s g u e s t in 1 8 0 4 but never saw California. 8 . I n G r e e k m y t h H e r c u l e s is a m i g h t y h e r o , s o n of J u p i t e r a n d A l c m e n a ; he performs twelve s e e m i n g l y i m p o s s i b l e l a b o r s , t h e fifth o f w h i c h is t h e cleansing of the stables of A u g e a s , w h o had p e n n e d 3 , 0 0 0 h e a d of c a t t l e t h e r e for thirty y e a r s .

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esting p a r t i c u l a r s were c o m m u n i c a t e d to m e by " N e d , " w h e n he b r o u g h t up dinner.'' T h a t d i s t i n g u i s h e d individual h i m s e l f w a s in his e l e m e n t , a n d in a m o s t intense state of p e r s p i r a t i o n a n d e x c i t e m e n t at the s a m e time. A b o u t dark, we were startled by the l o u d e s t h u r r a s , which a r o s e at the sight of an army of India-rubber c o a t s , (the rain w a s falling in riversfull,) e a c h o n e e n s h r o u d i n g a R i c h B a r i a n , 1 which w a s rapidly d e s c e n d i n g the hill. T h i s troop w a s h e a d e d by the " G e n e r a l , " w h o — l u c k y m a n that he i s — w a v e d on high, instead of a b a n n e r , a live lantern, actually c o m p o s e d of tin a n d window-glass, a n d evidently i n t e n d e d by its m a k e r to act in n o c a p a c i t y but that of a lantern! T h e " G e n e r a l " is the largest a n d tallest a n d — w i t h o n e exception, I t h i n k — t h e oldest m a n upon the river. H e is a b o u t fifty, I s h o u l d fancy, a n d wears a snow-white beard of s u c h i m m e n s e d i m e n s i o n s , in both length a n d t h i c k n e s s , that any elderly T u r k would expire with envy, at the m e r e sight of it. D o n ' t i m a g i n e that he is a reveler; by n o m e a n s ; the gay crowd followed him, for the s a m e r e a s o n that the king followed M a d a m e Blaize, " b e c a u s e he went b e f o r e . " 2 At nine o'clock in the evening, they h a d a n oyster a n d c h a m p a g n e * s u p p e r in the H u m b o l d t , which w a s very gay with t o a s t s , s o n g s , s p e e c h e s , e t c . I believe that the c o m p a n y d a n c e d all night; at any rate, they were d a n c i n g w h e n I went to s l e e p , a n d they were d a n c i n g w h e n I woke the next m o r n i n g . T h e revel w a s kept up in this m a d way for three days, growing wilder every h o u r . S o m e never slept at all d u r i n g that t i m e . O n the fourth day, they got p a s t d a n c i n g , a n d , lying in d r u n k e n h e a p s a b o u t the b a r - r o o m , c o m m e n c e d a m o s t unearthly h o w l i n g ; — s o m e barked like d o g s , s o m e roared like bulls, a n d others hissed like s e r p e n t s a n d g e e s e . M a n y were too far g o n e to imitate anything but their own a n i m a l i z e d selves. T h e s c e n e , from the d e s c r i p t i o n I have had of it, m u s t have b e e n a c o m p l e t e illustration of the fable of C i r c e 4 a n d her fearful t r a n s f o r m a t i o n s . S o m e of t h e s e b a c c h a n a l s 5 were a m o n g the m o s t r e s p e c t a b l e a n d r e s p e c t e d m e n u p o n the river. M a n y of t h e m h a d resided here for m o r e than a year, a n d h a d never b e e n s e e n intoxicated before. It s e e m e d a s if they were seized with a reckless m a n i a for p o u r i n g down liquor, which, a s I said a b o v e , everything c o n s p i r e d to foster a n d i n c r e a s e . O f c o u r s e , there were s o m e who kept t h e m s e l v e s aloof f r o m t h e s e excess e s ; but they were few, a n d were not allowed to enjoy their sobriety in p e a c e . T h e revelers formed t h e m s e l v e s into a m o c k vigilance c o m m i t t e e , a n d w h e n o n e of t h e s e u n f o r t u n a t e s a p p e a r e d o u t s i d e , a c o n s t a b l e , followed by t h o s e who were able to keep their legs, b r o u g h t him before the C o u r t , where h e w a s tried o n s o m e a m u s i n g c h a r g e , a n d invariably s e n t e n c e d to "treat the c r o w d . " T h e p r i s o n e r s h a d generally the g o o d s e n s e to s u b m i t cheerfully to their fate. T o w a r d s the latter part of the week, p e o p l e were c o m p e l l e d to b e a little m o r e quiet from s h e e r e x h a u s t i o n ; b u t on N e w Year's day, w h e n there w a s a 9. C l a p p e ' s "light m u l a t t o " c o o k a n d waiter, N e d . a fine fiddler, h a d b e e n t h e c o o k o n t h e b r i g Somers in 1 8 4 2 , w h e n t h e c a p t a i n h a n g e d t h r e e m e n f o r mutiny. 1. A r e s i d e n t o f R i c h B a r ; b u t " B a r i a n " h a s a n ironic e c h o of "barbarian." 2. Oliver G o l d s m i t h ( 1 7 3 0 - 1 7 7 4 ) , Irish writer t h e n i m m e n s e l y p o p u l a r in t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , w r o t e a f a c e t i o u s s p o o f , " E l e g y o n M r s . M a r y B l a i z e , " in i m i t a t i o n o f a F r e n c h p o e m b y B e r n a r d d e la M o n n o y e . In t h e e l e g y t h e k i n g h i m s e l f is s a i d t o h a v e

"followed her / W h e n she has walked before." 3 . O y s t e r s a r r i v e d in t h e g o l d m i n i n g c a m p s i n t i n c a n s , c h a m p a g n e in b o t t l e s . 4. D a u g h t e r of the s u n a n d a sea n y m p h . C i r c e lived o n the island of A e t n a s u r r o u n d e d by p e o p l e s h e h a d t u r n e d i n t o a n i m a l s . In H o m e r ' s Odyssey she transforms twenty-two of O d y s s e u s ' s c o m p a n ions into swine. 5. D r u n k e n c e l e b r a n t s , like a n c i e n t w o r s h i p e r s of the G r e e k god of wine, B a c c h u s .

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grand dinner at Rich Bar, the excitement broke out, if p o s s i b l e , w o r s e than ever. T h e s a m e s c e n e s in a m o r e or less a g g r a v a t e d form, in proportion a s the strength of the a c t o r s held o u t , were r e p e a t e d at S m i t h ' s B a r a n d " T h e Junction." Nearly every day, I w a s dreadfully frightened, by s e e i n g a boat-load of intoxicated m e n fall into the river, where n o t h i n g but the fact of their being intoxicated, saved m a n y of t h e m from drowning. O n e m o r n i n g , a b o u t thirty dollars worth of b r e a d , (it m u s t have b e e n "tipsy c a k e , " ) 6 which the b a k e r w a s conveying to S m i t h ' s Bar, fell overboard, a n d sailed merrily away towards Marysville. 7 P e o p l e p a s s e d " the river in a boat, which w a s m a n a g e d by a pulley a n d a r o p e , that w a s strained a c r o s s it from Indian B a r to the o p p o s i t e shore. O f the m a n y a c q u a i n t a n c e s , w h o h a d b e e n in the habit of calling nearly every e v e n i n g three, only, a p p e a r e d in the c a b i n d u r i n g as m a n y w e e k s . N o w , however, the S a t u r n a l i a is a b o u t over. " N e d " a n d " C h o c h , " 9 have nearly fiddled t h e m s e l v e s into their respective g r a v e s , — t h e claret (a favorite wine with miners,) a n d oysters are e x h a u s t e d , — b r a n d i e d fruits are rarely s e e n , a n d even port wine is b e g i n n i n g to look s c a r c e . O l d callers o c c a s i o n a l l y drop in, looking dreadfully s h e e p i s h a n d s u b d u e d , a n d so s o r r y , — a n d p e o p l e are evidently a r o u s i n g t h e m s e l v e s from the b a c c h a n a l m a d n e s s , into which they were so s u d d e n l y a n d s o strangely d r a w n . With the exception of my last, 1 this is the m o s t u n p l e a s a n t letter which I have ever felt it my duty to write to you. P e r h a p s you will w o n d e r that I should t o u c h u p o n s u c h a d i s a g r e e a b l e s u b j e c t at all. B u t I a m b o u n d , Molly, by my p r o m i s e , to give you a true picture (as m u c h a s in m e lies,) of m i n i n g life a n d its p e c u l i a r t e m p t a t i o n s , " n o t h i n g e x t e n u a t i n g nor setting down a u g h t in m a l i c e . " B u t with all their failings, believe m e , the m i n e r s , a s a c l a s s , p o s s e s s m a n y truly a d m i r a b l e c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s . I have h a d rather a stupid time during the s t o r m . W e h a d b e e n in the habit of taking f r e q u e n t rows u p o n the river in a funny little toppling c a n o e , carved o u t of a log. T h e bridge at o n e e n d of our b o a t i n g g r o u n d a n d the rapids at the other, m a d e quite a pretty lake. T o be s u r e it w a s s o s m a l l that we generally p a s s e d a n d r e p a s s e d its beautiful s u r f a c e at least thirty times in a n hour. B u t we did not m i n d that, I can a s s u r e you. W e were only too glad to be able to go onto the water at all. I u s e d to return, l o a d e d d o w n with the magnificent large leaves of s o m e a q u a t i c p l a n t , which the g e n t l e frosts had painted with the m o s t g o r g e o u s c o l o r s , lots of fragrant m i n t , a n d a few w a n , white flowers, which h a d lingered p a s t their a u t u m n a l glory. T h e richest hoth o u s e b o u q u e t c o u l d never give m e half the p l e a s u r e , which I took in arranging in a pretty vase of p u r p l e a n d white, t h o s e g o r g e o u s leaves. T h e y m a d e m e think of M o o r i s h A r a b e s q u e s ; - so q u a i n t a n d bizarre, a n d at the s a m e 6. C a k e m a d e of pastry a n d a l m o n d s — o r any dry c a k e — s a t u r a t e d with wine or brandy a n d served with c u s t a r d s a u c e . 7 . M a r y s v i l l e , t h e Y u b a C o u n t y s e a t , is a t t h e c o n fluence of the F e a t h e r River a n d the Y u b a River. 8. C r o s s e d . 9. A "white m a n by the n a m e of 'Chock,' " an a s s i s t a n t v i o l i n i s t t o N e d , is i n t r o d u c e d in L e t t e r 8 , where C l a p p e relishes the California convention t h a t a l l o w s h i m t o p a s s u n d e r a s i n g l e n a m e , a s if he w e r e H o m e r or H a n n i b a l . 1. L e t t e r 11 t e l l s t w o g r i m s t o r i e s . A S w e d e w h o stole m o n e y w a s c a u g h t , tried, a n d m o s t ineptly

h a n g e d : his writhing body, which was h a u l e d up a n d down several times before the n o o s e tightened e n o u g h t o c h o k e h i m t o d e a t h , w a s left h a n g i n g f o r several h o u r s . T h e s e c o n d story involves two m e n w h o a b a n d o n e d t h e i r c o m p a n i o n in t h e s n o w a n d , a s it t u r n e d o u t , v e r y p r o b a b l y r o b b e d a n d k i l l e d h i m ; they w e r e a l l o w e d to leave t h e B a r alive for want of conclusive evidence against them. Below: " n o t h i n g . . . in m a l i c e " : t h e M o o r ' s l a s t s p e e c h , Othello 5.2. 2 . A d e s i g n m a r k e d by i n t r i c a t e p a t t e r n s o f i n t e r laced lines.

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time dazzlingly brilliant were the varied tints. T h e y were in their glory at evening; for like a n oriental beauty, they lighted up splendidly. A l a s ! w h e r e o n e little m o n t h a g o , my pretty lake lay l a u g h i n g u p at the s t a r s , a turbid torrent r u s h e s noisily b y ; — t h e p o o r little c a n o e w a s swept away with the bridge, a n d splendid leaves hide their bright h e a d s forever b e n e a t h the dark waters. B u t I a m not entirely bereft of the beautiful. F r o m my last walk, I b r o u g h t h o m e a tiny bit of out-doors, w h i c h t h r o u g h all the long, rainy m o n t h s that are to c o m e , will sing to m e silently, yet eloquently, of the b l u e a n d gold of the v a n i s h e d s u m m e r , a n d the c r i m s o n a n d p u r p l e of its a u t u m n . It is a b r a n c h , g a t h e r e d from that prettiest f e a t u r e of m o u n t a i n scenery, a m o s s - g r o w n fir-tree. You will s e e t h e m at every s t e p , s t a n d i n g all lovely in this graceful robe. It is in color, a vivid p e a - g r e e n , with little hard flowers, which look m o r e like dots t h a n anything e l s e , a n d c o n t r a s t b e a u tifully with the d e e p e r v e r d u r e of the fir. T h e b r a n c h , which I b r o u g h t h o m e , I have p l a c e d a b o v e my window. It is t h r e e feet in length a n d a s large r o u n d a s a p e r s o n ' s a r m ; a n d there it r e m a i n s , a c o r n i c e w r e a t h e d with purple-starred tapestry, w h o s e w o n d r o u s b e a u t y n o u p h o l s t e r e r c a n ever m a t c h . I have got the prettiest N e w Year's p r e s e n t . You will never g u e s s what it is, s o I shall have to tell you. O n the eve of the year, a s the " G e n e r a l " w a s lifting a glass of water, which h a d j u s t b e e n b r o u g h t from the river, to his lips, h e w a s startled at the sight of a tiny fish. H e i m m e d i a t e l y p u t it into a g l a s s j a r a n d gave it to m e . It is that m o s t lovely of all the c r e a t u r e s of T h e t i s , 3 a s p o t t e d trout, a little m o r e than two i n c h e s in length. Its b a c k of mingled green a n d gold, is s p l a s h e d with dots of the richest s a b l e . A m a r k of a d a r k ruby color, in s h a p e like a n a n c h o r , c r o w n s its e l e g a n t little h e a d . N o t h i n g c a n b e prettier than the d e l i c a t e wings of p a l e p u r p l e , with which its snowy belly is faintly p e n c i l e d . Its j e t b l a c k e y e s , r i m m e d with silver, within a circlet of rare s e a - b l u e , g l e a m like d i a m o n d s , a n d its w h o l e graceful s h a p e is gilded with a s h i m m e r i n g s h e e n , infinitely lovely. W h e n I w a t c h it from a c r o s s the r o o m , a s it glides slowly r o u n d its crystal p a l a c e , it r e m i n d s m e of a b e a m of m a n y - c o l o r e d light; but w h e n it glides u p a n d d o w n in its gay p l a y f u l n e s s , it g l e a m s t h r o u g h the liquid a t m o s p h e r e like a box of s h i n i n g silver. "A thing of b e a u t y is a j o y forever;" 4 a n d , truly, I never weary w a t c h i n g the p e r f e c t e d loveliness of my graceful little captive. In the list of my deprivations, a b o v e written, I forgot to m e n t i o n a fact, which I know will gain m e the s y m p a t h y of all carniverously d i s p o s e d p e o ple. It is, that we have h a d n o fresh meat for nearly a m o n t h ! D a r k a n d o m i n o u s r u m o r s are a l s o floating through the m o i s t air, to the effect that the p o t a t o e s a n d o n i o n s are a b o u t to give out! B u t don't b e a l a r m e d , d e a r Molly. T h e r e is n o d a n g e r of a f a m i n e . F o r have we not got w a g o n l o a d s of h a r d , dark h a m s , w h o s e i n d u r a t e d h e a r t s n o t h i n g b u t the s h a r p e s t knife a n d the s t o u t e s t a r m c a n p e n e t r a t e ? H a v e we not got q u i n t a l s 5 of dreadful m a c k e r e l , fearfully crystalized in b l a c k salt? H a v e w e not barrels u p o n barrels of rusty pork; a n d flour e n o u g h to victual a large a r m y for the next two 3. In G r e e k m y t h , a s e a n y m p h , m o t h e r o f A c h i l les. 4 . T h e b e g i n n i n g o f B o o k I o f J o h n K e a t s ' s Endymion ( 1 8 1 8 ) : " A t h i n g o f b e a u t y is a j o y f o r e v e r /

I t s l o v e l i n e s s i n c r e a s e s ; it w i l l n e v e r / P a s s nothingness." 5. H u n d r e d w e i g h t s .

into

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years? Yea, verily, have w e ; a n d m o r e a l s o . F o r we have oysters in c a n s , preserved m e a t s a n d s a r d i n e s , (appropo, I detest t h e m ) by the h u n d r e d box full. S o h u s h the trembling of that tender little heart a n d s h u t t h o s e tearful a n d a l a r m e d eyes, while I p r e s s a good-night kiss on their d r o o p i n g lids. LETTER TWENTY-SECOND.6 F R O M OUR L O G C A B I N , Indian Bar,

Oct.

27,

1852.7

In my last epistle, my d e a r M . , I left myself safely e n s c o n c e d at G r e e n wood's R a n c h o , in a b o u t as u n c o m f o r t a b l e a position a s a p e r s o n c o u l d well b e , w h e r e b o a r d w a s fourteen dollars a week. N o w you m u s t not think that the proprietors were at all to b l a m e for our m i s e r a b l e c o n d i t i o n . T h e y w e r e , I a s s u r e you, very g e n t l e m a n l y a n d intelligent m e n ; a n d I o w e t h e m a thous a n d t h a n k s , for the m a n y acts of k i n d n e s s , a n d the friendly efforts w h i c h they m a d e to a m u s e a n d interest m e while I w a s in their h o u s e . T h e y s a i d from the first that they were utterly u n p r e p a r e d to receive l a d i e s , a n d it w a s only after s o m e p e r s u a s i o n , a n d a s a favor to m e , that they c o n s e n t e d to let m e c o m e . T h e y i n t e n d s o o n to build a h a n d s o m e h o u s e ; for it is thought that this valley will be a favorite s u m m e r resort for p e o p l e from the cities below. T h e A m e r i c a n Valley 8 is o n e of the m o s t beautiful in all C a l i f o r n i a . It is seven miles long a n d three or four wide, with the F e a t h e r River 9 w e n d i n g its quiet way t h r o u g h it, u n m o l e s t e d by f l u m e s , a n d u n d i s t u r b e d by w i n g d a m s . 1 It is a s u p e r b f a r m i n g country, everything growing in the g r e a t e s t l u x u r i a n c e . I saw turnips there which m e a s u r e d larger r o u n d than my waist, a n d all other vegetables in the s a m e proportion. T h e r e a r e beautiful rides in every direction; t h o u g h I w a s too unwell d u r i n g my stay there to explore t h e m a s I wished. T h e r e is o n e d r a w - b a c k u p o n the b e a u t y of t h e s e valleys, a n d it is o n e p e c u l i a r to all the s c e n e r y in this part of C a l i f o r n i a — a n d that is, the m o n o t o n o u s tone of the foliage, nearly all the trees b e i n g firs. O n e m i s s e s that infinite variety of waving f o r m s , a n d t h o s e e n d l e s s s h a d e s of v e r d u r e , which m a k e N e w E n g l a n d forest s c e n e r y so exquisitely lovely. A n d then that g o r g e o u s a u t u m n a l p h e n o m e n o n , w i t n e s s e d , I believe, n o w h e r e b u t in the N o r t h e r n S t a t e s of the U n i o n , o n e never s e e s here. H o w often, in my faraway Y a n k e e h o m e , have I laid m e d o w n at eve, with the w h o l e earth looking so freshly g r e e n , to rise in the m o r n i n g a n d b e h o l d the w i l d e r n e s s b l o s s o m ing, not only like the r o s e , but like all other flowers b e s i d e , a n d glittering a s if a shower of butterflies h a d fallen u p o n it d u r i n g the silent w a t c h e s of the night. I have a v a g u e idea that I " h o o k e d " 2 that butterfly c o m p a r i s o n from

6 . T h e t e x t is f r o m t h e S a n F r a n c i s c o Pioneer (November 1855). 7. T h i s is o n e w e e k b e f o r e t h e D e m o c r a t F r a n k l i n Pierce won the presidential election. 8 . In L e t t e r 2 1 C l a p p e d e s c r i b e s h e r t r i p t o t h e A m e r i c a n Valley (east of Quincy), w h e r e m e n were m e e t i n g to n o m i n a t e p r e s i d e n t i a l e l e c t o r s . T h e Greenwood R a n c h o was the headquarters of the D e m o c r a t i c Party. C l a p p e s t a y e d at a b e t t e r p l a c e , the American Rancho, which was the Whig headquarters. S h e states emphatically that she was not a Whig, but a D e m o c r a t (holding strong convictions a l t h o u g h not a l l o w e d to v o t e ) . 9. N o t a valley c r e a t e d by t h e A m e r i c a n River n e a r S a c r a m e n t o , b u t a valley c r e a t e d by t h e F e a t h e r

River, n e a r Quincy, C a l i f o r n i a . 1. P i e r s b u i l t o u t f r o m t h e s h o r e t o d e e p e n a c h a n nel o r t o divert l o g s a n d d e b r i s ; in L e t t e r 2 0 C l a p p e specifies that a wing d a m "differs from a c o m m o n d a m , in d i v i d i n g t h e river l e n g t h w a y s i n s t e a d o f across." F l u m e s are narrow channels (usually w o o d e n ) which carry water to p o u r o n t o water w h e e l s or into t r o u g h s ; a s w a t e r p o u r s over dirt tossed onto troughs, gold particles, being heavy, s e t t l e at t h e b o t t o m . P e r h a p s a letter w a s lost, for in L e t t e r 15 C l a p p e s a y s s h e h a d m e n t i o n e d f l u m e s earlier. In L e t t e r 2 0 s h e d e s c r i b e s d a r i n g l y w a l k i n g " h i g h a b o v e t h e b e d of t h e river, f r o m f l u m e to flume, across a board connecting the two." 2.

Lifted, stole.

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s o m e b o d y . If s o I b e g the injured p e r s o n ' s p a r d o n , a n d he or s h e may have a h u n d r e d of mine to pay for it. It w a s at G r e e n w o o d ' s R a n c h o , that the f a m o u s q u a r t z h o a x ' originated last winter, which so c o m p l e t e l y gulled our g o o d m i n e r s on the river. I visited the spot which h a s b e e n e x c a v a t e d to s o m e extent. T h e s t o n e is very beautiful b e i n g lined a n d streaked a n d s p l a s h e d with c r i m s o n , p u r p l e , g r e e n , o r a n g e , a n d black. T h e r e w a s o n e large white block, veined with stripes of a magnificent blood-red color, a n d partly covered with a d a r k m a s s , which w a s the h a n d s o m e s t thing of the kind I ever saw. S o m e of the crystalizations were wonderfully perfect. I h a d a p i e c e of the b e d rock given m e , c o m p l e t e l y covered with natural p r i s m s , varying in size from an inch d o w n to t h o s e not larger than the h e a d of a pin. M u c h of the i m m i g r a t i o n from a c r o s s the p l a i n s , o n its way to the cities below, stops here for awhile to recruit. 4 I always h a d a s t r a n g e fancy for that N o m a d i c way of c o m i n g to California. T o lie d o w n u n d e r starry s k i e s , h u n d r e d s of miles from any h u m a n h a b i t a t i o n , a n d to rise up on dewy m o r n i n g s , to p u r s u e our way t h o u g h a s t r a n g e country, s o wildly beautiful, s e e i n g e a c h day s o m e t h i n g new and wonderful, s e e m e d to m e truly e n c h a n t i n g . Rut cruel reality strips everything of its rose tints. T h e poor w o m e n arrive, looking a s h a g g a r d a s so m a n y E n d o r e a n w i t c h e s ; 5 b u r n t to the color of a h a z e l n u t , with their hair cut short, a n d its g l o s s entirely destroyed by the alkali, w h o l e plains of which they are c o m p e l l e d to c r o s s on the way. You will hardly find a family that has not left s o m e beloved o n e buried u p o n the p l a i n s . A n d they a r e fearful funerals, t h o s e . A p e r s o n dies, a n d they s t o p j u s t long e n o u g h to dig his grave a n d lay him in it, a s decently a s c i r c u m s t a n c e s will p e r m i t , a n d the long train hurries o n w a r d , leaving its healthy c o m p a n i o n of yesterday, perh a p s , in this b o u n d l e s s city of the d e a d . O n this h a z a r d o u s j o u r n e y , they d a r e not linger. I w a s a c q u a i n t e d with a y o u n g widow of twenty, w h o s e h u s b a n d died of cholera w h e n they were but five w e e k s on their j o u r n e y . H e w a s a J u d g e in o n e of the W e s t e r n S t a t e s , 6 a n d a m a n of s o m e e m i n e n c e in his p r o f e s s i o n . S h e is a pretty little c r e a t u r e , a n d all the a s p i r a n t s to m a t r i m o n y are candid a t e s for her h a n d . O n e day a party of i m m i g r a n t w o m e n c a m e into my r o o m , which w a s a l s o the parlor of the e s t a b l i s h m e n t . S o m e observation w a s m a d e which led m e to e n q u i r e of o n e of t h e m if her h u s b a n d w a s with her. " S h e hain't got no h u s b a n d , " fairly chuckled o n e of her c o m p a n i o n s ; " S h e c a m e with me, a n d her feller died of c h o l e r a on the p l a i n s ! " At this startling a n d brutal a n n o u n c e m e n t , the p o o r girl herself gave a hysteric giggle, which I at first t h o u g h t p r o c e e d e d from h e a r t l e s s n e s s ; but I was told afterwards, by the p e r s o n u n d e r w h o s e i m m e d i a t e protection she c a m e o u t , a n d w h o w a s a sister of her b e t r o t h e d , that the tender w o m a n ' s

3. In L e t t e r 1 3 C l a p p e tells t h e story o f t h e " s a l t i n g " o f a m i n e s o it c o u l d b e s o l d a s b e a r i n g a b u n dant and valuable quartz. 4 . Recruit: recover. 5 . In I S a m u e l 2 8 , K i n g S a u l , h a v i n g a l r e a d y d i s o b e y e d G o d , further sins by d i s g u i s i n g h i m s e l f a n d c o n s u l t i n g a w i t c h in t h e v i l l a g e o f E n d o r , w h o m he c o m p e l s to violate his o w n law by s u m m o n i n g u p the d e a d prophet S a m u e l . T h e biblical a c c o u n t

s a y s n o t h i n g a b o u t the p e r s o n a l b e a u t y or u g l i n e s s of the witch, but well b e f o r e the 19th c e n t u r y s h e w a s v i s u a l i z e d a s a h a g , like t h e w i t c h e s in S h a k e speare's Macbeth. 6 . A N e w E n g l a n d e r , C l a p p e is s t i l l t h i n k i n g o f s t a t e s like Illinois a s w e s t e r n , a l t h o u g h C a l i f o r n i a h a d b e e n a far m o r e w e s t e r n s t a t e s i n c e S e p t e m b e r I 8 5 0 , several m o n t h s after s h e arrived there.

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heart received s u c h a fearful s h o c k at the s u d d e n d e a t h of her lover, that for several w e e k s her life w a s d e s p a i r e d of. I spent a great deal of t i m e calling at the different e n c a m p m e n t s ; for nothing e n c h a n t e d m e half s o m u c h a s to hear a b o u t this s t r a n g e e x o d u s from the S t a t e s . I never weary of listening to stories of a d v e n t u r e s on the p l a i n s , a n d s o m e of the family histories are deeply interesting. I w a s a c q u a i n t e d with four w o m e n , all sisters or sisters-in-law, w h o h a d a m o n g t h e m thirty-six children, the entire n u m b e r of which h a d arrived t h u s far in perfect health. T h e y c o u l d of t h e m s e l v e s form q u i t e a r e s p e c t a b l e village. T h e i m m i g r a t i o n this year, c o n t a i n e d m a n y intelligent a n d truly e l e g a n t p e r s o n s , w h o , having c a u g h t the f a s h i o n a b l e e p i d e m i c , h a d left luxurious h o m e s in the S t a t e s , to c o m e to California. A m o n g o t h e r s , there w a s a y o u n g g e n t l e m a n of n i n e t e e n , the s o n of a U n i t e d S t a t e s S e n a t o r , w h o having j u s t g r a d u a t e d , felt a d v e n t u r o u s , a n d d e t e r m i n e d to c r o s s the p l a i n s . L i k e the rest, h e arrived in a s o m e w h a t dilapidated c o n d i t i o n , with elbows o u t , a n d a hat the very c o u n t e r p a r t of S a m Weller's " g o s s a m e r v e n t i l a t i o n , " 7 w h i c h , if you r e m e m b e r , " t h o u g h not a very h a n s o m e 'un to look at, w a s a n a s t o n i s h i n ' g o o d 'un to w e a r ! " I m u s t c o n f e s s that he b e c a m e r a g g e d c l o t h e s the b e s t of any o n e I ever saw, a n d m a d e m e think of the p i c t u r e s q u e b e g g a r boys, in M u r i l l o ' s 8 p a i n t i n g s of S p a n i s h life. T h e n there w a s a p e r s o n , w h o u s e d to sing in p u b l i c with O s s i a n D o d g e . 9 H e h a d a voice of r e m a r k a b l e purity a n d s w e e t n e s s , which h e w a s kind e n o u g h to permit u s to h e a r now a n d then. I hardly know of w h a t nation he c l a i m e d to b e . His father w a s an E n g l i s h m a n , his m o t h e r a n Italian; he w a s born in P o l a n d , a n d h a d lived nearly all his life in the U n i t e d S t a t e s . H e w a s not the only m u s i c a l g e n i u s that we h a d a m o n g u s . T h e r e w a s a little girl at o n e of the t e n t s , w h o h a d t a u g h t herself to play on the a c c o r d e o n on the way out. S h e was really q u i t e a prodigy, singing very sweetly, a n d a c c o m p a n y i n g herself with m u c h skill u p o n the i n s t r u m e n t . T h e r e w a s a n o t h e r child, w h o m I u s e d to g o to look at, a s I w o u l d go to e x a m i n e a p i c t u r e . S h e h a d , without exception, the m o s t beautiful f a c e I ever saw. Even the alkali h a d not b e e n able to m a r the g o l d e n glory of the curls which c l u s t e r e d a r o u n d that splendid little h e a d . S h e h a d soft brown e y e s , which s h o n e from b e n e a t h their silken l a s h e s , like " a t r e m u l o u s e v e n i n g star;" 1 a m o u t h which m a d e you think of a string of p e a r l s t h r e a d e d o n scarlet; a n d a c o m p l e x i o n of the waxen purity of the j a p o n i c a , 2 with the exception of a b a n d of b r o w n e s t freckles, w h i c h , extending from the tip of e a c h c h e e k straight a c r o s s the prettiest p o s s i b l e n o s e , a d d e d , I u s e d to fancy, a new b e a u t y to her e n c h a n t i n g f a c e . S h e w a s very fond of m e , a n d u s e d to bring 7. T h e e p i t o m e o f L o n d o n l o w l i f e , W e l l e r w a s S a m u e l P i c k w i c k ' s s e r v a n t in C h a r l e s D i c k e n s ' s The Pickwick Papers (1836-37). 8. R a r t o l e m « Murillo (1617-1682), Spanish p a i n t e r f a m o u s in h i s o w n t i m e f o r e x a l t e d b i b l i c a l s c e n e s a n d in t h e m i d - 1 9 t h c e n t u r y f o r s u b j e c t s s u c h a s C l a p p e is t h i n k i n g o f — m o o d i l y r o m a n t i cized street urchins begging, eating, playing with dogs. 9 . S i n g e r a n d s o n g w r i t e r a c t i v e in N e w Y o r k w h e n these letters were written, a u t h o r of the timely "Ho! Westward Ho!" (1850) and "Ossian's Seren a d e " ( 1 8 5 0 ) , t h e latter s o n g b e i n g a n a l l u s i o n to

Fingal ( 1 7 6 2 ) by t h e S c o t t i s h p o e t J a m e s M a c p h e r s o n ( 1 7 3 6 - 1 7 9 6 ) . {Fingal p u r p o r t s to b e a translation of a Celtic epic by O s s i a n , the son of F i n n , or F i n g a l . ) 1. Tremulous is a c o m m o n w o r d in English R o m a n t i c poetry, but the s o u r c e m a y be Dante's Purgatory, C a n t o 12, where the visage of an angel c a s t s forth s t r e a m s of " t r e m u l o u s l u s t e r like t h e matin star," a c c o r d i n g to the H e n r y F r a n c i s C a r y t r a n s l a t i o n s t a n d a r d in C l a p p e ' s t i m e . ( V e n u s is both the m o r n i n g a n d the evening star.) 2. W h i t e c a m e l l i a (an import other regions of the Orient).

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m e wild cherries which her brothers h a d g a t h e r e d for her. M a n y a m o r n i n g I have raised my eyes from my book, startled by that vision of infant lovelin e s s — f o r her s t e p h a d the still g r a c e of a s n o w - f l a k e — s t a n d i n g in beautiful s i l e n c e by my s i d e . B u t the m o s t interesting of all my pets w a s a widow, w h o m we u s e d to call the "long w o m a n . " W h e n but a few w e e k s on the j o u r n e y , s h e h a d buried her h u s b a n d , w h o died of c h o l e r a after a b o u t six h o u r s illness. S h e h a d c o m e o n ; for what e l s e c o u l d s h e d o ? N o o n e w a s willing to g u i d e her b a c k to her old h o m e in the S t a t e s ; a n d w h e n I knew her, s h e w a s living u n d e r a large tree a few r o d s from the r a n c h o , a n d s l e e p i n g at night, with all her family, in her o n e covered w a g o n . G o d only knows where they all stowed t h e m s e l v e s away, for s h e w a s a m o d e r n M r s . R o g e r s , with " n i n e small children a n d o n e at the b r e a s t , " i n d e e d , of this c a t e c h i s m i c a l n u m b e r , ' the oldest w a s but fifteen years of a g e , a n d the y o u n g e s t a n u r s i n g b a b e of six m o n t h s . S h e h a d eight s o n s a n d o n e d a u g h t e r . J u s t fancy how dreadful, only o n e girl to all that boy! P e o p l e u s e d to w o n d e r w h a t took m e s o often to her e n c a m p m e n t a n d at the interest with which I listened to w h a t they called her " s t u p i d talk." Certainly, there w a s n o t h i n g poetical a b o u t the w o m a n . L e i g h H u n t ' s friend 4 c o u l d not have elevated her c o m m o n - p l a c e into the s u b l i m e . S h e w a s i m m e n s e l y tall, a n d h a d a hard, w e a t h e r - b e a t e n f a c e , s u r m o u n t e d by a dreadful horn c o m b a n d a heavy twist of hay-colored hair, w h i c h , before it w a s cut a n d its gloss all destroyed by the alkali, m u s t , from its l u x u r i a n c e , have b e e n very h a n d s o m e . Rut what interested m e s o m u c h in her, w a s the d o g g e d a n d d e t e r m i n e d way in which s h e h a d set that stern, wrinkled f a c e of hers a g a i n s t poverty. S h e o w n e d nothing in the world but her t e a m , a n d yet s h e p l a n n e d all sorts of s u c c e s s f u l ways, to get food for her s m a l l , or rather large family. S h e u s e d to w a s h shirts, a n d iron t h e m on a c h a i r — i n the o p e n air, of c o u r s e ; a n d you c a n fancy with what s u c c e s s . Rut the g e n t l e m e n were too g e n e r o u s to b e critical a n d as they p a i d her three or four times a s m u c h as s h e a s k e d , s h e a c c u m u l a t e d q u i t e a h a n d s o m e s u m in a few days. S h e m a d e m e think of a long-legged, very thin h e n , s c r a t c h i n g for d e a r life, to feed her never-to-be-satisfied b r o o d . P o o r w o m a n ! s h e told m e that s h e w a s c o m p e l l e d to a l l o w a n c e 5 her y o u n g o n e s , a n d that s h e s e l d o m gave t h e m as m u c h a s they c o u l d e a t , at any o n e m e a l . S h e w a s w o r s e off than the "old w o m a n w h o lived in a s h o e , A n d h a d s o m a n y children s h e didn't know what to d o ; T o s o m e she gave butter, a n d s o m e s h e gave b r e a d , And to s o m e s h e gave w h i p p i n g s , a n d sent t h e m to b e d . " 6 N o w my old w o m a n h a d no butter a n d very little b r e a d ; a n d s h e w a s s o naturally e c o n o m i c a l , that even w h i p p i n g s were sparingly a d m i n i s t e r e d . Rut after all their privations, they w e r e — w i t h the exception of the eldest h o p e 7 — 3. B y " c a t e c h i s m i c a l number" Clappe means merely a g r o u p of children of an age to be taught c h u r c h catechism. " M r s . Rogers, with 'nine small children a n d o n e at the b r e a s t ' " : his wife, with nine small children a n d o n e at the breast, followed t h e P r o t e s t a n t m a r t y r J o h n R o g e r s to S m i t h f i e l d o n February 14, 1554, w h e n Q u e e n M a r y had him b u r n e d alive at t h e s t a k e . 4 . C l a p p e u s e s t h i s a l l u s i o n i n L e t t e r 5 a l s o : "1 l o o k e d at this p e r s o n w i t h s o m e w h a t the s a m e kind o f inverted admiration, wherewith Leigh Hunt was

wont to g a / e u p o n that friend of his, ' w h o u s e d to e l e v a t e t h e c o m m o n - p l a c e to a p i t c h o f t h e s u b l i m e . ' " M o s t likely, t h e f r i e n d w a s J o h n K e a t s , like H u n t o n e of t h e s o - c a l l e d C o c k n e v S c h o o l of poets. 5. A verb: ration, limit. 6 . O n e o f t h e c h i l d r e n ' s r h y m e s in Songs Nursery; or, Mother Goose's Melodies for (London, 1719), frequently reprinted.

for the Children

7. A c o m m o n p h r a s e for o l d e s t c h i l d , b u t specifically an e c h o of Robert B u r n s ' s " T h e Cotter's Sat-

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as healthy looking a set of ragged little w r e t c h e s a s ever I saw. T h e a f o r e s a i d " h o p e " w a s the longest, the l e a n e s t , a n d the b o b - s i d e d e s t s p e c i m e n of a Yankee that it is p o s s i b l e to i m a g i n e . H e wore a white f a c e , whiter eyes, a n d whitest hair; a n d walked a b o u t , looking as if e x i s t e n c e w a s the m e r e s t burd e n , a n d h e w i s h e d s o m e b o d y would have the g o o d n e s s to take it off his h a n d s . H e s e e m e d always to be in the a c t of yoking u p a pair of oxen, a n d ringing every c h a n g e of which the E n g l i s h a l p h a b e t is c a p a b l e , u p o n the o n e single Y a n k e e execration, "darnation!" which he s c a t t e r e d , in all its c o m i c a l varieties, u p o n the tow h e a d of his y o u n g brother, a p i e c e of c h u b b y giggle, who w a s forever trying to hold up a dreadful yoke, which wouldn't "stay p u t , " in spite of all the efforts of t h o s e fat, dirty little h a n d s of his. T h e " l o n g w o m a n , " m o t h e r like, e x c u s e d him by saying that h e h a d b e e n sick; t h o u g h o n c e w h e n the " d a r n e d f o o l s " flew thicker than u s u a l , s h e gently o b s e r v e d that " h e h a d forgotten that h e w a s a child h i m s e l f o n c e . " H e certainly retained no trace of having enjoyed that delightful s t a t e of e x i s t e n c e ; a n d t h o u g h o n e would not be s o r u d e a s to call him an "old b o y , " yet b e i n g always c l a d in a m i d d l e - a g e d habit, a n elderly coat a n d adult p a n t a l o o n s , o n e would a s little fancy him a young m a n . P e r h a p s the fact of his w e a r i n g his father's w a r d r o b e , in all its u n a l t e r e d a m p l i t u d e , might help to c o n f u s e one's ideas on the s u b j e c t . T h e r e w a s a n o t h e r d e a r old lady, to w h o m I took the largest kind of a liking, she w a s so exquisitely neat. Although s h e too h a d no floor, her b a b e always h a d o n a c l e a n white d r e s s a n d f a c e to m a t c h . S h e w a s a b o u t four feet high, a n d h a d a perfect p a s s i o n for w e a r i n g t h o s e frightful frontpieces of false hair, with which the y o u n g w o m e n of L . 8 were o n c e in the habit of covering their a b u n d a n t t r e s s e s . S h e u s e d to s e n d m e little p o t s of fresh b u t t e r , — t h e first that I h a d tasted s i n c e I left the S t a t e s , — b e a u t i f u l l y s t a m p e d , 9 a n d looking like ingots of virgin gold. I, of c o u r s e , m a d e a d e a d set at the f r o n t p i e c e ; t h o u g h 1 d o believe, that to this distorted t a s t e , a n d its a c c o m p a n y i n g horror of a c a p , s h e owed the preservation of her own b e a u tiful hair. 1 T o p l e a s e m e s h e laid it a s i d e ; but I a m c o n v i n c e d that it w a s restored to its p r o u d e m i n e n c e a s s o o n a s I left the valley, for s h e evidently had a " s n e a k i n g k i n d n e s s " 2 for it that nothing c o u l d destroy. I have s o m e times thought that s h e wore it from religious principle, thinking it her duty to look a s old a s p o s s i b l e , for s h e a p p e a r e d fifteen years y o u n g e r w h e n s h e took it off. S h e told m e that in c r o s s i n g the p l a i n s , s h e u s e d to s t o p on S a t u r d a y s , a n d taking everything out of the w a g o n s , w a s h t h e m in s t r o n g lye; to which p r e c a u t i o n s h e attributed the perfect health which they all enjoyed (the family, not the w a g o n s ) d u r i n g the w h o l e j o u r n e y . T h e r e is o n e thing for which the i m m i g r a n t s d e s e r v e high p r a i s e , a n d that is, for having a d o p t e d the B l o o m e r d r e s s , * (frightful a s it is o n all other o c c a s i o n s ) in c r o s s i n g the p l a i n s . For s u c h a n excursion it is j u s t the thing. u r d a y N i g h t " ( v e r y p o p u l a r in t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s ) , w h e r e the "eldest h o p e " of the c o t t e r a n d his wife is " t h e i r J e n n y , w o m a n - g r o w n . " 8 . U n i d e n t i f i e d ; p e r h a p s a n a l l u s i o n t o a v i l l a g e in N e w England the sisters knew. 9. After t h e h a r d w o r k of c h u r n i n g , soft fresh butt e r w a s p u t i n t o w o o d e n m o l d s , t h e lid o f w h i c h often was carved so that a pleasing design c o u l d be imprinted on the top. I . A s e t t e r f r e e z e s i n t o a " d e a d s e t " w h e n it s p o t s

a g a m e bird or animal; here. C l a p p e m a k e s a determ i n e d effort to p e r s u a d e t h e w o m a n to r e m o v e t h e hairpiece. 2. A c o m m o n p h r a s e m e a n i n g half-concealed f o n d n e s s ( n o t " k i n d n e s s " in o u r s e n s e ) . 3. G a r b c o n s i s t i n g o f a s h o r t s k i r t o v e r l o o s e t r o u s e r s g a t h e r e d tight at the a n k l e s , t h e n r e c o m m e n d e d by the c r u s a d e r for w o m e n ' s s u f f r a g e A m e l i a B l o o m e r ( 1 8 1 8 - 1 8 9 4 ) in h e r m a g a z i n e The Lily ( 1 8 4 8 - 5 4 ) .

