THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES IN MEMORY OF MRS. VIRGINIA B. SPORER Edited by WALTER C. BRONSON ENGLISH POEMS OLD ENGLISH AND MIDDLE ENGLISH PERIODS THE ELIZABETHAN AGE AND THE PURITAN PERIOD THE RESTORATION AND THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY THE NINETEENTH CENTURY Each -volume $1.00 net; postage extra (weight each I Ib. 14 oz.) AMERICAN POEMS $1.50 net; postage extra (-weight 2 Ibi. 4 OK.) AMERICAN PROSE THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PKESS CHICAGO. ILLINOIS agents I & TAYL01 SEW VOBK THE CUNNINGHAM, CURTISS & WELCH COMPANY THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY SEW VOBK THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS LOHDOS AND XDIKBDB8H THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA TOKYO, OSAKA, KYOTO THE MISSION BOOK COMPANY KARL W. HIERSEMANN AMERICAN PROSE (1607-1865) SELECTED AND EDITED, WITH ILLUSTRATIVE AND EXPLANATORY NOTES AND A BIBLIOGRAPHY BY WALTER C. BRONSON, LITT.D. Professor of English Literature, Brown University THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS CHICAGO, ILLINOIS COPYRIGHT igi6 BY THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO All Rights Reserved Published July 1916 Composed and Printed By The University of Chicago Press Chicago. Illinois. U.S.A. PREFACE This book is a companion volume to American Poems, and like that is intended chiefly for use in schools and colleges. The selections from American prose of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are expected to supply all the reading in these periods that most classes will need; they have been chosen for their historical significance as well as their literary interest, and represent the various phases of American life in colonial and revolutionary times. The selections from the prose of the nineteenth century are limited to tales, essays, and orations by the greater writers, and stop with the end of the Civil War; this limitation of scope has made it possible to in- clude ample material for classroom study and much for outside reading, in the chief authors, and in most cases to print complete works. It may be especially noted that the speeches by Cal- houn, Webster, and Lincoln afford a basis for the study of American oratory in its prime, and at a great crisis in the history of the nation. The text follows with scrupulous care the text of the early editions. I have reproduced spelling, capitalization, punctu- ation, use of italics, etc., in the belief that students should read even the older works as they originally appeared, thus becoming familiar with their flavor and atmosphere, and gaining a sense of the historical development of language and typo- graphical usage. The interchange of i andy and of u and has not been kept, however, because it is confusing to inexperienced readers; and obvious misprints, and a few eccentricities of punctuation and capitalization that obscured the thought, have been corrected. The explanatory notes are few and brief, dealing only with points of real difficulty to students of average intelligence. The illustrative notes consist mainly of specimens of contemporary 2041883 vi PREFACE criticism on writers of the nineteenth century; they have been collected from many sources, and show the impression made at home and abroad by the most famous American authors during their lifetime. My thanks are due to Mr. Champlin Burrage, librarian of the John Carter Brown Library at Brown University, and to his assistants, for aid in utilizing the resources of that unique collection of Americana; to Librarian Harry L. Koopman and his staff, for facilitating my use of the Brown University Library; and to Doubleday, Page & Co., and Mr. J. S. Bassett, for permission to print extracts from the copyright edition of William Byrd's works.- My wife has been co-editor of the book, helping in the choice of material, aiding in the collation of texts, preparing the copy, making the indices, and sharing in the labor of reading the proofs. W. C. B. LA JOLLA, CALIFORNIA April 6, 1916 CONTENTS PREFACE JOHN SMITH From A True Relation . . . . . i From A Map of Virginia 4 WILLIAM BRADFORD From Of Plimoth Plantation The Pilgrims' Search for a Harbor 7 The First Whiter n Ungodly Doings at Merry Mount 14 THOMAS MORTON From New English Canaan 16 JOHN WINTHROP A Puritan to His Wife 17 From The History of New England A Theological Commonwealth . 19 A Colonial Schoolmaster 20 Anti-Episcopal Mice 23 Divine Discipline 23 Heresy Punished 24 Preternatural Phenomena 25 A Puritan Blue-Stocking 25 Witchcraft . 