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LOUISE AMELIA SMITH

CLAPPE

I o u g h t to say a word a b o u t the d a n c e s which we u s e d to have in the bar r o o m , a p l a c e so low that a very tall m a n c o u l d not have s t o o d upright in it. O n e side w a s fitted u p a s a s t o r e , a n d a n o t h e r side with b u n k s for lodgers. T h e s e b u n k s were elegantly d r a p e r i e d with red c a l i c o , t h r o u g h w h i c h we c a u g h t dim g l i m p s e s of b l u e b l a n k e t s . If they c o u l d only have h a d s h e e t s , they would have fairly b e e n e n v e l o p e d to the A m e r i c a n c o l o r s . By the way, I w o n d e r if there is anything national in this eternal p a s s i o n for b l u e b l a n k e t s a n d red c a l i c o ? O n ball nights the b a r w a s c l o s e d , a n d everything w a s very quiet a n d r e s p e c t a b l e . T o b e s u r e , there w a s s o m e d a n g e r of b e i n g swept away in a flood of t o b a c c o j u i c e ; but luckily the floor w a s u n e v e n , a n d it lay a r o u n d in p u d d l e s , which with c a r e o n e c o u l d avoid, merely r u n n i n g the minor risk of falling p r o s t r a t e u p o n the wet b o a r d s , in the m i d s t of a galopade.4 O f c o u r s e the c o m p a n y w a s m a d e u p principally of the i m m i g r a n t s . S u c h d a n c i n g , s u c h d r e s s i n g , a n d s u c h c o n v e r s a t i o n surely w a s never h e a r d or s e e n before. T h e g e n t l e m e n , generally, were c o m p e l l e d to have a regular fight with their fair p a r t n e r s , before they c o u l d d r a g t h e m o n to the floor. I a m happy to say, that a l m o s t always the s t r o n g e r vessel won the day, or rather night, except in the c a s e of certain timid y o u t h s , w h o after o n e or two a t t a c k s , gave u p the battle in d e s p a i r . I t h o u g h t that I h a d h a d s o m e e x p e r i e n c e in b a d g r a m m a r , s i n c e I c a m e to C a l i f o r n i a , but the g o o d p e o p l e were the first that I h a d ever h e a r d u s e right royal we, i n s t e a d of its.' D o not i m a g i n e that all, or even the larger part of the c o m p a n y , were of this d e s c r i p t i o n . T h e r e were m a n y intelligent a n d well-bred w o m e n , w h o s e a c q u a i n t a n c e I m a d e with e x t r e m e p l e a s u r e . After r e a d i n g the d e s c r i p t i o n of the i n c o n v e n i e n c e s a n d d i s c o m f o r t s which we suffered in the A m e r i c a n V a l l e y , — a n d I c a n a s s u r e you that I have not at all e x a g g e r a t e d t h e m , — y o u m a y i m a g i n e my j o y w h e n two of our friends arrived from Indian B a r , for the p u r p o s e of a c c o m p a n y i n g u s h o m e . W e took two days for our return, a n d t h u s I w a s not at all f a t i g u e d . T h e w e a t h e r w a s beautiful, o u r friends a m u s i n g , a n d F. well a n d h a p p y . W e s t o p p e d at night at a r a n c h o , w h e r e they h a d a t a m e frog. You c a n n o t think how c o m i c a l l y it looked, h o p p i n g a b o u t the bar, q u i t e a s m u c h at h o m e a s a t a m e squirrel would have b e e n . I h a d a b e d m a d e u p for m e at this p l a c e , o n o n e e n d of a long d i n i n g table. It w a s very c o m f o r t a b l e , with the trifling d r a w b a c k that I h a d to rise earlier t h a n I w i s h e d , in order that what h a d b e e n a b e d at night, might b e c o m e a table by day. W e s t o p p e d at the top of the hill, a n d set fire to s o m e fir t r e e s . 6 O h , how splendidly they looked, with the f l a m e s l e a p i n g a n d c u r l i n g a m i d the dark g r e e n foliage, like a g o l d e n s n a k e , fiercely b e a u t i f u l . T h e shriek which the fire gave a s it s p r a n g u p o n its verdant prey, m a d e m e think of the hiss of s o m e furious reptile, a b o u t to wrap in its b u r n i n g folds its h e l p l e s s victim. W i t h what perfect delight did I re-enter my beloved log c a b i n . O n e of our g o o d n e i g h b o r s h a d swept a n d p u t it in order b e f o r e my arrival a n d everything w a s c l e a n a n d n e a t a s p o s s i b l e . H o w gratefully to my feet felt the thick w a r m 4. A sidelong or curveting kind of gallop (and also a lively d a n c e ) . 5. C l a p p e p u n s on the royal " w e " ( o n e p e r s o n ) , a s in t h e p h r a s e a t t r i b u t e d t o Q u e e n V i c t o r i a " W e a r e not a m u s e d " ; she had heard s o m e of the immi-

g r a n t s say s o m e t h i n g like, " H e c a m e with w e . " 6 . A p p a r e n t l y t h e y l i g h t e d t h e fire t o s e e t h e s p e c tacle, not being c o n c e r n e d with shortage of r e s o u r c e s or d a n g e r to the forest.

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c a r p e t ; how p e r f e c t a p p e a r e d t h e floor, w h i c h I h a d o n c e reviled (I b e g g e d its p a r d o n o n t h e s p o t ) b e c a u s e it w a s not exactly e v e n ; h o w c o s y t h e old f a d e d c a l i c o c o u c h ; h o w t h o r o u g h l y c o m f o r t a b l e t h e f o u r c h a i r s , (two o f t h e m h a d b e e n t h o r o u g h l y r e b o t t o m e d with b r o w n sail c l o t h , tastefully p u t o n with a b o r d e r o f c a r p e t t a c k s ) ; h o w truly e l e g a n t t h e c l o s e t - c a s e toilet t a b l e , with t h e doll's l o o k i n g g l a s s h a n g i n g a b o v e , w h i c h s h e w e d my f a c e — t h e first t i m e t h a t I h a d s e e n it s i n c e I left h o m e — s o m e six s h a d e s d a r k e r t h a n u s u a l ; h o w c o n v e n i e n t t h e t r u n k w h i c h d i d d u t y a s a w a s h - s t a n d with its v e g e t a b l e d i s h i n s t e a d of a bowl, (at t h e r a n c h o I h a d a p i n t tin p a n , w h e n it w a s not in u s e in t h e k i t c h e n ) ; b u t a b o v e a n d b e y o n d all, h o w s u p e r b l y l u x u r i o u s the m a g n i f i c e n t b e d s t e a d , with its s p l e n d i d hair m a t t r e s s , its c l e a n w i d e linen s h e e t s , its n i c e s q u a r e p i l l o w s , a n d its l a r g e g e n e r o u s b l a n k e t s a n d q u i l t s . A n d t h e n t h e c o s y little s u p p e r , a r r a y e d o n a t a b l e - c l o t h ; a n d t h e l o n g , delightful e v e n i n g a f t e r w a r d s , by a f r a g r a n t fire o f b e a c h a n d p i n e , w h e n w e t a l k e d over o u r p a s t s u f f e r i n g s ! O h , it w a s d e l i c i o u s a s a d r e a m , a n d a l m o s t m a d e a m e n d s for the t h r e e d r e a d f u l w e e k s o f p l e a s u r i n g in t h e A m e r i c a n Valley. 1855

WALT W H I T M A N 1819-1892 W a l t W h i t m a n w a s b o r n o n M a y 3 1 , 1 8 1 9 , s o n o f a L o n g I s l a n d f a r m e r t u r n e d carp e n t e r w h o m o v e d t h e family into B r o o k l y n in 1 8 2 3 d u r i n g a b u i l d i n g b o o m . T h e a n c e s t o r s w e r e u n d i s t i n g u i s h e d , b u t s t o r i e s survived o f s o m e forceful c h a r a c t e r s a m o n g t h e m , a n d W h i t m a n ' s f a t h e r w a s a c q u a i n t e d with p o w e r f u l p e r s o n a l i t i e s like the a g e d T h o m a s P a i n e . W h i t m a n left s c h o o l a t e l e v e n t o b e c o m e a n office b o y in a law firm, then w o r k e d for a d o c t o r ; a l r e a d y h e w a s e n t h r a l l e d with t h e n o v e l s o f S i r W a l t e r S c o t t . B y twelve h e w a s w o r k i n g in t h e p r i n t i n g office o f a n e w s p a p e r a n d c o n t r i b u t i n g s e n t i m e n t a l i t e m s . B y fifteen, w h e n h i s family m o v e d b a c k into t h e i n t e rior of L o n g I s l a n d , W h i t m a n w a s o n h i s o w n . Very early h e r e a c h e d full p h y s i c a l m a t u r i t y a n d in h i s m i d t e e n s w a s c o n t r i b u t i n g " p i e c e s " — p r o b a b l y c o r r e c t , c o n v e n tional p o e m s — t o o n e o f t h e b e s t M a n h a t t a n p a p e r s , t h e Mirror, a n d often c r o s s i n g t h e ferry from B r o o k l y n t o a t t e n d d e b a t i n g s o c i e t i e s a n d to u s e h i s j o u r n a l i s t ' s p a s s e s at t h e a t e r s in M a n h a t t a n . H i s rich f a n t a s y life w a s f u e l e d by n u m b e r l e s s r o m a n t i c n o v e l s . By sixteen h e w a s a c o m p o s i t o r in M a n h a t t a n , a j o u r n e y m a n printer. B u t t w o g r e a t fires in 1 8 3 5 d i s r u p t e d t h e p r i n t i n g i n d u s t r y , a n d a s h e t u r n e d s e v e n t e e n h e r e j o i n e d h i s family. F o r five y e a r s h e t a u g h t i n t e r m i t t e n t l y at c o u n t r y a n d s m a l l - t o w n s c h o o l s , i n t e r r u p t i n g t e a c h i n g t o start a n e w s p a p e r o f h i s o w n in 1 8 3 8 a n d t o work briefly o n a n o t h e r L o n g I s l a n d p a p e r . A l t h o u g h f o r c e d into t h e exile o f L o n g I s l a n d , h e r e f u s e d to c o m p r o m i s e further with t h e sort o f life h e w a n t e d . D u r i n g h i s visits h o m e h e o u t r a g e d h i s f a t h e r by r e f u s i n g t o d o f a r m work. A l t h o u g h h e w a s innovative in t h e c l a s s r o o m , h e s t r u c k s o m e o f t h e f a r m f a m i l i e s h e b o a r d e d with a s u n w i l l i n g to fulfill h i s role of t e a c h e r o u t s i d e s c h o o l h o u r s ; t h e m a i n c h a r g e a g a i n s t h i m w a s l a z i n e s s . H e w a s active in d e b a t i n g s o c i e t i e s , h o w e v e r , a n d a l r e a d y t h o u g h t o f h i m s e l f a s a writer. B y early 1 8 4 0 h e h a d s t a r t e d t h e s e r i e s " S u n - D o w n P a p e r s f r o m t h e D e s k of a S c h o o l - M a s t e r " for t h e L o n g I s l a n d Democrat a n d w a s writing p o e m s . O n e o f

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his s t o r i e s p r o p h e t i c a l l y c u l m i n a t e d with the d r e a m of writing " a w o n d e r f u l a n d p o n derous book." J u s t b e f o r e h e t u r n e d t w e n t y - o n e h e w e n t b a c k to M a n h a t t a n , his t e a c h i n g d a y s over, a n d b e g a n work on P a r k B e n j a m i n ' s New World,

a literary weekly that p i r a t e d

B r i t i s h n o v e l s ; h e a l s o b e g a n a political c a r e e r by s p e a k i n g at D e m o c r a t i c rallies. S i m u l t a n e o u s l y , h e w a s p u b l i s h i n g s t o r i e s in the Democratic

Review,

the foremost

m a g a z i n e of t h e D e m o c r a t i c Party. B e f o r e h e w a s t w e n t y - t h r e e , h e b e c a m e e d i t o r of a M a n h a t t a n daily, the Aurora,

a n d briefly t r a n s f o r m e d h i m s e l f into a sartorial d a n d y

while h e s p i k e d his editorial c o l u m n s with his high d e m o c r a t i c h o p e s . H e e x u l t e d in the e x t r e m e s of t h e city, w h e r e t h e v i o l e n c e of street g a n g s w a s c o u n t e r e d by the l e c t u r e s of E m e r s o n a n d w h e r e even a y o u n g e d i t o r c o u l d get to k n o w t h e p o e t B r y a n t (by livelihood, e d i t o r of the Evening

Post).

F i r e d f r o m t h e Aurora,

c h a r g e d h i m with l a z i n e s s , h e wrote a t e m p e r a n c e novel, Franklin briate,

for a o n e - i s s u e extra of t h e New World

which publicly Evans,

or the

Ine-

late in 1 8 4 2 . F o r the next y e a r s h e w a s

j o u r n a l i s t , h a c k writer, a n d a d o u g h t y m i n o r p o l i t i c i a n . In 1 8 4 5 he r e t u r n e d to Brooklyn, w h e r e h e b e c a m e a s p e c i a l c o n t r i b u t o r to t h e L o n g I s l a n d Star,

a s s i g n e d to M a n -

hattan events, including musical and theatrical e n g a g e m e n t s . J u s t before he was twenty-seven he t o o k over the e d i t o r s h i p of t h e B r o o k l y n Eagle;

for years h e h a d kept

to his e c c e n t r i c daily r o u t i n e of a p p a r e n t l y p u r p o s e l e s s w a l k s in w h i c h h e a b s o r b e d m e t r o p o l i t a n s i g h t s a n d s o u n d s , a n d now h e f o r m e d t h e h a b i t of a daily s w i m a n d s h o w e r at a b a t h h o u s e . O n the Eagle

h e did m o s t of t h e literary reviews, h a n d l i n g

b o o k s by C a r l y l e , E m e r s o n , Melville, F u l l e r , S a n d , G o e t h e , a n d o t h e r s . L i k e m o s t D e m o c r a t s , h e w a s a b l e to j u s t i f y t h e M e x i c a n W a r , a n d h e h e r o - w o r s h i p e d Z a c h a r y T a y l o r (on w h o m Melville w a s writing a s e r i e s of satirical s k e t c h e s ) . L i n k i n g territorial a c q u i s i t i o n to p e r s o n a l a n d civic b e t t e r m e n t , h e w a s , in his n a t i o n a l i s t i c m o o d s , c a p a ble of hailing t h e g r e a t A m e r i c a n m i s s i o n of " p e o p l i n g t h e N e w W o r l d with a n o b l e r a c e . " Yet by the b e g i n n i n g of 1 8 4 8 h e w a s fired from the Eagle

b e c a u s e like Bryant

h e h a d b e c o m e a F r e e - S o i l e r , o p p o s e d to the a c q u i s i t i o n of m o r e slave territory. T a k i n g a c h a n c e offer of n e w s p a p e r work, h e m a d e a brief b u t vivid trip to N e w O r l e a n s , his only e x t e n s i v e j o u r n e y until l a t e in life, w h e n he m a d e a trip into t h e West. By t h e s u m m e r of 1 8 4 8 , W h i t m a n w a s b a c k in N e w York, s t a r t i n g e x p e r i m e n t s with poetry a n d , in A u g u s t , s e r v i n g a s d e l e g a t e to t h e B u f f a l o F r e e - S o i l c o n v e n t i o n . In t h e next y e a r s h e w a s p r o f o u n d l y i n f l u e n c e d by his a s s o c i a t i o n with a g r o u p of B r o o k l y n artists. All t h r o u g h the 1 8 4 0 s he h a d a t t e n d e d o p e r a s o n his j o u r n a l i s t ' s p a s s e s , hearing the g r e a t e s t s i n g e r s of t h e t i m e . H e w e n t s o far a s to say that but for the " e m o t i o n s , r a p t u r e s , u p l i f t s " of o p e r a h e c o u l d never h a v e written Leaves

of Grass.

In a n effort to

c o n t r o l the d i s p o s i t i o n of his t i m e , h e b e c a m e a " h o u s e b u i l d e r " a r o u n d 1 8 5 1 or 1 8 5 2 , p e r h a p s a c t i n g a s c o n t r a c t o r s o m e t i m e s b u t a l s o s i m p l y hiring o u t a s a c a r p e n t e r . By the early 1 8 5 0 s he h a d set a d u r a b l e p a t t e r n of h a v i n g d i s c r e t e s e t s of f r i e n d s s i m u l t a n e o u s l y , t h e r o u g h s a n d t h e a r t i s t s , m o v i n g c a s u a l l y from o n e set to t h e o t h e r b u t s e l d o m , if ever, m i n g l i n g t h e m . Living with his family, n o w b a c k in B r o o k l y n , Whitm a n baffled a n d o u t r a g e d t h e m by i g n o r i n g r e g u l a r m e a l t i m e s a n d a p p e a r i n g to loaf a w a y his d a y s in s t r o l l s , in r e a d i n g at l i b r a r i e s , a n d in w r i t i n g in t h e r o o m h e s h a r e d with a b r o t h e r . Always s e l f - t a u g h t , h e u n d e r t o o k a m o r e s y s t e m a t i c p l a n of s t u d y . H e b e c a m e s o m e t h i n g of a n expert o n E g y p t o l o g y t h r o u g h his trips to t h e

Egyptian

M u s e u m on B r o a d w a y a n d his c o n v e r s a t i o n s with its p r o p r i e t o r . H e b e c a m e a s t u d e n t of a s t r o n o m y , a t t e n d i n g l e c t u r e s a n d r e a d i n g r e c e n t b o o k s ; m u c h of t h e i n f o r m a t i o n w e n t into t h e c o s m i c c o n c e p t s in Song

of Myself

and other p o e m s . Cutting articles

o u t of t h e g r e a t B r i t i s h q u a r t e r l i e s a n d m o n t h l i e s , W h i t m a n a n n o t a t e d t h e m a n d a r g u e d with t h e m in the m a r g i n s , d e v e l o p i n g in the p r o c e s s c l e a r i d e a s a b o u t a e s t h e t i c s for t h e first t i m e a n d f o r m u l a t i n g his n o t i o n s a b o u t p a n t h e i s m . By a b o u t 1 8 5 3 h e h a d arrived at s o m e t h i n g like his s p e c i a l p o e t i c f o r m in t h e little p o e m " P i c t u r e s . " H e had given u p n e w s p a p e r work for c a r p e n t r y ; a r o u n d the e n d of 1 8 5 4 h e g a v e up t h a t a l s o , a n d s i m p l y w r o t e . By the s p r i n g of 1 8 5 5 h e w a s s e e i n g his " w o n d e r f u l a n d

WALT WHITMAN

/

987

p o n d e r o u s b o o k " t h r o u g h t h e p r e s s , p r o b a b l y s e t t i n g s o m e o f t h e type h i m s e l f .

Leaves

of Grass

w a s on s a l e within a d a y o r two o f t h e F o u r t h of J u l y o f t h a t year.

T h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f Leaves

of Grass

did not i m m e d i a t e l y c h a n g e W h i t m a n ' s life. H i s

father d i e d j u s t after it a p p e a r e d , a n d s u p p o r t o f his m o t h e r a n d a m e n t a l l y slow b r o t h e r devolved m o r e a n d m o r e on W h i t m a n . H e s e n t c o p i e s o f his b o o k o u t b r o a d c a s t a n d g o t a n i m m e d i a t e r e s p o n s e f r o m E m e r s o n g r e e t i n g h i m " a t t h e b e g i n n i n g of a g r e a t c a r e e r , w h i c h yet m u s t have h a d a long f o r e g r o u n d s o m e w h e r e , for s u c h a s t a r t . " A s w e e k s p a s s e d with few reviews, h e w r o t e a few h i m s e l f to b e p u b l i s h e d a n o n y m o u s l y , a n d in O c t o b e r h e let H o r a c e G r e e l e y ' s Tribune

print E m e r s o n ' s letter.

U n f a z e d by his o w n effrontery, h e p u t c l i p p i n g s o f t h e letter in p r e s e n t a t i o n c o p i e s , to L o n g f e l l o w a m o n g o t h e r s . W h i l e W h i t m a n w a s a n g l i n g for reviews in E n g l a n d a n d w o r k i n g on a n e x p a n s i o n of t h e b o o k , E m e r s o n visited h i m (in D e c e m b e r o f 1 8 5 5 ) , a n d in t h e fall o f 1 8 5 6 B r o n s o n Alcott, T h o r e a u , a n d o t h e r s c a m e o u t to h i s h o u s e in Brooklyn. In 1 8 5 6 W h i t m a n p u b l i s h e d a s e c o n d edition of Leaves

of Grass.

Whit-

m a n c o n t i n u e d to d o m i s c e l l a n e o u s j o u r n a l i s m ; f r o m 1 8 5 7 to 1 8 5 9 W h i t m a n ' s m a i n s t a t e m e n t s on t h e n a t i o n a l crisis over slavery w e r e c o n t a i n e d in his e d i t o r i a l s in t h e Brooklyn Times. Oak,

Moss,

with

D u r i n g t h e s e years W h i t m a n w r o t e a g r o u p o f twelve p o e m s ,

Live

that s e e m s to tell a s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d story o f h i s love for a n o t h e r m a n .

In this s e q u e n c e W h i t m a n explicitly r e n o u n c e s his old role o f p u b l i c p o e t s e e k i n g k n o w l e d g e a n d c e l e b r a t i n g t h e A m e r i c a n land a n d its h e r o e s ; i n s t e a d , he c h o o s e s to b e h a p p y in private with his lover. If he h a d p r i n t e d it, t h e s e q u e n c e w o u l d h a v e c o n s t i t u t e d a new a n d highly p u b l i c sexual p r o g r a m , n o t h i n g s h o r t of a n o p e n h o m o sexual m a n i f e s t o . F a c i n g t h e i m p o s s i b i l i t y of p r i n t i n g a n d d i s t r i b u t i n g s o direct a s e x u a l s t a t e m e n t o f " a d h e s i v e n e s s " or " t h e p a s s i o n of f r i e n d s h i p " o f m a n for m a n . W h i t m a n c h o s e a m o r e covert way of e x p r e s s i n g h i m s e l f . In t h e next ( 1 8 6 0 ) e d i t i o n o f Leaves m a n i n c l u d e d a c l u s t e r c a l l e d Enfans

d'Adam,

of Grass

Whit-

for w h i c h he w r o t e fifteen c o u n t e r b a l -

a n c i n g p o e m s that for t h e m o s t p a r t f o c u s o n t h e " a m a t i v e " love o f m a n for w o m a n . T h e n , s e p a r a t e d from Enfans

A Adam

by several o t h e r p o e m s , W h i t m a n p r i n t e d a

c l u s t e r o f forty-five p o e m s a b o u t m a l e love u n d e r t h e title Calamus were v e r s i o n s of t h e Live

( a m o n g which

Oak p o e m s , r e o r d e r e d a n d a l t e r e d ) ; s o m e o f t h e n e w p o e m s

project f u t u r e r e a d e r s w h o will hold h i m "in h a n d " by h o l d i n g h i s b o o k a n d will " g u e s s a t " what h e is only hinting. T h e two c l u s t e r s a s p r i n t e d in 1 8 6 0 differ from t h e p o e m s in t h e n o w - f a m i l i a r 1 8 9 2 Children

a n d Calamus

of Adam

( a s Efans

d'Adam

w a s retitled in 1 8 6 7 )

s e c t i o n , for in i n t e r v e n i n g e d i t i o n s W h i t m a n r e v i s e d p o e m s a n d m o v e d

s o m e p o e m s o u t o f a n d into t h e c l u s t e r s . By late 1 8 5 9 W h i t m a n h a d in h a n d t h e Calamus

a n d Enfans

of the Cradle

Endlessly

dAdam

p o e m s a n d o t h e r s s u c h a s A Child's

Rocking)

Reminiscence

(Out

in nearly final f o r m . Early t h e next y e a r h e r e c e i v e d

a n o p p o r t u n e letter f r o m t h e B o s t o n firm of T h a y e r & E l d r i d g e : " W e a r e y o u n g m e n . W e ' c e l e b r a t e ' o u r s e l v e s by a c t s . T r y u s . Y o u c a n d o u s g o o d . W e c a n d o you g o o d — p e c u n i a r i l y . " F o r t h e first t i m e , W h i t m a n h a d a p u b l i s h e r , b u t t h e firm w e n t b a n k r u p t s o o n after p r i n t i n g t h e third ( 1 8 6 0 ) edition o f Leaves

of Grass.

W h i t m a n w a s left a g a i n

with t h e b o o k o n his o w n h a n d s . F o r s o c i e t y at t h e turn of t h e d e c a d e W h i t m a n h a d , a s u s u a l , his s e p a r a t e g r o u p s of friends, in o n e g r o u p s t a g e drivers (i.e., drivers o f t h e h o r s e - p u l l e d b u s e s on w h i c h he w a s a n i n v e t e r a t e p a s s e n g e r ) a n d in a n o t h e r literary, p u b l i s h i n g , a n d t h e a t r i c a l p e o p l e , e s p e c i a l l y t h e b o h e m i a n h a b i t u e s o f t h e f a m o u s Pfaff's s a l o o n on lower B r o a d way. F o r years W h i t m a n h a d p a i d c h e e r i n g visits to p r i s o n e r s a n d h a d m a d e r e g u l a r visits to sick s t a g e drivers. A l m o s t i m p e r c e p t i b l y , his role o f visitor o f t h e sick m e r g e d into his Civil W a r services a s hospital a t t e n d a n t . W h i t m a n ' s role o f w o u n d d r e s s e r w a s h e r o i c , a n d it e v e n t u a l l y u n d e r c u t h i s b u o y a n t p h y s i c a l h e a l t h . D u r i n g t h e war. W h i t m a n ' s d e e p e s t e m o t i o n s a n d e n e r g i e s w e r e r e s e r v e d for his hospital work, t h o u g h he wrote a s e r i e s o f w a r p o e m s d e s i g n e d to t r a c e his o w n varying a t t i t u d e s t o w a r d t h e conflict, from his early n e a r - m i n d l e s s j i n g o i s m to s o m e t h i n g q u i t e rare in A m e r i c a n poetry u p to that t i m e , a d e d i c a t i o n to s i m p l e r e a l i s m . Whit-

988

/

WALT

WHITMAN

m a n later wrote a s e c t i o n in Specimen

Days

c a l l e d " T h e R e a l W a r Will N e v e r G e t in

the B o o k s , " b u t to i n c o r p o r a t e the real w a r into a b o o k of poetry b e c a m e o n e of t h e d o m i n a n t i m p u l s e s of the Drum-Taps

c o l l e c t i o n ( 1 8 6 5 ) . After L i n c o l n ' s a s s a s s i n a t i o n

W h i t m a n d e l a y e d t h e n e w v o l u m e until it c o u l d i n c l u d e in a " s e q u e l " " W h e n L i l a c s Drum-Taps

L a s t in t h e D o o r y a r d B l o o m ' d , " his m a s t e r p i e c e of t h e 1 8 6 0 s . E v e n a s

w a s b e i n g p u b l i s h e d , W h i t m a n w a s r e v i s i n g a c o p y of t h e B o s t o n e d i t i o n of Leaves Grass

of

at his d e s k in t h e D e p a r t m e n t of t h e Interior. T h e n e w s e c r e t a r y r e a d t h e

a n n o t a t e d c o p y a n d a b r u p t l y fired h i m . T h e c o n s e q u e n c e s m i g h t have b e e n m i n o r : W h i t m a n ' s friend W i l l i a m O ' C o n n o r q u i c k l y got h i m a n e w p o s t in the a t t o r n e y g e n eral's office, a n d W h i t m a n h a d b e e n d i s m i s s e d b e f o r e w i t h o u t c a t a s t r o p h i c r e a c t i o n s , a l t h o u g h this w a s the first t i m e h e h a d b e e n fired b e c a u s e of t h e sexual p a s s a g e s in Leaves

of Grass.

B u t the i n c i d e n t t u r n e d O ' C o n n o r f r o m a d e v o t e d friend into a dis-

c i p l e w h o q u i c k l y b e g a n writing a b o o k (with W h i t m a n ' s h e l p in s u p p l y i n g i n f o r m a t i o n a n d d o c u m e n t s ) c a l l e d The Good

Gray

Poet

( 1 8 6 6 ) . It w a s a p i e c e of p u r e h a g i o g r a p h y ,

in w h i c h W h i t m a n w a s identified with J e s u s . O ' C o n n o r ' s b o o k , c o m i n g o u t s i m u l t a n e o u s l y with Drum-Taps,

p o l a r i z e d o p i n i o n , with n e g a t i v e i m m e d i a t e e f f e c t s , b u t in

the l o n g run it s t r e n g t h e n e d W h i t m a n ' s d e t e r m i n a t i o n n o t to yield to c e n s o r s h i p or to a p o l o g i z e for his earlier p o e m s , a n d it set a p a t t e r n by w h i c h o t h e r r e m a r k a b l e m e n a n d w o m e n w o u l d b e d r a w n to W h i t m a n a s d i s c i p l e s , s e e k i n g to c a r e for his few p h y s i c a l n e e d s — m i n i m a l f o o d a n d s h e l t e r — w h i l e w o r k i n g for his r e p u t a t i o n a s a great poet. F o r several y e a r s W h i t m a n c o n t i n u e d a s a c l e r k in t h e a t t o r n e y g e n e r a l ' s office, living m o s t of t h e t i m e in a b a r e , u n h e a t e d r o o m b u t g a i n i n g a c c e s s to g o o d lights for n i g h t t i m e r e a d i n g in his g o v e r n m e n t office. H e c o n t i n u e d to r e w o r k Leaves i n c o r p o r a t i n g Drum-Taps

of

Grass,

into it in 1 8 6 7 , a n d with his f r i e n d s ' h e l p c o n t i n u e d to

p r o p a g a n d i z e for its a c c e p t a n c e . R u m i n a t i o n s t h a t in earlier y e a r s m i g h t h a v e g o n e into e d i t o r i a l s w e n t into e s s a y s in t h e Galaxy e x p a n d e d f o r m ) into Democratic

Vistas

during

1867 and

1 8 6 8 , t h e n (in

( 1 8 7 0 ) , a p a s s i o n a t e look to the f u t u r e of

d e m o c r a c y a n d d e m o c r a t i c l i t e r a t u r e in A m e r i c a , b a s e d o n his r e a l i s t i c a p p r a i s a l of p o s t w a r c u l t u r e . A n o t h e r p r o s e work, Specimen

Days,

p u b l i s h e d in b o o k f o r m in 1 8 8 2 ,

h a s affinities with W h i t m a n ' s early editorial r e c o r d s of strolls t h r o u g h the city, b u t it is e v e n m o r e i n t e n s e l y p e r s o n a l , t h e r e c o r d of r e p r e s e n t a t i v e d a y s in the life of a n A m e r i c a n w h o h a d lived in the m i d s t of g r e a t n a t i o n a l e v e n t s a n d w h o h a d k e p t alert to n a t u r e a n d his o w n m i n d a n d b o d y . T h e W a s h i n g t o n y e a r s , a t i m e of slow, f a l t e r i n g g r o w t h in r e p u t a t i o n , m a r r e d by s e v e r e s e t b a c k s a n d c o m p l i c a t i o n s , e n d e d early in 1 8 7 3 , w h e n W h i t m a n s u f f e r e d a paralytic s t r o k e . H i s m o t h e r d i e d a few m o n t h s later, a n d W h i t m a n j o i n e d his b r o t h e r G e o r g e ' s h o u s e h o l d in C a m d e n , N e w J e r s e y , i n t e n d i n g only a t e m p o r a r y m o v e d u r i n g his r e c u p e r a t i o n . D u r i n g the s e c o n d year of his i l l n e s s , t h e g o v e r n m e n t d e c i d e d not to hold his j o b for h i m any l o n g e r , a n d h e b e c a m e d e p e n d e n t o n o c c a s i o n a l public a t i o n in n e w s p a p e r s a n d m a g a z i n e s — n o t a n e a s y m a r k e t , b e c a u s e his g e n t e e l e n e m i e s e i t h e r i g n o r e d h i m in print or j o i n e d in a c a b a l to e x c l u d e h i m f r o m s o m e m a j o r p u b l i s h i n g o r g a n s s u c h a s Scribner's.

T h e 1 8 6 7 e d i t i o n of Leaves

of Grass

h a d involved

m u c h r e w o r k i n g a n d r e a r r a n g e m e n t , a n d t h e fifth e d i t i o n ( 1 8 7 1 ) c o n t i n u e d that proc e s s , with m a n y of t h e original Drum-Taps

p o e m s being distributed throughout the

b o o k a n d with a n a s s e m b l a g e of old a n d n e w p o e m s in a l a r g e n e w s e c t i o n , to India.

Passage

T h e " C e n t e n n i a l E d i t i o n " of 1 8 7 6 w a s a r e i s s u e of the 1 8 7 1 e d i t i o n a n d w a s

m o s t n o t a b l e for t h e way his E n g l i s h a d m i r e r s got f u n d s to h i m by h a v i n g i m p o r t a n t literary p e o p l e s u b s c r i b e to it. A m e r i c a n p u b l i c o p i n i o n w a s g r a d u a l l y s w a y e d by n e w e v i d e n c e s that the invalid in C a m d e n c o u l d c o m m a n d t h e r e s p e c t of A l f r e d , L o r d T e n n y s o n , the p o e t l a u r e a t e , a n d m a n y o t h e r f a m o u s B r i t i s h w r i t e r s . N o t e v e n t h e m o s t p u r i t a n i c A m e r i c a n c r i t i c s c o u l d h o l d their r a n k s firm in t h e f a c e of s u c h extrava g a n t a d m i r a t i o n , h o w e v e r r o u g h a n d o u t r a g e o u s his p o e t r y . Yet in 1 8 8 1 , w h e n t h e r e p u t a b l e B o s t o n firm of J a m e s R. O s g o o d & C o . p r i n t e d t h e sixth e d i t i o n of of Grass,

Leaves

t h e B o s t o n district a t t o r n e y t h r e a t e n e d to p r o s e c u t e o n t h e g r o u n d s of

P R E F A C E T O LEAVES

OF GRASS

(1855)

/

989

o b s c e n i t y , a n d W h i t m a n f o u n d h i m s e l f with the p l a t e s o n his h a n d s . T h e " d e a t h b e d " edition of 1 8 9 1 - 9 2 w a s in fact a r e i s s u e of the 1 8 8 1 e d i t i o n with the a d d i t i o n of two later g r o u p s of p o e m s , Sands p u b l i s h e d in 1 8 8 8 ) a n d Good-bye

at Seventy My Fancy

(from November

Boughs,

which Whitman

(from the 1 8 9 1 c o l l e c t i o n of that n a m e ) .

W h i t m a n d i e d at C a m d e n o n M a r c h 2 6 , 1 8 9 2 , s e c u r e in t h e k n o w l e d g e that he h a d held u n w a v e r i n g l y true to his art a n d to his role a s a n artist w h o h a d m a d e t h a t art prevail. E x c e p t for t h e s e q u e n c e Live

Oak, with Moss

(not p u b l i s h e d in W h i t m a n ' s lifetime),

all t h e W h i t m a n p o e m s r e p r i n t e d h e r e , r e g a r d l e s s of w h e n they w e r e first c o m p o s e d a n d p r i n t e d , a r e given in their final form: that of the 1 8 8 1 edition of Leaves

of

the p l a t e s of w h i c h w e r e u s e d for p r i n t i n g t h e s o - c a l l e d d e a t h b e d e d i t i o n of

Grass, 1892

(except for s o m e p o s t - 1 8 8 1 p o e m s , n o n e of w h i c h is i n c l u d e d h e r e ) .

Preface to Leaves of Grass (1855)' A m e r i c a d o e s not repel the p a s t or w h a t it h a s p r o d u c e d u n d e r its f o r m s or a m i d other politics or the idea of c a s t e s or the old religions . . . a c c e p t s the l e s s o n with c a l m n e s s . . . is not so i m p a t i e n t a s h a s b e e n s u p p o s e d that the s l o u g h still sticks to o p i n i o n s a n d m a n n e r s a n d literature while the life which served its r e q u i r e m e n t s h a s p a s s e d into the new life of the n e w f o r m s . . . p e r c e i v e s that the c o r p s e is slowly b o r n e from the e a t i n g a n d s l e e p i n g r o o m s of the h o u s e . . . perceives that it waits a little while in the d o o r . . . that it was fittest for its days . . . that its action h a s d e s c e n d e d to the stalwart a n d w e l l s h a p e d heir w h o a p p r o a c h e s . . . a n d that he shall be fittest for his days. T h e A m e r i c a n s of all n a t i o n s at any time u p o n the earth have probably the fullest poetical n a t u r e . T h e U n i t e d S t a t e s t h e m s e l v e s are essentially the g r e a t e s t p o e m . In the history of the earth hitherto the largest a n d m o s t stirring a p p e a r t a m e a n d orderly to their a m p l e r l a r g e n e s s a n d stir. H e r e at last is s o m e t h i n g in the d o i n g s of m a n that c o r r e s p o n d s with the b r o a d c a s t d o i n g s of the day a n d night. H e r e is not merely a nation but a t e e m i n g n a t i o n of n a t i o n s . H e r e is a c t i o n u n t i e d from strings necessarily blind to p a r t i c u l a r s a n d details magnificently moving in vast m a s s e s . H e r e is the hospitality which forever i n d i c a t e s h e r o e s . . . . H e r e a r e the r o u g h s a n d b e a r d s a n d s p a c e a n d r u g g e d n e s s a n d n o n c h a l a n c e that the soul loves. H e r e the perform a n c e d i s d a i n i n g the trivial u n a p p r o a c h e d in the t r e m e n d o u s a u d a c i t y of its cr o wd s a n d g r o u p i n g s a n d the p u s h of its perspective s p r e a d s with c r a m p l e s s a n d flowing b r e a d t h a n d s h o w e r s its prolific a n d s p l e n d i d e x t r a v a g a n c e . O n e s e e s it m u s t indeed own the riches of the s u m m e r a n d winter, a n d n e e d never be b a n k r u p t while corn grows from t h e g r o u n d or the o r c h a r d s d r o p a p p l e s or the bays c o n t a i n fish or m e n beget children u p o n w o m e n . O t h e r states indicate t h e m s e l v e s in their d e p u t i e s . . . . b u t the g e n i u s of the U n i t e d S t a t e s is not best or m o s t in its executives or l e g i s l a t u r e s , 2 nor in 1. T h i s p r e f a c e ( r e p r i n t e d h e r e f r o m t h e 1 8 5 5 e d i t i o n ) h a s not yet a t t a i n e d its rightful p l a c e a m o n g the great A m e r i c a n literary m a n i f e s t o s . Like E m e r s o n , W h i t m a n is c e l e b r a t i n g t h e i n c o m p a r a b l e m a t e r i a l s available to t h e A m e r i c a n p o e t , not s i m -

ply p h y s i c a l r e s o u r c e s b u t a l s o t h e p e o p l e t h e m s e l v e s — t h e spirit of the p l a c e . 2 . W h i t m a n is m i x i n g o c c u p a t i o n s a n d i n s t i t u tions, b u t this m a y b e a n e r r o r for the legislators.

990

/

WALT

WHITMAN

its a m b a s s a d o r s or a u t h o r s or colleges or c h u r c h e s or p a r l o r s , nor even in its n e w s p a p e r s or inventors . . . but always m o s t in the c o m m o n p e o p l e . T h e i r m a n n e r s s p e e c h d r e s s f r i e n d s h i p s — t h e f r e s h n e s s a n d c a n d o r of their physi o g n o m y — t h e p i c t u r e s q u e l o o s e n e s s of their c a r r i a g e . . . their d e a t h l e s s a t t a c h m e n t to f r e e d o m — t h e i r aversion to anything i n d e c o r o u s or soft or m e a n — t h e practical a c k n o w l e d g m e n t of the citizens of o n e s t a t e by the citizens of all other s t a t e s — t h e fierceness of their r o u s e d r e s e n t m e n t — t h e i r curiosity a n d w e l c o m e of novelty—their s e l f - e s t e e m a n d wonderful s y m p a thy—their susceptibility to a s l i g h t — t h e air they have of p e r s o n s w h o never knew how it felt to s t a n d in the p r e s e n c e of s u p e r i o r s — t h e fluency of their s p e e c h — t h e i r delight in m u s i c , the s u r e s y m p t o m of manly t e n d e r n e s s a n d native e l e g a n c e of soul . . . their g o o d t e m p e r a n d o p e n h a n d e d n e s s — t h e terrible significance of their e l e c t i o n s — t h e President's taking off his hat to t h e m not they to h i m — t h e s e too are u n r h y m e d poetry. It awaits the gigantic a n d g e n e r o u s t r e a t m e n t worthy of it. T h e l a r g e n e s s of n a t u r e or the nation were m o n s t r o u s without a corres p o n d i n g l a r g e n e s s a n d generosity of the spirit of the citizen. N o t n a t u r e nor s w a r m i n g states nor streets a n d s t e a m s h i p s nor p r o s p e r o u s b u s i n e s s nor f a r m s nor capital nor learning may suffice for the ideal of m a n . . . nor suffice the poet. N o r e m i n i s c e n c e s m a y suffice either. A live nation c a n always c u t a d e e p m a r k a n d c a n have the b e s t authority the c h e a p e s t . . . n a m e l y from its own soul. T h i s is the s u m of the profitable u s e s of individuals or states and of p r e s e n t action a n d g r a n d e u r a n d of the s u b j e c t s of p o e t s . — A s if it were n e c e s s a r y to trot b a c k g e n e r a t i o n after g e n e r a t i o n to the e a s t e r n records! As if the b e a u t y a n d s a c r e d n e s s of the d e m o n s t r a b l e m u s t fall b e h i n d that of the mythical! As if m e n do not m a k e their m a r k out of any t i m e s ! As if the o p e n i n g of the w e s t e r n c o n t i n e n t by discovery a n d what has transpired s i n c e in N o r t h a n d S o u t h A m e r i c a were less t h a n the small theatre of the a n t i q u e or the a i m l e s s s l e e p w a l k i n g of the m i d d l e a g e s ! T h e pride of the U n i t e d S t a t e s leaves the wealth a n d finesse of the cities a n d all returns of c o m m e r c e a n d agriculture a n d all the m a g n i t u d e of g e o g r a p h y or s h o w s of exterior victory to enjoy the b r e e d of fullsized m e n or o n e fullsized m a n unconquerable and simple. T h e A m e r i c a n p o e t s are to e n c l o s e old a n d new for A m e r i c a is the r a c e of r a c e s . O f t h e m a b a r d 3 is to b e c o m m e n s u r a t e with a p e o p l e . T o him the other c o n t i n e n t s arrive a s c o n t r i b u t i o n s . . . h e gives t h e m reception for their s a k e a n d his own s a k e . H i s spirit r e s p o n d s to his country's spirit . . . . h e i n c a r n a t e s its g e o g r a p h y a n d natural life a n d rivers a n d lakes. M i s s i s s i p p i with a n n u a l freshets a n d c h a n g i n g c h u t e s , M i s s o u r i a n d C o l u m b i a a n d O h i o a n d S a i n t L a w r e n c e with the falls a n d beautiful m a s c u l i n e H u d s o n , d o not e m b o u c h u r e 4 w h e r e they s p e n d t h e m s e l v e s m o r e than they e m b o u c h u r e into h i m . T h e blue b r e a d t h over the inland s e a of Virginia a n d M a r y l a n d a n d the s e a off M a s s a c h u s e t t s a n d M a i n e a n d over M a n h a t t a n bay a n d over C h a m plain a n d Erie a n d over O n t a r i o a n d H u r o n a n d M i c h i g a n a n d S u p e r i o r , a n d over the T e x a n a n d M e x i c a n a n d Floridian a n d C u b a n s e a s a n d over the s e a s off California a n d O r e g o n , is not tallied by the b l u e b r e a d t h of the waters below m o r e than the b r e a d t h of a b o v e a n d below is tallied by h i m . W h e n the long Atlantic c o a s t s t r e t c h e s longer a n d the Pacific c o a s t s t r e t c h e s longer h e 3.

T h e ideal national poet.

4.

Pour.

P R E F A C E T O LEAVES

OF GRASS

(1855)

/

991

easily s t r e t c h e s with t h e m north or s o u t h . H e s p a n s b e t w e e n t h e m a l s o from east to west a n d reflects what is b e t w e e n t h e m . O n him rise solid growths that offset the growths of p i n e a n d c e d a r a n d h e m l o c k a n d liveoak a n d locust a n d c h e s t n u t a n d cypress a n d hickory a n d limetree a n d c o t t o n w o o d a n d tuliptree a n d c a c t u s a n d wildvine a n d t a m a r i n d a n d p e r s i m m o n . . . . a n d tangles a s t a n g l e d a s any c a n e b r a k e or s w a m p . . . . a n d forests c o a t e d with transparent ice a n d icicles h a n g i n g from the b o u g h s a n d c r a c k l i n g in the wind . . . . a n d sides a n d p e a k s of m o u n t a i n s . . . . a n d p a s t u r a g e sweet a n d free a s s a v a n n a h or u p l a n d or prairie . . . . with flights a n d s o n g s a n d s c r e a m s that a n s w e r t h o s e of the wild pigeon a n d highhold a n d orchard-oriole a n d coot a n d s u r f - d u c k a n d r e d s h o u l d e r e d - h a w k a n d fish-hawk a n d white-ibis a n d indian-hen a n d cat-owl a n d w a t e r - p h e a s a n t a n d qua-bird a n d pieds h e l d r a k e a n d blackbird a n d m o c k i n g b i r d a n d buzzard a n d c o n d o r a n d nightheron a n d e a g l e . T o him the hereditary c o u n t e n a n c e d e s c e n d s both m o t h e r ' s a n d father's. T o him enter the e s s e n c e s of the real things a n d past a n d present e v e n t s — o f the e n o r m o u s diversity of t e m p e r a t u r e a n d a g r i c u l t u r e a n d m i n e s — t h e tribes of red a b o r i g i n e s — t h e w e a t h e r b e a t e n v e s s e l s e n t e r i n g new ports or m a k i n g landings on rocky c o a s t s — t h e first s e t t l e m e n t s north or s o u t h — t h e rapid stature a n d m u s c l e — t h e haughty d e f i a n c e of 7 6 , a n d the war a n d p e a c e a n d formation of the c o n s t i t u t i o n . . . . the u n i o n always s u r r o u n d e d by b l a t h e r e r s a n d always c a l m a n d i m p r e g n a b l e — t h e p e r p e t u a l c o m i n g of i m m i g r a n t s — t h e wharf h e m ' d cities a n d s u p e r i o r m a r i n e — t h e unsurveyed i n t e r i o r — t h e l o g h o u s e s a n d clearings a n d wild a n i m a l s a n d h u n t e r s a n d trappers . . . . the free c o m m e r c e — t h e fisheries a n d w h a l i n g a n d g o l d - d i g g i n g — t h e e n d l e s s gestation of new s t a t e s — t h e c o n v e n i n g of C o n g r e s s every D e c e m b e r , 5 the m e m b e r s duly c o m i n g up from all c l i m a t e s a n d the u t t e r m o s t parts . . . . the noble c h a r a c t e r of the y o u n g m e c h a n i c s a n d of all free A m e r i c a n w o r k m e n a n d w o r k w o m e n . . . . the general a r d o r a n d friendliness a n d e n t e r p r i s e — t h e perfect equality of the f e m a l e with the m a l e . . . . the large a m a t i v e n e s s — t h e fluid m o v e m e n t of the p o p u l a t i o n — the factories a n d m e r c a n t i l e life a n d laborsaving m a c h i n e r y — t h e Y a n k e e s w a p — t h e New-York firemen a n d the target e x c u r s i o n 6 — t h e s o u t h e r n plantation life—the c h a r a c t e r of the n o r t h e a s t a n d of the n o r t h w e s t a n d s o u t h w e s t — s l a v e r y a n d the t r e m u l o u s s p r e a d i n g of h a n d s to protect it, a n d the stern o p p o s i t i o n to it which shall never c e a s e till it c e a s e s or the s p e a k i n g of t o n g u e s a n d the moving of lips c e a s e . F o r s u c h the expression of the A m e r i c a n p o e t is to b e t r a n s c e n d a n t a n d new. It is to b e indirect a n d not direct or descriptive or e p i c . Its quality g o e s through t h e s e to m u c h m o r e . Let the a g e a n d wars of other nations be c h a n t e d and their e r a s a n d characters be illustrated a n d that finish the verse. Not s o the great p s a l m of the republic. H e r e the t h e m e is creative a n d h a s vista. H e r e c o m e s o n e a m o n g the wellbeloved s t o n e c u t t e r s a n d p l a n s with d e c i s i o n a n d s c i e n c e a n d s e e s the solid a n d beautiful forms of the future w h e r e there are now no solid forms. O f all nations the U n i t e d S t a t e s with veins full of p o e t i c a l stuff m o s t n e e d p o e t s a n d will d o u b t l e s s have the greatest a n d u s e t h e m the g r e a t e s t . T h e i r P r e s i d e n t s shall not be their c o m m o n referee so m u c h a s their p o e t s shall. 5 . B e f o r e t h e adoption o f t h e T w e n t i e t h A m e n d m e n t in 1 9 3 3 , C o n g r e s s c o n v e n e d o n t h e first M o n d a y in D e c e m b e r , a c c o r d i n g t o A r t i c l e 1, S e c -

t i o n 4 , of t h e Constitution. 6.

Shooting contest.

992

/

WALT

WHITMAN

O f all m a n k i n d the great poet is the e q u a b l e m a n . N o t in him but off from him things are g r o t e s q u e or e c c e n t r i c or fail of their sanity. N o t h i n g out of its p l a c e is g o o d a n d n o t h i n g in its p l a c e is b a d . H e b e s t o w s on every object or quality its fit p r o p o r t i o n s neither m o r e nor less. H e is the arbiter of the diverse a n d h e is the key. H e is the e q u a l i z e r of his a g e a n d land . . . . he s u p p l i e s what w a n t s supplying a n d c h e c k s what w a n t s c h e c k i n g . If p e a c e is the routine o u t of him s p e a k s the spirit of p e a c e , large, rich, thrifty, b u i l d i n g vast a n d p o p u l o u s cities, e n c o u r a g i n g a g r i c u l t u r e a n d the arts a n d c o m m e r c e — l i g h t i n g the study of m a n , the s o u l , i m m o r t a l i t y — f e d e r a l , state or m u n i c i p a l g o v e r n m e n t , m a r r i a g e , h e a l t h , f r e e t r a d e , intertravel by land a n d s e a . . . . n o t h i n g too c l o s e , n o t h i n g too far o f f . . . the stars not too far off. In war h e is the m o s t deadly force of the war. W h o recruits him recruits h o r s e a n d foot . . . h e f e t c h e s parks of artillery 7 the b e s t that e n g i n e e r ever knew. If the t i m e b e c o m e s slothful a n d heavy he knows how to a r o u s e it . . . h e c a n m a k e every word he s p e a k s draw b l o o d . W h a t e v e r s t a g n a t e s in the flat of c u s t o m or o b e d i e n c e or legislation h e never s t a g n a t e s . O b e d i e n c e d o e s not m a s t e r him, he m a s t e r s it. H i g h up out of r e a c h h e s t a n d s turning a c o n c e n t r a t e d light . . . he t u r n s the pivot with his finger . . . h e baffles the swiftest r u n n e r s as h e s t a n d s a n d easily overtakes a n d e n v e l o p s t h e m . T h e time straying toward infidelity a n d c o n f e c t i o n s a n d persiflage he withholds by his steady faith . . . he s p r e a d s o u t his d i s h e s . . . he offers the sweet firmfibred m e a t that grows m e n a n d w o m e n . H i s brain is the ultimate brain. H e is n o a r g u e r . . . he is j u d g m e n t . H e j u d g e s not a s the j u d g e j u d g e s but as the s u n falling a r o u n d a helpless thing. As h e s e e s the farthest h e has the m o s t faith. H i s t h o u g h t s are the h y m n s of the p r a i s e of things. In the talk o n the soul a n d eternity a n d G o d off of his e q u a l p l a n e he is silent. H e s e e s eternity less like a play with a p r o l o g u e a n d d e n o u e m e n t . . . . he s e e s eternity in m e n a n d w o m e n . . . he d o e s not s e e m e n a n d w o m e n a s d r e a m s or d o t s . Faith is the a n t i s e p t i c of the soul . . . it p e r v a d e s the c o m m o n p e o p l e a n d preserves t h e m . . . they never give u p believing a n d e x p e c t i n g a n d trusting. T h e r e is that i n d e s c r i b a b l e f r e s h n e s s a n d u n c o n s c i o u s n e s s a b o u t a n illiterate p e r s o n that h u m b l e s a n d m o c k s the power of the n o b l e s t expressive g e n i u s . T h e poet s e e s for a certainty how o n e not a great artist may b e j u s t a s s a c r e d a n d perfect a s the g r e a t e s t artist T h e p o w e r to destroy or r e m o u l d is freely u s e d by him b u t never the power of attack. W h a t is p a s t is p a s t . If h e d o e s not e x p o s e s u p e r i o r m o d e l s a n d prove h i m s e l f by every step he takes he is not w h a t is w a n t e d . T h e p r e s e n c e of the g r e a t e s t p o e t c o n q u e r s . . . not parleying or struggling or any p r e p a r e d a t t e m p t s . N o w he h a s p a s s e d that way s e e after him! there is not left any vestige of d e s p a i r or m i s a n t h r o p y or c u n ning or e x c l u s i v e n e s s or the ignominy of a nativity or color or d e l u s i o n of hell or the necessity of hell a n d no m a n t h e n c e f o r w a r d shall b e d e g r a d e d for i g n o r a n c e or w e a k n e s s or sin. T h e g r e a t e s t p o e t hardly knows p e t t i n e s s or triviality. If he b r e a t h e s into any thing that w a s b e f o r e t h o u g h t small it dilates with the g r a n d e u r a n d life of the universe. H e is a s e e r . . . . h e is individual . . . h e is c o m p l e t e in himself . . . . the others are a s g o o d a s h e , only h e s e e s it a n d they d o not. H e is not o n e of the c h o r u s . . . . he d o e s not s t o p for any r e g u l a t i o n . . . h e is the p r e s i d e n t of r e g u l a t i o n . W h a t the eyesight d o e s to the rest h e d o e s to the 7.

I.e., p a r k s f u l o f a r t i l l e r y — f r o m t h e c u s t o m o f d r i l l i n g a n d p a r a d i n g i n c i v i c p a r k s .

P R E F A C E T O LEAVES

OF GRASS

(1855)

/

993

rest. W h o knows the c u r i o u s mystery of the eyesight? T h e other s e n s e s corroborate t h e m s e l v e s , but this is r e m o v e d from any p r o o f b u t its own a n d foreruns the identities of the spiritual world. A single g l a n c e of it m o c k s all the investigations of m a n a n d all the i n s t r u m e n t s a n d b o o k s of the earth a n d all r e a s o n i n g . W h a t is m a r v e l l o u s ? what is unlikely? what is i m p o s s i b l e or b a s e l e s s or v a g u e ? after you have o n c e j u s t o p e n e d the s p a c e of a p e a c h p i t a n d given a u d i e n c e to far a n d near a n d to the s u n s e t a n d h a d all things enter with electric swiftness softly a n d duly without c o n f u s i o n or j o s t l i n g or j a m . T h e land a n d s e a , the a n i m a l s fishes a n d b i r d s , the sky of h e a v e n a n d the orbs, the forests m o u n t a i n s a n d rivers, are not small t h e m e s . . . b u t folks expect of the p o e t to i n d i c a t e m o r e than the b e a u t y a n d dignity w h i c h always attach to d u m b real o b j e c t s . . . . they expect him to i n d i c a t e t h e p a t h b e t w e e n reality a n d their s o u l s . M e n a n d w o m e n perceive the b e a u t y well e n o u g h . . probably as well a s h e . T h e p a s s i o n a t e tenacity of h u n t e r s , woodm e n , early risers, cultivators of g a r d e n s a n d o r c h a r d s a n d fields, the love of healthy w o m e n for the manly form, sea-faring p e r s o n s , drivers of h o r s e s , the p a s s i o n for light a n d the o p e n air, all is a n old varied sign of t h e unfailing p e r c e p t i o n of b e a u t y a n d of a r e s i d e n c e of the poetic in o u t d o o r p e o p l e . T h e y c a n never b e a s s i s t e d by p o e t s to perceive . . . s o m e m a y b u t they never c a n . T h e poetic quality is not m a r s h a l l e d in rhyme or uniformity or a b s t r a c t a d d r e s s e s to things nor in m e l a n c h o l y c o m p l a i n t s or g o o d p r e c e p t s , b u t is the life of t h e s e a n d m u c h else a n d is in the soul. T h e profit of rhyme is that it d r o p s s e e d s of a sweeter a n d m o r e luxuriant r h y m e , a n d of uniformity that it conveys itself into its own roots in the g r o u n d out of sight. T h e rhyme a n d uniformity of perfect p o e m s s h o w the free growth of metrical laws a n d b u d from t h e m a s unerringly a n d loosely as lilacs or r o s e s o n a b u s h , a n d take s h a p e s a s c o m p a c t a s the s h a p e s of c h e s t n u t s a n d o r a n g e s a n d m e l o n s a n d p e a r s , a n d s h e d the p e r f u m e i m p a l p a b l e to form. T h e fluency a n d o r n a m e n t s of the finest p o e m s or m u s i c or orations or recitations are not i n d e p e n d e n t but d e p e n d e n t . All b e a u t y c o m e s from beautiful blood a n d a beautiful b r a i n . If the g r e a t n e s s e s a r e in c o n j u n c t i o n in a m a n or w o m a n it is e n o u g h . . . . the fact will prevail t h r o u g h the universe . . . . b u t the gaggery a n d gilt of a million years will not prevail. W h o troubles himself a b o u t his o r n a m e n t s or fluency is lost. T h i s is what you shall d o : L o v e the earth a n d s u n a n d the a n i m a l s , d e s p i s e r i c h e s , give a l m s to every o n e that a s k s , s t a n d u p for the stupid a n d crazy, devote your i n c o m e a n d labor to o t h e r s , h a t e tyrants, a r g u e not c o n c e r n i n g G o d , have p a t i e n c e a n d i n d u l g e n c e toward t h e p e o p l e , take off your hat to nothing known or u n k n o w n or to any m a n or n u m b e r of m e n , go freely with powerful u n e d u c a t e d p e r s o n s a n d with the y o u n g a n d with the m o t h e r s of families, read t h e s e leaves in the o p e n air every s e a s o n of every year of your life, r e e x a m i n e all you have b e e n told at school or c h u r c h or in any book, d i s m i s s whatever insults your own s o u l , a n d your very flesh shall be a great p o e m a n d have t h e richest fluency not only in its w o r d s b u t in the silent lines of its lips a n d f a c e a n d b e t w e e n t h e l a s h e s of your eyes a n d in every motion a n d joint of your body T h e p o e t shall not s p e n d his time in u n n e e d e d work. H e shall know that the g r o u n d is always ready p l o u g h e d a n d m a n u r e d . . . . others m a y not know it b u t he shall. H e shall go directly to the creation. H i s trust shall m a s t e r the trust of everything he t o u c h e s . . . . a n d shall m a s t e r all a t t a c h m e n t . T h e known universe h a s o n e c o m p l e t e lover a n d that is the g r e a t e s t p o e t .

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H e c o n s u m e s an eternal p a s s i o n a n d is indifferent which c h a n c e h a p p e n s a n d which p o s s i b l e c o n t i n g e n c y of f o r t u n e or m i s f o r t u n e a n d p e r s u a d e s daily a n d hourly his d e l i c i o u s pay. W h a t balks or b r e a k s others is fuel for his b u r n i n g p r o g r e s s to c o n t a c t a n d a m o r o u s joy. O t h e r p r o p o r t i o n s of the r e c e p tion of p l e a s u r e dwindle to n o t h i n g to his p r o p o r t i o n s . All expected from heaven or from the h i g h e s t h e is rapport with in the sight of the d a y b r e a k or a s c e n e of the winter w o o d s or the p r e s e n c e of children playing or with his a r m r o u n d the n e c k of a m a n or w o m a n . His love a b o v e all love has leisure a n d e x p a n s e . . . . he leaves r o o m a h e a d of himself. H e is no irresolute or s u s p i c i o u s lover . . . he is s u r e . . . he s c o r n s intervals. H i s e x p e r i e n c e a n d the s h o w e r s a n d thrills are not for n o t h i n g . N o t h i n g c a n j a r him . . . . suffering and d a r k n e s s c a n n o t — d e a t h a n d fear c a n n o t . T o him c o m p l a i n t a n d j e a l o u s y a n d envy are c o r p s e s buried a n d rotten in the earth . . . . he saw t h e m buried. T h e s e a is not s u r e r of the s h o r e or the s h o r e of the s e a than h e is of the fruition of his love a n d of all perfection a n d beauty. T h e fruition of b e a u t y is no c h a n c e of hit or m i s s . . . it is inevitable as life . . . . it is exact a n d p l u m b a s gravitation. F r o m the eyesight p r o c e e d s a n o t h e r eyesight a n d from the hearing p r o c e e d s a n o t h e r h e a r i n g a n d from the voice p r o c e e d s a n o t h e r voice eternally c u r i o u s of the h a r m o n y of things with m a n . T o t h e s e r e s p o n d p e r f e c t i o n s not only in the c o m m i t t e e s that were s u p p o s e d to s t a n d for the rest but in the rest t h e m s e l v e s j u s t the s a m e . T h e s e u n d e r s t a n d the law of perfection in m a s s e s a n d floods . . . that its finish is to e a c h for itself a n d onward from i t s e l f . . . that it is p r o f u s e a n d impartial . . . that there is not a m i n u t e of the light or dark nor a n a c r e of the earth or s e a without i t — n o r any direction of the sky nor any trade or e m p l o y m e n t nor any turn of e v e n t s . T h i s is the r e a s o n that a b o u t the p r o p e r expression of b e a u t y there is precision a n d b a l a n c e . . . o n e part d o e s not need to be thrust a b o v e another. T h e b e s t singer is not the o n e w h o h a s the m o s t lithe and powerful organ . . . the p l e a s u r e of p o e m s is not in t h e m that take the h a n d s o m e s t m e a s u r e a n d similes a n d s o u n d . W i t h o u t effort a n d without e x p o s i n g in the least how it is d o n e the g r e a t e s t poet brings the spirit of any or all events a n d p a s s i o n s a n d s c e n e s a n d p e r s o n s s o m e m o r e a n d s o m e less to b e a r on your individual c h a r a c t e r as you hear or read. T o d o this well is to c o m p e t e with the laws that p u r s u e a n d follow time. W h a t is the p u r p o s e m u s t surely b e t h e r e a n d the c l u e of it m u s t b e there . . . . a n d the faintest indication is the indication of the best a n d then b e c o m e s the clearest indication. P a s t a n d p r e s e n t a n d future are not disj o i n e d but j o i n e d . T h e g r e a t e s t poet f o r m s the c o n s i s t e n c e of what is to b e from what has b e e n a n d is. H e d r a g s the d e a d out of their coffins a n d s t a n d s them again on their feet . . . . he says to the p a s t , R i s e a n d walk before m e that I may realize you. H e learns the l e s s o n . . . . h e p l a c e s h i m s e l f w h e r e the future b e c o m e s p r e s e n t . T h e g r e a t e s t p o e t d o e s not only dazzle his rays over c h a r a c t e r a n d s c e n e s a n d p a s s i o n s . . . he finally a s c e n d s a n d finishes all . . . he exhibits the p i n n a c l e s that no m a n c a n tell w h a t they a r e for or what is beyond . . . . he glows a m o m e n t on the e x t r e m e s t verge. H e is m o s t wonderful in his last half-hidden smile or frown . . . by that flash of the m o m e n t of parting the o n e that s e e s it shall b e e n c o u r a g e d or terrified afterward for m a n y years. T h e greatest poet d o e s not moralize or m a k e a p p l i c a tions of m o r a l s . . . he knows the s o u l . T h e soul has that m e a s u r e l e s s pride which c o n s i s t s in never a c k n o w l e d g i n g any l e s s o n s but its own. B u t it h a s

P R E F A C E T O L E A V E S OF GRASS

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sympathy a s m e a s u r e l e s s a s its pride a n d the o n e b a l a n c e s the other a n d neither can stretch too far while it s t r e t c h e s in c o m p a n y with the other. T h e inmost s e c r e t s of art s l e e p with the twain. T h e greatest p o e t h a s lain c l o s e betwixt both a n d they are vital in his style a n d t h o u g h t s . T h e art of art, the glory of expression a n d the s u n s h i n e of the light of letters is simplicity. N o t h i n g is better than simplicity . . . . n o t h i n g c a n m a k e up for excess or for the lack of definiteness. T o carry o n the h e a v e of i m p u l s e a n d p i e r c e intellectual d e p t h s a n d give all s u b j e c t s their a r t i c u l a t i o n s are powers neither c o m m o n nor very u n c o m m o n . But to s p e a k in literature with the perfect rectitude a n d i n s o u s i a n c e of the m o v e m e n t s of a n i m a l s a n d the u n i m p e a c h a b l e n e s s of the s e n t i m e n t of trees in the w o o d s a n d g r a s s by the roadside is the flawless t r i u m p h of art. If you have looked on him w h o has achieved it you have looked on o n e of the m a s t e r s of the artists of all n a t i o n s a n d times. You shall not c o n t e m p l a t e the flight of the graygull over the bay or the m e t t l e s o m e action of the blood h o r s e or the tall l e a n i n g of sunflowers on their stalk or the a p p e a r a n c e of the s u n j o u r n e y i n g t h r o u g h heaven or the a p p e a r a n c e of the m o o n afterward with any m o r e satisfaction than you shall c o n t e m p l a t e him. T h e greatest poet has less a m a r k e d style a n d is m o r e the c h a n n e l of t h o u g h t s a n d things without i n c r e a s e or d i m i n u t i o n , a n d is the free c h a n n e l of himself. H e s w e a r s to his art, I will not be m e d d l e s o m e , I will not have in my writing any e l e g a n c e or effect or originality to h a n g in the way b e t w e e n m e a n d the rest like c u r t a i n s . I will have n o t h i n g h a n g in the way, not the richest c u r t a i n s . W h a t I tell I tell for precisely what it is. Let w h o may exalt or startle or f a s c i n a t e or s o o t h I will have p u r p o s e s as health or heat or s n o w h a s a n d b e a s r e g a r d l e s s of observation. W h a t I experience or portray shall go from my c o m p o s i t i o n without a s h r e d of my c o m position. You shall s t a n d by my side a n d look in the mirror with m e . T h e old red blood a n d s t a i n l e s s gentility of great p o e t s will be proved by their u n c o n s t r a i n t . A heroic p e r s o n walks at his e a s e t h r o u g h a n d out of that c u s t o m or p r e c e d e n t or authority that suits him not. O f the traits of the b r o t h e r h o o d of writers s a v a n s s m u s i c i a n s inventors a n d artists n o t h i n g is finer than silent d e f i a n c e a d v a n c i n g from n e w free f o r m s . In the n e e d of p o e m s philosophy politics m e c h a n i s m s c i e n c e behaviour, the craft of art, a n a p p r o p r i a t e native g r a n d - o p e r a , shipcraft, or any craft, he is g r e a t e s t forever a n d forever w h o c o n t r i b u t e s the greatest original practical e x a m p l e . T h e c l e a n e s t expression is that which finds no s p h e r e worthy of itself a n d m a k e s one. T h e m e s s a g e s of great p o e t s to e a c h m a n a n d w o m a n a r e , C o m e to u s on e q u a l t e r m s , Only then c a n you u n d e r s t a n d u s , W e are no better than you, W h a t we e n c l o s e you e n c l o s e , W h a t we enjoy you may enjoy. Did you s u p p o s e there c o u l d be only o n e S u p r e m e ? W e affirm there c a n b e u n n u m b e r e d S u p r e m e s , a n d that o n e d o e s not countervail a n o t h e r any m o r e than o n e eyesight countervails a n o t h e r . . a n d that m e n c a n be g o o d or g r a n d only of the c o n s c i o u s n e s s of their s u p r e m a c y within t h e m . W h a t d o you think is the g r a n d e u r of s t o r m s a n d d i s m e m b e r m e n t s a n d the deadliest battles a n d wrecks a n d the wildest fury of the e l e m e n t s a n d the p o w e r of the s e a a n d the motion of n a t u r e a n d of the throes of h u m a n desires a n d dignity a n d hate a n d love? It is that s o m e t h i n g in the soul which s a y s . R a g e o n , Whirl 8.

Wise men, scientists.

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o n , I tread m a s t e r here a n d everywhere, M a s t e r of the s p a s m s of the sky a n d of the shatter of the s e a , M a s t e r of n a t u r e a n d p a s s i o n a n d d e a t h , A n d of all terror a n d all p a i n . T h e A m e r i c a n b a r d s shall b e m a r k e d for generosity a n d affection a n d for e n c o u r a g i n g c o m p e t i t o r s . . T h e y shall b e k o s m o s 9 . . without m o n o p o l y or s e c r e s y . . glad to p a s s any thing to any o n e . . . hungry for e q u a l s night a n d day. T h e y shall not b e careful of riches a n d privilege . . . . they shall be r i c h e s a n d privilege . . . . they shall perceive w h o the m o s t affluent m a n is. T h e m o s t affluent m a n is h e that c o n f r o n t s all the s h o w s h e s e e s by e q u i v a l e n t s o u t of the stronger wealth of himself. T h e A m e r i c a n b a r d shall d e l i n e a t e no c l a s s of p e r s o n s nor o n e or two o u t of the strata of interests nor love m o s t nor truth m o s t nor the soul m o s t nor the body m o s t . . . . a n d not b e for the e a s t e r n s t a t e s m o r e than the w e s t e r n or the northern s t a t e s m o r e than the southern. E x a c t s c i e n c e a n d its practical m o v e m e n t s are n o c h e c k s o n the greatest p o e t but always his e n c o u r a g e m e n t a n d s u p p o r t . T h e o u t s e t a n d r e m e m b r a n c e are there . . there the a r m s that lifted him first a n d b r a c e him b e s t . . . . there he r e t u r n s after all his goings a n d c o m i n g s . T h e sailor a n d traveler . . . . the a n a t o m i s t c h e m i s t a s t r o n o m e r geologist p h r e n o l o g i s t spiritualist m a t h e m a t i c i a n historian a n d lexicographer a r e not p o e t s , b u t they are the lawgivers of p o e t s a n d their c o n s t r u c t i o n underlies the s t r u c t u r e of every perfect p o e m . N o m a t t e r what rises or is uttered they sent the s e e d of the c o n c e p t i o n of it . . . of t h e m a n d by t h e m s t a n d the visible proofs of s o u l s always of their fatherstuff m u s t b e b e g o t t e n the sinewy r a c e s of b a r d s . If there shall be love a n d c o n t e n t b e t w e e n the father a n d the son a n d if the g r e a t n e s s of the son is the e x u d i n g of the g r e a t n e s s of the father there shall b e love b e t w e e n the p o e t a n d the m a n of d e m o n s t r a b l e s c i e n c e . In the b e a u t y of p o e m s are the tuft a n d final a p p l a u s e of s c i e n c e . G r e a t is the faith of the flush of k n o w l e d g e a n d of the investigation of the d e p t h s of qualities a n d things. C l e a v i n g a n d circling here swells the soul of the p o e t yet it 1 p r e s i d e n t of itself always. T h e d e p t h s are f a t h o m l e s s a n d therefore c a l m . T h e i n n o c e n c e a n d n a k e d n e s s are r e s u m e d . . . they a r e neither m o d e s t nor i m m o d e s t . T h e w h o l e theory of the s p e c i a l a n d s u p e r n a t u r a l a n d all that w a s twined with it or e d u c e d o u t of it d e p a r t s a s a d r e a m . W h a t h a s ever h a p p e n e d . . . . w h a t h a p p e n s a n d whatever m a y or shall h a p p e n , the vital laws e n c l o s e all . . . . they are sufficient for any c a s e a n d for all c a s e s . . . n o n e to be hurried or retarded . . . . any m i r a c l e of affairs or p e r s o n s i n a d m i s s i b l e in the vast clear s c h e m e w h e r e every m o t i o n a n d every s p e a r of g r a s s a n d the f r a m e s a n d spirits of m e n a n d w o m e n a n d all that c o n c e r n s t h e m a r e u n s p e a k a b l y perfect m i r a c l e s all referring to all a n d e a c h distinct a n d in its p l a c e . It is a l s o not c o n s i s t e n t with the reality of the soul to a d m i t that there is anything in the known universe m o r e divine t h a n m e n a n d women. M e n a n d w o m e n a n d the e a r t h a n d all u p o n it a r e simply to b e taken a s they a r e , a n d the investigation of their p a s t a n d p r e s e n t a n d f u t u r e shall b e u n i n t e r m i t t e d a n d shall b e d o n e with p e r f e c t c a n d o r . U p o n this b a s i s philosophy s p e c u l a t e s ever looking toward the poet, ever r e g a r d i n g the eternal 9. I . e . , a p a r t o f t h e o n e m i n d t h a t is t h e w o r l d . 1. P e r h a p s remains s h o u l d be u n d e r s t o o d after

"it," although "it" m a y simply be a e r r o r f o r is.

typographical

P R E F A C E T O LEAVES

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GRASS

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t e n d e n c i e s of all toward h a p p i n e s s never i n c o n s i s t e n t with what is clear to the s e n s e s a n d to the s o u l . F o r the eternal t e n d e n c i e s of all toward h a p p i n e s s m a k e the only point of s a n e philosophy. W h a t e v e r c o m p r e h e n d s less than that . . . whatever is less than the laws of light a n d of a s t r o n o m i c a l m o t i o n . . . or less than the laws that follow the thief the liar the glutton a n d the drunkard through this life a n d d o u b t l e s s afterward or l e s s than vast s t r e t c h e s of time or the slow formation of density or the patient u p h e a v i n g of s t r a t a — i s of no a c c o u n t . W h a t e v e r would put G o d in a p o e m or s y s t e m of philosophy a s c o n t e n d i n g a g a i n s t s o m e being or influence is a l s o of no a c c o u n t . Sanity a n d e n s e m b l e c h a r a c t e r i s e the great m a s t e r . . . spoilt in o n e principle all is spoilt. T h e great m a s t e r h a s n o t h i n g to d o with m i r a c l e s . H e s e e s health for himself in b e i n g o n e of the m a s s . . . . he s e e s the h i a t u s in singular e m i n e n c e . T o the perfect s h a p e c o m e s c o m m o n g r o u n d . T o be u n d e r the general law is great for that is to c o r r e s p o n d with it. T h e m a s t e r knows that he is u n s p e a k a b l y great a n d that all are u n s p e a k a b l y great . . . . that nothing for i n s t a n c e is greater than to c o n c e i v e children a n d bring t h e m up well . . . that to be is j u s t a s great a s to perceive or tell. In the m a k e of the great m a s t e r s the idea of political liberty is indispensible. Liberty takes the a d h e r e n c e of h e r o e s wherever m e n a n d w o m e n exist . . . . but never takes any a d h e r e n c e or w e l c o m e from the rest m o r e than from p o e t s . T h e y are the voice a n d exposition of liberty. T h e y out of a g e s a r e worthy the g r a n d idea . . . . to t h e m it is confided a n d they m u s t s u s t a i n it. N o t h i n g has p r e c e d e n c e of it and nothing c a n warp or d e g r a d e it. T h e attitude of great poets is to c h e e r u p slaves a n d horrify d e s p o t s . T h e turn of their n e c k s , the s o u n d of their feet, the m o t i o n s of their wrists, are full of hazard to the o n e a n d h o p e to the other. C o m e nigh t h e m awhile a n d t h o u g h they neither s p e a k or advise you shall learn the faithful A m e r i c a n l e s s o n . Liberty is poorly served by m e n w h o s e good intent is q u e l l e d from o n e failure or two failures or any n u m b e r of failures, or from the c a s u a l indifference or ingratitude of the p e o p l e , or from the s h a r p s h o w of the t u s h e s of power, or the bringing to bear soldiers a n d c a n n o n or any penal s t a t u t e s . Liberty relies upon itself, invites no o n e , p r o m i s e s nothing, sits in c a l m n e s s a n d light, is positive a n d c o m p o s e d , a n d knows no d i s c o u r a g e m e n t . T h e battle r a g e s with m a n y a loud alarm a n d f r e q u e n t a d v a n c e a n d retreat . . . . the e n e m y triu m p h s . . . . the prison, the h a n d c u f f s , the iron n e c k l a c e a n d anklet, the scaffold, garrote a n d leadballs do their work . . . . the c a u s e is a s l e e p . . . . the strong throats a r e c h o k e d with their own blood . . . . the y o u n g m e n drop their e y e l a s h e s toward the g r o u n d when they p a s s e a c h other . . . . a n d is liberty g o n e out of that p l a c e ? N o never. W h e n liberty g o e s it is not the first to go nor the s e c o n d or third to go . . it waits for all the rest to go . . it is the last . . . W h e n the m e m o r i e s of the old martyrs are faded utterly away . . . . when the large n a m e s of patriots are l a u g h e d at in the p u b l i c halls from the lips of the orators . . . . w h e n the boys are no m o r e c h r i s t e n e d after the s a m e but c h r i s t e n e d after tyrants a n d traitors instead . . . . w h e n the laws of the free are grudgingly p e r m i t t e d a n d laws for informers a n d b l o o d m o n e y are sweet to the taste of the p e o p l e . . . . w h e n I a n d you walk a b r o a d u p o n the earth s t u n g with c o m p a s s i o n at the sight of n u m b e r l e s s brothers a n s w e r i n g our equal friendship a n d calling no m a n m a s t e r — a n d w h e n we are elated with noble joy at the sight of slaves . . . . w h e n the soul retires in the cool c o m m u n i o n of the night a n d surveys its experience a n d has m u c h extasy over

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the word a n d d e e d that p u t b a c k a h e l p l e s s i n n o c e n t p e r s o n into the gripe of the gripers or into any cruel inferiority . . . . w h e n t h o s e in all p a r t s of t h e s e s t a t e s w h o c o u l d e a s i e r realize the true A m e r i c a n c h a r a c t e r b u t do not y e t — w h e n the s w a r m s of c r i n g e r s , s u c k e r s , d o u g h f a c e s , lice of politics, planners of sly involutions for their own p r e f e r m e n t to city offices or state legislatures of the j u d i c i a r y or c o n g r e s s or the p r e s i d e n c y , o b t a i n a r e s p o n s e of love a n d n a t u r a l d e f e r e n c e from the p e o p l e w h e t h e r they get the offices or no . . . . w h e n it is better to b e a b o u n d b o o b y a n d r o g u e in office at a high salary than the p o o r e s t free m e c h a n i c or f a r m e r with his hat u n m o v e d from his h e a d a n d firm eyes a n d a c a n d i d a n d g e n e r o u s heart . . . . a n d w h e n servility by town or state or the federal g o v e r n m e n t or any o p p r e s s i o n o n a large s c a l e or s m a l l s c a l e c a n b e tried o n without its own p u n i s h m e n t following duly after in exact proportion a g a i n s t the s m a l l e s t c h a n c e of e s c a p e . . . . or rather w h e n all life a n d all the s o u l s of m e n a n d w o m e n a r e d i s c h a r g e d from any part of the e a r t h — t h e n only shall the instinct of liberty be d i s c h a r g e d from that part of the e a r t h . As the attributes of the p o e t s of the k o s m o s c o n c e n t r e in the real body a n d soul a n d in the p l e a s u r e of things they p o s s e s s the superiority of g e n u i n e n e s s over all fiction a n d r o m a n c e . As they e m i t t h e m s e l v e s f a c t s a r e showered over with l i g h t . . . . the daylight is lit with m o r e volatile l i g h t . . . . a l s o the d e e p b e t w e e n the s e t t i n g a n d rising s u n g o e s d e e p e r m a n y fold. E a c h p r e c i s e object or c o n d i t i o n or c o m b i n a t i o n or p r o c e s s exhibits a b e a u t y . . . . the multiplication table i t s — o l d a g e i t s — t h e c a r p e n t e r ' s t r a d e i t s — t h e g r a n d - o p e r a its . . . . the h u g e h u l l e d c h e a n s h a p e d New-York clipper at s e a u n d e r s t e a m or full sail g l e a m s with u n m a t c h e d b e a u t y . . . . the A m e r i c a n circles a n d large h a r m o n i e s of g o v e r n m e n t g l e a m with theirs . . . . a n d the c o m m o n e s t definite intentions a n d a c t i o n s with theirs. T h e p o e t s of the kosm o s a d v a n c e t h r o u g h all interpositions a n d coverings a n d turmoils a n d strat e g e m s to first principles. T h e y are of u s e . . . . they dissolve poverty from its n e e d a n d r i c h e s from its c o n c e i t . You large proprietor they say shall not realize or perceive m o r e than any o n e e l s e . T h e owner of the library is not h e w h o holds a legal title to it having b o u g h t a n d paid for it. Any o n e a n d every o n e is owner of the library w h o c a n read the s a m e t h r o u g h all the varieties of t o n g u e s a n d s u b j e c t s a n d styles, a n d in w h o m they enter with e a s e a n d take r e s i d e n c e a n d force toward paternity a n d maternity, a n d m a k e s u p p l e a n d powerful a n d rich a n d large T h e s e A m e r i c a n states strong a n d healthy a n d a c c o m p l i s h e d shall receive n o p l e a s u r e from violations of n a t u r a l m o d e l s a n d m u s t not p e r m i t t h e m . In p a i n t i n g s or m o u l d i n g s or carvings in mineral or w o o d , or in the illustrations of b o o k s or n e w s p a p e r s , or in any c o m i c or tragic prints, or in the p a t t e r n s of woven stuffs or any thing to beautify r o o m s or furniture or c o s t u m e s , or to p u t u p o n c o r n i c e s or m o n u m e n t s or o n the p r o w s or s t e r n s of s h i p s , or to p u t a n y w h e r e before the h u m a n eye indoors or out, that which distorts h o n e s t s h a p e s or which c r e a t e s unearthly b e i n g s or p l a c e s or c o n t i n g e n c i e s is a n u i s a n c e a n d revolt. O f the h u m a n f o r m especially it is s o great it m u s t never b e m a d e r i d i c u l o u s . O f o r n a m e n t s to a work nothing o u t r e 2 c a n b e allowed . . b u t t h o s e o r n a m e n t s c a n b e allowed that c o n f o r m to the p e r f e c t facts of the o p e n air a n d that flow out of the n a t u r e of the work a n d c o m e irrepressibly f r o m it a n d 2.

Excessive, extravagant; a n Americanization of the F r e n c h

outre.