26 The Snake in the Synod 27 The Special Hand of God 28 THOMAS SHEPARD From The Sincere Convert 29 ROGER WILLIAMS From The Bloudy Tenent of Persecution for Cause of Conscience From The Preface 33 The Answer of Mr. John Cotton of Boston in New-England 34 A Reply to the Aforesaid Answer of Mr. Cotton in a Con- ference betweene Truth and Peace 36 vii viil CONTENTS NATHANIEL WARD From The Simple Cobler of Aggawam The Impious Doctrine of Toleration 42 Women's Fashions and Long Hair on Men 46 JOHN MASON From A Brief History of the Pequot War 50 MARY ROWLANDSON From A Narrative of the Captivity 54 INCREASE MATHER From An Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences A Bewitched House 63 Probation of Witches by Cold Water 67 COTTON MATHER From The Wonders of the Invisible World The Trial of Bridget Bishop: alias, Oliver 71 From Magnalia Christi Americana Captain Phips's Search for Sunken Treasure 77 . Thomas Hooker 80 John Eliot, Apostle to the Indians 82 A Bewitched Child 83 SAMUEL SEWALL From The Diary 89 SARAH K. KNIGHT From The Journal 105 WILLIAM. BYRD From History of the Dividing Line 113 From A Progress to the Mines 119 JONATHAN EDWARDS The Sweet Glory of God 122 From Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God 1 24 From Enquiry into the Freedom of the Will 128 JOHN WOOLMAN From The Journal Slavery 133 Religious Scruples against Dyed Garments 134 A Spiritual Vision 136 CONTENTS J. HECTOR ST. JOHN CRE-VECCEUR Letters from an American Farmer From Letter III. What Is an American ? ..... 138 Letter X. On Snakes; and on the Humming Bird . . . 142 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN From The Autobiography A Boyish Leader i48( Learning to Write 149 Entrance into Philadelphia 150 Success in Business 151 Religion 151 The Pursuit of Moral Perfection 152 Whitefield's Eloquence 155 Benevolent Cunning 156 The Way to Wealth '. . . 158 The Ephemera 166 Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout 168 Letters To Mrs. Jane Mecom 173 To Benjamin Webb 174 To Samuel Mather 175 JOHN DICKINSON From Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania Letter I 176 SAMUEL SEABURY From Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of the Continental Congress 180 FRANCIS HOPKINSON A Pretty Story 183 PATRICK HENRY Speech in the Virginia Convention of Delegates 197 ETHAN ALLEN From A Narrative of Col. Ethan Allen's Captivity .... 200 THOMAS PAINE From Common Sense 202 CONTENTS THOMAS JEFFERSON The Unanimous Declaration of the Thirteen United States of America 205 GEORGE WASHINGTON Answer to Congress on His Appointment as Commander-in-Chief 209 To Mrs. Martha Washington I .... 209 From A Letter to the President of Congress 211 From Farewell Address 214 ALEXANDER HAMILTON From The Federalist Further Defects of the Present Constitution 216 WASHINGTON IRVING From A History of New York 224 From The Sketch Book Rip Van Winkle 229 The Mutability of Literature 243 From Tales of a Traveller The Strolling Manager 252 From The Alhambra Legend of the Arabian Astrologer 264 EDGAR ALLAN POE A Descent into the Maelstrom 280 The Fall of the House of Usher ; . , . 295 The Pit and the Pendulum 313 The Purloined Letter 327 RALPH WALDO EMERSON The American Scholar 345 The Over-Soul 362 Nature 377 Behavior 391 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE The Minister's Black Veil 406 Dr. Heidegger's Experiment 418 Rappaccini's Daughter 428 Feathertop; a Moralized Legend 455 CONTENTS xi HENRY D. THOREAU From Walden Where I Lived, and What I Lived For 474 Brute Neighbors 487 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES From The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table IV 498 V 518 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL From Leaves from My Journal in Italy and Elsewhere At Sea ... .... 536 Abraham Lincoln 544 Carlyle 564 JOHN C. CALHOUN Speech on the Slavery Question 589 DANIEL WEBSTER The Constitution and the Union . . 608 ABRAHAM LINCOLN Address at Cooper Institute 647 Address ( at the Dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery . 666 Second Inaugural Address 667 NOTES 671 BIBLIOGRAPHY 717 INDEX OF AUTHORS 735 INDEX OF TITLES 735 JOHN SMITH FROM A TRUE RELATION 40. miles I passed up ye river, which for the most part is a quarter of a mile broad, & 3. fatham & a half deep, exceeding osey, many great low marshes, & many high lands, especially about ye midst at a place called Moysonicke, a Peninsule of 4. miles ci[r]cuit, betwixt two rivers joyned to the main, by a neck of 40. or 50. yards, and 40. or 50 yards from the high water marke: on both sides in the very necke of the maine, are high hills and dales, yet much inhabited, the He declining in a plaine fertile corne field, the lower end a low marsh. More plentie of swannes, cranes, geese, duckes, and mallards, & divers sorts of f owles none would desire : more plaine fertile planted ground, in such great proportions as there I had not scene, of a light blacke sandy mould, the cliffes commonly red, white and yellowe coloured sand, & under red & white clay; fish great plenty, & people aboundance, the most of their inhabitants, in view of ye neck of Land, where a better seat for a towne cannot be desired. ' At the end of forty miles this river invironeth many low Hands, at each high water drowned for a mile, where it uniteth it selfe, at a place called Apokant the highest Towne inhabited. 10. miles higher I discovered with the barge: in the mid way, a great tree hindred my passage which I cut in two: heere the river became narrower, 8. 9 or 10. foote at a high water, and 6. or 7. at a lowe: the streame exceeding swift, & the bottom hard channell, the ground most part a low plaine, sandy soyle. This occasioned me to suppose it might issue from some lake or some broad ford, for it could not be far to the head, but rather then I would endanger the barge, Yet to have beene able to resolve this doubt, & to discharge the im- putation of malicious tungs, that halfe suspected I durst not for so long delaying, some of the company as desirous as my self, we resolved to hier a Canow, and returne with the barge to Apocant, there to leave the barge secure, and put our selves uppon the adventure: the AMERICAN PROSE country onely a vast and wilde wildernes, and but onely that Towne. Within three or foure mile we hired a Canow, and 2. Indians to row us ye next day a fowling : having made such provision for the barge as was needfull, I left her there to ride, with expresse charge not any to go ashore til my returne. Though some wise men may condemn this too bould attempt of too much indiscretion, yet if they well con- sider the friendship of the Indians, in conducting me, the desolatenes of the country, the propabilitie of some lacke, & the malicious judges of my actions at home, as also to have some matters of worth to incourage our adventurers in england, might well have caused any honest minde to have done the like, as wel for his own discharge as for the publike good. Having 2 Indians for my guide & 2 of our own company, I set forward, leaving 7 in the barge. Having discovered 20 miles further in this desart, the river stil kept his depth and bredth, but much more combred with trees. Here we went ashore (being some 12 miles higher then ye barge had bene) to refresh our selves, during the boyling of our vituals: one of the Indians I tooke with me, to see the nature of the soile, & to crosse the boughts of the river: the other Indian I left with M. Robbinson and Thomas Emry, with their matches light and order to discharge a peece, for my retreat at the first sight of any Indian. But within a quarter of a houre I heard a loud cry, and a hollowing of Indians, but no warning peece. Supposing them surprised, and that the Indians had betraid us, presently I seazed him & bound his arme fast to my hand in a garter, with my pistoll ready bent to be revenged on him: he advised me to fly, and seemed ignorant of what was done. But as we went discoursing, I was struck with an arrow on the right thigh, but without harme: upon this occasion I espied 2 Indians drawing their bowes, which I prevented in discharging a french pistoll. By that I had charged againe 3 or 4 .more did the like, for the first fell downe and fled: at my discharge they did the like. My hinde I made my barricade, who offered not to strive. 20. or 30. arrowes were shot at me but short. 3 or 4 times I had discharged my pistoll ere the king of Pamaunck called Opeckankenough with 200 men, invironed me, cache drawing their bowe, which done they laid them upon the ground, yet without shot. My hinde treated betwixt them and me of conditions of peace; he discovered me to be the Captaine: my JOHN SMITH request was to retire to ye boate: they demaunded my armes, the rest they saide were slaine, onely me they would reserve. The Indian importuned me not to shoot. In retiring being in the midst of a low quagmire, and minding them more then my steps, I stept fast into the quagmire, and also the Indian in drawing me forth. Thus surprised, I resolved to trie their mercies: my armes I caste from me, till which none durst approch me. Being ceazed on me, they drew me out and led me to the King. I presented him with a compasse diall, describing by my best meanes the use therof , whereat he so amazedly admired, as he suffered me to proceed in a discourse of the roundnes of the earth, the course of the sunne, moone, starres and plannets. With kinde speeches and bread he requited me, con- ducting me where the Canow lay and John Robbinson slaine, with 20 or 30. arrowes in him. Entry I saw not. I perceived by the aboundance of fires all over the woods, At each place I expected when they would execute me, yet they used me with what kindnes they could. Approaching their Towne, which was within 6 miles where I was taken, onely made as arbors and covered with mats, which they remove as occasion requires: all the women and children, being advertised of this accident, came foorth to meet them, the King well guarded with 20 bowmen 5 flanck and rear, and each flanck before him a sword & a peece, and after him the like, then a bowman, then I on each hand a boweman, the rest in file in the reare, which reare led foorth amongst the trees in