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are n e c e s s a r y to the c o m p l e t i o n of the work. M o s t works are m o s t beautiful without o r n a m e n t . . . E x a g g e r a t i o n s will be revenged in h u m a n physiology. C l e a n a n d vigorous children are j e t t e d a n d c o n c e i v e d only in t h o s e c o m m u n i t i e s w h e r e the m o d e l s of natural f o r m s a r e p u b l i c every day Great g e n i u s a n d the p e o p l e of t h e s e s t a t e s m u s t never be d e m e a n e d to r o m a n c e s . As s o o n as histories are properly told there is no m o r e n e e d of r o m a n c e s . T h e great p o e t s are a l s o to be known by the a b s e n c e in t h e m of tricks a n d by the justification of perfect p e r s o n a l c a n d o r . T h e n folks e c h o a n e w c h e a p j o y a n d a divine voice l e a p i n g from their b r a i n s : H o w beautiful is c a n d o r ! All faults m a y b e forgiven of him w h o has perfect c a n d o r . H e n c e f o r t h let no m a n of u s lie, for we have s e e n that o p e n n e s s wins the inner a n d outer world a n d that there is no single e x c e p t i o n , a n d that never s i n c e o u r e a r t h g a t h e r e d itself in a m a s s have deceit or s u b t e r f u g e or prevarication a t t r a c t e d its smallest particle or the faintest tinge of a s h a d e — a n d that t h r o u g h the e n v e l o p i n g wealth a n d r a n k of a state or the whole republic of s t a t e s a s n e a k or sly p e r s o n shall b e discovered a n d d e s p i s e d . . . . a n d that the soul h a s never b e e n o n c e fooled a n d never c a n b e fooled . . . . a n d thrift without the loving nod of the soul is only a fcetid p u f f . . . . a n d there never grew u p in any of the c o n t i n e n t s of the globe nor u p o n any p l a n e t or satellite or star, nor u p o n the a s t e r o i d s , nor in any part of ethereal s p a c e , nor in the m i d s t of density, nor u n d e r the fluid wet of the s e a , nor in that condition which p r e c e d e s the birth of b a b e s , nor at any time d u r i n g the c h a n g e s of life, nor in that c o n dition that follows what we term d e a t h , nor in any stretch of a b e y a n c e or action afterward of vitality, nor in any p r o c e s s of f o r m a t i o n or reformation anywhere, a b e i n g w h o s e instinct h a t e d the truth. E x t r e m e c a u t i o n or p r u d e n c e , the s o u n d e s t organic h e a l t h , large h o p e a n d c o m p a r i s o n a n d f o n d n e s s for w o m e n a n d children, large a l i m e n t i v e n e s s a n d d e s t r u c t i v e n e s s a n d causality, with a perfect s e n s e of the o n e n e s s of n a t u r e a n d the propriety of the s a m e spirit applied to h u m a n affairs..these a r e called u p of the float of the brain of the world to be p a r t s of the g r e a t e s t p o e t from his birth out of his m o t h e r ' s w o m b a n d from her birth out of her m o t h e r ' s . C a u t i o n s e l d o m g o e s far e n o u g h . It has b e e n t h o u g h t that the p r u d e n t citizen w a s the citizen w h o a p p l i e d h i m s e l f to solid g a i n s a n d did well for h i m s e l f a n d his family a n d c o m p l e t e d a lawful life without debt or c r i m e . T h e g r e a t e s t p o e t s e e s a n d a d m i t s t h e s e e c o n o m i e s as he s e e s the e c o n o m i e s of food a n d s l e e p , but h a s higher n o t i o n s of p r u d e n c e than to think he gives m u c h w h e n he gives a few slight attentions at the latch of the g a t e . T h e p r e m i s e s of the p r u d e n c e of life are not the hospitality of it or the r i p e n e s s a n d harvest of it. B e y o n d the i n d e p e n d e n c e of a little s u m laid a s i d e for burial-money, a n d of a few c l a p b o a r d s a r o u n d a n d shingles overhead on a lot of A m e r i c a n soil o w n e d , a n d the e a s y dollars that supply the year's plain clothing a n d m e a l s , the m e l a n c h o l y p r u d e n c e of the a b a n d o n m e n t of s u c h a great b e i n g a s a m a n is to the toss a n d pallor of years of m o n e y m a k i n g with all their s c o r c h i n g days a n d icy nights a n d all their stifling d e c e i t s a n d u n d e r h a n d e d d o d g i n g s , or infinitessimals of p a r l o r s , or s h a m e l e s s stuffing while o t h e r s s t a r v e . . a n d all the loss of the b l o o m a n d o d o r of the e a r t h a n d of the flowers a n d a t m o s p h e r e a n d of the s e a a n d of the true t a s t e of the w o m e n a n d m e n you p a s s or have to d o with in youth or m i d d l e a g e , a n d the i s s u i n g s i c k n e s s a n d d e s p e r a t e revolt at the c l o s e of a life without elevation or naivete, a n d the ghastly c h a t t e r of a d e a t h without serenity or majesty, is the great fraud u p o n

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m o d e r n civilization a n d forethought, b l o t c h i n g the s u r f a c e a n d s y s t e m w h i c h civilization undeniably drafts, a n d m o i s t e n i n g with t e a r s the i m m e n s e features it s p r e a d s a n d s p r e a d s with s u c h velocity before the r e a c h e d k i s s e s of the soul . . . Still the right explanation r e m a i n s to b e m a d e a b o u t p r u d e n c e . T h e p r u d e n c e of the m e r e wealth a n d respectability of the m o s t e s t e e m e d life a p p e a r s too faint for the eye to o b s e r v e at all w h e n little a n d large alike drop quietly a s i d e at the thought of the p r u d e n c e s u i t a b l e for immortality. W h a t is w i s d o m that fills the t h i n n e s s of a year or seventy or eighty years to w i s d o m s p a c e d out by a g e s a n d c o m i n g b a c k at a certain time with strong r e i n f o r c e m e n t s a n d rich p r e s e n t s a n d the clear f a c e s of w e d d i n g - g u e s t s a s far a s you c a n look in every direction r u n n i n g gaily toward y o u ? Only the soul is of itself . . . . all else h a s r e f e r e n c e to what e n s u e s . All that a p e r s o n d o e s or thinks is of c o n s e q u e n c e . N o t a m o v e c a n a m a n or w o m a n m a k e that affects him or her in a day or a m o n t h or any part of the direct lifetime or the hour of d e a t h but the s a m e affects him or her o n w a r d afterward through the indirect lifetime. T h e indirect is always a s great a n d real a s the direct. T h e spirit receives from the body j u s t a s m u c h a s it gives to the body. N o t o n e n a m e of word or d e e d . . not of venereal s o r e s or discolorations . . not the privacy of the o n a n i s t . . not of the putrid veins of g l u t t o n s or r u m d r i n k e r s . . . not p e c u l a t i o n or c u n n i n g or betrayal or m u r d e r . . n o s e r p e n t i n e p o i s o n of t h o s e that s e d u c e w o m e n . . not the foolish yielding of w o m e n . . not prostitution . . not of any depravity of y o u n g m e n . . not of the a t t a i n m e n t of gain by d i s c r e d i t a b l e m e a n s . . not any n a s t i n e s s of a p p e tite . . not any h a r s h n e s s of officers to m e n or j u d g e s to p r i s o n e r s or fathers to s o n s or s o n s to fathers or of h u s b a n d s to wives or b o s s e s to their boys . . not of greedy looks or m a l i g n a n t w i s h e s . . . nor any of the wiles p r a c t i s e d by p e o p l e u p o n t h e m s e l v e s . . . ever is or ever c a n be s t a m p e d o n the p r o g r a m m e but it is duly realized a n d r e t u r n e d , a n d that returned in further performa n c e s . . . a n d they returned a g a i n . N o r c a n the p u s h of charity or p e r s o n a l force ever be any thing else than the p r o f o u n d e s t r e a s o n , whether it brings a r g u m e n t s to h a n d or n o . N o specification is n e c e s s a r y . . to a d d or s u b t r a c t or divide is in vain. Little or big, l e a r n e d or u n l e a r n e d , white or black, legal or illegal, sick or well, from the first inspiration down the w i n d p i p e to the last expiration out of it, all that a m a l e or f e m a l e d o e s that is vigorous a n d benevolent a n d c l e a n is so m u c h s u r e profit to him or her in the u n s h a k a b l e order of the universe a n d t h r o u g h the w h o l e s c o p e of it forever. If the s a v a g e or felon is wise it is well . . . . if the g r e a t e s t p o e t or s a v a n is wise it is simply the s a m e . . if the P r e s i d e n t or chief j u s t i c e is wise it is the s a m e . . . if the y o u n g m e c h a n i c or farmer is wise it is n o m o r e or less . . if the prostitute is wise it is n o m o r e nor less. T h e interest will c o m e r o u n d . . all will c o m e r o u n d . AH the b e s t a c t i o n s of war a n d p e a c e . . . all help given to relatives a n d s t r a n g e r s a n d the p o o r a n d old a n d sorrowful a n d y o u n g children a n d widows a n d the sick, a n d to all s h u n n e d p e r s o n s . . all f u r t h e r a n c e of fugitives a n d of the e s c a p e of slaves . . all the self-denial that s t o o d s t e a d y a n d aloof on w r e c k s a n d s a w o t h e r s take the s e a t s of the b o a t s . . . all offering of s u b s t a n c e or life for the g o o d old c a u s e , or for a friend's s a k e or opinion's s a k e . . . all p a i n s of e n t h u s i a s t s scoffed at by their n e i g h b o r s . . all the vast sweet love a n d p r e c i o u s suffering of m o t h e r s . . . all h o n e s t m e n baffled in strifes r e c o r d e d or u n r e c o r d e d . . . . all the g r a n d e u r a n d g o o d of the few a n c i e n t n a t i o n s w h o s e f r a g m e n t s of a n n a l s we inherit . . a n d all the g o o d of

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the h u n d r e d s of far mightier a n d m o r e a n c i e n t n a t i o n s u n k n o w n to u s by n a m e or d a t e or location . . . . all that w a s ever manfully b e g u n , w h e t h e r it s u c c e e d e d or no . . . . all that h a s at any time b e e n well s u g g e s t e d o u t of the divine heart of m a n or by the divinity of his m o u t h or by the s h a p i n g of his great h a n d s . . a n d all that is well t h o u g h t or d o n e this day on a n y part of the s u r f a c e of the g l o b e . . or on any of the w a n d e r i n g stars or fixed stars by t h o s e there a s we are here . . or that is h e n c e f o r t h to b e well t h o u g h t or d o n e by you whoever you a r e , or by any o n e — t h e s e singly a n d wholly inured at their time a n d inure now a n d will inure always to the identities from which they s p r u n g or shall spring . . . Did you g u e s s any of t h e m lived only its m o m e n t ? T h e world d o e s not s o exist . . no p a r t s p a l p a b l e or i m p a l p a b l e so exist . . . n o result exists now without b e i n g from its long a n t e c e d e n t result, and that from its a n t e c e d e n t , a n d so b a c k w a r d without the farthest m e n tionable s p o t c o m i n g a bit nearer the b e g i n n i n g than a n y other spot W h a t e v e r satisfies the soul is truth. T h e p r u d e n c e of the greatest poet a n s w e r s at last the craving a n d glut of the soul, is not c o n t e m p t u o u s of less ways of p r u d e n c e if they c o n f o r m to its ways, p u t s off n o t h i n g , p e r m i t s no let-up for its own c a s e or any c a s e , h a s n o particular s a b b a t h or j u d g m e n t day, divides not the living from the d e a d or the r i g h t e o u s from the unrighte o u s , is satisfied with the p r e s e n t , m a t c h e s every t h o u g h t or act by its correlative, knows n o p o s s i b l e forgiveness or d e p u t e d a t o n e m e n t . . knows that the y o u n g m a n w h o c o m p o s e d l y periled his life a n d lost it has d o n e e x c e e d i n g well for himself, while the m a n w h o has not periled his life a n d retains it to old a g e in riches a n d e a s e h a s p e r h a p s a c h i e v e d n o t h i n g for himself worth m e n t i o n i n g . . a n d that only that p e r s o n h a s no great p r u d e n c e to learn w h o h a s learnt to prefer real longlived things, a n d favors body a n d soul the s a m e , a n d perceives the indirect a s s u r e d l y following the direct, a n d what evil or good he d o e s leaping onward a n d waiting to m e e t him a g a i n — a n d who in his spirit in any e m e r g e n c y whatever neither hurries or avoids death. T h e direct trial of him w h o would be the greatest poet is today. If he d o e s not flood h i m s e l f with the i m m e d i a t e a g e a s with vast o c e a n i c tides and if he d o e s not attract his own land body a n d soul to h i m s e l f a n d h a n g on its n e c k with i n c o m p a r a b l e love a n d p l u n g e his Semitic' m u s c l e into its merits a n d d e m e r i t s . . . a n d if he be not h i m s e l f the a g e transfigured . . . . a n d if to him is not o p e n e d the eternity which gives similitude to all periods a n d locations a n d p r o c e s s e s a n d a n i m a t e a n d i n a n i m a t e f o r m s , a n d which is the b o n d of time, a n d rises u p from its i n c o n c e i v a b l e v a g u e n e s s a n d infiniteness in the s w i m m i n g s h a p e of today, a n d is held by the ductile a n c h o r s of life, a n d m a k e s the p r e s e n t spot the p a s s a g e from what w a s to what shall b e , a n d c o m m i t s itself to the r e p r e s e n t a t i o n of this wave of a n h o u r a n d this o n e of the sixty beautiful children of the w a v e — l e t him m e r g e in the general run a n d wait his d e v e l o p m e n t Still the final test of p o e m s or any chara c t e r or work r e m a i n s . T h e p r e s c i e n t p o e t p r o j e c t s h i m s e l f c e n t u r i e s a h e a d a n d j u d g e s p e r f o r m e r or p e r f o r m a n c e after the c h a n g e s of time. D o e s it live through t h e m ? D o e s it still hold on untired? Will the s a m e style a n d the direction of g e n i u s to similar points be satisfactory now? H a s no new dis3. L i k e l y a s e x u a l c o i n a g e m e a n i n g m u s c l e s t h r o u g h w h i c h s e m e n p a s s e s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e m u s c l e s o f t h e penis.

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covery in s c i e n c e or arrival at s u p e r i o r p l a n e s of t h o u g h t a n d j u d g m e n t a n d b e h a v i o u r fixed him or his so that either c a n b e looked d o w n u p o n ? H a v e the m a r c h e s of tens a n d h u n d r e d s a n d t h o u s a n d s of years m a d e willing d e t o u r s to the right h a n d a n d the left h a n d for his s a k e ? Is h e beloved long a n d long after he is buried? D o e s the y o u n g m a n think often of h i m ? a n d the y o u n g w o m a n think often of h i m ? a n d do the m i d d l e a g e d a n d the old think of him? A great p o e m is for a g e s a n d a g e s in c o m m o n a n d for all d e g r e e s a n d c o m p l e x i o n s a n d all d e p a r t m e n t s a n d s e c t s a n d for a w o m a n a s m u c h a s a m a n a n d a m a n a s m u c h a s a w o m a n . A great p o e m is no finish to a m a n or w o m a n but rather a b e g i n n i n g . H a s any o n e f a n c i e d h e c o u l d sit at last u n d e r s o m e d u e authority a n d rest satisfied with e x p l a n a t i o n s a n d realize a n d b e c o n t e n t a n d full? T o no s u c h t e r m i n u s d o e s the g r e a t e s t p o e t bring . . . h e brings neither c e s s a t i o n or s h e l t e r e d f a t n e s s a n d e a s e . T h e t o u c h of him tells in a c t i o n . W h o m h e t a k e s he takes with firm s u r e g r a s p into live regions previously u n a t t a i n e d . . . . t h e n c e f o r w a r d is n o rest . . . . they s e e the s p a c e a n d ineffable s h e e n that turn the old s p o t s a n d lights into d e a d v a c u u m s . T h e c o m p a n i o n of him b e h o l d s the birth a n d p r o g r e s s of stars a n d learns o n e of the m e a n i n g s . N o w there shall b e a m a n c o h e r e d o u t of t u m u l t a n d c h a o s . . . . the elder e n c o u r a g e s the y o u n g e r a n d s h o w s h i m how . . . they two shall l a u n c h off fearlessly t o g e t h e r till the n e w world fits a n orbit for itself a n d looks u n a b a s h e d on the lesser orbits of the stars a n d s w e e p s through the c e a s e l e s s rings a n d shall never be q u i e t a g a i n . T h e r e will s o o n be n o m o r e p r i e s t s . T h e i r work is d o n e . T h e y may wait awhile . . p e r h a p s a g e n e r a t i o n or two . . d r o p p i n g off by d e g r e e s . A s u p e r i o r b r e e d shall take their p l a c e . . . . the g a n g s of k o s m o s a n d p r o p h e t s en m a s s e shall take their p l a c e . A n e w order shall a r i s e a n d they shall be the priests of m a n , a n d every m a n shall be his own priest. T h e c h u r c h e s built u n d e r their u m b r a g e 4 shall be the c h u r c h e s of m e n a n d w o m e n . T h r o u g h the divinity of t h e m s e l v e s shall the k o s m o s a n d the new b r e e d of p o e t s b e interpreters of m e n a n d w o m e n a n d of all events a n d t h i n g s . T h e y shall find their inspiration in real o b j e c t s today, s y m p t o m s of the p a s t a n d future . . . . T h e y shall not deign to d e f e n d immortality or G o d or the p e r f e c t i o n of things or liberty or the exquisite b e a u t y a n d reality of the s o u l . T h e y shall a r i s e in A m e r i c a a n d be r e s p o n d e d to from the r e m a i n d e r of the e a r t h . T h e E n g l i s h l a n g u a g e befriends the g r a n d A m e r i c a n e x p r e s s i o n . . . . it is brawny e n o u g h a n d limber a n d full e n o u g h . O n the t o u g h stock of a r a c e w h o through all c h a n g e of c i r c u m s t a n c e w a s never without the idea of political liberty, w h i c h is the a n i m u s of all liberty, it h a s a t t r a c t e d the t e r m s of daintier a n d gayer a n d s u b t l e r a n d m o r e e l e g a n t t o n g u e s . It is the powerful l a n g u a g e of r e s i s t a n c e . . . it is the dialect of c o m m o n s e n s e . It is the s p e e c h of the p r o u d a n d m e l a n c h o l y r a c e s a n d of all w h o a s p i r e . It is the c h o s e n t o n g u e to express growth faith s e l f - e s t e e m f r e e d o m j u s t i c e equality friendliness a m p l i t u d e p r u d e n c e d e c i s i o n a n d c o u r a g e . It is the m e d i u m that shall well nigh e x p r e s s the i n e x p r e s s i b l e . N o great literature nor any like style of b e h a v i o u r or oratory or social i n t e r c o u r s e or h o u s e h o l d a r r a n g e m e n t s or p u b l i c i n s t i t u t i o n s or the treatm e n t by b o s s e s of e m p l o y e d p e o p l e , nor executive detail or detail of the a r m y 4.

Shadow, protection.

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or navy, nor spirit of legislation or c o u r t s or p o l i c e or tuition or a r c h i t e c t u r e or s o n g s or a m u s e m e n t s or the c o s t u m e s of y o u n g m e n , c a n long e l u d e the j e a l o u s a n d p a s s i o n a t e instinct of A m e r i c a n s t a n d a r d s . W h e t h e r or no the sign a p p e a r s from the m o u t h s of the p e o p l e , it t h r o b s a live interrogation in every f r e e m a n ' s a n d f r e e w o m a n ' s heart after that which p a s s e s by or this built to r e m a i n . Is it uniform with my country? Are its d i s p o s a l s without i g n o m i n i o u s distinctions? Is it for the evergrowing c o m m u n e s of brothers a n d lovers, large, well-united, p r o u d beyond the old m o d e l s , g e n e r o u s b e y o n d all m o d e l s ? Is it s o m e t h i n g grown fresh o u t of the fields or d r a w n from the s e a for u s e to m e today here? I know that what a n s w e r s for m e a n A m e r i c a n m u s t a n s w e r for any individual or nation that serves for a part of my m a t e rials. D o e s this a n s w e r ? or is it without r e f e r e n c e to universal n e e d s ? or s p r u n g of the n e e d s of the less developed society of special r a n k s ? or old n e e d s of p l e a s u r e overlaid by m o d e r n s c i e n c e a n d f o r m s ? D o e s this a c k n o w l e d g e liberty with a u d i b l e a n d a b s o l u t e a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t , a n d set slavery at n o u g h t for life a n d d e a t h ? Will it help b r e e d o n e g o o d s h a p e d a n d w e l l h u n g m a n , a n d a w o m a n to b e his perfect a n d i n d e p e n d e n t m a t e ? D o e s it improve m a n n e r s ? Is it for the n u r s i n g of the y o u n g of the r e p u b l i c ? D o e s it solve readily with the sweet milk of the nipples of the b r e a s t s of the m o t h e r of m a n y children? H a s it too the old ever-fresh f o r b e a r a n c e a n d impartiality? D o e s it look with the s a m e love on the last born on t h o s e h a r d e n i n g toward s t a t u r e , a n d on the errant, a n d on t h o s e w h o d i s d a i n all strength of a s s a u l t o u t s i d e of their o w n ? T h e p o e m s distilled from other p o e m s will probably p a s s away. T h e c o w a r d will surely p a s s away. T h e expectation of the vital a n d great c a n only b e satisfied by the d e m e a n o r of the vital a n d great. T h e s w a r m s of the p o l i s h e d d e p r e c a t i n g a n d reflectors a n d the polite float off a n d leave n o r e m e m b r a n c e . A m e r i c a p r e p a r e s with c o m p o s u r e a n d goodwill for the visitors that have sent word. It is not intellect that is to be their warrant a n d w e l c o m e . T h e t a l e n t e d , the artist, the i n g e n i o u s , the editor, the s t a t e s m a n , the e r u d i t e . . they a r e not u n a p p r e c i a t e d . . they fall in their p l a c e a n d do their work. T h e soul of the nation a l s o d o e s its work. N o d i s g u i s e c a n p a s s on it . . n o d i s g u i s e c a n c o n c e a l from it. It rejects n o n e , it permits all. Only toward a s g o o d a s itself a n d toward the like of itself will it a d v a n c e half-way. A n individual is a s s u p e r b a s a nation w h e n he h a s the qualities which m a k e a s u p e r b n a t i o n . T h e soul of the largest a n d wealthiest a n d p r o u d e s t nation m a y well g o halfway to m e e t that of its p o e t s . T h e signs are effectual. T h e r e is no fear of m i s t a k e . If the o n e is true the other is true. T h e p r o o f of a p o e t is that his country a b s o r b s h i m a s affectionately a s he h a s a b s o r b e d it. 1855

Song of Myself (1881) 1 I c e l e b r a t e myself, a n d sing myself, And what I a s s u m e you shall a s s u m e , For every a t o m b e l o n g i n g to m e a s g o o d b e l o n g s to you.

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I loafe a n d invite my soul, I lean a n d loafe at my e a s e observing a s p e a r of s u m m e r g r a s s .

5

M y t o n g u e , every a t o m of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, B o r n here of p a r e n t s b o r n here from p a r e n t s the s a m e , a n d their p a r e n t s the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health b e g i n , H o p i n g to c e a s e not till d e a t h . C r e e d s a n d s c h o o l s in a b e y a n c e , Retiring b a c k a while sufficed at what they a r e , but never forgotten, I harbor for good or b a d , I permit to s p e a k at every hazard, N a t u r e without c h e c k with original energy.

w

2 H o u s e s a n d r o o m s are full of p e r f u m e s , the shelves are c r o w d e d with perfumes, 1 b r e a t h e the f r a g r a n c e myself a n d know it a n d like it, 15 T h e distillation would intoxicate m e a l s o , b u t I shall not let it. T h e a t m o s p h e r e is not a p e r f u m e , it h a s n o t a s t e of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my m o u t h forever, I a m in love with it, I will g o to the b a n k by the wood a n d b e c o m e u n d i s g u i s e d a n d n a k e d , I a m m a d for it to be in c o n t a c t with m e . 20 T h e s m o k e of my own b r e a t h , E c h o e s , ripples, buzz'd w h i s p e r s , love-root, silk-thread, c r o t c h a n d vine, M y respiration a n d inspiration, the b e a t i n g of my heart, the p a s s i n g of blood a n d air through my l u n g s , T h e sniff of green leaves a n d dry leaves, a n d of the s h o r e a n d dark-color'd s e a - r o c k s , a n d of hay in the b a r n , T h e s o u n d of the belch'd w o r d s of my voice loos'd to the e d d i e s of the wind, 25 A few light k i s s e s , a few e m b r a c e s , a r e a c h i n g a r o u n d of a r m s , T h e play of s h i n e a n d s h a d e o n the trees a s the s u p p l e b o u g h s wag, T h e delight a l o n e or in the r u s h of the s t r e e t s , or a l o n g the fields a n d hillsides, T h e feeling of h e a l t h , the full-noon trill, the s o n g of m e rising from b e d a n d m e e t i n g the s u n . H a v e you reckon'd a t h o u s a n d a c r e s m u c h ? have you reckon'd the earth much? 30 H a v e you practis'd so long to learn to r e a d ? H a v e you felt so p r o u d to get at the m e a n i n g of p o e m s ? S t o p this day a n d night with m e a n d you shall p o s s e s s the origin of all p o e m s , You shall p o s s e s s the good of the earth a n d s u n , (there a r e millions of s u n s left,) You shall no longer take things at s e c o n d or third h a n d , nor look t h r o u g h the eyes of the d e a d , nor feed o n the s p e c t r e s in b o o k s , 35

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You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from m e , You shall listen to all sides a n d filter t h e m from your self.

3 I have h e a r d w h a t the talkers were talking, the talk of the b e g i n n i n g a n d the end, B u t I do not talk of the b e g i n n i n g or the e n d . T h e r e w a s never any m o r e inception than there is now, N o r any m o r e youth or a g e than there is now, A n d will never b e any m o r e perfection than there is now, N o r any m o r e heaven or hell than there is now. U r g e a n d urge a n d u r g e , Always the p r o c r e a n t urge of the world.

40

4s

O u t of the d i m n e s s o p p o s i t e e q u a l s a d v a n c e , always s u b s t a n c e a n d i n c r e a s e , always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a b r e e d of life. T o e l a b o r a t e is no avail, learn'd a n d unlearn'd feel that it is s o . S u r e a s the m o s t certain s u r e , p l u m b in the uprights, well entretied, 1 b r a c e d in the b e a m s , S t o u t a s a h o r s e , a f f e c t i o n a t e , haughty, electrical, 50 I a n d this mystery here we s t a n d . C l e a r a n d sweet is my soul, a n d clear a n d sweet is all that is not my s o u l . L a c k o n e lacks b o t h , a n d the u n s e e n is proved by the s e e n , Till that b e c o m e s u n s e e n a n d receives proof in its turn. S h o w i n g the best a n d dividing it from the worst a g e vexes a g e , ss Knowing the perfect fitness a n d e q u a n i m i t y of things, while they d i s c u s s I a m silent, a n d go b a t h e a n d a d m i r e myself. W e l c o m e is every organ a n d attribute of m e , a n d of any m a n hearty a n d clean, N o t an inch nor a particle of a n inch is vile, a n d n o n e shall b e less familiar than the rest. I a m satisfied—I s e e , d a n c e , l a u g h , sing; As the h u g g i n g a n d loving bed-fellow s l e e p s at my side t h r o u g h the night, a n d withdraws at the p e e p of the day with stealthy tread, 6 L e a v i n g m e b a s k e t s cover'd with white towels swelling the h o u s e with their plenty, Shall I p o s t p o n e my a c c e p t a t i o n a n d realization a n d s c r e a m at my e y e s , T h a t they turn from gazing after a n d down the r o a d . And forthwith c i p h e r 2 a n d s h o w m e to a c e n t ,

I. C r o s s - b r a c e d .

2.

Calculate.

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Exactly the value of o n e a n d exactly the value of two, a n d which is ahead? 65 4 Trippers and askers surround m e , P e o p l e I m e e t , the effect u p o n m e of my early life or the ward a n d city I live in, or the nation, T h e latest d a t e s , discoveries, inventions, s o c i e t i e s , a u t h o r s old a n d new, My dinner, d r e s s , a s s o c i a t e s , looks, c o m p l i m e n t s , d u e s , T h e real or f a n c i e d indifference of s o m e m a n or w o m a n I love, TO T h e s i c k n e s s of o n e of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss or lack of money, or d e p r e s s i o n s or exaltations, B a t t l e s , the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful n e w s , the fitful events; T h e s e c o m e to m e days a n d nights a n d go from m e a g a i n , B u t they are not the M e myself. Apart from the pulling a n d h a u l i n g s t a n d s what I a m , S t a n d s a m u s e d , c o m p l a c e n t , c o m p a s s i o n a t i n g , idle, unitary, L o o k s d o w n , is erect, or b e n d s a n a r m o n a n i m p a l p a b l e certain rest, L o o k i n g with side-curved h e a d c u r i o u s what will c o m e next, B o t h in a n d out of the g a m e a n d w a t c h i n g a n d w o n d e r i n g at it.

75

B a c k w a r d I s e e in my own days w h e r e I s w e a t e d t h r o u g h fog with linguists and contenders, so I have no m o c k i n g s or a r g u m e n t s , I w i t n e s s a n d wait 5

I believe in you my s o u l , the other I a m m u s t not a b a s e itself to y o u , A n d you m u s t not be a b a s e d to the other. L o a f e with m e on the g r a s s , loose the s t o p from your throat, N o t w o r d s , not m u s i c or rhyme I want, not c u s t o m or l e c t u r e , not even the best, 85 Only the lull I like, the h u m of your valved v o i c e . I mind how o n c e we lay s u c h a t r a n s p a r e n t s u m m e r m o r n i n g , H o w you settled your h e a d athwart my hips a n d gently turn'd over u p o n m e , And p a r t e d the shirt from my b o s o m - b o n e , a n d p l u n g e d your t o n g u e to my bare-stript heart, A n d r e a c h ' d till you felt my b e a r d , a n d r e a c h ' d till you held my feet. 90 Swiftly a r o s e a n d s p r e a d a r o u n d m e the p e a c e a n d k n o w l e d g e that p a s s all the a r g u m e n t of the e a r t h , A n d I know that the h a n d of G o d is the p r o m i s e of my o w n , A n d I know that the spirit of G o d is the brother of my o w n , A n d that all the m e n ever born a r e a l s o my b r o t h e r s , a n d the w o m e n my sisters a n d lovers, A n d that a k e l s o n 3 of the c r e a t i o n is love, 95 3.

A b a s i c s t r u c t u r a l unit; a r e i n f o r c i n g t i m b e r b o l t e d to t h e keel ( b a c k b o n e ) of a s h i p .

S O N G OF M Y S E L F ( 1 8 8 1 )

/

1007

A n d limitless are leaves stiff or d r o o p i n g in the fields, A n d brown a n t s in the little wells b e n e a t h t h e m , A n d m o s s y s c a b s of the w o r m f e n c e , heap'd s t o n e s , elder, mullein a n d pokeweed.

6 A child said What is the grass? fetching it to m e with full h a n d s ; H o w c o u l d I a n s w e r the child? I do not know w h a t it is any m o r e than he. ioo I g u e s s it m u s t be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful g r e e n stuff woven. O r I g u e s s it is the h a n d k e r c h i e f of the L o r d , A s c e n t e d gift a n d r e m e m b r a n c e r designedly dropt, B e a r i n g the owner's n a m e s o m e w a y in the c o r n e r s , that we m a y s e e a n d r e m a r k , a n d say Whose? Or

I g u e s s the vegetation.

grass

is

itself

a

child,

the

produced

babe

of

the io*

O r I g u e s s it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it m e a n s , S p r o u t i n g alike in b r o a d zones a n d narrow z o n e s , G r o w i n g a m o n g b l a c k folks as a m o n g white, K a n u c k , T u c k a h o e , C o n g r e s s m a n , C u f f , 4 I give t h e m the s a m e , I receive t h e m the s a m e . And now it s e e m s to m e the beautiful u n c u t hair of graves.

no

Tenderly will I u s e you curling g r a s s , It may be you transpire from the b r e a s t s of y o u n g m e n , It may be if I h a d known t h e m I would have loved t h e m , It m a y be you are from old p e o p l e , or from offspring taken s o o n out of their mothers' laps, A n d here you are the m o t h e r s ' l a p s . us T h i s g r a s s is very dark to be from the white h e a d s of old m o t h e r s , D a r k e r than the colorless b e a r d s of old m e n , D a r k to c o m e from u n d e r the faint red roofs of m o u t h s . 0 I perceive after all so m a n y uttering t o n g u e s , A n d I perceive they do not c o m e from the roofs of m o u t h s for n o t h i n g . 1 2 0 1 wish I c o u l d t r a n s l a t e the hints a b o u t the d e a d y o u n g m e n a n d w o m e n , And the hints a b o u t old m e n a n d m o t h e r s , a n d the offspring taken s o o n o u t of their laps. W h a t do you think has b e c o m e of the y o u n g a n d old m e n ? And what do you think has b e c o m e of the w o m e n a n d c h i l d r e n ?

4 . B l a c k , f r o m t h e A f r i c a n w o r d cuffee. "Kanuck": French C a n a d i a n . " T u c k a h o e " : Virginian, from eaters of the A m e r i c a n Indian food plant tuckahoe.

1008

/

WALT

WHITMAN

T h e y are alive a n d well s o m e w h e r e , 125 T h e s m a l l e s t s p r o u t s h o w s there is really no d e a t h , A n d if ever there w a s it led forward life, a n d d o e s not wait at the e n d to arrest it, A n d ceas'd the m o m e n t life a p p e a r ' d . All g o e s onward a n d o u t w a r d , nothing c o l l a p s e s , A n d to die is different from what any o n e s u p p o s e d , a n d luckier.

130

H a s any o n e s u p p o s e d it lucky to b e b o r n ? I h a s t e n to inform him or her it is j u s t a s lucky to d i e , a n d I know it. I p a s s d e a t h with the dying a n d birth with the new-wash'd b a b e , a n d a m not c o n t a i n ' d b e t w e e n my hat a n d b o o t s , A n d p e r u s e m a n i f o l d o b j e c t s , n o two alike a n d every o n e g o o d , T h e earth g o o d a n d the stars g o o d , a n d their a d j u n c t s all g o o d . 13s I a m not an earth nor an a d j u n c t of a n e a r t h , I a m the m a t e a n d c o m p a n i o n of p e o p l e , all j u s t a s i m m o r t a l a n d f a t h o m l e s s a s myself, (They do not know how i m m o r t a l , but I know.) Every kind for itself a n d its own, for m e m i n e m a l e a n d f e m a l e , F o r m e t h o s e that have b e e n boys a n d that love w o m e n , HO F o r m e the m a n that is p r o u d a n d feels how it stings to be slighted, F o r m e the sweet-heart a n d the old m a i d , for m e m o t h e r s a n d the m o t h e r s of m o t h e r s , F o r m e lips that have s m i l e d , eyes that have s h e d tears, F o r m e children a n d the b e g e t t e r s of children. U n d r a p e ! you are not guilty to m e , nor stale nor d i s c a r d e d , i»i I s e e through the b r o a d c l o t h a n d g i n g h a m w h e t h e r or n o , And a m a r o u n d , t e n a c i o u s , acquisitive, tireless, a n d c a n n o t b e s h a k e n away. 8 T h e little o n e s l e e p s in its c r a d l e , I lift the g a u z e a n d look a long t i m e , a n d silently b r u s h away flies with my hand. T h e y o u n g s t e r a n d the red-faced girl turn a s i d e up the b u s h y hill, I peeringly view t h e m from the t o p .

iso

T h e s u i c i d e sprawls on the bloody floor of the b e d r o o m , I witness the c o r p s e with its d a b b l e d hair, I note w h e r e the pistol h a s fallen. The

blab of the p a v e , tires of c a r t s , sluff of b o o t - s o l e s , talk of the promenaders, T h e heavy o m n i b u s , the driver with his interrogating t h u m b , the c l a n k of the s h o d h o r s e s o n the granite floor, 155

S O N G OF M Y S E L F ( 1 8 8 1 )

/

1009

The The The The The

snow-sleighs, clinking, s h o u t e d j o k e s , pelts of snow-balls, h u r r a h s for p o p u l a r favorites, the fury of rous'd m o b s , flap of the curtain'd litter, a sick m a n inside b o r n e to the hospital, m e e t i n g of e n e m i e s , the s u d d e n o a t h , the blows a n d fall, excited crowd, the p o l i c e m a n with his star quickly working his p a s s a g e to the c e n t r e of the crowd, 160 T h e i m p a s s i v e s t o n e s that receive a n d return s o m a n y e c h o e s , W h a t g r o a n s of over-fed or half-starv'd w h o fall s u n s t r u c k or in fits, W h a t e x c l a m a t i o n s of w o m e n taken s u d d e n l y w h o hurry h o m e a n d give birth to b a b e s , W h a t living a n d b u r i e d s p e e c h is always vibrating h e r e , what howls restrain'd by d e c o r u m , Arrests of c r i m i n a l s , slights, a d u l t e r o u s offers m a d e , a c c e p t a n c e s , rejections with convex lips, 165 I mind t h e m or the s h o w or r e s o n a n c e of t h e m — I c o m e a n d I depart.

9 The The The The

big doors of the country barn stand o p e n a n d ready, dried g r a s s of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn w a g o n , clear light plays on the brown gray a n d green intertinged, a r m f u l s are pack'd to the s a g g i n g m o w .

170

I a m there, I help, I c a m e stretch'd a t o p of the load, I felt its soft j o l t s , o n e leg reclined on the other, I j u m p from the c r o s s - b e a m s a n d sieze the clover a n d timothy, And roll h e a d over heels a n d tangle my hair full of w i s p s .

10 Alone far in the wilds a n d m o u n t a i n s I h u n t , W a n d e r i n g a m a z e d at my own lightness a n d g l e e , In the late afternoon c h o o s i n g a s a f e spot to p a s s the night, Kindling a fire a n d broiling the fresh-kill'd g a m e , Falling a s l e e p on the gather'd leaves with my d o g a n d g u n by my side.

IT;

T h e Y a n k e e clipper is u n d e r her sky-sails, s h e c u t s the sparkle a n d scud, 180 M y eyes settle the land, I b e n d at her prow or s h o u t joyously from the d e c k . T h e b o a t m e n a n d c l a m - d i g g e r s a r o s e early a n d stopt for m e , I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my b o o t s a n d went a n d h a d a g o o d t i m e ; You s h o u l d have b e e n with u s that day r o u n d the chowder-kettle. I s a w the m a r r i a g e of the trapper in the o p e n air in the far w e s t , the bride was a red girl, is; H e r father a n d his friends sat near c r o s s - l e g g e d a n d d u m b l y s m o k i n g , they had m o c c a s i n s to their feet a n d large thick b l a n k e t s h a n g i n g from their shoulders, O n a b a n k l o u n g e d the trapper, he w a s drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant beard a n d curls p r o t e c t e d his neck, he held his bride by the h a n d ,

1010

/

WALT

WHITMAN

S h e h a d long e y e l a s h e s , her h e a d w a s b a r e , her c o a r s e straight locks d e s c e n d e d u p o n her v o l u p t u o u s l i m b s a n d r e a c h ' d to her feet. T h e r u n a w a y slave c a m e to my h o u s e a n d stopt o u t s i d e , I h e a r d his m o t i o n s crackling the twigs of the w o o d p i l e , 190 T h r o u g h the s w u n g half-door of the kitchen I s a w him limpsy 5 a n d w e a k , A n d went w h e r e h e sat o n a log a n d led him in a n d a s s u r e d h i m , A n d b r o u g h t water a n d fill'd a t u b for his s w e a t e d b o d y a n d bruis'd feet, A n d gave him a r o o m that enter'd from my o w n , a n d gave him s o m e c o a r s e clean clothes, A n d r e m e m b e r perfectly well his revolving eyes a n d his a w k w a r d n e s s , 195 A n d r e m e m b e r p u t t i n g p l a s t e r s on the galls of his n e c k a n d a n k l e s ; H e staid with m e a week b e f o r e he w a s r e c u p e r a t e d a n d p a s s ' d north, I h a d him sit next m e at t a b l e , my fire-lock lean'd in the corner. 11 Twenty-eight y o u n g m e n b a t h e by the s h o r e , Twenty-eight y o u n g m e n a n d all s o friendly; Twenty-eight years of w o m a n l y life a n d all s o l o n e s o m e .

200

S h e o w n s the fine h o u s e by the rise of the b a n k , S h e hides h a n d s o m e a n d richly drest aft the blinds of the window. W h i c h of the y o u n g m e n d o e s s h e like the b e s t ? Ah the h o m e l i e s t of t h e m is beautiful to her.

205

W h e r e are you off to, lady? for I s e e you, You s p l a s h in the water there, yet stay s t o c k still in your r o o m . D a n c i n g a n d l a u g h i n g a l o n g the b e a c h c a m e the twenty-ninth bather, T h e rest did not see her, b u t s h e s a w t h e m a n d loved t h e m . T h e b e a r d s of the y o u n g m e n glisten'd with wet, it r a n from their long hair, 210 Little s t r e a m s p a s s ' d over their b o d i e s . An u n s e e n h a n d a l s o p a s s ' d over their b o d i e s , It d e s c e n d e d tremblingly from their t e m p l e s a n d ribs. T h e y o u n g m e n float on their b a c k s , their white bellies b u l g e to the s u n , they d o not a s k w h o seizes fast to t h e m , T h e y d o not know w h o puffs a n d d e c l i n e s with p e n d a n t a n d b e n d i n g arch, 215 T h e y d o not think w h o m they s o u s e with spray. 12 T h e b u t c h e r - b o y p u t s off his killing-clothes, or s h a r p e n s his knife at the stall in the m a r k e t , 5.

L i m p i n g or swaying.

S O N G OF M Y S E L F

(1881)

/

1011

I loiter enjoying his repartee a n d his shuffle a n d b r e a k - d o w n . 6 B l a c k s m i t h s with grimed a n d hairy c h e s t s environ the anvil, E a c h h a s his m a i n - s l e d g e , they are all out, there is a great heat in the fire. 220 F r o m the cinder-strew'd t h r e s h o l d I follow their m o v e m e n t s , T h e lithe s h e e r of their waists plays even with their m a s s i v e a r m s , O v e r h a n d the h a m m e r s swing, o v e r h a n d so slow, o v e r h a n d so s u r e , T h e y do not h a s t e n , e a c h m a n hits in his p l a c e . 13 T h e negro holds firmly the reins of his four h o r s e s , the b l o c k s w a g s undern e a t h o n its tied-over c h a i n , 225 T h e negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, s t e a d y a n d tall h e s t a n d s pois'd on o n e leg on the s t r i n g - p i e c e , 7 H i s b l u e shirt e x p o s e s his a m p l e n e c k a n d breast a n d l o o s e n s over his hipband, His g l a n c e is c a l m a n d c o m m a n d i n g , he t o s s e s the s l o u c h of his hat away from his f o r e h e a d , T h e s u n falls on his crispy hair a n d m u s t a c h e , falls on the b l a c k of his polish'd a n d perfect limbs. I b e h o l d the p i c t u r e s q u e giant a n d love him, a n d I d o not s t o p t h e r e , I go with the t e a m a l s o .

230

In m e the c a r e s s e r of life wherever moving, b a c k w a r d as well a s forward sluing, T o n i c h e s a s i d e a n d j u n i o r 8 b e n d i n g , not a p e r s o n or object m i s s i n g , A b s o r b i n g all to myself a n d for this s o n g . Oxen that rattle the yoke a n d c h a i n or halt in the leafy s h a d e , what is t h a t you express in your eyes? 235 It s e e m s to m e m o r e than all the print I have read in my life. M y tread s c a r e s the wood-drake a n d w o o d - d u c k on my distant a n d day-long ramble. T h e y rise together, they slowly circle a r o u n d . I believe in t h o s e wing'd p u r p o s e s , And And And And

a c k n o w l e d g e red, yellow, white, playing within m e , 240 c o n s i d e r green a n d violet a n d the tufted c r o w n 9 intentional, do not call the tortoise unworthy b e c a u s e s h e is not s o m e t h i n g e l s e , the j a y in the w o o d s never s t u d i e d the g a m u t , 1 yet trills pretty well to me, A n d the look of the bay m a r e s h a m e s silliness o u t of m e . 6. T w o favorite m i n s t r e l - s h o w d a n c e s . T h e " s h u f fie" involves t h e sliding o f feet a c r o s s t h e floor, a n d t h e " b r e a k - d o w n " is f a s t e r a n d n o i s i e r . 7. L o n g , h e a v y t i m b e r u s e d t o k e e p a l o a d in p l a c e .

8. 9. 1.

Smaller. O f the wood drake. H e r e , the series of recognized m u s i c a l notes.

1012

/

WALT

WHITMAN

14 T h e wild g a n d e r leads his flock t h r o u g h the Ya-honk he says, a n d s o u n d s it down to m e T h e pert m a y s u p p o s e it m e a n i n g l e s s , but I Find its p u r p o s e a n d p l a c e u p there toward

cool night, like a n invitation, listening c l o s e , the wintry sky.

24s

T h e s h a r p - h o o f ' d m o o s e of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the c h i c k a d e e , the prairie-dog, T h e litter of the g r u n t i n g sow a s they tug at her t e a t s , 250 T h e brood of the turkey-hen a n d s h e with her half-spread w i n g s , I s e e in t h e m a n d myself the s a m e old law. T h e p r e s s of my foot to the earth s p r i n g s a h u n d r e d affections, T h e y scorn the b e s t I c a n do to relate t h e m . I a m e n a m o u r ' d of growing o u t - d o o r s , 255 O f m e n that live a m o n g cattle or taste of the o c e a n or w o o d s , O f the builders a n d steerers of s h i p s a n d the wielders of axes a n d m a u l s , a n d the drivers of h o r s e s , I c a n eat a n d s l e e p with t h e m week in a n d w e e k out. W h a t is c o m m o n e s t , c h e a p e s t , n e a r e s t , e a s i e s t , is M e , M e g o i n g in for my c h a n c e s , s p e n d i n g for vast returns, A d o r n i n g myself to b e s t o w myself on the first that will take m e , N o t a s k i n g the sky to c o m e d o w n to my g o o d will, S c a t t e r i n g it freely forever.

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I

TRANSLATION

W h a t are you saying to m e ? I a m arrayed like the r o s e s And beautiful a s they

4. From Chippewa Music ( 1 9 1 0 ) by Frances Densmore. Densmore notes that love-charm songs were considered verv powerful. The woman who sang this song used the tenor range, because.

Densmore guesses, the lower register was adopted generally by women who sang Mide' songs in unison with men.

1784

/

CHIPPEWA

SONGS

T h e Approach of the Storm 5 Sung

by

Ga'Gandac'

Abitu' Gicigun' Ebigwen' Kabide' bwewidun' TRANSLATION

F r o m the half of the sky T h a t which lives there Is c o m i n g , a n d m a k e s a n o i s e

T h e Sioux Women Gather U p Their W o u n d e d 6 Sung

by

Odjib'we

Oma'mikweg' Paba' made' mowug' Ona'djida'bamawun' ( J dinini m i w u n Ani'mude'muwug' TRANSLATION

The Sioux women P a s s to a n d fro wailing As they g a t h e r u p Their wounded men T h e voice of their w e e p i n g c o m e s b a c k to u s

5. From Chippewa Music ( 1 9 1 0 ) . T h e thunder, understood a s a manido, or spirit, of the storm, makes its noise to warn people that severe weather is on the way. Upon hearing thunder, the Chippewa would put tobacco on the fire, offering the smoke in peace to the manido, in gratitude for the

warning [adapted from Densmore's note]. 6. From Chippewa M u s i c — / / ( 1 9 1 3 ) by Frances Densmore. T h e Sioux were traditional enemies of the Chippewa, and there are many war songs relating to engagements with the Sioux.

S O N G OF T H E

CAPTIVE SIOUX WOMAN

/

1785

The Sioux Woman Defends Her Children 7 Sung by

Odjib'we

Neta'gica'wasosig' Wape'ton Biapi'sika'dug Go'cawin' Bigica'wasud' TRANSLATION

O n c e c a r e l e s s of her c h i l d r e n 8 S h e of the W a p e t o n S i o u x N o w c o m e s in h a s t e Surely T o their d e f e n s e

Song of the Captive Sioux W o m a n 9 Sung by

Odjib'we

Kaka'tawu1 Waya'bamagin' Nin'gaodji'ma KegeV Nin'jawe'nimig' TRANSLATION

Any C h i p p e w a Whenever I see I will greet with a kiss Truly H e pities m e

7. From Chippewa Music—// ( 1 9 1 3 ) . Densmore notes that "the following two songs were composed about a war expedition which occurred when Odjib'we [the singer] was a young man." This song and the next refer to a hard-fought battle between the Chippewa and the Sioux a few miles north of present-day St. Cloud, Minnesota. T h e first song, composed by Odjib'we's father, recalls a Sioux woman who seized an ax to protect her children from the attacking Chippewa. S h e and all her children were nonetheless killed. 8. This may reflect Chippewa views of Sioux child

care in general. 9. From Chippewa Music—// ( 1 9 1 3 ) . T h e woman referred to was taken captive in the battle referred to in n. 7 and was to be shot. First, she was given the opportunity to sing. T h e song she sang is not known, but as Densmore notes, "It moved the elder brother of Odjib'we so strongly that he rushed forward and rescued her." Later, the captive woman thanked the warriors for sparing her and sang this song. 1. T h e Sioux word for "Chippewa."