a bishion, cache his bowe and a hand- full of arrowes, a quiver at his back grimly painted: on cache flanck a sargeant, the one running alwaies towards the front the other towards the reare, each a true pace and in exceeding good order. This being a good time continued, they caste themselves in a ring with a daunce, and so cache man departed to his lodging. The Captain conducting me to his lodging, a quarter of Venison and some ten pound of bread I had for supper: what I left was reserved for me, and sent with me to my lodging. Each morning 3. women presented me three great platters of fine bread, more venison then ten men could devour I had: my gowne, points and garters, my compas and a tablet they gave me again. Though 8 ordinarily guarded me, I wanted not what they could devise to content me: and still our longer acquaintance increased our better affection. AMERICAN PROSE FROM A MAP OF VIRGINIA They [the Indians] are very strong, of an able body and full of agilitie, able to endure to lie in the woods under a tree by the fire, in the worst of winter, or in the weedes and grasse, in Ambuscado in the Sommer. They are inconstant in everie thing, but what feare constraineth them to keepe. Craftie, timerous, quicke of appre- hension & very ingenuous. Some are of disposition fearefull, some bold, most cautelous, all Savage. Generally covetous of coppeer, beads, & such like trash. They are soone moved to anger, and so malitious, that they seldome forget an injury: they seldome steale one from another, least their conjurers should reveale it, and so they be pursued and punished. That they are thus feared is certaine, but that any can- reveale their offences by conjuration I am doubtfull. Their women are carefull not to bee suspected of dishonesty without the leave of their husbands. Each houshold knoweth their owne lands & gardens, and most live of their owne labours. For their apparell, they are some time covered with the skinnes of wilde beasts, which in winter are dressed with the haire, but in som- mer without. The better sort use large mantels of deare skins not much differing in fashion from the Irish mantels. Some imbrodered with white beads, some with copper, other painted after their manner. But the common sort have scarce to cover their nakednesse but with grasse, the leaves of trees, or such like. We have seen some use mantels made of Turky feathers, so prettily wrought and woven with threeds that nothing could bee discerned but the feathers, that was exceeding warme and very handsome. But the women are alwaies covered about their midles with a skin and very shamefast to be scene bare. They adorne themselves most with copper beads and paintings. Their women some have their legs, hands, brests and face cunningly imbrodered with diverse workes, as beasts, serpentes, artificially wrought into their flesh with blacke spots. In each eare commonly they have 3 great holes, whereat they hange chaines bracelets or copper. Some of their men weare in those holes, a smal greene & yellow coloured snake, neare halfe a yard in length, which crawling & lapping her selfe about his necke often times familiarly would kisse his lips. Others wear a dead Rat tied by the tail. Some JOHN SMITH on their heads weare the wing of a bird, or some large feather with a Rattell. Those Rattels are somewhat like the chape of a Rapier but lesse, which they take from the taile of a snake. Many have the whole skinne of a hawke or some strange fowle, stuffed with the wings abroad. Others a broad peece of copper, and some the hand of their enemy dryed. Their heads and shoulders are painted red with the roote Pocone braied to powder mixed with oyle, this they hold in somer to preserve them from the heate, and in whiter from the cold. Many other formes of paintings they use, but he is the most gallant that is the most monstrous to behould. Their buildings & habitations are for the most part by the rivers or not farre distant from some fresh spring. Their houses are built like our Arbors of small young springs bowed and tyed, and so close covered with mats, or the barkes of trees very handsomely, that not- withstanding either winde, raine or weather, they are as warme as stooves, but very smoaky, yet at the toppe of the house there is a hole made for the smoake to goe into right over the fire. Against the fire they lie on little hurdles of Reedes covered with a mat, borne from the ground a foote and more by a hurdle of wood. On these round about the house they lie heads and points one by thother against the fire, some covered with mats, some with skins, and some starke naked lie on the ground, from 6 to 20 in a house. Their houses are hi the midst of their fields or gardens which are smal plots of ground, some 20, some 40. some 100 some 200. some more, some lesse; some times from 2 to 100 of those houses togither, or but a little separated by groves of trees. Neare their habitations is little small wood