1786

GHOST

DANCE

SONGS

The songs that various Native American peoples composed to accompany the dances of the Ghost Dance religion resembled the songs that had traditionally accompanied "round dances," communal dances in which, as the following drawings from the Comanche and Sioux indicate, the dancers held hands and moved in a loose circle. Ghost Dance songs would originate when a dancer fell into a trancelike state and upon regaining consciousness expressed in a song what he or she had seen in the spirit world. As each dance would almost surely give rise to new songs, each tribe's repertoire was constantly changing—although some particularly appealing songs were repeated again and again, and in some cases made their way to other Indian nations. Ghost Dance songs embodied what each people took to be the teachings of the Indian Messiah, Wovoka, but the songs also made mention of aspects of the daily lives and traditional customs and ceremonies of the various native tribes. Thus references to important berries; to gambling wheels and gambling sticks involved in various games; to the sacred pipe, the crow, or the eagle; and to specific activities of the men or the women all appear in the Ghost Dance songs. James Mooney (1861—1921) of the Bureau of American Ethnology studied the Ghost Dance religion and, in 1896, published a massive work titled The Ghost Dance Religion and the Sioux Outbreak of 1890. Mooney not only interviewed Wovoka but conducted extensive interviews with people from many Indian tribes who had participated in the Ghost Dance. An accomplished ethnographic observer familiar with Sioux languages (he had published Siouan Tribes of the East in 1894), Mooney is a careful observer and his commentary is richly descriptive. Printed here are ghost songs from the Arapaho and Sioux. We have provided examples of musical notation as a reminder that these were songs sung as a circle of dancers moved slowly hand in hand. All the selections printed here are from James Mooney's The Ghost

Dance

Religion

and the Sioux

Outbreak

of J 8 90, edited and abridged by

Anthony F. C . Wallace (1965).

Songs of the Arapaho 1 [Father,

have pity on

me]

2

Moderato.. r * i

|

f

» A

m

- * - r - p

• lii'• qu n e ' - c h a - wu' - na - ni',

ni' - qu ne'-cha - w u ' - na - ni';

* 5

a'• wa

bi'-qa • na' - k a - y«' - na,

*4 i - ya

hu'h

ni' - ui

tbi' - ti,

1. T h e Arapaho are an Algonquian-speaking people whose northern branch occupied the present state of Wyoming and whose southern branch lived in present-day Arkansas. T h e Arapaho share many of the traits of the Plains Indians and were particularly close to the Cheyenne. Unlike the Cheyenne, however, the Arapaho maintained generally

a - wa'-wa

bi'-qa - na' • k a - ye'-na;

3 i • ya - hu'h

ui' - bi

tbi' • ti.

Iriendly relations with the whites. 2. This is the most pathetic of the Ghost-dance songs. It is s u n g to a plaintive tune, sometimes with tears rolling down the cheeks of the dancers a s the words would bring up thoughts of their present miserable a n d dependent condition [ Mooney s note].

S O N G S OF T H E ARAPAHO

/

1787

TRANSLATION

F a t h e r , have pity on m e , F a t h e r , have pity o n m e ; I a m crying for thirst, I a m crying for thirst; All is g o n e — 1 have n o t h i n g to e a t , All is g o n e — I have n o t h i n g to e a t . [When

_

1 — T R - R T F ""V

I met him

!•» *

I

RI

I

R*^

•—*

t*-'

H e ' ! Nii-nc'TH BI'-SBI • n a ' - w a .

n a ' • ni . s a ' - u a ,

I

approaching]*

H

4

R*"~

0 0

He'! Nii-ue'TLI BI'-HLII-qu' • '«•»,

X a ' • III . SA'-ua,

N a ' - i - 11A' • h a ' t • dii'-ba'-iiaq, >.";i' - i - iia' • h a t - d a ' • bii'-naq.

TRANSLATION

He! W h e n I m e t h i m a p p r o a c h i n g — He! W h e n I m e t him a p p r o a c h i n g — M y children, my c h i l d r e n — I then s a w t h e m u l t i t u d e plainly, I then s a w t h e m u l t i t u d e plainly.

Native drawings of the Ghost Dance. A, C o m a n c h e ; B, Sioux. 3. This song was brought from the north to the southern Arapaho by Sitting Bull. It refers to the trance vision of a dancer, who saw the Messiah

advancing at the head of all the spirit army. It is an old favorite, and is sung with vigor and animation [Mooney's note].

1 788

/

GHOST DANCE

SONGS

Songs of the Sioux [The father

says

so]'

A ' t e h e ' y e e'yayo! A ' t e h e ' y e e'yayo! A ' t e h e ' y e lo, A ' t e h e ' y e lo. Nitu'nkanshi'la wa'niyegala'ke—kta' e'yayo'! Nitu'nkanshi'la wa'niyegala'ke—kta' e'yayo'! A ' t e he'ye lo, A ' t e h e ' y e lo. Ni'takuye wanye'gala'ke—kta e'yayo'! N i ' t a k u y e wanye'gala'ke—kta e ' y a y o ' ! A ' t e h e ' y e lo, A ' t e h e ' y e lo. TRANSLATION

The The The The You You The The You You The The

father says s o — E ' y a y o ! father says s o — E ' y a y o ! father says s o , father says s o . shall s e e your grandfather—E'yayo'! shall s e e your g r a n d f a t h e r — E ' y a y o ' ! father says s o , father says s o . shall s e e your kindred—E'yayo'! shall s e e your kindred—E'yayo'! father says s o , father says s o .

[Give

me my

knife]

2

Mila kin h i y u ' m i c h i ' c h i y a n a , M i l a kin h i y u ' m i c h i ' c h i y a n a . W a ' w a k a ' bla-kte—Ye ' y e ' ! Wa'waka'bla-kte—Ye'ye'! Onchi he'ye lo—Yo'yo'! Ofichi he'ye l o — Y o ' y o ' ! P u y e chinyi w a ' s n a wakaghinyifi-kte, Puye chinyi w a ' s n a wakaghinyifi-kte, O n c h i heye l o — Y o ' y o ! O n c h i heye l o — Y o ' y o ! 1. This is the opening song of the dance. While singing it, all the dancers stand motionless with hands stretched out toward the west, the country of the messiah and the quarter whence the new spirit world is to c o m e . When it is ended, all cry together, after which they join hands and begin to circle around to the left. "Grandfather," as well as "father," is a reverential term applied to the messiah [Mooney's note].

10

10

2. This song brings up a vivid picture of the old Indian life. In her trance vision the old grandmother whose experience it relates c a m e upon her friends in the spirit world just as all the women of the c a m p were engaged in cutting up the meat for drying after a successful buffalo hunt. In her joy she calls for her knife to assist in the work, and says that as soon as the meat is dry she will make s o m e pemmican [Mooney's note].

WOVOKA

/

1789

TRANSLATION

Give m e my knife, Give m e my knife, I shall h a n g u p the m e a t to I shall h a n g up the m e a t to Says grandmother—Yo'yo'l Says grandmother—Yo'yo'l W h e n it is dry I shall m a k e W h e n it is dry I shall m a k e Says grandmother—Yo'yol Says grandmother—Yo'yol [The whole

world

is

dry—Ye'ye'l dry—Ye'ye'l 5 pemmican,3 pemmican, 10 coming]

4

M a k a ' s i t o ' m a n i y a n ukiye, O y a ' t e uki'ye, o y a ' t e uki'ye, W a ' n b a l i o y a ' t e w a n hoshi'hi-ye lo, Ate heye lo, a t e heye lo, M a k a o'wancha'ya uki'ye. Pte kin ukiye, p t e kin ukiye, K a n g h i o y a ' t e w a n h o s h i ' h i - y e , lo, A ' t e h e ' y e lo, a ' t e h e ' y e lo.

5

TRANSLATION

T h e w h o l e world is c o m i n g , A nation is c o m i n g , a nation is c o m i n g , T h e E a g l e h a s b r o u g h t the m e s s a g e to the tribe. T h e father says s o , the father says s o . Over the w h o l e earth they are c o m i n g . T h e buffalo a r e c o m i n g , the buffalo are c o m i n g , T h e C r o w h a s b r o u g h t the m e s s a g e to the tribe, T h e father says s o , the father says s o .

5

•

3. Dried beef, which is toasted and then pounded into a hash; it may be eaten with sugar, fruit, or mesquite pods. 4. This fine song summarizes the whole hope of the Ghost d a n c e — t h e return of the buffalo and the

departed dead, the message being brought to the people by the sacred birds, the eagle and the crow. T h e eagle known as waii'bali is the war eagle, from which feathers are procured as war bonnets [Mooney* s notel.

WOVOKA c.

1856-1932

Quoitze Ow, known most commonly by his boyhood name Wovoka (the Wood Cutter) or his adoptive name Jack Wilson, was a Numu (Paiute) Indian, born in 1 8 5 6 or 1 8 5 7 at Walker Lake in present-day Nevada. Although he had earlier experienced trancelike states and visions, Wovoka's Great Revelation came to him on New Year's day of 1 8 8 9 when he fell into a coma, perhaps induced by scarlet fever.

1790

/

WOVOKA

On that day there was also a total eclipse of the sun. In his vision, Wovoka was transported to heaven, where he spoke to God, who assured him that the Messiah— Jesus, it would seem, although Wovoka himself began to assume the role of Messiah to many American Indians, particularly after the fulfillment of his prediction of rain to drought-stricken Nevada—was already on earth and that soon the buffalo would return (this was of particular importance to the Plains Indians), game animals would abound, and the Indian dead would be reunited with their kin in an earthly paradise. As for the whites, they would either disappear or somehow be assimilated into the native new world order. The Ghost Dance itself was a form of the traditional round dance that was to be performed for five or six nights. Men and women, hand in hand, moved sideways and in a circular motion around a fire, singing songs that varied from group to group. Followers of the Ghost Dance religion believed that performing this dance, along with carrying out specifically peaceful, thoroughly Christian behaviors, would ensure the realization of Wovoka's vision of paradise. Also assumed by some, particularly the Plains Indians, who early on stripped away the religion's pacific aspects, was the impermeability to bullets of the dyed and painted, fringed muslin or buckskin garments known as Ghost Dance shirts. When asked about this belief, Wovoka himself called it a joke. But it was no joke when the Seventh Cavalry trained its guns on a band of starving Sioux, at Wounded Knee on the Pine Ridge reservation, called there because the government's Indian agent had become panicky about the activities of the Ghost Dancers. A Minneconjou Sioux named Kicking Bear and his brother-in-law Short Bull made the trip southwest to the land of the Fish Eaters (the Paiutes) to find out about this new religion, word of which had spread to the Plains. They met the Paiute Messiah, learned the songs and dances of the Ghost Dance religion and, upon their return, introduced them to the Sioux on the Rosebud, Cheyenne River, and Pine Ridge reservations. Sitting Bull, one of the most notable of the Sioux chiefs and a principal participant in the defeat of Custer at the Little Bighorn River, had his doubts about the power of the Ghost Dance. He was, however, willing to have the religion introduced among his people at Standing Rock reservation—although he had heard that government Indian agents had called for soldiers to stop the dances. James McLaughlin, the agent who was in charge of Standing Rock reservation, was particularly upset about the Ghost Dance, which he called a "pernicious system of religion," for all that much of it was clearly Christian. By November 1890 the agent at Pine Ridge reservation had telegraphed Washington: "Indians are dancing in the snow and are wild and crazy. . . . We need protection and we need it now." Sitting Bull, as one of the most visible and eminent of the Sioux, was singled out by those fearful of the Ghost Dance. Shortly before dawn on December 15, 1890, Sitting Bull's cabin was surrounded by Indian police under the command of Lieutenant Bull Head, who attempted to take the old chief prisoner. Although Sitting Bull cooperated, outside the cabin a crowd of Ghost Dancers urged him to resist arrest. A man named Catch-the-Bear pulled out a rifle and shot at Bull Head, who, as he fell, attempted to shoot back at Catchthe-Bear. His bullet struck Sitting Bull instead; Red Tomahawk, another of the Indian police, then shot the old chief in the head, killing him. Less than ten days after Sitting Bull's murder the call came for the arrest of Big Foot, an elderly Minneconjou Sioux, who was suffering, in the cold, from pneumonia. His people, too, had been participants in the Ghost Dance, and with little resistance possible. Big Foot led them to surrender at Wounded Knee, on the Pine Ridge reservation. Surrounded by cavalry, the Indians were halted and counted: 120 men and 230 women and children. The next morning Colonel James W. Forsyth of the Seventh Cavalry ordered the men outside and announced that they were to be disarmed. Some weapons were given up, but the soldiers persisted in their search. A young man named

THE

MESSIAH LETTER: CHEYENNE VERSION

/

1791

Black Coyote, who may have been deaf, refused to hand over his Winchester rifle. The soldiers seized him; Black Coyote's rifle discharged or was fired, and the violence began. Soldiers shot indiscriminately at the assembled men and the women who, at the sound of gunfire, had run to the scene. Then the big Hotchkiss guns positioned on the surrounding hills began to fire, and in a short time, the massacre was complete. Big Foot and most of his people, the majority women and children, were dead. Later in the day, the soldiers returned to the scene and loaded the wounded Sioux into wagons: four men and forty-seven women and children. Because a blizzard was approaching, the Indian dead were left where they had fallen. After the storm had passed, on New Year's Day of 1891, white settlers, who were paid two dollars a corpse, gathered the Sioux dead, frozen, photographs show, into grotesque shapes, and threw them into a mass grave. In what follows are two versions of Wovoka's teachings, transcriptions of native oratory addressed to native peoples. First, we have a Cheyenne version (many of the tribes sent emissaries to visit the Paiute prophet), dictated, in English, by Black Short Nose to his daughter around 1891, following his visit with Wovoka. We have left uncorrected the grammatical and spelling errors in this account in the belief that Black Short Nose's hybrid English, however different from the standard, is of interest. Next follows Wovoka's own version of his message, as given in 1892 to James Mooney (see p. 1786). Mooney produced this free rendering, which he titles "The Messiah Letter," as part of his detailed study of the Ghost Dance religion.

The Messiah Letter: Cheyenne Version 1 W h e n you get h o m e you have to m a k e d a n c e . You m u s t d a n c e for four nights a n d o n e day time. You will take bath in the s a m e m o r n i n g before you go to yours h o m e , for every body, a n d give you all the s a m e a s this. J a c k s o n W i l s o n 2 likes you all, he is glad to get g o o d m a n y things. His heart satting fully of g l a d n e s s , after you get h o m e , I will give you a g o o d c l o u d a n d give you c h a n c e to m a k e you feel g o o d . I give you a g o o d spirit, a n d give you all g o o d paint, I want you p e o p l e to c o m e here a g a i n , want t h e m in three m o n t h s any tribs of you from t h e r e . T h e r e will b e a g o o d deal s n o w this year. S o m e time rains, in fall this year s o m e rain, never give you any thing like that, grandfather, said, w h e n they were die never cry, n o hurt anybody, do any h a r m for it, not to fight. B e a good b e h a v e always. It will give a satisfaction in your life. T h i s y o u n g m a n is a g o o d father a n d m o t h e r . D o not tell the white p e o p l e a b o u t this, J u s e s 3 is on the g r o u n d , he j u s t like c l o u d . Every body is a live a g a i n . I don't know w h e n he will be h e r e , m a y be will be this fall or in spring. W h e n it h a p p e n it m a y be this. T h e r e will b e no s i c k n e s s a n d return to y o u n g a g a i n . D o not refuse to work for white m a n or do not m a k e any trouble with t h e m until you leave t h e m . W h e n the earth s h a k e s do not be afraid it will not hurt you. I want you to m a k e d a n c e for six w e e k s . Eat a n d w a s h good c l e a n y o u r s e l v e s . 4

1. From J a m e s Moonev's The Ghost Dance Religion and the Sioux Outbreak ofJ 8 9 0 ( 1 8 9 6 , 196S). 2. Wovoka.

3. J e s u s . 4. T h e rest of the letter had heen erased [Moonev's note].

1792

/

ZITKALA SA ( G E R T R U D E

SIMMONS

BONNIN)

T h e Messiah Letter: Mooney's Free Rendering 1 W h e n you get h o m e you m u s t m a k e a d a n c e to c o n t i n u e five d a y s . D a n c e four s u c c e s s i v e n i g h t s , a n d the last night k e e p u p the d a n c e until the m o r n i n g of the fifth day, w h e n all m u s t b a t h e in t h e river a n d t h e n d i s p e r s e to their h o m e s . You m u s t all do in the s a m e way. I, J a c k W i l s o n , love you all, a n d my h e a r t is full of g l a d n e s s for t h e gifts you have b r o u g h t m e . W h e n you get h o m e I shall give you a g o o d c l o u d 2 w h i c h will m a k e you feel g o o d . I give you a g o o d spirit a n d give you all g o o d p a i n t . I w a n t you to c o m e a g a i n in three m o n t h s , s o m e from e a c h tribe t h e r e . 3 T h e r e will b e a g o o d d e a l of s n o w this year a n d s o m e rain. In t h e fall t h e r e will b e s u c h a rain a s I have never given you b e f o r e . G r a n d f a t h e r 4 says, w h e n your friends die you m u s t not cry. You m u s t not hurt anybody or do h a r m to a n y o n e . You m u s t not fight. D o right always. It will give you s a t i s f a c t i o n in life. T h i s y o u n g m a n h a s a g o o d father a n d mother.5 D o not tell the white p e o p l e a b o u t this. J e s u s is now u p o n the earth. H e a p p e a r s like a c l o u d . T h e d e a d are all alive a g a i n . I d o not know w h e n they will b e h e r e ; m a y b e this fall or in the spring. W h e n the t i m e c o m e s there will b e n o m o r e s i c k n e s s a n d everyone will b e y o u n g a g a i n . D o not refuse to work for the whites a n d do not m a k e any t r o u b l e with t h e m until you leave t h e m . W h e n the e a r t h s h a k e s 6 do not b e afraid. It will not hurt you. I want everyone to d a n c e every six w e e k s . M a k e a feast at the d a n c e a n d have food that everybody may eat. T h e n b a t h e in the water. T h a t is all. You will receive g o o d words again from m e s o m e t i m e . D o not tell lies. 1. From J a m e s Mooney's The Ghost Dance Religionandthe Sioux Outbreak of 1890 ( 1 8 9 6 , 1965). 2. Rain? [Mooney's note]. i. T h e Indian Territory [Mooney's note]. 4. A universal title of reverence a m o n g Indians and here meaning the Messiah [Mooney's note].

5. Possibly refers to C a s p e r Edson, the young Arapaho who transcribed this m e s s a g e for the delegation [Mooney's note]. 6. At the coming of the new world [Mooney's note],

ZITKALA SA ( G E R T R U D E S I M M O N S

BONNIN)

1876-1938 Born Gertrude Simmons on February 22, 1876, Zitkala Sa (pronounced "shah"), or Red Bird, as she also called herself after she graduated from college, became a writer, musician, and important Native American political activist. According to the standards established by the dominant patriarchy of the time, a c ajfi"1" m i * P d _ - k l " a d h . n r n on an Indian reservation she was s u g p p s g d j q have been invisible, silent^segregated, a n d s u b m i s s i v e ; instead she achieved notoriety through her'vvnting, oratory, and musical skills and was highly vocal and aggressive in pursuit of her own development and the legal, economic, and cultural rights of Native Americans. Bonnin's biological father was a white man named Felker who deserted the family; her mother, a Yankton-Nakota Sioux named Ellen Tate Iyohinwin (She Reaches for

Z I T K A L A SA ( G E R T R U D E

SIMMONS

BONNIN)

/

1793

the Wind), married John H. Simmons, also a white man, who gave his name to the girl. When she was eight years old, Bonnin left the reservation against her mother's advice to attend White's Manual Labor Institute in Wabash, Indiana, one of many Quaker missionary schools whose self-appointed role was to "save" Indian children from the alleged savagery and paganism of tribal cultures by converting them into "civilized" Christians. After three years in Wabash, Bonnin went back to the reservation for several years before she returned to complete her pre-college schooling at White's Institute. In 1 8 9 5 - 9 6 she was a scholarship student at Quaker-run Earlham College in Richmond, Indiana, where she developed her talents as a debater and as a violinist. Her musical abilities also won her a scholarship to the New England Conservatory of Music. In 1898 she became a music teacher at the Carlisle Indian School in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, where she performed frequently with the school band; when the band visited the Paris Exposition in 1900 Bonnin was featured as a soloist. She was fired from her position at Carlisle when she began to publish autobiographical essays, such as the one reprinted here. These essays first appeared in the prestigious Atlantic Monthly. The contrast between Bonnin's secure and happy life as a child and her painful and confusing initiation into the Christian work ethic is explored. The profound sadness expressed in these essays would have been unexpected by an audience accustomed to success stories absent of all but temporary setbacks. This is only one way in which Bonnin's autobiographical narratives deliberately subvert traditional Eurocentric conventions of self-representation. It is also clear from these narratives that Bonnin disapproved of the school's harsh physical discipline and its attempts to eradicate students'native janguagfs, m s t o n U , and m l t l i m typicnl " f " " • k c r h r i r J c f n r ann(|-|er h a l f c e n t u r y . It was while she was teaching at Carlisle that Bonnin began to write in English some of the stories she had first listened to as a child in the Nakota dialect of the Sioux nation. Several of these fourteen legends feature Iktomi, a trickster figure common to the oral traditions of many cultures (and resurrected by such contemporary writers as Louise Erdrich, Ishmael Reed, Toni Morrison, Gerald Vizenor, and Maxine Hong Kingston). The legends were collected and published as Old Indian Legends (1901). In her preface, signed Zitkala S a , the author ironically observes that she has "tried to translate the native spirit of these tales—root and all—into the English language, since America in the last few centuries has acquired a second tongue." In 1902 Zitkala Sa married Yankton-Nakota Sioux Raymond Talesfase Bonnin, whom she had met on the reservation where she had spent her childhood. He had served as a captain in the U.S. Army and was employed by the federally funded Indian Service. Their son, Raymond O. (Ohiya, or Winner), was born a year after their marriage, and they spent the next fourteen years at various Indian reservations. In 1913, while living on the Unitah-Ouray reservation in Utah, she collaborated with composer William Hanson on the opera Sun Dance, for which she wrote the libretto and lyrics. Although it was well-received in small towns by whites and Native Americans, it was not performed by a professional opera company until 1937. The Society of the American Indian, the first of its kind to be managed exclusively by Native Americans, was established at Ohio State University in 1911, and starting in 1916 Zitkala S a served as its secretary and the family moved permanently to Washington, D.C., where her husband secured a position as a law clerk. She also edited the society's American Indian Magazine (1918—19) and promoted legislation to change the federal governments treatment of Native Americans. In 1924 (the year _Nj,tiv° A r " ° r i r r l n s were g r a n t e d c i t i z e n s h i p ' ! [Rnnnin co-authored Oklahoma's Poor Rich

Indians:

An Orgy of Graft,

Exploitation

of the Five

Civilized

Tribes,

Legalized

Robbery, an expose of the violence and political chicanery that took place after oil was discovered on Indian-owned land. Zitkala S a later organized the National Council of American Indians (1926), which she served as president until her death.

1794

/

ZITKALA SA ( G E R T R U D E S I M M O N S

BONNIN)

Critic Mary Young observes that Zitkala Sa's most effective reform work was done with the General Federation of Women's Clubs, which she had persuaded to establish an Indian Welfare Committee. This committee was instrumental in improving treatment of American Indians and preserving Native American cultures. Zitkala Sa traveled around the country giving lectures on behalf of the committee, often dressed in traditional Sioux costume. Organizational work, lobbying, lecturing, and other obligations associated with her efforts on behalf of Native American causes left little time for imaginative writing, though Zitkala Sa did manage to bring together in one volume her autobiographical essays and some additional firsthand accounts of the painful experiences of other Native Americans. Published as American Indian Stories ( 1 9 2 1 ) , this collection may further help to distinguish Native American from Eurocentric autobiography: in American Indian Stories, the self whose life is being written is what Susan Friedman characterizes as a "relational" self or what Arnold Krupat describes as a "dialogic" self. The emphasis in Native American autobiography, they point out, is on communal rather than individual experience—frequently the reaction of Native Americans to the relentless attempts by Europeans to destroy their cultures. As Leslie Marmon Silko, among other contemporary Native American writers, has insisted, the capacity to tell stories linking the personal to the tribal is often what sustains cultures threatened by extinction. It is just this ability to tell stories in many forms (poetic and polemical) that led to the revival of interest both in Zitkala Sa and in the cultures she represented as a writer and as an activist.

Impressions of an Indian Childhood 1 /. My

Mother

A w i g w a m of w e a t h e r - s t a i n e d c a n v a s s t o o d at the b a s e of s o m e irregularly a s c e n d i n g hills. A footpath w o u n d its way gently d o w n the s l o p i n g land till it r e a c h e d the b r o a d river b o t t o m ; c r e e p i n g t h r o u g h the long s w a m p g r a s s e s that b e n t over it on either s i d e , it c a m e out on the e d g e of the M i s s o u r i . H e r e , m o r n i n g , n o o n , a n d evening, my m o t h e r c a m e to draw water from the m u d d y s t r e a m for our h o u s e h o l d u s e . Always, w h e n my m o t h e r started for the river, I s t o p p e d my play to run a l o n g with her. S h e w a s only of m e d i u m height. Often s h e w a s s a d a n d silent, at which times her full a r c h e d lips were c o m p r e s s e d into hard a n d bitter lines, a n d s h a d o w s fell u n d e r her black eyes. T h e n I c l u n g to her h a n d a n d b e g g e d to know w h a t m a d e the tears fall. " H u s h ; my little d a u g h t e r m u s t never talk a b o u t my t e a r s ; " a n d s m i l i n g through t h e m , s h e patted my h e a d a n d s a i d , " N o w let m e s e e how fast you c a n run to-day." W h e r e u p o n I tore away at my highest p o s s i b l e s p e e d , with my long black hair blowing in the b r e e z e . I w a s a wild little girl of seven. L o o s e l y c l a d in a sIip_of broyyn_huckskin, andJiglvt^fijQje^urith^ f L T e ^ T D d - t b a J bleyy_nry hliir7and no l e s s g p i r i t g d fhan a h o u n d i n g deer. T h e s e "were my mother's p r i d e , — m y ^ w i l d f r e e d o m a n d overflowing spirits. S h e taught m e n o fear save that of intruding myself u p o n o t h e r s . H a v i n g g o n e m a n y p a c e s a h e a d I s t o p p e d , p a n t i n g for b r e a t h , a n d l a u g h i n g with glee a s my m o t h e r w a t c h e d my every m o v e m e n t . I w a s not wholly cons c i o u s of myself, but w a s m o r e keenly alive to the fire within. It w a s a s if I were the activity, a n d my h a n d s a n d feet were only e x p e r i m e n t s for my spirit to work u p o n . I. "Impressions of an Indian Childhood" first appeared in the Atlantic Monthly for January. February, and March of 1900.

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1795

Returning from the river, I tugged beside my m o t h e r , with my h a n d u p o n the bucket I believed I w a s carrying. O n e time, on s u c h a return, I r e m e m b e r a bit of conversation we had. M y grown-up c o u s i n , Warca-Ziwin ( S u n f l o w e r ) , who was then s e v e n t e e n , always went to the river a l o n e for water for her mother. T h e i r wigwam was not far from o u r s ; a n d I saw her daily g o i n g to and from the river. I a d m i r e d my c o u s i n greatly. S o I s a i d : " M o t h e r , w h e n I a m tall as my c o u s i n Warca-Ziwin, you shall not have to c o m e for water. I will do it for y o u . " With a s t r a n g e tremor in her voice which I c o u l d not u n d e r s t a n d , s h e a n s w e r e d , "If the p a l e f a c e d o e s not take away from u s the river we drink." " M o t h e r , w h o is this b a d p a l e f a c e ? " I a s k e d . " M y little d a u g h t e r , he is a s h a m , ^ : : a _ s i r k l y s h a m T T h e b r o n z e d D a k o t a is the only real m a n . " I looked u p into my mother's face while s h e s p o k e ; a n d s e e i n g her bite her lips, I knew s h e w a s u n h a p p y . T h i s a r o u s e d revenge in my small soul. S t a m p ing my foot on the e a r t h , I cried a l o u d , "I hate the p a l e f a c e that m a k e s my m o t h e r cry!" S e t t i n g the pail of water on the g r o u n d , my m o t h e r s t o o p e d , a n d s t r e t c h i n g her left h a n d o u t on the level with my eyes, she p l a c e d her other a r m a b o u t m e ; she pointed to the hill where my u n c l e a n d my only sister lay b u r i e d . " T h e r e is what the p a l e f a c e has d o n e ! S i n c e then your father too has b e e n buried in a hill nearer the rising s u n . W e were o n c e very happy. B u t the p a l e f a c e has stolen our lands and driven \\* h i t h p r H a v i n g d e f r a u d e d u s of our land, tile""paletaceforced us away. "Well, It rTappenecTon the day we m o v e d c a m p that your sister a n d u n c l e were both very sick. M a n y others were ailing, but there s e e m e d to b e no help. W e traveled m a n y days a n d nights; not in the grand h a p p y way that we m o v e d c a m p w h e n I was a little girl, but we were driven, my child, driven like a herd of buffalo. With every s t e p , your sister, w h o w a s not a s large a s you are now, shrieked with the painful j a r until s h e was h o a r s e with crying. S h e grew m o r e a n d m o r e feverish. H e r little h a n d s a n d c h e e k s were b u r n i n g hot. H e r little lips were p a r c h e d a n d dry, but s h e would not drink the water I gave her. T h e n I discovered that her throat w a s swollen a n d red. M y p o o r child, how I cried with her b e c a u s e the G r e a t Spirit h a d forgotten u s ! "At last, w h e n we r e a c h e d this western country, o n the first weary night your sister died. A n d s o o n your u n c l e died a l s o , leaving a widow a n d an orphan d a u g h t e r , your c o u s i n Warca-Ziwin. B o t h your sister a n d u n c l e might have b e e n happy with us to-day, h a d it not b e e n for the h e a r t l e s s p a l e f a c e . " M y m o t h e r w a s silent the rest of the way to our w i g w a m . T h o u g h I saw no tears in her eyes, I knew that was b e c a u s e I w a s with her. S h e s e l d o m wept before m e . 17. The

Legends

D u r i n g the s u m m e r d a y s , my m o t h e r built her fire in the s h a d o w of our wigwam. In the early m o r n i n g our s i m p l e breakfast w a s s p r e a d u p o n the g r a s s west of our t e p e e . At the farthest point of the s h a d e my m o t h e r sat b e s i d e her fire, toasting a savory p i e c e of dried m e a t . N e a r her, I sat u p o n my feet, eating my dried m e a t with u n l e a v e n e d b r e a d , a n d drinking strong black coffee.

1796

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ZITKALA §A ( G E R T R U D E S I M M O N S

BONNIN)

T h e m o r n i n g m e a l w a s our quiet hour, w h e n we two were entirely a l o n e . At n o o n , several w h o c h a n c e d to be p a s s i n g by s t o p p e d to rest, a n d to s h a r e our l u n c h e o n with u s , for they were s u r e of our hospitality. M y u n c l e , w h o s e d e a t h my m o t h e r ever l a m e n t e d , w a s o n e of o u r nation's bravest warriors. His n a m e w a s on the lips of old m e n w h e n talking of the p r o u d feats of valor; a n d it w a s m e n t i o n e d by y o u n g e r m e n , too, in c o n n e c tion with d e e d s of gallantry. O l d w o m e n p r a i s e d him for his k i n d n e s s toward t h e m ; y o u n g w o m e n held him up a s an ideal to their s w e e t h e a r t s . Every o n e loved h i m , a n d my m o t h e r w o r s h i p e d his m e m o r y . T h u s it h a p p e n e d that even s t r a n g e r s were s u r e of w e l c o m e in our lodge, if they but a s k e d a favor in my u n c l e ' s n a m e . T h o u g h I heard m a n y s t r a n g e e x p e r i e n c e s related by t h e s e wayfarers, I loved b e s t the e v e n i n g m e a l , for that w a s the time old l e g e n d s were told. I w a s always glad w h e n the s u n h u n g low in the w e s t , for then my m o t h e r s e n t m e to invite the n e i g h b o r i n g old m e n a n d w o m e n to e a t s u p p e r with u s . R u n n i n g all the way to the w i g w a m s , I halted shyly at the e n t r a n c e s . S o m e times I s t o o d long m o m e n t s without saying a word. It w a s not any fear that m a d e m e s o d u m b w h e n out u p o n s u c h a happy e r r a n d ; nor w a s it that I w i s h e d to withhold the invitation, for it w a s all I c o u l d d o to o b s e r v e this very p r o p e r s i l e n c e . B u t it w a s a s e n s i n g of the a t m o s p h e r e , to a s s u r e m y s e l f that I s h o u l d not hinder other p l a n s . M y m o t h e r u s e d to say to m e , a s I w a s a l m o s t b o u n d i n g away for the old p e o p l e : "Wait a m o m e n t before you invite any o n e . If other p l a n s are b e i n g d i s c u s s e d , do not interfere, but go e l s e where." T h e old folks knew the m e a n i n g of my p a u s e s ; a n d often they c o a x e d my c o n f i d e n c e by asking, " W h a t d o you s e e k , little g r a n d d a u g h t e r ? " " M y m o t h e r says you are to c o m e to o u r t e p e e this e v e n i n g , " I instantly e x p l o d e d , a n d b r e a t h e d the freer afterwards. "Yes, yes, gladly, gladly I shall c o m e ! " e a c h replied. Rising at o n c e a n d carrying their blankets a c r o s s o n e s h o u l d e r , they flocked leisurely from their various w i g w a m s toward our dwelling. M y m i s s i o n d o n e , I ran b a c k , s k i p p i n g a n d j u m p i n g with delight. All o u t of b r e a t h , I told my m o t h e r a l m o s t the exact words of the a n s w e r s to my invitation. F r e q u e n t l y s h e a s k e d , " W h a t were they d o i n g w h e n you e n t e r e d their t e p e e ? " T h i s t a u g h t m e to r e m e m b e r all I s a w at a single g l a n c e . Often I told my m o t h e r my i m p r e s s i o n s without b e i n g q u e s t i o n e d . W h i l e in the n e i g h b o r i n g w i g w a m s s o m e t i m e s an old I n d i a n w o m a n a s k e d m e , " W h a t is your m o t h e r d o i n g ? " U n l e s s my m o t h e r h a d c a u t i o n e d m e not to tell, I generally a n s w e r e d her q u e s t i o n s without reserve. At the arrival of our g u e s t s I sat c l o s e to my mother, a n d did not leave her side without first a s k i n g her c o n s e n t . I a t e my s u p p e r in q u i e t , listening patiently to the talk of the old p e o p l e , w i s h i n g all the time that they w o u l d begin the stories I loved best. At last, w h e n I c o u l d not wait any longer, I w h i s p e r e d in my m o t h e r ' s ear, "Ask t h e m to tell a n I k t o m i 2 story, m o t h e r . " S o o t h i n g my i m p a t i e n c e , my m o t h e r said a l o u d , " M y little d a u g h t e r is anxious to hear your l e g e n d s . " By this time all were t h r o u g h e a t i n g , a n d the evening w a s fast d e e p e n i n g into twilight. As e a c h in turn b e g a n to tell a l e g e n d , I pillowed my h e a d in m y m o t h e r ' s 2. Spider (Sioux, literal trans.); sometimes used to mean trickster.

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1797

lap; a n d lying flat u p o n my back, I w a t c h e d the stars a s they p e e p e d d o w n upon m e , o n e by o n e . T h e i n c r e a s i n g interest of the tale a r o u s e d m e , a n d I sat up eagerly listening for every word. T h e old w o m e n m a d e funny r e m a r k s , and l a u g h e d s o heartily that I c o u l d not help j o i n i n g t h e m . T h e distant howling of a p a c k of wolves or the h o o t i n g of a n owl in the river b o t t o m frightened m e , a n d I nestled into my m o t h e r ' s lap. S h e a d d e d s o m e dry sticks to the fire, a n d the bright flames h e a p e d u p into the f a c e s of the old folks a s they sat a r o u n d in a great circle. O n s u c h an evening, I r e m e m b e r the glare of the fire s h o n e on a tattooed star u p o n the brow of the old warrior w h o w a s telling a story. I w a t c h e d him curiously a s h e m a d e his u n c o n s c i o u s g e s t u r e s . T h e b l u e star u p o n his bronzed f o r e h e a d w a s a puzzle to m e . L o o k i n g a b o u t , I s a w two parallel lines on the chin of o n e of the old w o m e n . T h e rest had n o n e . 1 e x a m i n e d my mother's f a c e , but f o u n d no sign there. After the warrior's story w a s finished, I a s k e d the old w o m a n the m e a n i n g of the b l u e lines o n her c h i n , looking all the while out of the c o r n e r s of my eyes at the warrior with the star on his f o r e h e a d . I w a s a little afraid that h e would r e b u k e m e for my b o l d n e s s . H e r e the old w o m a n b e g a n : "Why, my g r a n d c h i l d , they a r e s i g n s , — s e c r e t signs I d a r e not tell you. I shall, however, tell you a wonderful story a b o u t a w o m a n w h o h a d a c r o s s t a t t o o e d u p o n e a c h of her c h e e k s . " It w a s a long story of a w o m a n w h o s e m a g i c power lay h i d d e n b e h i n d the m a r k s u p o n her f a c e . I fell a s l e e p before the story w a s c o m p l e t e d . Ever after that night I felt s u s p i c i o u s of t a t t o o e d p e o p l e . W h e r e v e r I s a w o n e I g l a n c e d furtively at the m a r k a n d r o u n d a b o u t it, w o n d e r i n g what terrible m a g i c power w a s covered there. It w a s rarely that s u c h a fearful story a s this o n e w a s told by the c a m p fire. Its i m p r e s s i o n w a s so a c u t e that the picture still r e m a i n s vividly clear a n d pronounced. III.

The

Beadwork

S o o n after breakfast, m o t h e r s o m e t i m e s b e g a n her b e a d w o r k . O n a bright clear day, she pulled out the w o o d e n p e g s that p i n n e d the skirt of our wigw a m to the g r o u n d , a n d rolled the c a n v a s part way u p on its f r a m e of slender p o l e s . T h e n the cool m o r n i n g b r e e z e s swept freely t h r o u g h our dwelling, now a n d then wafting the p e r f u m e of sweet g r a s s e s from newly b u r n t prairie. Untying the long t a s s e l e d strings that b o u n d a small brown b u c k s k i n bag, my m o t h e r s p r e a d u p o n a m a t b e s i d e her b u n c h e s of c o l o r e d b e a d s , j u s t a s an artist a r r a n g e s the p a i n t s u p o n his palette. O n a Iapboard s h e s m o o t h e d out a d o u b l e s h e e t of soft white b u c k s k i n ; a n d d r a w i n g from a b e a d e d c a s e that h u n g on the left of her wide belt a long, narrow b l a d e , s h e t r i m m e d the buckskin into s h a p e . Often s h e worked u p o n small m o c c a s i n s for her small d a u g h t e r . T h e n I b e c a m e intensely interested in her d e s i g n i n g . With a p r o u d , b e a m i n g f a c e , I w a t c h e d her work. In i m a g i n a t i o n , I s a w myself walking in a new pair of snugly fitting m o c c a s i n s . I felt the e n v i o u s eyes of my p l a y m a t e s u p o n the pretty red b e a d s d e c o r a t i n g my feet. C l o s e b e s i d e my m o t h e r I sat on a rug, with a s c r a p of b u c k s k i n in o n e h a n d a n d an awl in the other. T h i s w a s the b e g i n n i n g of my practical observation l e s s o n s in the art of b e a d w o r k . F r o m a skein of finely twisted t h r e a d s

1798

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Z I T K A L A Sa

(GERTRUDE SIMMONS

BONNIN)

of silvery s i n e w s my m o t h e r pulled out a single o n e . With a n awl s h e p i e r c e d the b u c k s k i n , a n d skillfully t h r e a d e d it with the white sinew. Picking u p the tiny b e a d s o n e by o n e , she s t r u n g t h e m with the point of her t h r e a d , always twisting it carefully after every stitch. It took m a n y trials before I learned how to knot my sinew thread o n the point of my finger, a s I s a w her d o . T h e n the next difficulty w a s in k e e p i n g my thread stiffly twisted, so t h a t I c o u l d easily string my b e a d s u p o n it. M y m o t h e r r e q u i r e d of m e original d e s i g n s for my l e s s o n s in b e a d i n g . At first I frequently e n s n a r e d m a n y a s u n n y h o u r into working a long d e s i g n . S o o n I learned from self-inflicted p u n i s h m e n t to refrain from d r a w i n g c o m p l e x patterns, for I h a d to finish whatever I b e g a n . After s o m e experience I usually drew e a s y a n d s i m p l e c r o s s e s a n d s q u a r e s . T h e s e were s o m e of the set f o r m s . M y original d e s i g n s were not always symmetrical nor sufficiently c h a r a c t e r i s t i c , two faults with which my m o t h e r h a d little p a t i e n c e . T h e q u i e t n e s s of her oversight m a d e m e feel strongly r e s p o n sible a n d d e p e n d e n t u p o n my own j u d g m e n t . S h e treated m e a s a dignified little individual a s long a s I w a s on my g o o d behavior; a n d how h u m i l i a t e d I w a s w h e n s o m e b o l d n e s s of m i n e drew forth a r e b u k e from her! In the c h o i c e of colors s h e left m e to my own t a s t e . I w a s p l e a s e d with a n outline of yellow u p o n a b a c k g r o u n d of dark b l u e , or a c o m b i n a t i o n of red a n d myrtle-green. T h e r e w a s a n o t h e r of red with a bluish gray that w a s m o r e conventionally u s e d . W h e n I b e c a m e a little familiar with d e s i g n i n g a n d the various p l e a s i n g c o m b i n a t i o n s of color, a h a r d e r l e s s o n w a s given m e . It w a s the s e w i n g o n , i n s t e a d of b e a d s , s o m e tinted p o r c u p i n e quills, m o i s t e n e d a n d flattened b e t w e e n the nails of the t h u m b a n d forefinger. M y m o t h e r c u t off the prickly e n d s a n d b u r n e d t h e m at o n c e in the c e n t r e fire. T h e s e s h a r p points were p o i s o n o u s , a n d worked into the flesh wherever they l o d g e d . F o r this r e a s o n , my m o t h e r said, I s h o u l d not do m u c h a l o n e in quills until I w a s a s tall a s my c o u s i n Warca-Ziwin. Always after t h e s e confining l e s s o n s I w a s wild with s u r p l u s spirits, a n d f o u n d j o y o u s relief in r u n n i n g l o o s e in the o p e n a g a i n . M a n y a s u m m e r a f t e r n o o n , a party of four or five of my p l a y m a t e s r o a m e d over the hills with m e . W e e a c h carried a light s h a r p e n e d rod a b o u t four feet long, with w h i c h we pried u p certain sweet roots. W h e n w e h a d e a t e n all the c h o i c e roots w e c h a n c e d u p o n , we s h o u l d e r e d our rods a n d strayed off into p a t c h e s of a stalky plant u n d e r w h o s e yellow b l o s s o m s we f o u n d little crystal d r o p s of g u m . D r o p by d r o p we g a t h e r e d this nature's r o c k c a n d y , until e a c h of u s c o u l d b o a s t of a l u m p the size of a small bird's e g g . S o o n s a t i a t e d with its w o o d y flavor, we t o s s e d away o u r g u m , to return a g a i n to the sweet r o o t s . I r e m e m b e r well how we u s e d to e x c h a n g e our n e c k l a c e s , b e a d e d b e l t s , a n d s o m e t i m e s even o u r m o c c a s i n s . W e p r e t e n d e d to offer t h e m a s gifts to o n e a n o t h e r . W e delighted in i m p e r s o n a t i n g o u r own m o t h e r s . W e talked of things w e h a d h e a r d t h e m say in their c o n v e r s a t i o n s . W e i m i t a t e d their vari o u s m a n n e r s , even to the inflection of their v o i c e s . In the lap of the prairie we s e a t e d ourselves u p o n o u r feet; a n d l e a n i n g o u r p a i n t e d c h e e k s in the p a l m s of o u r h a n d s , we rested our e l b o w s on our k n e e s , a n d b e n t forward a s old w o m e n were m o s t a c c u s t o m e d to d o . W h i l e o n e w a s telling of s o m e heroic d e e d recently d o n e by a n e a r relative, the rest of u s listened attentively, a n d e x c l a i m e d in u n d e r t o n e s , " H a n ! h a n ! " (yes! yes!) w h e n e v e r the s p e a k e r p a u s e d for b r e a t h , or s o m e t i m e s for our

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1799

sympathy. As the d i s c o u r s e b e c a m e more thrilling, a c c o r d i n g to our i d e a s , we raised our voices in t h e s e interjections. In these i m p e r s o n a t i o n s our parents were led to say only t h o s e things that were in c o m m o n favor. N o m a t t e r how exciting a tale we might be rehearsing, the m e r e shifting of a cloud s h a d o w in the l a n d s c a p e near by was sufficient to c h a n g e our i m p u l s e s ; a n d s o o n we were all c h a s i n g the great s h a d o w s that played a m o n g the hills. W e s h o u t e d a n d w h o o p e d in the c h a s e ; l a u g h i n g a n d calling to o n e a n o t h e r , we were like little sportive n y m p h s on that D a k o t a s e a of rolling green. O n o n e o c c a s i o n , I forgot the c l o u d s h a d o w in a s t r a n g e notion to c a t c h up with my own s h a d o w . S t a n d i n g straight a n d still, I b e g a n to glide after it, putting out o n e foot c a u t i o u s l y . W h e n , with the g r e a t e s t c a r e , I set my foot in a d v a n c e of myself, my s h a d o w crept onward too. T h e n again I tried it; this time with the other foot. Still again my s h a d o w e s c a p e d m e . I b e g a n to r u n ; a n d away flew my s h a d o w , always j u s t a step beyond m e . F a s t e r a n d faster I ran, setting my teeth a n d c l e n c h i n g my fists, d e t e r m i n e d to overtake my own fleet s h a d o w . B u t ever swifter it glided before m e , while I w a s growing b r e a t h l e s s a n d hot. S l a c k e n i n g my s p e e d , I w a s greatly vexed that my s h a d o w s h o u l d c h e c k its p a c e a l s o . D a r i n g it to the u t m o s t , a s I t h o u g h t , I sat d o w n u p o n a rock i m b e d d e d in the hillside. S o ! my s h a d o w had the i m p u d e n c e to sit down b e s i d e m e ! N o w my c o m r a d e s c a u g h t up with m e , a n d b e g a n to a s k why I w a s r u n n i n g away s o fast. " O h , I w a s c h a s i n g my s h a d o w ! Didn't you ever d o t h a t ? " I i n q u i r e d , surprised that they s h o u l d not u n d e r s t a n d . T h e y planted their m o c c a s i n e d feet firmly u p o n my s h a d o w to stay it, a n d I a r o s e . Again my s h a d o w slipped away, a n d m o v e d a s often a s I did. T h e n we gave u p trying to c a t c h my s h a d o w . B e f o r e this p e c u l i a r e x p e r i e n c e I have n o distinct m e m o r y of having recognized any vital b o n d b e t w e e n myself a n d my own s h a d o w . I never g a v e it an afterthought. R e t u r n i n g our b o r r o w e d belts a n d trinkets, w e r a m b l e d h o m e w a r d . T h a t evening, a s on other evenings, I went to sleep over my l e g e n d s . IV.

The

Coffee-Making

O n e s u m m e r afternoon, my m o t h e r left m e a l o n e in our w i g w a m , while she went a c r o s s the way to my a u n t ' s dwelling. I did not m u c h like to stay a l o n e in our t e p e e , for I feared a tall, b r o a d s h o u l d e r e d crazy m a n , s o m e forty years old, w h o walked loose a m o n g the hills. W i y a k a - N a p b i n a ( W e a r e r of a F e a t h e r N e c k l a c e ) w a s h a r m l e s s , a n d whenever he c a m e into a w i g w a m h e w a s driven there by e x t r e m e h u n g e r . H e went n u d e except for the half of a red blanket he girdled a r o u n d his waist. In o n e tawny a r m he u s e d to carry a heavy b u n c h of wild sunflowers that he gathered in his a i m l e s s r a m b l i n g s . His b l a c k hair w a s m a t t e d by the w i n d s , a n d s c o r c h e d into a dry red by the c o n s t a n t s u m m e r s u n . As h e took great strides, p l a c i n g o n e brown b a r e foot directly in front of the other, h e s w u n g his long lean arm to a n d fro. F r e q u e n t l y he p a u s e d in his walk a n d gazed far b a c k w a r d , s h a d i n g his eyes with his h a n d . H e w a s u n d e r the belief that a n evil spirit w a s h a u n t i n g his

1800

/

Z I T K A L A SA

(GERTRUDE SIMMONS

BONNIN)

s t e p s . T h i s w a s what my m o t h e r told m e o n c e , w h e n I s n e e r e d at s u c h a silly big m a n . I was brave w h e n my m o t h e r w a s near by, a n d W i y a k a - N a p b i n a walking farther a n d farther away. "Pity the m a n , my child. I knew him w h e n he w a s a brave a n d h a n d s o m e y o u t h . H e w a s overtaken by a m a l i c i o u s spirit a m o n g the hills, o n e day, w h e n h e went hither a n d thither after his p o n i e s . S i n c e then h e c a n n o t stay away from the hills," s h e said. I felt so sorry for the m a n in his m i s f o r t u n e that I p r a y e d to the G r e a t Spirit to restore h i m . B u t t h o u g h I pitied him at a d i s t a n c e , I w a s still afraid of him w h e n h e a p p e a r e d n e a r our w i g w a m . T h u s , w h e n my m o t h e r left m e by myself that a f t e r n o o n , I sat in a fearful m o o d within our t e p e e . I recalled all I h a d ever h e a r d a b o u t W i y a k a - N a p b i n a ; a n d I tried to a s s u r e myself that t h o u g h h e might p a s s n e a r by, h e w o u l d not c o m e to our w i g w a m b e c a u s e there w a s no little girl a r o u n d o u r g r o u n d s . J u s t t h e n , from without a h a n d lifted the c a n v a s c o v e r i n g of the e n t r a n c e ; the s h a d o w of a m a n fell within the w i g w a m , a n d a large roughly m o c c a s i n e d foot w a s p l a n t e d inside. F o r a m o m e n t I did not d a r e to b r e a t h e or stir, for I t h o u g h t that c o u l d be no other t h a n W i y a k a - N a p b i n a . T h e next instant I s i g h e d a l o u d in relief. It w a s a n old g r a n d f a t h e r w h o h a d often told m e Iktomi l e g e n d s . " W h e r e is your m o t h e r , my little g r a n d c h i l d ? " were his first w o r d s . " M y m o t h e r is s o o n c o m i n g b a c k from my aunt's t e p e e , " I replied. " T h e n I shall wait awhile for her r e t u r n , " he said, c r o s s i n g his feet a n d seating himself upon a mat. At o n c e I b e g a n to play the part of a g e n e r o u s h o s t e s s . I t u r n e d to my mother's coffeepot. Lifting the lid, I f o u n d nothing but coffee g r o u n d s in the b o t t o m . I set the pot on a h e a p of cold a s h e s in the c e n t r e , a n d filled it half full of w a r m M i s s o u r i River water. D u r i n g this p e r f o r m a n c e I felt c o n s c i o u s of b e i n g w a t c h e d . T h e n b r e a k i n g off a small p i e c e of our u n l e a v e n e d b r e a d , I p l a c e d it in a bowl. T u r n i n g s o o n to the coffeepot, which w o u l d never have boiled o n a d e a d fire h a d I waited forever, I p o u r e d out a c u p of w o r s e t h a n m u d d y w a r m water. C a r r y i n g the bowl in o n e h a n d a n d c u p in the other, I h a n d e d the light l u n c h e o n to the old warrior. I offered t h e m to h i m with the air of b e s t o w i n g g e n e r o u s hospitality. " H o w ! h o w ! " 3 h e said, a n d p l a c e d the d i s h e s on the g r o u n d in front of his c r o s s e d feet. H e nibbled at the b r e a d a n d s i p p e d from the c u p . I s a t b a c k a g a i n s t a pole w a t c h i n g h i m . I w a s p r o u d to have s u c c e e d e d s o well in serving r e f r e s h m e n t s to a g u e s t all by myself. B e f o r e the old warrior h a d finished e a t i n g , my m o t h e r e n t e r e d . I m m e d i a t e l y s h e w o n d e r e d w h e r e I h a d f o u n d coffee, for s h e knew I h a d never m a d e any, a n d that s h e h a d left the c o f f e e p o t empty. A n s w e r i n g the q u e s t i o n in my m o t h e r ' s eyes, the warrior r e m a r k e d , " M y g r a n d d a u g h t e r m a d e coffee on a h e a p of d e a d a s h e s , a n d served m e the moment I came." T h e y both l a u g h e d , a n d m o t h e r s a i d , " W a i t a little longer, a n d I shall build a fire." S h e m e a n t to m a k e s o m e real c o f f e e . B u t neither s h e nor the warrior, w h o m the law of our c u s t o m h a d c o m p e l l e d to p a r t a k e o f my insipid hospitality, said anything to e m b a r r a s s m e . T h e y treated my b e s t j u d g m e n t , p o o r 3. Or hao ihau), American Indian greeting.

I M P R E S S I O N S O F AN I N D I A N C H I L D H O O D

/

1801

as it w a s , with the u t m o s t r e s p e c t . It w a s not till long years afterward that I learned how r i d i c u l o u s a thing I h a d d o n e . V. The Dead

Man's Plum

Bush

O n e a u t u m n afternoon, m a n y p e o p l e c a m e s t r e a m i n g toward the dwelling of our n e a r neighbor. With p a i n t e d f a c e s , a n d w e a r i n g b r o a d white b o s o m s of elk's teeth, they hurried down the narrow footpath to H a r a k a W a m b d i ' s wigwam. Y o u n g m o t h e r s held their children by the h a n d , a n d half pulled them a l o n g in their h a s t e . T h e y overtook a n d p a s s e d by the b e n t old g r a n d m o t h e r s w h o were trudging a l o n g with c r o o k e d c a n e s toward the c e n t r e of excitement. M o s t of the y o u n g braves galloped hither on their p o n i e s . T o o t h less warriors, like the old w o m e n , c a m e m o r e slowly, t h o u g h m o u n t e d on lively p o n i e s . T h e y sat proudly erect on their h o r s e s . T h e y wore their e a g l e p l u m e s , a n d waved their various trophies of former w a r s . In front of the w i g w a m a great fire was built, a n d several large black kettles of venison were s u s p e n d e d over it. T h e crowd were s e a t e d a b o u t it on the grass in a great circle. B e h i n d t h e m s o m e of the braves s t o o d l e a n i n g a g a i n s t the necks of their p o n i e s , their tall figures d r a p e d in l o o s e r o b e s which were well drawn over their eyes. Y o u n g girls, with their f a c e s glowing like bright red a u t u m n leaves, their glossy braids falling over e a c h ear, sat c o q u e t t i s h l y b e s i d e their c h a p e r o n s . It w a s a c u s t o m for y o u n g Indian w o m e n to invite s o m e older relative to escort them to the public f e a s t s . T h o u g h it w a s not a n iron law, it w a s generally o b s e r v e d . H a r a k a W a m b d i w a s a s t r o n g y o u n g brave, w h o h a d j u s t r e t u r n e d from his first battle, a warrior. His near relatives, to c e l e b r a t e his n e w rank, were s p r e a d i n g a feast to which the whole of the Indian village w a s invited. H o l d i n g my pretty striped blanket in r e a d i n e s s to throw over my s h o u l d e r s , I grew m o r e a n d m o r e restless a s I w a t c h e d the gay t h r o n g a s s e m b l i n g . M y m o t h e r w a s busily broiling a wild d u c k that my a u n t h a d that m o r n i n g brought over. " M o t h e r , m o t h e r , why do you s t o p to c o o k a s m a l l m e a l w h e n we are invited to a f e a s t ? " I a s k e d , with a snarl in my voice. " M y child, learn to wait. O n our way to the c e l e b r a t i o n we are g o i n g to stop at C h a n y u ' s w i g w a m . H i s a g e d mother-in-law is lying very ill, a n d I think she would like a taste of this small g a m e . " Having o n c e s e e n the suffering on the thin, p i n c h e d f e a t u r e s of this dying w o m a n , I felt a m o m e n t a r y s h a m e that I h a d not r e m e m b e r e d her b e f o r e . O n our way, I ran a h e a d of my mother, a n d w a s r e a c h i n g out my h a n d to pick s o m e p u r p l e p l u m s that grew on a small b u s h , w h e n I w a s c h e c k e d by a low " S h ! " from my m o t h e r . "Why, m o t h e r , I want to t a s t e the p l u m s ! " I e x c l a i m e d , a s I d r o p p e d my h a n d to my side in d i s a p p o i n t m e n t . " N e v e r p l u c k a single p l u m from this b u s h , my child, for its roots are w r a p p e d a r o u n d a n Indian's skeleton. A brave is buried h e r e . W h i l e h e lived, he w a s s o fond of playing the g a m e of striped p l u m s e e d s that, at his d e a t h , his set of p l u m s e e d s were buried in his h a n d s . F r o m t h e m s p r a n g u p this little b u s h . " E y e i n g the forbidden fruit, I trod lightly on the s a c r e d g r o u n d , a n d d a r e d

1802

/

Z I T K A L A SA ( G E R T R U D E S I M M O N S

BONNIN)

to s p e a k only in w h i s p e r s , until we h a d g o n e m a n y p a c e s from it. After that t i m e , I halted in my r a m b l i n g s whenever I c a m e in sight of the p l u m b u s h . I grew s o b e r with a w e , a n d w a s alert to hear a long-drawn-out whistle rise from the roots of it. T h o u g h I h a d never h e a r d with my own e a r s this s t r a n g e whistle of d e p a r t e d spirits, yet I h a d listened so frequently to h e a r the old folks d e s c r i b e it that I knew I s h o u l d recognize it at o n c e . T h e lasting i m p r e s s i o n of that day, a s I recall it now, is what my m o t h e r told m e a b o u t the d e a d m a n ' s p l u m b u s h . VI.

The

Ground

Squirrel

In the busy a u t u m n d a y s , my c o u s i n Warca-Ziwin's m o t h e r c a m e to o u r w i g w a m to help my m o t h e r p r e s e r v e foods for our winter u s e . I w a s very fond of my a u n t , b e c a u s e s h e w a s not s o q u i e t a s my m o t h e r . T h o u g h s h e w a s older, s h e w a s m o r e jovial a n d less reserved. S h e w a s s l e n d e r a n d r e m a r k a b l y erect. While my mother's hair w a s heavy a n d black, my a u n t h a d u n u s u a l l y thin locks. Ever s i n c e I knew her, s h e wore a string of large b l u e b e a d s a r o u n d her n e c k , — b e a d s that were p r e c i o u s b e c a u s e my u n c l e h a d given t h e m to her w h e n s h e w a s a y o u n g e r w o m a n . S h e h a d a peculiar s w i n g in her gait, c a u s e d by a long stride rarely natural to so slight a figure. It w a s d u r i n g my a u n t ' s visit with u s that my m o t h e r forgot her a c c u s t o m e d q u i e t n e s s , often l a u g h i n g heartily at s o m e of my a u n t ' s witty r e m a r k s . I loved my a u n t threefold: for her hearty laughter, for the c h e e r f u l n e s s s h e c a u s e d my m o t h e r , a n d m o s t of all for the times she dried my tears a n d held m e in her lap, w h e n my m o t h e r h a d reproved m e . Early in the cool m o r n i n g s , j u s t a s the yellow rim of the s u n rose a b o v e the hills, we were up a n d e a t i n g o u r breakfast. W e a w o k e s o early that w e s a w the s a c r e d h o u r w h e n a misty s m o k e h u n g over a pit s u r r o u n d e d by a n i m p a s s a b l e sinking m i r e . T h i s s t r a n g e s m o k e a p p e a r e d every m o r n i n g , both winter a n d s u m m e r ; but m o s t visibly in midwinter it r o s e i m m e d i a t e l y a b o v e the m a r s h y spot. By the time the full f a c e of the s u n a p p e a r e d a b o v e the e a s t e r n horizon, the s m o k e v a n i s h e d . E v e n very old m e n , w h o h a d known this country the l o n g e s t , said that the s m o k e from this pit h a d never failed a single day to rise h e a v e n w a r d . As I frolicked a b o u t our dwelling, I u s e d to stop s u d d e n l y , a n d with a fearful awe w a t c h the s m o k i n g of the u n k n o w n fires. W h i l e the v a p o r w a s visible, I w a s afraid to go very far from o u r w i g w a m u n l e s s I went with my mother. F r o m a field in the fertile river b o t t o m my m o t h e r a n d a u n t g a t h e r e d a n a b u n d a n t supply of c o r n . N e a r our t e p e e , they s p r e a d a large c a n v a s u p o n the g r a s s , a n d dried their s w e e t corn in it. I w a s left to w a t c h the c o r n , that n o t h i n g s h o u l d disturb it. I played a r o u n d it with dolls m a d e of e a r s of c o r n . I braided their soft fine silk for hair, a n d gave t h e m b l a n k e t s a s v a r i o u s a s the s c r a p s I f o u n d in my m o t h e r ' s w o r k b a g . T h e r e w a s a little stranger with a black-and-yellow-striped c o a t that u s e d to c o m e to the drying corn. It w a s a little g r o u n d squirrel, w h o w a s s o fearless of m e that he c a m e to o n e c o r n e r of the c a n v a s a n d carried away a s m u c h of the s w e e t corn a s h e c o u l d hold. I w a n t e d very m u c h to c a t c h him, a n d rub his pretty fur b a c k , but my m o t h e r said he would be s o frightened if I

I M P R E S S I O N S O F AN I N D I A N C H I L D H O O D

/

1803

c a u g h t him that h e w o u l d bite my fingers. S o I w a s a s c o n t e n t a s he to k e e p the corn b e t w e e n u s . Every m o r n i n g he c a m e for m o r e c o r n . S o m e e v e n i n g s I have s e e n him c r e e p i n g a b o u t our g r o u n d s ; a n d w h e n I g a v e a s u d d e n w h o o p of recognition, he ran quickly out of sight. W h e n m o t h e r h a d dried all the corn s h e w i s h e d , then s h e sliced great p u m p k i n s into thin rings; a n d t h e s e s h e d o u b l e d a n d linked t o g e t h e r into long c h a i n s . S h e h u n g t h e m on a pole that s t r e t c h e d b e t w e e n two forked p o s t s . T h e wind a n d s u n s o o n thoroughly dried the c h a i n s of p u m p k i n . T h e n s h e p a c k e d t h e m away in a c a s e of thick a n d stiff b u c k s k i n . In the s u n a n d wind s h e a l s o dried m a n y wild f r u i t s , — c h e r r i e s , berries, a n d p l u m s . B u t chiefest a m o n g my early recollections of a u t u m n is that o n e of the corn drying a n d the g r o u n d squirrel. I have few m e m o r i e s of winter days, at this period of my life, t h o u g h m a n y of the s u m m e r . T h e r e is o n e only which I c a n recall. S o m e m i s s i o n a r i e s g a v e m e a little b a g of m a r b l e s . T h e y were all sizes a n d c o l o r s . A m o n g t h e m were s o m e of colored g l a s s . W a l k i n g with my m o t h e r to the river, o n a late winter day, we f o u n d great c h u n k s of ice piled all a l o n g the b a n k . T h e ice o n the river w a s floating in h u g e p i e c e s . A s I s t o o d b e s i d e o n e large block, I noticed for the first time the colors of the rainbow in the crystal ice. I m m e d i a t e l y I thought of my g l a s s m a r b l e s at h o m e . With my b a r e fingers I tried to pick out s o m e of the c o l o r s , for they s e e m e d so n e a r the s u r f a c e . B u t my fingers b e g a n to sting with the i n t e n s e c o l d , a n d I h a d to bite t h e m hard to keep from crying. F r o m that day o n , for m a n y a m o o n , I believed that g l a s s m a r b l e s h a d river ice inside of t h e m . VII.

The Big Red

Apples

T h e first turning away from the easy, natural flow of my life o c c u r r e d in a n early spring. It w a s in my eighth year; in the m o n t h of M a r c h , I afterward learned. At this a g e I knew b u t o n e l a n g u a g e , a n d that w a s my m o t h e r ' s native t o n g u e . F r o m s o m e of my p l a y m a t e s I h e a r d that two p a l e f a c e m i s s i o n a r i e s were in our village. T h e y were from that c l a s s of white m e n w h o w o r e big hats a n d carried large h e a r t s , they said. R u n n i n g direct to my m o t h e r , I b e g a n to q u e s t i o n her why t h e s e two s t r a n g e r s were a m o n g u s . S h e told m e , after I h a d t e a s e d m u c h , that they h a d c o m e to take away I n d i a n boys a n d girls to the E a s t . M y m o t h e r did not s e e m to want m e to talk a b o u t t h e m . B u t in a day or two, I g l e a n e d m a n y wonderful stories from my playfellows c o n c e r n i n g the s t r a n g e r s . " M o t h e r , my friend J u d e w i n is going h o m e with the m i s s i o n a r i e s . S h e is g o i n g to a m o r e beautiful country than o u r s ; the p a l e f a c e s told her s o ! " I s a i d wistfully, wishing in my heart that I too might g o . M o t h e r sat in a chair, a n d I w a s h a n g i n g o n her k n e e . Within the last two s e a s o n s my big brother D a w e e h a d returned from a three years' e d u c a t i o n in the E a s t , a n d his c o m i n g b a c k influenced my m o t h e r to take a farther step from her native way of living. First it w a s a c h a n g e from the buffalo skin to the white m a n ' s c a n v a s that covered our w i g w a m . N o w s h e h a d given u p her w i g w a m of slender p o l e s , to live, a foreigner, in a h o m e of c l u m s y logs. "Yes, my child, several others b e s i d e s J u d e w i n are g o i n g away with the

1804

/

Z I T K A L A SA

(GERTRUDE SIMMONS

BONNIN)

p a l e f a c e s . Your brother said the m i s s i o n a r i e s h a d inquired a b o u t his little sister," s h e said, w a t c h i n g my f a c e very closely. M y heart t h u m p e d s o hard a g a i n s t my b r e a s t , I w o n d e r e d if s h e c o u l d hear it. " D i d he tell t h e m to take m e , m o t h e r ? " I a s k e d , f e a r i n g lest D a w e e h a d forbidden the p a l e f a c e s to s e e m e , a n d that my h o p e of g o i n g to the W o n derland would be entirely blighted. With a s a d , slow s m i l e , s h e a n s w e r e d : " T h e r e ! I k n e w you were w i s h i n g to g o , b e c a u s e J u d e w i n h a s filled your e a r s with the white m e n ' s lies. D o n ' t believe a word they say! T h e i r words a r e sweet, b u t , my child, their d e e d s are bitter. You will cry for m e , but they will not even s o o t h e y o u . S t a y with m e , my little o n e ! Your brother D a w e e says that g o i n g E a s t , away from your mother, is too hard a n experience for his baby s i s t e r . " T h u s my m o t h e r d i s c o u r a g e d my curiosity a b o u t the l a n d s b e y o n d our e a s t e r n horizon; for it w a s not yet an a m b i t i o n for L e t t e r s that w a s stirring m e . B u t on the following day the m i s s i o n a r i e s did c o m e to our very h o u s e . I spied t h e m c o m i n g u p the f o o t p a t h l e a d i n g to our c o t t a g e . A third m a n w a s with t h e m , but he w a s not my brother D a w e e . It w a s a n o t h e r , a y o u n g interpreter, a p a l e f a c e w h o h a d a s m a t t e r i n g of the Indian l a n g u a g e . I w a s ready to run o u t to m e e t t h e m , but I did not d a r e to d i s p l e a s e my m o t h e r . W i t h great glee, I j u m p e d u p a n d d o w n o n o u r g r o u n d floor. I b e g g e d my m o t h e r to o p e n the door, that they would b e s u r e to c o m e to u s . Alas! T h e y c a m e , they saw, a n d they c o n q u e r e d ! J u d e w i n h a d told m e of the great tree w h e r e grew r e d , red a p p l e s ; a n d how we c o u l d r e a c h out our h a n d s a n d pick all the red a p p l e s we c o u l d eat. I h a d never s e e n a p p l e trees. I h a d never t a s t e d m o r e t h a n a dozen red a p p l e s in my life; a n d w h e n I h e a r d of the o r c h a r d s of the E a s t , I w a s e a g e r to r o a m a m o n g t h e m . T h e m i s s i o n a r i e s s m i l e d into my eyes, a n d p a t t e d my h e a d . I w o n d e r e d how m o t h e r c o u l d say s u c h hard w o r d s a g a i n s t t h e m . " M o t h e r , a s k t h e m if little girls m a y have all the red a p p l e s they want, w h e n they go E a s t , " I w h i s p e r e d a l o u d , in my e x c i t e m e n t . T h e interpreter h e a r d m e , a n d a n s w e r e d : "Yes, little girl, the nice red a p p l e s are for t h o s e w h o p i c k t h e m ; a n d you will have a ride on the iron h o r s e if you go with these g o o d p e o p l e . " I h a d never s e e n a train, a n d he k n e w it. " M o t h e r , I'm g o i n g E a s t ! I like big red a p p l e s , a n d I w a n t to ride on the iron h o r s e ! M o t h e r , say y e s ! " I p l e a d e d . M y m o t h e r said n o t h i n g . T h e m i s s i o n a r i e s waited in s i l e n c e ; a n d my eyes b e g a n to blur with t e a r s , t h o u g h I s t r u g g l e d to c h o k e t h e m b a c k . T h e c o r n e r s of my m o u t h twitched, a n d my m o t h e r s a w m e . "I a m not ready to give you any w o r d , " s h e s a i d to t h e m . " T o - m o r r o w I shall s e n d you my a n s w e r by my s o n . " With this they left u s . A l o n e with my m o t h e r , I yielded to my t e a r s , a n d cried a l o u d , s h a k i n g my h e a d so a s not to h e a r w h a t s h e w a s saying to m e . T h i s w a s the first time I h a d ever b e e n s o unwilling to give u p my own d e s i r e that I r e f u s e d to h e a r k e n to my m o t h e r ' s v o i c e . T h e r e w a s a s o l e m n s i l e n c e in our h o m e that night. B e f o r e I went to b e d I b e g g e d the G r e a t Spirit to m a k e my m o t h e r willing I s h o u l d go with the missionaries. T h e next m o r n i n g c a m e , a n d my m o t h e r called m e to her s i d e . " M y d a u g h ter, d o you still persist in wishing to leave your m o t h e r ? " s h e a s k e d .

I M P R E S S I O N S O F AN I N D I A N C H I L D H O O D

/

1805

" O h , m o t h e r , it is not that I wish to leave you, but I w a n t to s e e the wonderful E a s t e r n l a n d , " I a n s w e r e d . M y dear old a u n t c a m e to our h o u s e that m o r n i n g , a n d I h e a r d her say, " L e t her try i t . " I h o p e d that, a s u s u a l , my a u n t w a s p l e a d i n g on my s i d e . M y brother D a w e e c a m e for m o t h e r ' s d e c i s i o n . I d r o p p e d my play, a n d c r e p t c l o s e to my aunt. "Yes, D a w e e , my d a u g h t e r , t h o u g h s h e d o e s not u n d e r s t a n d what it all m e a n s , is anxious to go. S h e will n e e d an e d u c a t i o n w h e n s h e is g r o w n , for then there will be fewer real D a k o t a s , a n d m a n y m o r e p a l e f a c e s . T h i s tearing her away, s o young, from her m o t h e r is n e c e s s a r y , if I w o u l d have her a n e d u c a t e d w o m a n . T h e p a l e f a c e s , w h o owe u s a large debt for stolen l a n d s , have b e g u n to pay a tardy j u s t i c e in offering s o m e e d u c a t i o n to our children. B u t I know my d a u g h t e r m u s t suffer keenly in this e x p e r i m e n t . F o r her s a k e , I d r e a d to tell you my reply to the m i s s i o n a r i e s . G o , tell t h e m that they m a y take my little d a u g h t e r , a n d that the G r e a t Spirit shall not fail to reward t h e m a c c o r d i n g to their h e a r t s . " W r a p p e d in my heavy blanket, I walked with my m o t h e r to the c a r r i a g e that w a s s o o n to take us to the iron h o r s e . I w a s happy. I m e t my p l a y m a t e s , w h o were also w e a r i n g their b e s t thick b l a n k e t s . W e s h o w e d o n e a n o t h e r o u r n e w b e a d e d m o c c a s i n s , a n d the width of the belts that girdled our n e w d r e s s e s . S o o n we were being drawn rapidly away by the white m a n ' s h o r s e s . W h e n I saw the lonely figure of my m o t h e r vanish in the d i s t a n c e , a s e n s e of regret settled heavily u p o n m e . I felt s u d d e n l y w e a k , a s if I m i g h t fall limp to the g r o u n d . I w a s in the h a n d s of s t r a n g e r s w h o m my m o t h e r did not fully trust. I n o longer felt free to be myself, or to voice my own feelings. T h e tears trickled down my c h e e k s , a n d I buried my face in the folds of my blanket. N o w the first s t e p , parting m e from my m o t h e r , w a s t a k e n , a n d all my b e l a t e d tears availed nothing. H a v i n g driven thirty miles to the ferryboat, we c r o s s e d the M i s s o u r i in the evening. T h e n riding a g a i n a few miles e a s t w a r d , we s t o p p e d before a m a s s i v e brick building. I looked at it in a m a z e m e n t , a n d with a v a g u e misgiving, for in our village I h a d never s e e n s o large a h o u s e . T r e m b l i n g with fear a n d distrust of the p a l e f a c e s , my teeth c h a t t e r i n g from the chilly ride, I c r e p t noiselessly in my soft m o c c a s i n s a l o n g the narrow hall, k e e p i n g very c l o s e to the b a r e wall. I w a s a s frightened a n d bewildered a s the c a p t u r e d y o u n g of a wild c r e a t u r e . 1900

•

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American Literature between tlie Wars 1Q14_1945 T H E TWO WARS AS H I S T O R I C A L

MARKERS

T h e conflict known a s W o r l d W a r I broke o u t in E u r o p e in 1 9 1 4 , with E n g l a n d a n d F r a n c e fighting a g a i n s t G e r m a n y . T h e U n i t e d S t a t e s that belatedly entered the war in 1 9 1 7 , on the side of E n g l a n d a n d F r a n c e , w a s still in the m a i n a nation of f a r m e r s a n d small t o w n s . A l t h o u g h several waves of i m m i g r a t i o n from s o u t h e r n a n d e a s t e r n E u r o p e h a d altered the m a k e u p of the p o p u l a t i o n , the majority of A m e r i c a n s were of E n g l i s h or G e r m a n a n c e s try. T h i s majority w a s deeply distrustful of international politics, a n d after the war e n d e d , m a n y A m e r i c a n s a t t e m p t e d to steer the nation b a c k to prewar m o d e s of life. B u t to o t h e r s , the c o l l a p s e of E u r o p e a s r e p r e s e n t e d by the brutal quarrel b e t w e e n n e i g h b o r n a t i o n s d e m o n s t r a t e d the i n a d e q u a c y of old ways; they s a w the war a s a m a n d a t e to c h a n g e the f o r m s of political a n d social life. T h u s the 1 9 2 0 s saw n u m e r o u s conflicts over the s h a p e of the future, which a c q u i r e d new u r g e n c y w h e n the s t o c k m a r k e t c r a s h e d in 1 9 2 9 a n d led to an e c o n o m i c d e p r e s s i o n with a 2 5 p e r c e n t u n e m p l o y m e n t r a t e . T h e d e p r e s s i o n did not fully e n d until the U n i t e d S t a t e s e n t e r e d W o r l d W a r II, which h a p p e n e d after the J a p a n e s e a t t a c k e d the A m e r i c a n fleet at Pearl H a r b o r on D e c e m b e r 7, 1 9 4 1 . B e c a u s e J a p a n a n d G e r m a n y were allies, G e r m a n y d e c l a r e d war on the U n i t e d S t a t e s , t h u s involving the c o u n t r y in a n o t h e r E u r o p e a n conflict. T h e war unified the country ideologically; revitalized industry, which devoted itself to g o o d s n e e d e d for the war effort; a n d put p e o p l e to work. I n d e e d , with so m a n y m e n away at war, w o m e n went into the work force in u n p r e c e d e n t e d n u m b e r s . G e r m a n y s u r r e n d e r e d in the spring of 1 9 4 5 . T h e war e n d e d in A u g u s t 1 9 4 5 following the d e t o n a t i o n of two a t o m i c b o m b s over the J a p a n e s e cities of H i r o s h i m a a n d N a g a s a k i . E u r o p e w a s in ruins a n d — r e g a r d l e s s of the w i s h e s of its c i t i z e n s — t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s h a d b e c o m e both a n industrial society a n d a m a j o r global power. T h e two wars, t h e n , e n c l o s e a c o h e r e n t period d u r i n g w h i c h , no m a t t e r how internally fractured it w a s , the U n i t e d S t a t e s b e c a m e a m o d e r n n a t i o n . In fact, the internal fractures c a n be u n d e r s t o o d a s diverse r e s p o n s e s to the irreversible advent of modernity. A m e r i c a n literature in t h e s e d e c a d e s registers all side of the era's s t r u g g l e s a n d d e b a t e s , while s h a r i n g a c o m m i t m e n t to explore the m a n y m e a n i n g s of modernity a n d e x p r e s s t h e m in f o r m s a p p r o 1807

1808

/

AMERICAN LITERATURE BETWEEN THE WARS,

1914-1945

priate to a m o d e r n vision. S o m e writers rejoiced while others l a m e n t e d ; s o m e a n t i c i p a t e d future Utopias a n d others believed that civilization h a d c o l l a p s e d ; but all believed that old f o r m s w o u l d not work for n e w t i m e s , a n d all w e r e inspired by the possibility of c r e a t i n g s o m e t h i n g entirely new. T h e totality of the conflicted literary o u t p u t p r o d u c e d d u r i n g this p e r i o d is called A m e r i c a n literary m o d e r n i s m . A m o n g literary conflicts, p e r h a p s three related i s s u e s s t a n d out. O n e is the q u e s t i o n of h o w e n g a g e d in political a n d social struggle a work of literature o u g h t to b e . S h o u l d art b e a d o m a i n u n t o itself, exploring universal q u e s t i o n s a n d e n u n c i a t i n g t r a n s c e n d e n t truths, or s h o u l d art p a r t i c i p a t e in the politics of the t i m e s ? T o o n e faction, a work that was political in n a t u r e c o u l d not even be called art; to a n o t h e r , an apolitical literature w a s evasive a n d s i m p l i s t i c ; to a third, the call to k e e p art out of politics w a s itself political, so m u c h so that the term art b e c a m e suspect. A s e c o n d conflict involved the p l a c e of the p o p u l a r in s e r i o u s literature. T h r o u g h o u t the era, p o p u l a r c u l t u r e g a i n e d m o m e n t u m a n d i n f l u e n c e . T o o n e faction, it w a s c r u c i a l for the future of literature that p o p u l a r f o r m s be e m b r a c e d ; to a n o t h e r , g o o d literature h a d to reject the cynical c o m m e r c i a l ism of p o p u l a r c u l t u r e . A third conflict c e n t e r e d on tradition v e r s u s a u t h e n ticity. T o s o m e , a work registering a w a r e n e s s a n d a p p r e c i a t i o n of literary history—by allusion, by u s e of tradition f o r m s , by c o n v e n t i o n a l poetic l a n g u a g e — h a d to b e d i s m i s s e d a s imitative a n d o l d - f a s h i o n e d . T o o t h e r s , a work failing to register s u c h a w a r e n e s s a n d a p p r e c i a t i o n w a s b a d or i n c o m petent writing.

C H A N G I N G

T I M E S

In the 1 9 2 0 s a n d 1 9 3 0 s , the p a c e of u r b a n i z a t i o n , industrialization, a n d i m m i g r a t i o n — f o r c e s at work s i n c e before the Civil W a r — s p e e d e d u p , c h a n g ing national d e m o g r a p h i c s . U r b a n i m m i g r a n t s in c r o w d e d s l u m s , working in s u b s t a n d a r d c o n d i t i o n s , often looked to international m o d e l s for alternatives to the capitalist system that they b l a m e d for their h a r d s h i p s . T h e i m m e d i a t e p o s t w a r years s a w o n the o n e h a n d the so-called R e d s c a r e , w h e n labor u n i o n h e a d q u a r t e r s were raided a n d i m m i g r a n t r a d i c a l s d e p o r t e d by the governm e n t . T h e s e years s a w o n the other h a n d the 1 9 1 9 f o u n d i n g of the A m e r i c a n C o m m u n i s t Party a s a n auxiliary of the international C o m m u n i s t Party u n d e r the direction of the Soviet U n i o n ( R u s s i a ) , w h i c h a d v o c a t e d worldwide revolution. In 1 9 2 4 , c o n g r e s s e n a c t e d the first exclusionary i m m i g r a t i o n act in the nation's history, h o p i n g thereby to control the ethnic m a k e u p of the American p o p u l a t i o n . D u r i n g t h e s e years, two g r o u p s that h a d b e e n relatively silent a n d d i s e n f r a n c h i s e d before the w a r — A f r i c a n A m e r i c a n s a n d white w o m e n — b e c a m e artistically a n d politically central to the n a t i o n a l life. I m m i g r a n t s , African A m e r i c a n s , a n d e m a n c i p a t e d u r b a n w o m e n f a c e d off a g a i n s t rural a n d u r b a n traditionalists, m a l e a n d f e m a l e , over the q u e s t i o n of w h o , exactly, w a s truly " A m e r i c a n . " W r i t e r s , long c o n n e c t e d with the a v a n t - g a r d e a n d the u n c o n v e n t i o n a l , usually a s s o c i a t e d with the antitraditionalists; but often they were m o r e cultural than political n o n c o n f o r m i s t s .

INTRODUCTION

MARXISM AND

/

1809

COMMUNISM

C o m m u n i s m a n d the other f o r m s of radical politics s o c o m m o n in the interwar d e c a d e s took their ideology from the writings of the G e r m a n Karl M a r x ( 1 8 1 8 - 1 8 8 3 ) . M a r x identified the root of h u m a n behavior in e c o n o m i c s . H e c l a i m e d that industrializing societies were structurally divided into two a n t a g o n i s t i c c l a s s e s b a s e d on different relations to the m e a n s of p r o d u c t i o n — c a p i t a l v e r s u s labor. A c c o r d i n g to him, the Industrial Revolution a r o s e from the a c c u m u l a t i o n of s u r p l u s capital by industrialists paying the least p o s s i b l e a m o u n t to workers. T h e next s t a g e in world history would b e w h e n workers took control of the m e a n s of p r o d u c t i o n for t h e m s e l v e s . B e c a u s e , to Marx, the ideas a n d ideals of any particular society c o u l d r e p r e s e n t the intere s t s of only its d o m i n a n t c l a s s , he d e r i d e d individualism a s a m i d d l e - c l a s s or " b o u r g e o i s " value d e s i g n e d to d i s c o u r a g e worker solidarity. Marx's ideas f o r m e d the b a s i s for c o m m u n i s t political parties a c r o s s E u r o p e . In 1 9 1 7 , a C o m m u n i s t revolution in R u s s i a led by Vladimir Ilyich L e n i n ( 1 8 7 0 — 1 9 1 4 ) overthrew the tsarist r e g i m e , instituted the " d i c t a t o r s h i p of the p r o l e t a r i a t " that M a r x h a d called for, a n d e n g i n e e r e d the d e v e l o p m e n t of C o m m u n i s m a s a unified international m o v e m e n t . A m e r i c a n s w h o t h o u g h t of t h e m s e l v e s a s M a r x i s t s in the 1 9 2 0 s a n d 1 9 3 0 s were usually c o n n e c t e d with the C o m m u n i s t Party a n d s u b j e c t e d to g o v e r n m e n t surveill a n c e a n d o c c a s i o n a l violence, a s were socialists, a n a r c h i s t s , u n i o n organize r s , a n d others w h o o p p o s e d A m e r i c a n free e n t e r p r i s e a n d m a r k e t p l a c e c o m p e t i t i o n . A l t h o u g h politics directed from o u t s i d e the national b o u n d a r i e s w a s , a l m o s t by definition, " u n - A m e r i c a n , " m a n y a d h e r e n t s of t h e s e movem e n t s h o p e d to m a k e the U n i t e d S t a t e s c o n f o r m to its s t a t e d ideals, guara n t e e i n g liberty a n d j u s t i c e for all. W h e r e writers were c o n c e r n e d , a n i m p o r t a n t i n s t a n c e of conflict in the 1 9 2 0 s w a s the so-called S a c c o - V a n z e t t i c a s e . N i c o l a S a c c o a n d B a r o l o m e o Vanzetti were Italian i m m i g r a n t s , not C o m m u n i s t s b u t avowed a n a r c h i s t s ; on April 15, 1 9 2 0 , they were a r r e s t e d n e a r B o s t o n after a m u r d e r d u r i n g a robbery. T h e y were a c c u s e d of that c r i m e , then tried a n d c o n d e m n e d to d e a t h in 1 9 2 1 ; but it w a s widely believed that they h a d not received a fair trial a n d that their political beliefs had b e e n held a g a i n s t t h e m . After a n u m ber of a p p e a l s , they were e x e c u t e d in 1 9 2 7 , m a i n t a i n i n g their i n n o c e n c e to the e n d . M a n y writers a n d intellectuals d e m o n s t r a t e d in their d e f e n s e ; several were a r r e s t e d a n d j a i l e d . It is e s t i m a t e d that well over a h u n d r e d p o e m s a l o n g with six plays a n d eighj; novels of the time treated the incident from a sympathetic perspective.