or old trees on the ground, by reason of their burning of them for fire. So that a man may gallop a horse amongst these woods any waie, but where the creekes or Rivers shall hinder. Men women and children have their severall names according to the severall humor of their Parents. Their women (they say) are easilie delivered of childe, yet doe they love children verie dearly. To make them hardy, in the coldest mornings they wash them hi the rivers and by painting and ointments so tanne their skins, that after a year or two, no weather will hurt them. The men bestowe then* tunes in fishing, hunting, wars & such manlike exercises, scorning to be scene in any woman like exercise, which is the cause that the women be verie painefull and the men AMERICAN PROSE often idle. The women and children do the rest of the worke. They make mats, baskets, pots, morters, pound their corne, make their bread, prepare their victuals, plant their corne, gather their corne, beare al kind of burdens and such like. Their fire they kindle presently by chafing a dry pointed sticke in a hole of a little square peece of wood, that firing it selfe, will so fire mosse, leaves, or anie such like drie thing, that will quickly burne. In March and Aprill they live much upon their fishing weares, and feed on fish, Turkies and squirrels. In May and June they plant their fieldes and live most of Acornes, walnuts, and fish. But to mend their diet, some disperse themselves in small companies & live upon fish, beasts, crabs, oysters, land Torteyses, straw berries, mulberries, & such like. In June, Julie, and August they feed upon the rootes of Tocknough berries, fish and greene wheat. It is strange to see how their bodies alter with their diet, even as the deare and wilde beastes they seeuie fat and leane, strong and weak. Powhatan their great king and some others that are provident, rost their fish and flesh upon hurdles as before is expressed, and keepe it till scarce times. For fishing and hunting and warres they use much their bow and arrowes. They bring their bowes to the forme of ours by the scraping of a shell. Their arrowes are made some of straight young sprigs which they head with bone, some 2 or 3 inches long. These they use to shoot at squirrels on trees. An other sort of arrowes they use made of reeds. These are peeced with wood, headed with splinters of christall or some sharpe stone, the spurres of a Turkey, or the bill of some bird. For his knife he hath the splinter of a reed to cut his feathers in forme. With this knife also, he will joint a Deare or any beast, shape his shooes, buskins, mantels, &c. To make the noch of his arrow hee hath the tooth of a Bever, set in a sticke, wherewith he grateth it by degrees. His arrow head he quickly maketh with a little bone, which he ever weareth at his bracer, of any splint of a stone, or glasse in the forme of a hart; and these they glew to the end of their arrowes. With the sinewes of Deare, and the tops of Deares homes boiled to a jelly, they make a glew that will not dissolve in cold water. For their wars also they use Targets that are round and made of the barkes of trees, and a sworde of wood at their backs, but often- WILLIAM BRADFORD times they use for swords the home of a Deare put through a peece of wood in forme of a Pickaxe. Some, a long stone sharpned at both ends used in the same manner. This they were wont to use also for hatchets, but now by trucking they have plenty of the same forme of yron. And those are their chiefe instruments and armes. Their fishing is much in Boats. These they make of one tree by bowing & scratching away the coles with stons & shels till they have made it. in forme of a Trough. Some of them are an elne deepe, and 40 or 50 foot in length, and some will beare 40 men, but the most ordinary are smaller and will beare 10, 20, or 30. according to their bignes. Insteed of oares, they use paddles and sticks with which they will row faster then our Barges. Betwixt their hands and thighes, their women use to spin the barks of trees, deare sinews, or a kind of grasse they call Pemmenaw; of these they make a thred very even & readily. This thred serveth for many uses, as about their housing, apparell, as also they make nets for fishing, for the quantity as formally braded as ours. They make also with it lines for angles. Their hookes are either a bone grated as they nock their arrows, in the forme of a crooked pinne or fishook, or of .the splinter of a bone tied to the clift of a litle stick, and with the ende of the line, they tie on the bate. They use also long arrowes tyed in a line wherewith they shoote at fish in the rivers. But they of Accawmack use staves like unto Javelins headed with bone. With these they dart fish swimming in the water. They have also many artificiall weares in which they get abundance offish. WILLIAM BRADFORD FROM OF PLIMOTH PLANTATION THE PILGRIMS' SEARCH FOR A HARBOR The month of November