SELF-EXPBESSION

AND

PSYCHOLOGY

M u c h social energy in the 1 9 2 0 s went into enlarging the b o u n d a r i e s for a c c e p t a b l e self-expression. A d h e r e n t s to small-town, white, P r o t e s t a n t v a l u e s s u c h a s the work e t h i c , social conformity, duty, a n d respectability, c l a s h e d ideologically with newly a r t i c u l a t e g r o u p s , a n d , especially, newly affluent y o u n g p e o p l e w h o a r g u e d for m o r e diverse, p e r m i s s i v e , a n d tolerant styles of

1810

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AMERICAN LITERATURE BETWEEN THE W A R S ,

1914-1945

life. T o s o m e extent this d e b a t e r e c a p i t u l a t e d the long-time A m e r i c a n c o n flict b e t w e e n the individual a n d society, a conflict g o i n g b a c k to the seventeenth-century P u r i t a n s a n d e p i t o m i z e d in R a l p h W a l d o E m e r s o n ' s call, in the 1 8 4 0 s : " w h o s o e v e r would be a m a n , m u s t b e a n o n - c o n f o r m i s t . " In the 1 9 2 0 s , m u c h n o n c o n f o r m i s t energy involved o p p o s i n g Prohibition. T h e E i g h t e e n t h A m e n d m e n t to the U . S . C o n s t i t u t i o n , forbidding the " m a n u f a c t u r e , s a l e , or transportation of intoxicating l i q u o r s , " ratified in J a n u a r y 1 9 1 9 , w a s widely a n d openly ignored. M a n y historians believe that Prohibition o p e n e d the door to organized c r i m e , a n d certainly the p h e n o m e n o n of the " g a n g s t e r " a r o s e in the 1 9 2 0 s in c o n n e c t i o n with b o o t l e g liquor, which organized c r i m e w a s ready to transport a n d s u p p l y to otherwise law-abiding citizens. T h e a m e n d m e n t w a s finally r e c o g n i z e d a s u n e n f o r c e a b l e a n d w a s r e p e a l e d in 1 9 3 3 . T h e g a n g s t e r , however, h a d e n t e r e d A m e r i c a n cultural life to stay; he b e c a m e a central figure, s o m e t i m e s a n o n c o n f o r m i n g h e r o a n d s o m e t i m e s a predatory villain, in the m o v i e s a n d the hard-boiled fiction of the 1 9 3 0 s . T h e 1 9 2 0 s s a w significant c h a n g e s in sexual m o r e s , a s w a s to b e e x p e c t e d w h e n y o u n g p e o p l e were n o longer u n d e r the watchful eyes of their smalltown e l d e r s . A c c o r d i n g to the influential A u s t r i a n psychiatrist S i g m u n d F r e u d ( 1 8 5 8 — 1 9 3 9 ) , inventor of the p r a c t i c e of p s y c h o a n a l y s i s , m a n y m o d ern n e u r o s e s c o u l d b e t r a c e d to r e p r e s s i o n a n d inhibition. F r e u d d e v e l o p e d the idea of the self a s g r o u n d e d in a n " u n c o n s c i o u s , " w h e r e forbidden d e s i r e s , t r a u m a s , u n a c c e p t a b l e e m o t i o n s , a n d the l i k e — m o s t of t h e s e sexual in n a t u r e — w e r e s t o r e d . F r e u d h o p e d that trained analysts c o u l d help p e o p l e b e c o m e a w a r e of their r e p r e s s e d feelings, so that they w o u l d be a b l e to control t h e m productively. T h e A m e r i c a n version of p s y c h o a n a l y s i s — m o r e Utopian than F r e u d ' s c a u t i o u s claim that individuals c o u l d learn to c o p e with their own p e r s o n a l i t i e s m o r e effectively—held that e m o t i o n a l w h o l e n e s s would be a t t a i n e d at o n c e if p e o p l e recognized a n d o v e r c a m e their inhibitions. A m e r i c a n i z e d F r e u d i a n ideas provided the p s y c h o l o g i c a l u n d e r p i n n i n g for m u c h literature of the interwar era, w h e t h e r the f o c u s w a s the individual trapped in a repressive c u l t u r e or the repressive c u l t u r e itself. T h e m i d d l e - c l a s s d o u b l e sexual s t a n d a r d h a d , in fact, always g r a n t e d considerable sexual f r e e d o m to m e n ; now, however, w o m e n — e n f r a n c h i s e d politically by the N i n e t e e n t h A m e n d m e n t to the C o n s t i t u t i o n , p a s s e d in A u g u s t 1 9 2 0 after m o r e than seventy years of suffragist agitation, a n d liberated by a u t o m o b i l e s a n d j o b possibilities away from h o m e — b e g a n to d e m a n d similar f r e e d o m for t h e m s e l v e s . W o m e n ' s d e m a n d s went well beyond the erotic, however, e n c o m p a s s i n g e d u c a t i o n , p r o f e s s i o n a l work, mobility, a n d whatever else s e e m e d like social g o o d s hitherto reserved for m e n . F e m a l e d r e s s c h a n g e d ; long, heavy, restricting g a r m e n t s gave way to short, lightweight, easily worn s t o r e - b o u g h t clothing. F o r m a n y traditionalists, n o t h i n g would s e e m m o r e destructive to society than the c h a n g e s advoc a t e d by w o m e n w h o insisted o n equality with m e n . S o m e of the m o s t radical literary m o d e r n i s t s t u r n e d out to b e highly traditional w h e r e w o m e n ' s roles were c o n c e r n e d . P e r h a p s b e c a u s e writing itself w a s viewed by m a n y m a i n s t r e a m A m e r i c a n s as a kind of feminized activity, a u t h o r s like E r n e s t H e m i n g w a y a n d E z r a P o u n d d e f e n d e d their m a n h o o d by insisting that n o w o m a n c o u l d really b e a g o o d writer, b e c a u s e a u t h o r s h i p w a s a strictly m a s c u l i n e vocation.

INTRODUCTION

AFRICAN

/

1811

AMERICANS

A r o u n d 1 9 1 5 , a s a direct result of the industrial n e e d s of W o r l d W a r I, o p p o r t u n i t i e s o p e n e d for African A m e r i c a n s in the factories of the N o r t h , a n d the so-called G r e a t Migration out of the S o u t h b e g a n . N o t only did migration give the lie to s o u t h e r n white c l a i m s that African A m e r i c a n s were c o n t e n t with s o u t h e r n segregationist p r a c t i c e s , it d a m a g e d the S o u t h ' s e c o n o m y by draining off a n i m p o r t a n t s e g m e n t of its working p e o p l e . E v e n t h o u g h African A m e r i c a n s f a c e d r a c i s m , s e g r e g a t i o n , a n d racial v i o l e n c e in the N o r t h , a black A m e r i c a n p r e s e n c e s o o n b e c a m e powerfully visible in American cultural life. H a r l e m , a section of N e w York City, a t t a i n e d a n a l m o s t wholly b l a c k p o p u l a t i o n of over 1 5 0 , 0 0 0 by the m i d - 1 9 2 0 s ; from this "city within a city," African A m e r i c a n s b e g a n to write, p e r f o r m , c o m p o s e , a n d paint. T h i s work i n f l u e n c e d writers, p a i n t e r s , a n d m u s i c i a n s of other ethnicities. African A m e r i c a n s , however, did not s p e a k with o n e v o i c e . T h e r e were a r g u m e n t s b e t w e e n t h o s e w h o w a n t e d to claim m e m b e r s h i p in the c u l t u r e at large a n d t h o s e w h o w a n t e d to stake out a s e p a r a t e artistic d o m a i n ; b e t w e e n t h o s e w h o w a n t e d to c e l e b r a t e s i m p l e , rural African A m e r i c a n lifeways a n d t h o s e c o m m i t t e d to u r b a n intellectuality; b e t w e e n t h o s e w h o w a n t e d to j o i n the A m e r i c a n m a i n s t r e a m a n d t h o s e w h o , d i s g u s t e d by American r a c e p r e j u d i c e , aligned t h e m s e l v e s with worldwide revolutionary movem e n t s ; b e t w e e n t h o s e w h o c e l e b r a t e d a "primitive" African heritage a n d t h o s e w h o rejected the idea a s a d e g r a d i n g stereotype. W . E . B . D u B o i s h a d a r g u e d that African A m e r i c a n s h a d a kind of d o u b l e c o n s c i o u s n e s s — o f t h e m s e l v e s a s A m e r i c a n s a n d a s b l a c k s . In the c a s e of N e l l a L a r s e n , a u t h o r of the novel Quicksand, o n e might a r g u e for a triple c o n s c i o u s n e s s , in w h i c h a w a r e n e s s of o n e s e l f a s a w o m a n plays a part. A n event of e q u a l i m p o r t a n c e to the S a c c o - V a n z e t t i c a s e w a s the S c o t t s boro c a s e ; in 1 9 3 1 nine black youths were indicted in S c o t t s b o r o , A l a b a m a , for the a l l e g e d r a p e of two white w o m e n in a railroad freight car. T h e y were all f o u n d guilty, a n d s o m e were s e n t e n c e d to d e a t h . T h e U . S . S u p r e m e C o u r t reversed convictions twice; in a s e c o n d trial o n e of the a l l e g e d victims retracted her testimony; in 1 9 3 7 c h a r g e s a g a i n s t five were d r o p p e d . B u t four went to jail, in m a n y people's view unfairly. T h e C o m m u n i s t s w e r e especially active in the S c o t t s b o r o d e f e n s e ; but white a n d black p e o p l e a c r o s s the political s p e c t r u m s a w the c a s e a s crucial to the q u e s t i o n of w h e t h e r black p e o p l e c o u l d receive fair trials in the A m e r i c a n S o u t h . T h e unfair trial of a minority p e r s o n b e c a m e a literary motif in m u c h writing of the period a n d b e y o n d , i n c l u d i n g R i c h a r d Wright's Native Son, William F a u l k n e r ' s Intruder in the Dust, a n d H a r p e r L e e ' s To Kill a Mockingbird.

S C I E N C E AND

TECHNOLOGY

T e c h n o l o g y played a vital, a l t h o u g h often invisible, role in all t h e s e events, b e c a u s e it linked p l a c e s a n d s p a c e s , c o n t r i b u t i n g to the s h a p i n g of c u l t u r e a s a national p h e n o m e n o n rather t h a n a series of local m a n i f e s t a t i o n s . I n d e e d , without new m o d e s of p r o d u c t i o n , t r a n s p o r t a t i o n , a n d c o m m u n i -

1812

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AMERICAN LITERATURE BETWEEN THE W A R S ,

1914-1945

c a t i o n , m o d e r n A m e r i c a in all its complexity c o u l d not have existed. Electricity for lights a n d a p p l i a n c e s , a l o n g with the t e l e p h o n e — n i n e t e e n t h century i n v e n t i o n s — e x p a n d e d into A m e r i c a n h o m e s at large d u r i n g t h e s e years, improving life for m a n y but w i d e n i n g the g a p b e t w e e n t h o s e p l u g g e d into the new networks a n d t h o s e o u t s i d e t h e m . T h e p h o n o g r a p h record a n d the r e c o r d player (early devices for r e c o r d i n g a n d playing m u s i c ) , the motion p i c t u r e (which a c q u i r e d s o u n d in 1 9 2 9 ) , a n d the radio m a d e n e w c o n n e c t i o n s p o s s i b l e a n d b r o u g h t m a s s , p o p u l a r c u l t u r e into b e i n g . A l t h o u g h the n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y d r e a m of forging a s c a t t e r e d p o p u l a t i o n into a single nation c o u l d now b e realized, m a n y intellectuals s u s p e c t e d that m a s s c u l t u r e would only c r e a t e a r o b o t i c , passive p o p u l a t i o n v u l n e r a b l e to d e m a g o g u e r y . Art b e c a m e a c o u n t e r s t a t e m e n t on b e h a l f of the n o n c o n f o r m i s t creativity p r e s u m a b l y stifled by the c e a s e l e s s flow of m a n i p u l a t i v e i m a g e s . T h e m o s t powerful t e c h n o l o g i c a l innovation, however, e n c o u r a g e d activity not passivity: this w a s the a u t o m o b i l e , w h i c h h a d b e e n d e v e l o p e d by the e n d of the n i n e t e e n t h century, b u t r e m a i n e d a luxury item until Henry F o r d ' s assembly-line t e c h n i q u e s m a d e c a r s a f f o r d a b l e . A u t o m o b i l e s p u t A m e r i c a n s on the r o a d , d r a m a t i c a l l y r e s h a p e d the s t r u c t u r e of A m e r i c a n industry a n d o c c u p a t i o n s , a n d altered the national t o p o g r a p h y a s well. A l o n g with work in a u t o m o b i l e factories t h e m s e l v e s , millions of other j o b s — i n steel mills, p a r t s f a c t o r i e s , highway c o n s t r u c t i o n a n d m a i n t e n a n c e , g a s s t a t i o n s , m a c h i n e s h o p s , r o a d s i d e r e s t a u r a n t s , m o t e l s — d e p e n d e d o n the industry. T h e r o a d itself b e c a m e — a n d h a s r e m a i n e d — a key powerful symbol of the U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d of modernity a s well. C i t i e s grew, s u b u r b s c a m e into b e i n g , s m a l l towns d i e d , new towns a r o s e , a c c o r d i n g to the p l a c e m e n t of highways. T h e U n i t e d S t a t e s h a d b e c o m e a n a t i o n of m i g r a n t s a s m u c h or m o r e than it w a s a nation of i m m i g r a n t s . It is i m p o s s i b l e fully to d i s s o c i a t e t e c h n o l o g y f r o m s c i e n c e , a n d certainly o n e of the m o s t i m p o r t a n t d e v e l o p m e n t s in the interwar p e r i o d w a s the growth of m o d e r n " b i g " s c i e n c e . At the turn of the c e n t u r y a n d s o o n afterward scientists b e c a m e a w a r e that the a t o m w a s not the s m a l l e s t p o s s i b l e unit of matter, that m a t t e r w a s not i n d e s t r u c t i b l e , that both time a n d s p a c e were relative to a n observer's position, that s o m e p h e n o m e n a were so small that a t t e m p t s at m e a s u r e m e n t w o u l d alter t h e m , that s o m e o u t c o m e s c o u l d be p r e d i c t e d only in t e r m s of statistical probability, that the universe might be infinite in size a n d yet infinitely e x p a n d i n g ; in short, m u c h of the c o m m o n s e n s e b a s i s of n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y s c i e n c e h a d to be p u t a s i d e in favor of far m o r e powerful but a l s o far less c o m m o n s e n s i c a l t h e o r i e s . A m o n g m a n y r e s u l t s , s c i e n t i s t s a n d literary intellectuals b e c a m e less a n d l e s s a b l e to c o m m u n i c a t e with e a c h other a n d less respectful of e a c h o t h e r s ' worldviews. S c i e n t i s t s s a w literary p e o p l e a s c a r e l e s s thinkers; literary p e o p l e , e s p e c i a l l y the m o r e conservative a m o n g t h e m , d e p l o r e d the loss of authority for traditional, h u m a n i s t i c e x p l a n a t i o n s of the real, c o n c r e t e , e x p e r i e n c e d world a n d the felt h u m a n life. S u c h s o u t h e r n writers a s J o h n C r o w e R a n s o m , J o h n P e a l e B i s h o p , a n d Allen T a t e , a s well a s p o e t s E z r a P o u n d , T . S . Eliot, W a l l a c e S t e v e n s , a n d William C a r l o s W i l l i a m s , r e a c t e d spiritedly to the i n c r e a s ingly prevalent a s s u m p t i o n that nonscientific thinking, b e c a u s e it w a s i m p r e c i s e a n d value l a d e n , c o u l d not explain anything. T h e y belittled the capacity of s c i e n c e to provide a c c o u n t s of the things that m a t t e r , like s u b jective e x p e r i e n c e a n d moral i s s u e s . Art, to t h e m , b e c a m e the repository of

INTRODUCTION

/

1813

a way of e x p e r i e n c i n g the world other t h a n that offered by s c i e n c e . T h e i r a p p r o a c h put a heavy b u r d e n of " m e a n i n g " o n art a n d w a s a sign, if not a contributing c a u s e , of the i n c r e a s e d specialization of intellectual activity a n d the division of e d u c a t e d p e o p l e into what the British novelist a n d physicist C . P. S n o w w a s later to call the "two c u l t u r e s " — s c i e n c e v e r s u s letters.

THE

1930s

T h e D e p r e s s i o n w a s a worldwide p h e n o m e n o n , a n d social u n r e s t led to the rise of fascist d i c t a t o r s h i p s in E u r o p e , a m o n g which were t h o s e of G e n e r a l i s s i m o F r a n c i s c o F r a n c o in S p a i n , B e n i t o M u s s o l i n i in Italy, a n d Adolf Hitler in G e r m a n y . Hitler's p r o g r a m , which w a s to m a k e G e r m a n y rich a n d strong by c o n q u e r i n g the rest of E u r o p e , led inexorably to W o r l d W a r II. In the U n i t e d S t a t e s , the G r e a t D e p r e s s i o n m a d e politics a n d e c o n o m i c s the salient i s s u e s a n d overrode q u e s t i o n s of individual f r e e d o m with q u e s tions of m a s s c o l l a p s e . F r e e - e n t e r p r i s e c a p i t a l i s m h a d always justified itself by a r g u i n g that a l t h o u g h the system m a d e a small n u m b e r of individuals i m m e n s e l y wealthy it also g u a r a n t e e d better lives for all. T h i s a s s u r a n c e now r a n g hollow. T h e s u i c i d e s of millionaire b a n k e r s a n d s t o c k b r o k e r s m a d e the h e a d l i n e s , but m o r e c o m p e l l i n g w a s the e n o r m o u s toll a m o n g ordinary p e o ple w h o lost h o m e s , j o b s , f a r m s , a n d life savings in the s t o c k m a r k e t c r a s h . C o n s e r v a t i v e s advised waiting until things got better; r a d i c a l s e s p o u s e d i m m e d i a t e social revolution. In this a t m o s p h e r e , the election of Franklin D e l a n o Roosevelt to the p r e s i d e n c y in 1 9 3 2 was a victory for A m e r i c a n pragm a t i s m ; his series of liberal r e f o r m s — s o c i a l security, a c t s c r e a t i n g j o b s in the public sector, welfare, a n d u n e m p l o y m e n t i n s u r a n c e — c u s h i o n e d the worst effects of the D e p r e s s i o n a n d avoided the civil war that m a n y h a d t h o u g h t inevitable. T h e terrible situation in the U n i t e d S t a t e s p r o d u c e d a significant i n c r e a s e in C o m m u n i s t Party m e m b e r s h i p a n d p r e s t i g e in the 1 9 3 0 s . N u m e r o u s intellectuals allied t h e m s e l v e s with its c a u s e s , even if they did not b e c o m e party m e m b e r s . An old radical j o u r n a l , The Masses, later The New Masses, b e c a m e the official literary voice of the party, a n d various other radical g r o u p s f o u n d e d j o u r n a l s to r e p r e s e n t their viewpoints. Visitors to the Soviet U n i o n returned with glowing reports a b o u t a true workers' d e m o c r a c y a n d prosperity for all. T h e a p p e a l of C o m m u n i s m w a s significantly e n h a n c e d by its c l a i m to be a n o p p o n e n t of F a s c i s m . C o m m u n i s t s fought a g a i n s t F r a n c o in the S p a n i s h Civil W a r of 1 9 3 6 a n d 1 9 3 7 . Hitler's n i g h t m a r e policies of g e n o c i d e a n d racial superiority a n d his p l a n s for a general E u r o p e a n war to s e c u r e m o r e r o o m for the s u p e r i o r G e r m a n "folk" to live b e c a m e increasingly evid e n t a s E u r o p e a n r e f u g e e s b e g a n to flee to the U n i t e d S t a t e s in the 1 9 3 0 s , a n d m a n y believed that the U . S . S . R . would b e the only c o u n t r y a b l e to withs t a n d the G e r m a n war m a c h i n e . B u t Soviet C o m m u n i s m s h o w e d a n o t h e r side to A m e r i c a n s w h e n A m e r i c a n C o m m u n i s t s were o r d e r e d to b r e a k u p the m e e t i n g s of other radical g r o u p s ; w h e n J o s e f S t a l i n , the Soviet dictator, instituted a series of brutal p u r g e s in the Soviet U n i o n b e g i n n i n g in 1 9 3 6 ; a n d w h e n in 1 9 3 9 he s i g n e d a p a c t p r o m i s i n g not to go to war a g a i n s t Germ a n y . T h e d i s i l l u s i o n m e n t a n d betrayal felt by m a n y r a d i c a l s over t h e s e a c t s

1814

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AMERICAN LITERATURE BETWEEN THE WARS,

1914-1945

led to m a n y 1 9 3 0 s left-wing activists' b e c o m i n g s t a u n c h a n t i - C o m m u n i s t s after World W a r II.

A M E R I C A N

V E R S I O N S

O F

M O D E R N I S M

T h e term that critics have d e v e l o p e d for literature p r o d u c e d u n d e r the influe n c e of the m o d e r n t e m p e r is, not surprisingly, modernism. . U s e d in the b r o a d e s t s e n s e , it is a c a t c h a l l p h r a s e for any kind of literary p r o d u c t i o n in the interwar period that d e a l s with the m o d e r n world. M o r e narrowly, it refers to work that r e p r e s e n t s the b r e a k d o w n of traditional society u n d e r the p r e s s u r e s of modernity. M u c h m o d e r n i s t literature of this sort (which critics now call "high m o d e r n i s m " ) is actually a n t i m o d e r n ; it interprets modernity a s an e x p e r i e n c e of loss. As o n e c a n tell from its title, T . S . Eliot's The Waste Land—the great p o e m of the m o v e m e n t — r e p r e s e n t s the m o d e r n world a s a s c e n e of ruin. M o d e r n i s m b e g a n a s a E u r o p e a n r e s p o n s e to the effects of W o r l d W a r I, which were far m o r e d e v a s t a t i n g on the C o n t i n e n t than they were in the U n i t e d S t a t e s . It involved other art f o r m s — s c u l p t u r e , painting, d a n c e — a s well as literature. T h e poetry of William Butler Y e a t s ; J a m e s J o y c e ' s Ulysses ( 1 9 2 2 ) ; M a r c e l P r o u s t ' s Remembrance of Things Past ( 1 9 1 3 — 2 7 ) ; T h o m a s M a n n ' s novels a n d short stories, i n c l u d i n g The Magic Mountain (1927)— t h e s e were only a few of the literary p r o d u c t s of this m o v e m e n t in E n g l a n d and on the C o n t i n e n t . In painting, artists like P a b l o P i c a s s o , J u a n G r i s , a n d G e o r g e s B r a q u e invented c u b i s m ; in the twenties the surrealistic m o v e m e n t known a s d a d a i s m e m e r g e d . T h e A m e r i c a n public w a s i n t r o d u c e d to m o d e r n art at the f a m o u s N e w York Armory S h o w of 1 9 1 3 , which f e a t u r e d c u b i s t paintings a n d c a u s e d an uproar. M a r c e l D u c h a m p ' s Nude Descending a Staircase, w h i c h , to the u n t r a i n e d eye, looked like no m o r e than a m a s s of crudely drawn r e c t a n g l e s , w a s especially provocative. C o m p o s e r s like Igor Stravinsky similarly p r o d u c e d m u s i c in a " m o d e r n " m o d e , f e a t u r i n g d i s s o n a n c e a n d discontinuity rather than neat formal s t r u c t u r e a n d a p p e a l i n g tonal h a r m o n i e s . His c o m p o s i t i o n The Rite of Spring provoked a riot in the Paris c o n c e r t hall where it w a s p r e m i e r e d . At the heart of the m o d e r n i s t a e s t h e t i c lay the conviction that the previously s u s t a i n i n g s t r u c t u r e s of h u m a n life, w h e t h e r social, political, religious, or artistic, h a d b e e n either destroyed or s h o w n u p a s f a l s e h o o d s or f a n t a s i e s . T o the extent that art i n c o r p o r a t e d s u c h a false order, it h a d to be renovated. Order, s e q u e n c e , a n d unity in works of art might well be c o n s i d e r e d only e x p r e s s i o n s of a desire for c o h e r e n c e rather than a c t u a l reflections of reality. G e n e r a l i z a t i o n , a b s t r a c t i o n , a n d high-flown writing might c o n c e a l rather than convey the real. T h e form of a story, with its b e g i n n i n g s , c o m p l i c a t i o n s , a n d r e s o l u t i o n s , might be m e r e artifice i m p o s e d on the flux a n d f r a g m e n t a tion of e x p e r i e n c e . T h u s a key formal c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the m o d e r n i s t work, w h e t h e r a painting, a s c u l p t u r e , or a m u s i c a l c o m p o s i t i o n , is its c o n s t r u c t i o n out of fragm e n t s . T h e long work is an a s s e m b l a g e of f r a g m e n t s , the short work a carefully realized f r a g m e n t . C o m p a r e d with earlier writing, m o d e r n i s t litera t u r e is n o t a b l e for what it o m i t s — t h e e x p l a n a t i o n s , interpretations, c o n n e c t i o n s , s u m m a r i e s , a n d d i s t a n c i n g that provide continuity, p e r s p e c t i v e ,

INTRODUCTION

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1815

a n d security in traditional literature. A typical m o d e r n i s t work will s e e m to begin arbitrarily, to a d v a n c e without e x p l a n a t i o n , a n d to e n d without resolution, c o n s i s t i n g of vivid s e g m e n t s j u x t a p o s e d without c u s h i o n i n g or integrating transitions. T h e r e will be shifts in p e r s p e c t i v e , voice, a n d tone. Its rhetoric will be u n d e r s t a t e d , ironic. It will s u g g e s t rather than a s s e r t , m a k i n g u s e of s y m b o l s a n d i m a g e s instead of s t a t e m e n t s . F r a g m e n t s will be drawn from diverse a r e a s of e x p e r i e n c e . T h e effect will b e s u r p r i s i n g , shocking, a n d unsettling; the experience of r e a d i n g will be c h a l l e n g i n g a n d difficult. In p r a c t i c e , as o p p o s e d to theory, m o s t m o d e r n i s t literature retains a d e g r e e of c o h e r e n c e , but the reader has to dig the s t r u c t u r e out. T h i s is why the reader of a m o d e r n i s t work is often said to p a r t i c i p a t e in the a c t u a l work of m a k i n g the p o e m or story. In the a f t e r m a t h of m o d e r n i s m , with the p a s t i c h e , satire, a n d distortions of p o s t m o d e r n i s m , this work looks m o r e traditional than it did in its own t i m e . M o d e r n i s t works desired c o h e r e n c e a n d unity, where p o s t m o d e r n i s m has given up. O f t e n , the m o d e r n i s t work is s t r u c t u r e d a s a q u e s t for the very c o h e r e n c e that, on its s u r f a c e , it s e e m s to lack. B e c a u s e p a t t e r n s of s e a r c h i n g a p p e a r in m o s t of the world's mythologies, m a n y m o d e r n i s t works are unified by reference to myth. Christianity a p p e a r s a m o n g world myths as the b a s i s of W e s t e r n civilization; a n d the m o d e r n world for s o m e c o m e s into b e i n g when c i r c u m s t a n c e s s e e m to s h o w Christianity to be only a myth, a merely h u m a n c o n s t r u c t i o n for c r e a t i n g order out of, a n d finding p u r p o s e in, m e a n i n g l e s s flux. T h e s e a r c h for m e a n i n g , even if it d o e s not s u c c e e d , b e c o m e s meaningful in itself. L i t e r a t u r e , especially poetry, b e c o m e s the p l a c e w h e r e the o n e meaningful activity, the s e a r c h for m e a n i n g , is carried o u t ; a n d therefore literature is, or s h o u l d b e , vitally important to society. T h e s u b j e c t m a t t e r of m o d e r n i s t writing often b e c a m e , by extension, the p o e m or literary work itself. I r o n i c a l l y — b e c a u s e this s u b j e c t m a t t e r w a s motivated by d e e p c o n c e r n a b o u t the interrelation of literature a n d life—this s u b j e c t often h a d the effect of limiting the a u d i e n c e for a m o d e r n i s t work. T h e difficulty of this n e w type of writing also limited the a p p e a l of m o d e r n i s m : clearly, difficult works a b o u t poetry are not c a n d i d a t e s for best-sellers. N e v e r t h e l e s s , over t i m e , the principles of m o d e r n i s m b e c a m e increasingly influential. T h e c o n t e n t of the m o d e r n i s t work may be a s varied a s the interests a n d observations of the writer; i n d e e d , with a s t a b l e external world in q u e s t i o n , subjectivity w a s ever m o r e v a l u e d a n d a c c e p t e d in literature. M o d e r n i s t s in general, however, e m p h a s i z e d the c o n c r e t e sensory i m a g e or detail a s the direct conveyer of e x p e r i e n c e . T h e y a l s o relied on the r e f e r e n c e (allusion) to literary, historical, p h i l o s o p h i c a l , or religious details of the p a s t a s a way of r e m i n d i n g readers of the old, lost c o h e r e n c e . V i g n e t t e s of c o n t e m p o r a r y life, c h u n k s of p o p u l a r c u l t u r e , d r e a m imagery, a n d s y m b o l i s m d r a w n from the author's private repertory of life e x p e r i e n c e s are a l s o i m p o r t a n t . A work built from these various levels a n d kinds of material may m o v e a c r o s s time a n d s p a c e , shift from the public to the p e r s o n a l , a n d o p e n literature a s a field for every sort of c o n c e r n . T h e inclusion of all sorts of material previously d e e m e d "unliterary" in works of high s e r i o u s n e s s involved the u s e of l a n g u a g e that would also previously have b e e n thought i m p r o p e r , i n c l u d i n g r e p r e s e n t a tions of the s p e e c h of the u n e d u c a t e d a n d the inarticulate, the colloquial, slangy, a n d the p o p u l a r . T h e traditional e d u c a t e d literary voice, conveying

1816

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AMERICAN LITERATURE BETWEEN THE WARS,

1914-1945

truth a n d c u l t u r e , lost its authority; this is what E r n e s t H e m i n g w a y h a d in m i n d w h e n he a s s e r t e d that the A m e r i c a n literary tradition b e g a n with Huckleberry Finn. T h o u g h m o d e r n i s t t e c h n i q u e s a n d m a n i f e s t o s were initiated by p o e t s , they entered a n d t r a n s f o r m e d fiction in this period a s well. P r o s e writers strove for d i r e c t n e s s , c o m p r e s s i o n , a n d vividness. T h e y were s p a r i n g of w o r d s . T h e a v e r a g e novel b e c a m e q u i t e a bit shorter t h a n it h a d b e e n in the n i n e t e e n t h century, w h e n a novel w a s e x p e c t e d to fill two or even three v o l u m e s . T h e m o d e r n i s t a e s t h e t i c gave new significance to the short story, w h i c h h a d previously b e e n thought of a s a relatively slight artistic form. ( P o e m s , too, b e c a m e shorter; m o d e r n i s t p o e t s struggled to write long p o e m s but the principles of unity or organization that h a d e n a b l e d l o n g p o e m s to be written in previous e r a s were not available to t h e m . ) Victorian or realistic fiction achieved its effects by a c c u m u l a t i o n a n d s a t u r a t i o n ; m o d e r n fiction preferred s u g g e s t i o n . Victorian fiction f e a t u r e d an authoritative narrator; m o d e r n fiction t e n d e d to be written in the first p e r s o n or to limit the r e a d e r to o n e c h a r a c t e r ' s point of view on the a c t i o n . T h i s limitation a c c o r d e d with the m o d e r n i s t s e n s e that " t r u t h " d o e s not exist objectively b u t is the p r o d u c t of a p e r s o n a l interaction with reality. T h e s e l e c t e d point of view w a s often that of a naive or marginal p e r s o n — a child or an o u t s i d e r — t o convey better the reality of c o n f u s i o n rather t h a n the myth of certainty. " S e r i o u s " literature b e t w e e n the two world wars f o u n d itself in a c u r i o u s relationship with the c u l t u r e at large. F o r if it w a s a t t a c k i n g the old-style idea of traditional literature, it felt itself a t t a c k e d in turn by the ever-growing industry of p o p u l a r literature. T h e r e a d i n g a u d i e n c e in A m e r i c a w a s vast, b u t it preferred a kind of b o o k q u i t e different from that t u r n e d out by literary m o d e r n i s t s : tales of r o m a n c e or a d v e n t u r e , historical novels, c r i m e fiction, a n d w e s t e r n s b e c a m e p o p u l a r m o d e s that enjoyed a s u c c e s s the s e r i o u s writer c o u l d only d r e a m of. T h e p r o b l e m w a s that often he or s h e did d r e a m of it; unrealistically, p e r h a p s , the Ezra P o u n d s of the era i m a g i n e d t h e m selves with a n a u d i e n c e of millions. W h e n , o n o c c a s i o n , this d r e a m c a m e t r u e — a s it did for F. S c o t t Fitzgerald a n d E r n e s t H e m i n g w a y — w r i t e r s often a c c u s e d t h e m s e l v e s of having sold out. N e v e r t h e l e s s , s e r i o u s writers in t h e s e years were, in fact, b e i n g p u b l i s h e d a n d read a s writers h a d not b e e n in earlier t i m e s . T h e n u m b e r of so-called little m a g a z i n e s — t h a t is, m a g a z i n e s of very s m a l l c i r c u l a t i o n s devoted to the p u b l i c a t i o n of works for a small a u d i e n c e ( s o m e t i m e s the works of a specific g r o u p of a u t h o r s ) — w a s in the h u n d r e d s . Poetry: A Magazine of Verse b e g a n in 1 9 1 2 . T h e Little Review followed in 1 9 1 4 . T h e n c a m e the Seven Arts in 1 9 1 6 , the Dial in 1 9 1 7 , the Frontier in 1 9 2 0 , Reviewer a n d Broom in 1 9 2 1 , Fugitive in 1 9 2 2 , This Quarter in 1 9 2 5 , Transition a n d Hound and Horn in 1 9 2 7 , a n d m a n y m o r e . T h e c u l t u r e that did not listen to s e r i o u s writers or m a k e t h e m rich still gave t h e m plenty of o p p o r t u n i t y to b e read a n d allowed t h e m (in s u c h n e i g h b o r h o o d s a s G r e e n w i c h Village in N e w York City) a f r e e d o m in style of life that w a s q u i t e n e w in A m e r i c a n history. In a d d i t i o n , such major publishers as New Directions, Random H o u s e , Scribner, and H a r p e r were actively looking for s e r i o u s fiction a n d poetry to f e a t u r e a l o n g with best-sellers like Gone with the Wind a n d Anthony Adverse. T h e p r o f e s s i o n of a u t h o r s h i p in the U n i t e d S t a t e s h a s always defined itself in part as a patriotic e n t e r p r i s e , w h o s e a i m s were to h e l p d e v e l o p a cultural

INTRODUCTION

/

1817

life for the nation a n d e m b o d y national v a l u e s . F r o m t h e s e a i m s , a powerful tradition of regionally b a s e d literature e m e r g e d after the Civil W a r . B e c a u s e m o d e r n i s m w a s an international m o v e m e n t , it s e e m e d to s o m e to conflict with the A m e r i c a n tradition in literature a n d h e n c e w a s by n o m e a n s a u t o matically a c c e p t e d by A m e r i c a n writers. T o s o m e , the f r e q u e n t p e s s i m i s m , nostalgia, a n d c o n s e r v a t i s m of the m o v e m e n t m a d e it essentially u n s u i t e d to the p r o g r e s s i v e , d y n a m i c c u l t u r e that they believed to b e distinctive of this n a t i o n . T o m a n y o t h e r s , m o d e r n i s t t e c h n i q u e s were exciting a n d indispens a b l e but r e q u i r e d a d a p t a t i o n to specifically A m e r i c a n topics a n d to the goal of c o n t r i b u t i n g to a uniquely A m e r i c a n literature. T h u s artists w h o may b e thought of as m o d e r n i s t s in o n e c o n t e x t — H a r t C r a n e or William C a r l o s W i l l i a m s , for e x a m p l e — m u s t be thought of as traditional A m e r i c a n writers in another, s i n c e they w a n t e d to write " A m e r i c a n " works a s s u c h . A n d a profoundly m o d e r n writer like William F a u l k n e r c a n n o t b e extricated from his c o m m i t m e n t to writing a b o u t his native S o u t h . T h e leading A m e r i c a n e x p o n e n t s of the " p u r e " m o d e r n i s m that is today known a s "high m o d e r n i s m " t e n d e d to be p e r m a n e n t expatriates like Gertrude S t e i n , E z r a P o u n d , H . D . , a n d T . S. Eliot. ( B u t two i m p o r t a n t e x c e p tions to this generalization are M a r i a n n e M o o r e a n d W a l l a c e S t e v e n s . ) T h e s e writers left the U n i t e d S t a t e s b e c a u s e they f o u n d the c o u n t r y singularly lacking in a tradition of high c u l t u r e a n d indifferent, if not downright hostile, to artistic a c h i e v e m e n t . T h e y a l s o believed that a national c u l t u r e c o u l d never b e m o r e t h a n p a r o c h i a l . In L o n d o n in the first two d e c a d e s of the twentieth c e n t u r y a n d in Paris d u r i n g the 1 9 2 0 s , they f o u n d a vibrant c o m m u n i t y of d e d i c a t e d artists a n d a society that r e s p e c t e d t h e m a n d allowed t h e m a great deal of p e r s o n a l f r e e d o m . Yet they s e l d o m thought of t h e m s e l v e s a s d e s e r t i n g their nation a n d n o n e of t h e m gave u p A m e r i c a n citizenship. T h e y t h o u g h t of t h e m s e l v e s a s bringing the U n i t e d S t a t e s into the larger context of E u r o p e a n c u l t u r e . T h e ranks of t h e s e p e r m a n e n t expatriates were swelled by A m e r i c a n writers w h o lived a b r o a d for s o m e part of the period: E r n e s t H e m ingway, S h e r w o o d A n d e r s o n , F. S c o t t Fitzgerald, K a t h e r i n e A n n e Porter, R o b e r t F r o s t , E u g e n e O'Neill, a n d Dorothy Parker all did s o , a s did m a n y others i n c l u d i n g S i n c l a i r L e w i s a n d D j u n a B a r n e s .

ON NATIVE

GROUNDS

T h o s e writers w h o c a m e b a c k , however, a n d t h o s e w h o never left t o o k very seriously the task of integrating m o d e r n i s t ideas a n d m e t h o d s with A m e r i c a n s u b j e c t matter. M a n y writers c h o s e to identity t h e m s e l v e s with the A m e r i c a n s c e n e a n d to root their work in a specific region. T h e t r e a t m e n t of the r e g i o n s in s u c h works w a s s o m e t i m e s celebratory a n d s o m e t i m e s critical. C a r l S a n d b u r g , E d g a r L e e M a s t e r s , S h e r w o o d A n d e r s o n , a n d Willa C a t h e r worked with the M i d w e s t ; C a t h e r g r o u n d e d her later work in the S o u t h w e s t ; R o b inson J e f f e r s , J o h n S t e i n b e c k , a n d C a r l o s B u l o s a n wrote a b o u t C a l i f o r n i a ; D'Arcy M c N i c k l e wrote a b o u t N a t i v e A m e r i c a n life on w e s t e r n reservations; E d w i n Arlington R o b i n s o n a n d Robert F r o s t identified their work with N e w England. A n especially strong c e n t e r of regional literary activity e m e r g e d in the S o u t h , which h a d a w e a k literary tradition u p to the Civil W a r . C r i t i c s a n d

1818

/

AMERICAN

LITERATURE BETWEEN THE W A R S ,

1914-1945

p o e t s c e n t e r e d at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, T e n n e s s e e , p r o d u c e d a g r o u p m a n i f e s t o in 1 9 2 9 called I'll Take My Stand, a collection of e s s a y s that a d v o c a t e d s o m e traditional s o u t h e r n v a l u e s — t h e g r a c i o u s , s t a b l e , leisurely, ritualized, hierarchical p l a n t a t i o n civilization—as a cultural alternative to the social f r a g m e n t a t i o n they perceived in the urban N o r t h . A m o n g t h e s e " S o u t h e r n A g r a r i a n s " w e r e J o h n C r o w e R a n s o m , Allen T a t e , a n d Robert P e n n W a r r e n , all writing an elegant, learned verse in w h i c h they tried to revivify what they took a s the ideals of an earlier time. T h e influence of t h e s e writers, especially in a c a d e m i a , s o m e t i m e s t e n d e d to c o n c e a l the fact that the S o u t h s p o k e with m a n y voices d u r i n g this period. T h o m a s Wolfe's w a s an A p p a l a c h i a n S o u t h of hardy m o u n t a i n p e o p l e ; K a t h e r i n e A n n e Porter wrote a b o u t her native T e x a s a s a h e t e r o g e n e o u s c o m b i n a t i o n of frontier, plantation, a n d L a t i n c u l t u r e s ; J e a n T o o m e r set his Cane in G e o r g i a . A b o v e all, William F a u l k n e r d e p i c t e d a S o u t h at o n c e specific to his native s t a t e of M i s s i s s i p p i a n d e x p a n d e d into a mythic region a n g u i s h e d by racial a n d historical conflict. S o m e w r i t e r s — a s the title of J o h n D o s P a s s o s ' s U . S . A . clearly s h o w s — a t t e m p t e d to s p e a k for the nation as a w h o l e . Hart C r a n e ' s long p o e m The Bridge a n d William C a r l o s Williams's Paterson both take a n A m e r i c a n city as symbol a n d e x p a n d it to a vision for all A m e r i c a , following the m o d e l e s t a b l i s h e d by Walt W h i t m a n . F. S c o t t Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby is similarly a m b i t i o u s , a n d m a n y writers a d d r e s s e d the whole nation in individual w o r k s — f o r e x a m p l e , E . E . C u m m i n g s ' s " 'next to of c o u r s e g o d a m e r i c a i" a n d R o b i n s o n Jeffers's " S h i n e , P e r i s h i n g R e p u b l i c . " If a c o n t i n u i n g , a l t h o u g h conflicted, c o m m i t m e n t to specifically national s u b j e c t m a t t e r differentiated A m e r i c a n m o d e r n i s m from its E u r o p e a n origins, s o too did the central c o n t r i b u t i o n s of African A m e r i c a n s to the movement. P e r h a p s o n e c a n say that the work of African A m e r i c a n s w a s , precisely, part of a specifically national s u b j e c t matter, b e c a u s e the n u m e r o u s writers a s s o c i a t e d with the H a r l e m R e n a i s s a n c e m a d e it i m p o s s i b l e ever to think of a national literature without the work of b l a c k A m e r i c a n s . C o u n t e e C u l l e n , L a n g s t o n H u g h e s , a n d Zora N e a l e H u r s t o n a t t a i n e d particular p r o m i n e n c e at the t i m e ; but o t h e r s , i n c l u d i n g C l a u d e M c K a y a n d N e l l a L a r s e n , were a l s o well known. All were influenced by the v a l u e s of m o d e r n i s m ; both H u g h e s , for e x a m p l e , with his incorporation of b l u e s rhythms into poetry, a n d Hurston, with her poetic d e p i c t i o n s of folk c u l t u r e , a p p l i e d m o d e r n i s t t e c h n i q u e s to represent a s p e c t s of A m e r i c a n life in the twentieth century. F r o m time to t i m e , writers a s s o c i a t e d with the R e n a i s s a n c e e x p r e s s e d protest a n d a n g e r — H u g h e s , in particular, wrote a n u m b e r of powerful antilynching a n d anticapitalist p o e m s ; but in g e n e r a l the m o v e m e n t w a s deliberately u p b e a t , taking the line that racial j u s t i c e w a s a b o u t to b e c o m e reality in the U n i t e d S t a t e s . At least part of this a p p r o a c h was s t r a t e g i c — t h e bulk of the readership for H a r l e m a u t h o r s w a s white. T h e n o t e of p u r e a n g e r w a s not e x p r e s s e d until R i c h a r d Wright, w h o h a d c o m e to literary maturity in C h i c a g o , p u b lished Native Son in 1 9 4 0 . C o n t r i b u t i o n s to the H a r l e m R e n a i s s a n c e c a m e from artists in m a n y m e d i a ; an influence e q u a l to or greater t h a n that of the writers c a m e from m u s i c i a n s . J a z z a n d b l u e s , African A m e r i c a n in origin, are felt by m a n y to be the m o s t authentically A m e r i c a n art forms the nation has ever p r o d u c e d . African A m e r i c a n singers a n d m u s i c i a n s in this period achieved worldwide r e p u t a t i o n s a n d were often m u c h m o r e highly r e g a r d e d a b r o a d than in the U n i t e d S t a t e s .

INTRODUCTION

/

1819

Literary w o m e n had b e e n active on the national s c e n e from A n n e Bradstreet on a n d , to s o m e extent, m a l e m o d e r n i s t s tried to define their movem e n t by defining w o m e n out of it. B u t w o m e n refused to stay o n the sidelines a n d a s s o c i a t e d t h e m s e l v e s with all the i m p o r t a n t literary t r e n d s of the era: H . D. a n d Amy Lowell with i m a g i s m , M a r i a n n e M o o r e with high m o d e r n i s m , Willa C a t h e r with mythic r e g i o n a l i s m , Zora N e a l e H u r s t o n a n d Nella L a r s e n with the H a r l e m R e n a i s s a n c e , K a t h e r i n e A n n e Porter with p s y c h o l o g i c a l fiction; E d n a S t . V i n c e n t Millay and Dorothy Parker with social a n d sexual liberation; G e n e v i e v e T a g g a r d a n d Muriel Rukeyser with proletarian a n d radical literature. M a n y of t h e s e writers c o n c e n t r a t e d o n d e p i c t i o n s of w o m e n c h a r a c t e r s or w o m e n ' s t h o u g h t s a n d e x p e r i e n c e s . Yet few labeled t h e m s e l v e s f e m i n i s t s . T h e p a s s a g e of the suffrage a m e n d m e n t in 1 9 2 0 h a d taken s o m e of the energy o u t of f e m i n i s m that would not return until the 1 9 6 0 s . S o m e w o m e n writers perceived f e m i n i s m a s a c o n s t r a i n t on individual artistic e x p r e s s i o n , w h e r e a s others f o u n d social c a u s e s like labor a n d r a c i s m m o r e important than w o m e n ' s rights. N e v e r t h e l e s s , t h e s e literary w o m e n were clearly p u s h i n g b a c k the b o u n d a r i e s of the p e r m i s s i b l e , d e m a n d i n g new cultural f r e e d o m for w o m e n . Equally i m p o r t a n t , they were o p e r a t i n g as p u b l i c figures a n d taking p o s i t i o n s on public c a u s e s .

DRAMA D r a m a in A m e r i c a was slow to develop a s a s e l f - c o n s c i o u s literary form. It w a s not until 1 9 2 0 (the year of E u g e n e O'Neill's Beyond the Horizon) that the U n i t e d S t a t e s p r o d u c e d a world-class playwright. T h i s is not to say that theater—productions a n d p e r f o r m a n c e s — w a s n e w to A m e r i c a n life. After the A m e r i c a n Revolution t h e a t e r s — a t first with itinerant E n g l i s h a c t o r s a n d c o m p a n i e s , then with A m e r i c a n — o p e n e d t h r o u g h o u t the E a s t ; a m o n g early c e n t e r s were B o s t o n a n d P h i l a d e l p h i a a s well a s N e w York City. As the c o u n try e x p a n d e d w e s t w a r d , so did its theater, together with other kinds of perf o r m a n c e : b u r l e s q u e s , s h o w b o a t s o n the M i s s i s s i p p i , minstrel s h o w s , p a n t o m i m e s . As the n i n e t e e n t h century went o n , the activity b e c a m e c e n tered m o r e a n d m o r e in N e w Y o r k — i n d e e d , within a few b l o c k s , known a s " B r o a d w a y . " M a n a g e r s originated plays there a n d then sent t h e m out to tour through the rest of the country, a s E u g e n e O'Neill's father did with his Count of Monte Cristo. Healthy c h a n g e s in A m e r i c a n theater are often in reaction a g a i n s t B r o a d way, a pattern o b s e r v a b l e as early a s 1 9 1 5 with the f o r m a t i o n of the W a s h ington S q u a r e Players a n d the Provincetown Players (organized by S u s a n G l a s p e l l a n d o t h e r s ) , both located in N e w York's G r e e n w i c h Village a n d both d e d i c a t e d to the p r o d u c t i o n of plays that m o r e conservative m a n a g e r s refused. T h e Provincetown Players would shortly be p r o d u c i n g the first works of G l a s p e l l a n d E u g e n e O'Neill. T h e s e fledgling c o m p a n i e s , a n d others like t h e m , often knew better what they o p p o s e d than what they w a n t e d . E u r o p e a n influence w a s strong. By 1 9 1 5 , H e n r i k I b s e n in E u r o p e a n d G e o r g e B e r n a r d S h a w in E n g l a n d had s h o w n that the theater c o u l d be an a r e n a for serious i d e a s ; while the psychological d r a m a s of A u g u s t S t r i n d b e r g , the symbolic work of M a u r i c e M a e t e r l i n c k , a n d the s o p h i s t i c a t e d c y n i c i s m of Arthur Schnitzler provided other m o d e l s . T h e A m e r i c a n tours of E u r o p e a n c o m p a n i e s , in particular the M o s c o w Art T h e a t r e in 1 9 2 3 , further e x p o s e d

1820

/

AMERICAN LITERATURE BETWEEN THE WARS,

1914-1945

A m e r i c a n s to the theatrical a v a n t - g a r d e . A m e r i c a n playwrights in the 1 9 2 0 s a n d 1 9 3 0 s were u n i t e d not so m u c h by a c o m m o n c a u s e of i d e a s , E u r o p e a n or A m e r i c a n , a s by the n e w a s s u m p t i o n that d r a m a s h o u l d b e a b r a n c h of c o n t e m p o r a r y literature. J u s t a s his c o n t e m p o r a r i e s in poetry a n d fiction were c h a n g i n g a n d q u e s tioning their f o r m s , s o E u g e n e O ' N e i l l — a l t h o u g h not u n d e r their influe n c e — s o u g h t to redefine his. H e e x p e r i m e n t e d less in l a n g u a g e than in d r a m a t i c s t r u c t u r e a n d in new p r o d u c t i o n m e t h o d s available t h r o u g h technology (e.g., lighting) or b o r r o w e d from the stylized realism of G e r m a n e x p r e s s i o n i s m . A l m o s t a s f a m o u s at the time w a s Maxwell A n d e r s o n , w h o s e best p l a y s — t h e tragic Winterset ( 1 9 3 5 ) a n d the r o m a n t i c c o m e d y High Tor ( 1 9 3 7 ) — e m b o d y a stylized b l a n k verse, a l a n g u a g e a t t e m p t e d by few m o d e r n d r a m a t i s t s . Playwrights s u c h a s S i d n e y H o w a r d , Lillian H e l l m a n , a n d Robert S h e r w o o d explored p r o b l e m s of the m o d e r n c h a r a c t e r in s e r i o u s realistic plays. G e o r g e K a u f m a n a n d his m a n y c o l l a b o r a t o r s , especially M o s s H a r t , invented a distinctively A m e r i c a n f o r m , the w i s e c r a c k i n g d o m e s t i c a n d social c o m e d y , while S . N . B e h r m a n a n d Philip Barry wrote higher c o m e d i e s of i d e a s . T h e m u s i c a l c o m e d y w a s a n o t h e r distinctively A m e r i c a n invention: b e g i n n i n g as a n a m a l g a m of j o k e s , s o n g s , a n d d a n c e s , it p r o g r e s s e d steadily toward a n integration of its various e l e m e n t s , r e a c h i n g n e w heights with the work of G e o r g e a n d Ira G e r s h w i n in the 1 9 2 0 s a n d 1 9 3 0 s a n d of O s c a r H a m m e r s t e i n in collaboration with J e r o m e Kern or R i c h a r d R o d g e r s from the 1 9 2 0 s o n into the 1 9 5 0 s . S o c i a l c o m m e n t a r y a n d satire h a d b e e n a thread in the bright weave of A m e r i c a n d r a m a s i n c e the early twenties, b e g i n n i n g , p e r h a p s , with E l m e r Rice's fiercely expressionistic play a b o u t a rebellious nonentity, The Adding Machine ( 1 9 2 3 ) . D u r i n g the D e p r e s s i o n social criticism b e c a m e a m u c h m o r e i m p o r t a n t d r a m a t i c t h e m e , with political plays p e r f o r m e d by m a n y radical g r o u p s . P e r h a p s the m o s t significant w a s Clifford O d e t s ' s Waiting for Lefty ( 1 9 3 5 ) , w h i c h d r a m a t i z e d a taxidrivers' strike m e e t i n g a n d turned the s t a g e into a platform for a r g u m e n t . M a n y of the p o e t s a n d fictionists of the interwar period wrote p l a y s — a m o n g t h e m E r n e s t H e m i n g w a y , E . E . C u m m i n g s , William C a r l o s W i l l i a m s , William F a u l k n e r , F r a n k O ' H a r a , E d n a S t . Vincent Millay, L a n g s t o n H u g h e s , T . S . Eliot, J o h n S t e i n b e c k , a n d Robert Lowell. It w a s in this period that d r a m a m o v e d decisively into the A m e r i c a n literary m a i n s t r e a m .

BETWEEN T H E WARS,

1914-1945

TEXTS 1905

CONTEXTS

Willa Cather, "The Sculptor's

Funeral" 1914

Robert Frost, " H o m e Burial" • Carl

1914-18

World War I

Sandburg, " C h i c a g o " 1915

Edgar Lee Masters, Spoon

Anthology • Ezra Pound begins

River

1915

Cantos

Great Migration of African

Americans from the rural South to northern industrial cities

1916

S u s a n Glaspell, Trifles 1917

United States declares war on

Germany • revolution in Russia brings C o m m u n i s t Party to power 1918

Daylight Savings T i m e instituted to

allow more daylight for war production 1919

Sherwood Anderson,

Winesburg,

1919

Senate limits U . S . participation in

Ohio • Amy Lowell, "Madonna of the

L e a g u e of Nations; does not ratify Versailles

Evening Flowers"

Treaty to end World War I

1920

Anzia Yezierska, "The Lost

1920

18th Amendment prohibits the

'Beautifulness' " • Pound, "Hugh Selwyn

manufacture, sale, and transportation of

Mauberley" • Edwin Arlington Robinson,

alcoholic beverages • 19th Amendment gives

"Mr. Flood's Party"

women the vote 1920-27

1921

Sacco-Vanzetti trial

T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land •

C l a u d e McKay, "Africa, America" • Marianne Moore, "Poetry" 1922

Fascism rises in Europe; Mussolini

b e c o m e s dictator of Italy 1923

Wallace Stevens, " S u n d a y

Morning" 1924

Robinson Jeffers, "To the Stone-

1924

Cutters" • John Crowe Ransom, "Here Lies

Exclusionary immigration act bars

Asians

a Lady" " H. D. (Hilda Doolittle), "Helen" 1925

C o u n t e e Cullen, " H e r i t a g e " '

Gertrude Stein, The Making of Americans • Alain Locke publishes The New Negro, leading anthology of the Harlem Renaissance 1926

Hart Crane, The Bridge

• Langston

Hughes, "The Weary B l u e s " 1927

The Jazz Singer, first full-length

"talkie," is released 1928

Willa Cather, "Neighbour Rosicky" •

Nella Larsen,

Quicksand 1929

Stock market crashes; Great

Depression begins

Boldface titles indicate works in the anthology.

1821

CONTEXTS

TEXTS Katherine Anne Porter, "Flowering

1930

E. E. C u m m i n g s , "i sing of Olaf

1931

1930

Sinclair Lewis is first American to

win Nobel Prize for literature

J u d a s " " Dorothy Parker, "The Waltz"

1931

Scottsboro trial

1932

Franklin Delano Roosevelt's " N e w

glad and big" * F. Scott Fitzgerald, " B a b y l o n Revisited" Black Elk and John G. Neihardt,

1932 Black

Elk Speaks

• Sterling A. Brown, " H e

Deal" introduces social security, welfare, and unemployment insurance

Was a M a n "

1933

Adolf Hitler's Nationalist Socialist

(Nazi) party comes to power in G e r m a n y ' 18th Amendment repealed William Carlos Williams, "This Is

1934

1934

Wheeler-Howard (Indian

Reorganization Act) passed, ending Dawes

Just to Say"

era Ernest Hemingway, "The Snows of

1936

Kilimanjaro" • Genevieve Taggard, " F o r

1936

Hitler begins armed occupation of

Europe

Eager Lovers" Spanish Civil War: U . S .

1936-39

volunteers a m o n g those fighting against General Franco, who b e c o m e s dictator of Spain 1937

T h o m a s Wolfe, "The Lost Boy"

1938

John Dos Passos, U.S.A. • William

1937

Stalin's purges

Faulkner, "Barn Burning" World War II • the Holocaust

1939-45

Richard Wright, "The Man W h o

1939

W a s Almost a M a n " • John Steinbeck, The Grapes

of Wrath

1940

Eugene O'Neill, Long Day's

into

Journey

Night 1941

J a p a n bombs Pearl Harbor, Hawaii •

United States enters war against J a p a n and its allies, Germany and Italy 1942

President Roosevelt orders

internment of J a p a n e s e Americans in c a m p s 1944

Muriel Rukeyser, "Suicide B l u e s "

1944

D Day; Allied invasion of Normandy

1945

G e r m a n forces surrender in spring;

J a p a n surrenders in August following explosion of two nuclear b o m b s over J a p a n e s e cities

•

1 822

1823

BLACK ELK 1863-1950

JOHN

G.

NEIHARDT 1881-1973

Nicholas Black Elk, an Oglala Lakota, was born on the Little Powder River. Although every traditionally raised Lakota male engaged in a vision quest—hanble ceyapi, literally "crying for a vision"—a search for spiritual guidance in his life, Black Elk was granted a particularly powerful vision by the Thunder beings (Wakinyan), the powers of the west, at the early age of nine. He said nothing of this until he was seventeen, when he began to fear that continued silence might lead to his being struck by lightning—a particular danger for the Thunder Dreamer. It was most usual for the Thunder Dreamer to perform the heyoha ceremony and become a "sacred clown," one who, for a time, did things backward and foolishly. But Black Elk was advised to have the horse dance enacted instead. Once this had been done, Black Elk began to practice as a shamanic healer. Some four years earlier, in 1876, although he was too young to fight, Black Elk had witnessed the defeat of General George A. Custer and his Seventh Cavalry on the Little Big Horn Biver by the Lakota and their Cheyenne allies, an event that did not, however, slow the encroachment of the whites onto Indian lands. Black Elk joined Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show in 1886, traveling to New York's Madison Square Garden and then to England where the show performed for the Golden Jubilee of Queen Victoria's reign. By that time. Black Elk had become an Episcopalian, fortunate in that the Wild West Show required all its Native American employees to be Christians. Black Elk returned home in time to encounter the Ghost Dance movement at Pine Ridge. Skeptical at first, he eventually came to understand the Ghost Dance to be consistent both with his own great vision and with Christian teaching. The massacre of Big Foot's Minneconjou band at Wounded Knee Creek in December 1890 put a tragic end to the hopes of the Ghost Dancers and, as well, to any hopes Black Elk might have had that his vision could restore the sacred hoop of his people and help them to live in a manner consistent with traditional ways. Black Elk was baptized a Catholic at Holy Rosary Mission on December 6, 1904, the feast of St. Nicholas, at which time he took that saint's name. He never engaged in traditional healing practices again. In August 1930, John G. Neihardt, poet laureate of Nebraska, on a trip to research material for the final volume of his epic poem, A Cycle of the West, drove up to Black Elk's cabin outside of Manderson, South Dakota. With Neihardt were his son, Sigurd, and a man named Emil Afraid of Hawk who had agreed to act as Neihardt's interpreter (Black Elk spoke little English). From all accounts, the two men responded strongly to each other. Neihardt told Black Elk that he was a writer of epic poetry, which, in Lakota, translated roughly to hanbloglaka, or "vision telling." As Raymond DeMallie has put it, "Neihardt perceived Black Elk's religion in terms of art; Black Elk perceived Neihardt's art in terms of religion." Although Black Elk was by then a Catholic catechist, he had not forgotten the promise of the great vision that had been granted to him. In Neihardt, he believed he had found one who could make that vision known to the world. In May 1931, Neihardt again visited Black Elk; with him now were his two daughters, Hilda and Enid; the latter was an accomplished stenographer. The two men began work at day break on May 10. Serving as interpreter was Black Elk's son, Ben, who had studied for a time at the Carlisle Indian School. As was the custom when any warrior gave his "kill talks"—"coup tales" recounting brave deeds in war—contemporaries of Black Elk (the elders Fire Thunder, Standing Bear, Chase in the Morning, and Holy Black Tail Deer) were present to listen and to comment on his narration. Black Elk told the story of his life in Lakota; Ben translated into the dialect called

1824

/

BLACK

E L K AND J O H N

G.

NEIHARDT

"Red English" or "Indian English"; Neihardt repeated Ben's words in standard English; and Enid wrote it all down as best she could. It was on the basis of a number of such sessions that Neihardt produced the book known as Black Elk Speaks (1932). Black Elk said little about his Catholicism and Neihardt chose not to mention it at all. Neihardt also edited the great vision, minimizing its concern for the achievement of power in warfare—a central concern of Lakota males—in DeMallie's words once more, to "develop the universalistic message of the vision . . . focusing on the powers to heal." "The beginning and ending" of the book, Neihardt himself acknowledged, "are mine; they are what [Black Elk] would have said if he had been able." The ending—an account of Neihardt and Black Elk's trip to Harney Peak, "the center of the world"; of Black Elk's admission of his failure to restore the sacred hoop and "make the tree bloom" again; and of Black Elk's uncanny power nonetheless to bring rain—has had widespread influence. It has appeared, in only slightly different form, as the ending to Thomas Berger's novel Little Big Man (1964), and in recognizable but very different form in Arthur Penn's film of the same name (1970). But, again, this ending is Neihardt's, not Black Elk's. Although Black Elk Speaks was favorably reviewed at the time of its publication, it attracted little attention. This was not the case shortly after its reissue in 1961; from that point forward, as anthropologist William Powers has written, "When Black Elk Speaks everybody listens!" Although it is Powers's view (along with several others) that Neihardt's own strong mystical Christianity obscures Lakota religion rather than presenting it accurately, the eminent Lakota scholar Vine DeLoria Jr., to the contrary, thinks that is not the issue at all. Bather, for DeLoria, Neihardt has produced in Black Elk Speaks a "religious classic," a "North American bible of all tribes." In any case, Black Elk Speaks is surely the best known of Native American autobiographies, having been translated into German, French, Portuguese, Italian, Bussian, and Hungarian. Neihardt interviewed Black Elk again in 1944, incorporating this new material into the novel When the Tree Flowered (1951). Black Elk also engaged in a series of interviews with Joseph Epes Brown in the late 1940s; Brown's book The Sacred Pipe appeared in 1953. The selection reprinted here is the complete text of The Great Vision, Chapter 3 of Black Elk Speaks. In addition to explanatory information, the notes provide some supplementary material from Baymond DeMallie's The Sixth Grandfather, which presents "in full the notes of the interviews, the direct words of Black Elk as interpreted into English" by Neihardt's daughters, Enid and Hilda, who acted as stenographer and secretary, respectively. As DeMallie writes, these are "the most original records of Black Elk's teachings available, and they are the sources from which Neihardt wrote Black Elk Speaks." They should allow the reader some closer approach to Black Elk himself, as they should also allow some greater awareness of the nature of Neihardt's art.

From

Black Elk Speaks

III. The

Great

Vision

W h a t h a p p e n e d after t h a t until the s u m m e r I w a s n i n e years old is not a story. T h e r e were winters a n d s u m m e r s , a n d they were g o o d ; for the W a s i c h u s h a d m a d e their iron r o a d 2 a l o n g the Platte a n d traveled t h e r e . T h i s h a d cut the bison herd in two, but t h o s e that stayed in o u r c o u n t r y with u s were m o r e t h a n c o u l d b e c o u n t e d , a n d we w a n d e r e d without t r o u b l e in o u r l a n d . 1

1. A brief vision experienced by Black Elk when he was five years old that was mentioned at the end of the preceding chapter.

2. "The Union Pacific Railway" [Neihardt's note], "Wasichus": fat eaters (Lakota, literal trans.); i.e., white settlers, or those who take the best part.

BLACK

ELK

SPEAKS

/

1825

N o w a n d then the voices would c o m e b a c k w h e n I w a s o u t a l o n e , like s o m e o n e calling m e , but what they w a n t e d m e to do I did not know. T h i s did not h a p p e n very often, a n d w h e n it did not h a p p e n , I forgot a b o u t it; for I w a s growing taller a n d w a s riding h o r s e s now a n d c o u l d s h o o t prairie chicke n s a n d rabbits with my bow. T h e boys of my p e o p l e b e g a n very y o u n g to learn the ways of m e n , a n d n o o n e t a u g h t u s ; w e j u s t l e a r n e d by d o i n g what we saw, a n d we were warriors at a time w h e n boys now are like girls. It was the s u m m e r w h e n I w a s nine years old, a n d our p e o p l e were moving slowly towards the Rocky M o u n t a i n s . W e c a m p e d o n e e v e n i n g in a valley b e s i d e a little c r e e k j u s t before it ran into the G r e a s y G r a s s , ' a n d there w a s a m a n by the n a m e of M a n H i p w h o liked m e a n d a s k e d m e to eat with him in his t e p e e . While I w a s e a t i n g , a voice c a m e a n d s a i d : "It is t i m e ; n o w they a r e calling y o u . " T h e voice w a s s o loud a n d clear that I believed it, a n d I t h o u g h t I w o u l d j u s t g o w h e r e it w a n t e d m e to go. S o I got right u p a n d s t a r t e d . A s I c a m e out of the t e p e e , both my thighs b e g a n to hurt m e , a n d s u d d e n l y it w a s like waking from a d r e a m , a n d there wasn't a n y voice. S o I went b a c k into the t e p e e , b u t I didn't w a n t to eat. M a n H i p looked at m e in a s t r a n g e way a n d a s k e d m e what w a s wrong. I told him that my legs were hurting m e . T h e next m o r n i n g the c a m p moved a g a i n , a n d I w a s riding with s o m e boys. W e s t o p p e d to get a drink from a creek, a n d w h e n I got off my h o r s e , my legs c r u m p l e d u n d e r m e a n d I c o u l d not walk. S o the boys h e l p e d m e u p a n d put m e on my h o r s e ; a n d w h e n we c a m p e d again that evening, I w a s sick. T h e next day the c a m p m o v e d on to where the different b a n d s of our p e o p l e were c o m i n g together, a n d I rode in a p o n y d r a g , for I w a s very sick. B o t h my legs a n d both my a r m s were swollen badly a n d my f a c e w a s all puffed up. W h e n we h a d c a m p e d a g a i n , I w a s lying in our t e p e e a n d my m o t h e r a n d father were sitting b e s i d e m e . I c o u l d s e e out through the o p e n i n g , a n d there two m e n were c o m i n g from the c l o u d s , head-first like arrows s l a n t i n g d o w n , a n d I knew they were the s a m e that I h a d s e e n b e f o r e . 4 E a c h now carried a long spear, a n d from the points of t h e s e a j a g g e d lightning flashed. T h e y c a m e clear down to the g r o u n d this time a n d s t o o d a little way off a n d looked at m e a n d said: "Hurry! C o m e ! Your G r a n d f a t h e r s are calling y o u ! " 5 T h e n they turned a n d left the g r o u n d like arrows s l a n t i n g u p w a r d from the bow. W h e n I got u p to follow, my legs did not hurt m e any m o r e a n d I w a s very light. I went o u t s i d e the t e p e e , a n d yonder w h e r e the m e n with flaming s p e a r s were going, a little c l o u d w a s c o m i n g very fast. It c a m e a n d s t o o p e d a n d took m e a n d turned b a c k to w h e r e it c a m e f r o m , flying fast. A n d when I looked d o w n I c o u l d s e e my m o t h e r a n d my father yonder, a n d I felt sorry to be leaving t h e m . T h e n there w a s n o t h i n g b u t the air a n d the swiftness of the little c l o u d that b o r e m e a n d t h o s e two m e n still l e a d i n g u p to w h e r e white c l o u d s were piled like m o u n t a i n s on a wide b l u e plain, a n d in t h e m t h u n d e r b e i n g s lived and l e a p e d a n d flashed. 3. T h e Little Big Horn River [Neihardt's note]. 4. In the vision Blaek Elk had had four years earlier. 5. In DeMalfie's transcription, Black Elk uses the singular, "Your Grandfather is calling you," refer-

ring to the western Grandfather whose cloud tepee is the home of the Thunder beings. Neihardt deemphasizes the importance of the west and of the fearful Thunder beings in Black Elk Speaks.

1826

/

BLACK

E L K AND J O H N

G.

NEIHARDT

N o w s u d d e n l y there w a s n o t h i n g but a world of c l o u d , a n d we t h r e e were there a l o n e in the m i d d l e of a great white plain with snowy hills a n d m o u n tains staring at u s ; a n d it w a s very still; but there were w h i s p e r s . T h e n the two m e n s p o k e together a n d they s a i d : " B e h o l d h i m , the b e i n g with four l e g s ! " I looked a n d saw a bay h o r s e s t a n d i n g there, a n d he b e g a n to s p e a k : " B e h o l d m e ! " he s a i d , " M y life-history you shall s e e . " T h e n he w h e e l e d a b o u t to where the s u n g o e s d o w n , a n d s a i d : " B e h o l d t h e m ! T h e i r history you shall know." I looked, a n d there were twelve black'' h o r s e s yonder all a b r e a s t with neckl a c e s of bison hoofs, a n d they were beautiful, b u t I w a s frightened, b e c a u s e their m a n e s were lightning a n d there w a s t h u n d e r in their nostrils. T h e n the bay h o r s e w h e e l e d to w h e r e the great white giant lives (the north) a n d said: " B e h o l d ! " A n d yonder there were twelve white h o r s e s all a b r e a s t . T h e i r m a n e s were flowing like a blizzard wind a n d from their n o s e s c a m e a roaring, a n d all a b o u t t h e m white g e e s e s o a r e d a n d circled. T h e n the bay w h e e l e d r o u n d to w h e r e the s u n s h i n e s continually (the e a s t ) a n d b a d e m e look; a n d there twelve sorrel h o r s e s , with n e c k l a c e s of elk's t e e t h , 7 stood a b r e a s t with eyes that g l i m m e r e d like the day-break star a n d m a n e s of m o r n i n g light. T h e n the bay w h e e l e d o n c e again to look u p o n the p l a c e w h e r e you are always f a c i n g (the s o u t h ) , a n d yonder s t o o d twelve b u c k s k i n s all a b r e a s t with horns u p o n their h e a d s a n d m a n e s that lived a n d grew like trees a n d g r a s s e s . A n d w h e n I h a d s e e n all t h e s e , the bay h o r s e s a i d : "Your G r a n d f a t h e r s are having a c o u n c i l . T h e s e shall take you; s o have c o u r a g e . " T h e n all the h o r s e s went into f o r m a t i o n , four a b r e a s t — t h e b l a c k s , the whites, the sorrels, a n d the b u c k s k i n s — a n d s t o o d b e h i n d the bay, w h o turned now to the west a n d n e i g h e d ; a n d yonder s u d d e n l y the sky w a s terrible with a storm of p l u n g i n g h o r s e s in all colors that s h o o k the world with t h u n der, n e i g h i n g b a c k . N o w turning to the north the bay h o r s e w h i n n i e d , a n d yonder all the sky roared with a mighty wind of r u n n i n g h o r s e s in all c o l o r s , n e i g h i n g b a c k . A n d w h e n he whinnied to the e a s t , there too the sky w a s filled with glowing c l o u d s of m a n e s a n d tails of horses in all colors s i n g i n g b a c k . T h e n to the s o u t h h e c a l l e d , a n d it w a s c r o w d e d with m a n y c o l o r e d , h a p p y h o r s e s , nickering. H T h e n the bay horse s p o k e to m e again a n d s a i d : " S e e how your h o r s e s all c o m e d a n c i n g ! " I looked, a n d there were h o r s e s , h o r s e s e v e r y w h e r e — a whole skyful of h o r s e s d a n c i n g round m e . " M a k e h a s t e ! " the bay h o r s e s a i d ; a n d we walked together side by s i d e , while the b l a c k s , the whites, the sorrels, a n d the b u c k s k i n s followed, m a r c h ing four by four. I looked a b o u t m e o n c e a g a i n , a n d s u d d e n l y the d a n c i n g h o r s e s without n u m b e r c h a n g e d into a n i m a l s of every kind a n d into all the fowls that a r e , a n d t h e s e fled b a c k to the four q u a r t e r s of the world from w h e n c e the h o r s e s c a m e , and vanished. 6. The color specifically associated with the Thunder beings and the color of difficulty but also of the courage to triumph over difficulty. Successful Lakota warriors, e.g., would paint their faces black.

7. Symbols of durability and thus long life. S. "Happy" and "nickering" are Neihardt's additions.

BLACK

ELK

SPEAKS

/

1827

T h e n a s we walked, there w a s a h e a p e d up c l o u d a h e a d that c h a n g e d into a tepee, a n d a r a i n b o w 9 w a s the o p e n d o o r of it; a n d t h r o u g h the d o o r I saw six old m e n sitting in a row. T h e two m e n with the s p e a r s now stood b e s i d e m e , o n e on either h a n d , and the h o r s e s took their p l a c e s in their q u a r t e r s , looking inward, four by four. A n d the oldest of the G r a n d f a t h e r s s p o k e with a kind voice a n d said: " C o m e right in a n d do not fear." A n d a s h e s p o k e , all the h o r s e s of the four q u a r t e r s n e i g h e d to c h e e r m e . S o I went in a n d s t o o d before the six, a n d they looked older than m e n c a n ever b e — o l d like hills, like s t a r s . 1 T h e oldest s p o k e a g a i n : "Your G r a n d f a t h e r s all over the world a r e having a c o u n c i l , a n d they have called you here to t e a c h y o u . " His voice w a s very kind, but I s h o o k all over with fear now, for I k n e w that t h e s e were not old m e n , but the Powers of the W o r l d . A n d the first w a s the Power of the W e s t ; the s e c o n d , of the N o r t h ; the third, of the E a s t ; the fourth, of the S o u t h ; the fifth, of the Sky; the sixth, of the E a r t h . I knew this, a n d w a s afraid, until the first G r a n d f a t h e r s p o k e a g a i n : " B e h o l d t h e m yonder w h e r e the s u n g o e s d o w n , the t h u n d e r b e i n g s ! You shall s e e , a n d have from t h e m my p o w e r ; 2 a n d they shall take you to the high a n d lonely c e n t e r of the e a r t h that you may s e e ; even to the p l a c e w h e r e the s u n continually s h i n e s , they shall take you there to u n d e r s t a n d . " A n d a s he s p o k e of u n d e r s t a n d i n g , I looked u p a n d s a w the rainbow leap with f l a m e s of m a n y colors over m e . N o w there w a s a w o o d e n c u p in his h a n d a n d it w a s full of water a n d in the water w a s the sky. " T a k e t h i s , " he said. "It is the power to m a k e live, a n d it is y o u r s . " N o w he had a bow in his h a n d s . " T a k e t h i s , " he said. "It is the p o w e r to destroy, a n d it is y o u r s . " T h e n he p o i n t e d to himself a n d said: " L o o k c l o s e at him who is your spirit now, for you are his body a n d his n a m e is E a g l e W i n g S t r e t c h e s . " And saying this, h e got up very tall a n d started r u n n i n g toward where the s u n g o e s d o w n ; a n d s u d d e n l y he w a s a black h o r s e that s t o p p e d a n d turned and looked at m e , a n d the horse was very poor a n d sick; his ribs stood out. T h e n the s e c o n d G r a n d f a t h e r , he of the N o r t h , a r o s e with a herb of p o w e r in his h a n d , a n d s a i d : " T a k e this a n d hurry." I took a n d held it toward the black h o r s e yonder. H e fattened and w a s h a p p y a n d c a m e p r a n c i n g to his place again a n d w a s the first G r a n d f a t h e r sitting t h e r e . T h e s e c o n d G r a n d f a t h e r , he of the N o r t h , s p o k e a g a i n : " T a k e c o u r a g e , younger b r o t h e r , " he said; " o n earth a nation you shall m a k e live, for yours shall be the power of the white giant's wing, the c l e a n s i n g w i n d . " T h e n he got up very tall a n d started r u n n i n g toward the north; a n d w h e n he turned toward m e , it w a s a white g o o s e wheeling. I looked a b o u t m e now, a n d the horses in the west were t h u n d e r s a n d the h o r s e s of the north were g e e s e . 3 And the s e c o n d G r a n d f a t h e r s a n g two s o n g s 4 that were like this: 9. Symbol ol the Thunder beings. 1. "Older than men . . . like stars" is Neihardt's addition. 2. Literally, tawacin, "will power." which, for the Lakota, is the creative power of a mind made wise by means of a vision, a power that can be used on earth [adapted from DeMallie's note]. 3. Neihardt has much condensed this section. In The Sixth Grandfather, Black Elk understands the

second Grandfather to be saying that he will "create a nation." and 'cure lots of sickness with this herb.' thus causing the people to cry joyfully as geese do when returning to their northern home after the hard winter has passed [adapted from DeMallie's note]. 4. Black Elk attributes the first song to the first Grandfather, of the west.

1828

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BLACK

E L K AND J O H N

G.

NEIHARDT

" T h e y are a p p e a r i n g , m a y you b e h o l d ! T h e y are a p p e a r i n g , m a y you b e h o l d ! T h e t h u n d e r nation is a p p e a r i n g , b e h o l d ! T h e y a r e a p p e a r i n g , may you b e h o l d ! T h e y are a p p e a r i n g , m a y you b e h o l d ! T h e white g e e s e nation is a p p e a r i n g , b e h o l d ! " A n d now it w a s the third G r a n d f a t h e r w h o s p o k e , h e of w h e r e the s u n shines continually. " T a k e c o u r a g e , y o u n g e r b r o t h e r , " h e said, "for a c r o s s the earth they shall take y o u ! " T h e n he p o i n t e d to w h e r e the d a y b r e a k star w a s shining, a n d b e n e a t h the star two m e n were flying. " F r o m t h e m you shall have p o w e r , " h e s a i d , " f r o m t h e m w h o have a w a k e n e d all the b e i n g s of the earth with roots a n d legs a n d w i n g s . " A n d a s h e said this, h e held in his h a n d a p e a c e p i p e which h a d a s p o t t e d e a g l e o u t s t r e t c h e d u p o n the s t e m ; a n d this eagle s e e m e d alive, for it w a s p o i s e d t h e r e , fluttering, a n d its eyes were looking at m e . "With this p i p e , " the G r a n d f a t h e r s a i d , "you shall walk u p o n the earth, a n d whatever s i c k e n s there you shall m a k e well." T h e n h e p o i n t e d to a m a n w h o w a s bright r e d 5 all over, the color of g o o d a n d of plenty, a n d a s he p o i n t e d , the red m a n lay d o w n a n d rolled a n d c h a n g e d into a bison that got u p a n d g a l l o p e d toward the sorrel h o r s e s of the e a s t , a n d they too turned to b i s o n , fat a n d m a n y . A n d now the fourth G r a n d f a t h e r s p o k e , h e of the p l a c e w h e r e you are always facing (the s o u t h ) , w h e n c e c o m e s the power to grow. " Y o u n g e r b r o t h e r , " h e s a i d , "with the p o w e r s of the four q u a r t e r s you shall walk, a relative. B e h o l d , the living c e n t e r of a nation I shall give y o u , a n d with it m a n y you shall s a v e . " A n d I saw that he w a s holding in his h a n d a bright red stick that w a s alive, a n d a s I looked it s p r o u t e d at the top a n d sent forth b r a n c h e s , a n d o n the b r a n c h e s m a n y leaves c a m e o u t a n d m u r m u r e d a n d in the leaves the birds b e g a n to sing. A n d then for j u s t a little while I t h o u g h t I s a w b e n e a t h it in the s h a d e the circled villages of p e o p l e a n d every living thing with roots or legs or w i n g s , a n d all were h a p p y . "It shall s t a n d in the c e n t e r of the nation's c i r c l e , " said the G r a n d f a t h e r , "a c a n e to walk with a n d a p e o p l e ' s heart; a n d by your p o w e r s you shall m a k e it b l o s s o m . " T h e n w h e n h e h a d b e e n still a little while to h e a r the birds sing, he s p o k e a g a i n : " B e h o l d the e a r t h ! " S o I looked d o w n a n d s a w it lying yonder like a h o o p of p e o p l e s , a n d in the c e n t e r b l o o m e d the holy stick that w a s a tree, a n d w h e r e it s t o o d there c r o s s e d two r o a d s , a red o n e a n d a b l a c k . " F r o m w h e r e the giant lives (the north) to w h e r e you always f a c e (the s o u t h ) the red r o a d g o e s , the r o a d of g o o d , " the G r a n d f a t h e r said, " a n d on it shall your nation walk. T h e b l a c k road g o e s from w h e r e the t h u n d e r b e i n g s live (the west) to w h e r e the s u n continually s h i n e s (the e a s t ) , a fearful r o a d , a r o a d of troubles a n d of w a r . 6 O n this a l s o you shall walk, a n d from it you shall have the power to destroy a p e o p l e ' s f o e s . In four a s c e n t s you shall walk the earth with p o w e r . " I think he m e a n t that I s h o u l d s e e four g e n e r a t i o n s , c o u n t i n g m e , a n d now I a m s e e i n g the third. 5. Associated with the buffalo, with nourishment, and with health. 6. This is Neihardt's interpretation. Black Elk's

own explanation s e e m s fairly H w t r o u b l e d : he says, "From east to west I have power to destroy and from north to south power to do good."

BLACK

ELK

SPEAKS

/

1829

T h e n he rose very tall a n d started r u n n i n g toward the s o u t h , a n d w a s a n elk; a n d as he s t o o d a m o n g the b u c k s k i n s yonder, they t o o were elks. N o w the fifth G r a n d f a t h e r s p o k e , the oldest of t h e m all, the Spirit of the Sky. " M y b o y , " he s a i d , "I have sent for you a n d you have c o m e . My p o w e r you shall s e e ! " H e s t r e t c h e d his a r m s a n d t u r n e d into a s p o t t e d e a g l e hovering. " B e h o l d , " h e said, "all the wings of the air shall c o m e to y o u , a n d they a n d the w i n d s a n d the stars shall b e like relatives. You shall go a c r o s s the e a r t h with my p o w e r . " T h e n the e a g l e s o a r e d a b o v e my h e a d a n d fluttered there; a n d s u d d e n l y the sky w a s full of friendly wings all c o m i n g toward m e . N o w I knew the sixth G r a n d f a t h e r w a s a b o u t to s p e a k , he w h o w a s the Spirit of the E a r t h , a n d I s a w that he w a s very old, but m o r e a s m e n a r e old. His hair w a s long a n d white, his f a c e w a s all in wrinkles a n d his eyes were d e e p a n d d i m . 7 I s t a r e d at him, for it s e e m e d I k n e w him s o m e h o w ; a n d as I s t a r e d , he slowly c h a n g e d , for he w a s growing b a c k w a r d s into y o u t h , a n d w h e n h e h a d b e c o m e a boy, I knew that he w a s m y s e l f with all the years that would be m i n e at l a s t . 8 W h e n he w a s old a g a i n , he said: " M y boy, have c o u r a g e , for my p o w e r shall b e yours, a n d you shall n e e d it, for your nation on the earth will have great troubles. C o m e . " 9 H e rose a n d tottered out t h r o u g h the rainbow door, a n d a s I followed I w a s riding o n the bay h o r s e w h o h a d talked to m e at first a n d led m e to that place. T h e n the bay h o r s e s t o p p e d a n d f a c e d the b l a c k h o r s e s of the west, a n d a voice s a i d : " T h e y have given you the c u p of water to m a k e live the g r e e n i n g day, a n d a l s o the b o w a n d arrow to destroy." T h e bay n e i g h e d , a n d the twelve black h o r s e s c a m e a n d stood b e h i n d m e , four a b r e a s t . T h e bay f a c e d the sorrels of the e a s t , a n d I s a w that they h a d m o r n i n g stars u p o n their f o r e h e a d s a n d they were very bright. A n d the voice s a i d : " T h e y have given you the s a c r e d p i p e a n d the power that is p e a c e , a n d the g o o d red d a y . " T h e bay n e i g h e d , a n d the twelve sorrels s t o o d b e h i n d m e , four a b r e a s t . M y h o r s e now f a c e d the b u c k s k i n s of the s o u t h , a n d a voice s a i d : " T h e y have given you the s a c r e d stick a n d your nation's h o o p , a n d the yellow day; a n d in the c e n t e r of the h o o p you shall set the stick a n d m a k e it grow into a shielding tree, a n d b l o o m . " T h e bay n e i g h e d , a n d the twelve b u c k s k i n s c a m e a n d stood b e h i n d m e , four a b r e a s t . T h e n I knew that there were riders on all the h o r s e s there b e h i n d m e , a n d a voice said: " N o w you shall walk the black road with t h e s e ; a n d a s you walk, all the n a t i o n s that have roots or legs or w i n g s shall fear y o u . " S o I started, riding toward the east d o w n the fearful r o a d , a n d b e h i n d m e c a m e the h o r s e b a c k s four a b r e a s t — t h e b l a c k s , the w h i t e s , the sorrels, a n d the b u c k s k i n s — a n d far away a b o v e the fearful r o a d the d a y b r e a k star w a s rising very d i m . I looked below m e where the earth w a s silent in a sick green light, a n d saw the hills look u p afraid a n d the g r a s s e s on the hills a n d all the a n i m a l s ; a n d everywhere a b o u t m e were the cries of frightened birds a n d s o u n d s of fleeing wings. I w a s the c h i e f of all the h e a v e n s riding t h e r e , a n d w h e n I looked b e h i n d m e , all the twelve black h o r s e s r e a r e d a n d p l u n g e d a n d t h u n 7. "Wrinkles" and "deep and dim" are Neihardt's additions. 8. "With all the years . . . at last" is Neihardt's

addition. 9. Black Elk also says, "This old man had in his hand a spear," which is omitted by Neihardt.

1830

/

BLACK

E L K AND J O H N

G.

NEIHARDT

d e r e d a n d their m a n e s a n d tails were whirling hail a n d their nostrils s n o r t e d lightning. A n d w h e n I looked below a g a i n , I s a w the slant hail falling a n d the long, s h a r p rain, a n d w h e r e we p a s s e d , the trees b o w e d low a n d all the hills were d i m . N o w the earth w a s bright a g a i n a s w e r o d e . I c o u l d s e e the hills a n d valleys a n d the c r e e k s a n d rivers p a s s i n g u n d e r . W e c a m e a b o v e a p l a c e w h e r e three s t r e a m s m a d e a big o n e — a s o u r c e of mighty w a t e r s — a n d s o m e t h i n g terrible w a s t h e r e . F l a m e s were rising from the w a t e r s a n d in the flames a b l u e m a n lived. 1 T h e d u s t w a s floating all a b o u t h i m in the air, the g r a s s w a s short a n d withered, the trees were wilting, two-legged a n d four-legged b e i n g s lay there thin a n d p a n t i n g , a n d w i n g s too w e a k to fly. T h e n the b l a c k h o r s e riders s h o u t e d " H o k a hey!" a n d c h a r g e d d o w n u p o n the b l u e m a n , but were driven b a c k . A n d the white t r o o p s h o u t e d , c h a r g i n g , a n d w a s b e a t e n ; t h e n the red troop a n d the yellow. A n d w h e n e a c h h a d failed, they all cried together: " E a g l e W i n g S t r e t c h e s , hurry!" A n d all the world w a s filled with voices of all kinds that c h e e r e d m e , s o I c h a r g e d . I h a d the c u p of water in o n e h a n d a n d in the other w a s the bow that turned into a s p e a r a s the bay a n d I s w o o p e d d o w n , a n d the spear's h e a d w a s s h a r p lightning. It s t a b b e d the b l u e m a n ' s heart, a n d a s it s t r u c k I c o u l d h e a r the t h u n d e r rolling a n d m a n y v o i c e s that cried " U n - h e e ! , " m e a n ing I h a d killed. T h e flames died. T h e trees a n d g r a s s e s were not withered any m o r e a n d m u r m u r e d happily together, a n d every living b e i n g cried in g l a d n e s s with whatever vo