being spente in these affairs, & much foule weather falling in, the 6. of Desemr: they sente out their shallop againe with 10. of their principall men, & some sea men, upon further discovery, intending to circulate that deepe bay of Cap-codd. The weather was very could, & it frose so hard as ye sprea of ye sea light- ing on their coats, they were as if they had been glased; yet that AMERICAN PROSE night betimes they gott downe into ye botome of ye bay, and as they drue nere ye shore they saw some 10. or 12. Indeans very busie aboute some thing. They landed aboute a league or 2. from them, and had much a doe to put a shore any wher, it lay so full- of flats. Being landed, it grew late, and they made them selves a barricade with loggs & bowes as well as they could in ye time, & set out their sentenill & betooke them to rest, and saw ye smoake of ye fire ye savages made yt night. When morning was come they devided their company, some to coaste along ye shore in ye boate, and the rest marched throw ye woods to see ye land, if any fit place might be for theii dwelling. They came allso to ye place wher they saw the Indans ye night before, & found they had been cuting up a great fish like a grampus, being some 2. inches thike of fate like a hogg, some peeces wher of they had left by ye way; and ye shallop found 2. more of these fishes dead on ye sands, a thing usuall after storms in yt place, by reason of ye great flats of sand that lye of. So they ranged up and doune all yt day, but found no people, nor any place they liked. When ye sune grue low, they hasted out of ye woods to meete with their shallop, to whom they made signes to come to them into a creeke hardby, the which they did at high water; of which they were very glad, for they had not seen each other all yt day, since ye morning. So they made them a barricade (as usually they did every night) with loggs, staks, & thike pine bowes, ye height of a man, leaving it open to leeward, partly to shelter them from ye could & wind (making their fire in ye midle, & lying round aboute it), and partly to defend them from any sudden assaults of ye savags, if they should surround them. So being very weary, they betooke them to rest. But aboute mid- night, they heard a hideous & great crie, and then- sentinell caled, "Arme, arme"; so they bestired them & stood to their armes, & shote of a cupple of moskets, and then the noys seased. They con- cluded it was a companie of wolves, or such like willd beasts; for one of ye sea men tould them he had often heard shuch a noyse in New- found land. So they rested till about 5. of ye clock in the morning; for ye tide, & ther purposs to goe from thence, made them be stiring betimes. So after praier they prepared for breakfast, and it being day dawning, it was thought best to be earring things downe to ye boate. But some said it was not best to carrie ye armes downe, others said they would be the readier, for they had laped them up in their coats WILLIAM BRADFORD from ye dew. But some 3. or 4. would not cary theirs till they wente them selves, yet as it fell out, ye water being not high enough, they layed them downe on ye banke side, & came up to breakfast. But presently, all on ye sudain, they heard a great & strange crie, which they knew to be the same voyces they heard hi ye night, though they varied their notes, & one of their company being abroad came runing in, & cried, "Men, Indeans, Indeans"; and wthall, then: arowes came flying amongst them. Their men rane with all speed to recover their armes, as by ye good providence of God they did. In ye mean time, of those that were ther ready, tow muskets were discharged at them, & 2. more stood ready in ye enterance of ther randevoue, but were comanded not to shoote till they could take full aime at them; & ye other 2. charged againe with -all speed, for ther were only 4. had armes ther, & defended ye baricado which was first assalted. The crie of ye Indeans was dreadfull, espetially when they saw ther men rune out of ye randevoue towourds ye shallop, to recover their armes, the Indeans wheeling aboute upon them. But some running out with coats of malle on, & cutlasses hi their hands, they soone got their armes, & let flye amongs them, and quickly stopped their violence. Yet ther was a lustie man, and no less valiante, stood behind a tree within halfe a musket shot, and let his arrows flie at them. He was seen shoot 3. arrowes, which were all avoyded. He stood 3. shot of a musket, till one taking full aime at him, and made ye barke or splinters of ye tree fly about his ears, after which he gave an extraordinary shrike, and away they wente all of them. They left some to keep ye shalop, and followed them aboute a quarter of a mille, and shouted once or twise, and shot of 2. or 3. peces, & so returned. This they did, that they might conceive that they were not affrade of them or any way discouraged. Thus it pleased God to vanquish their enimies, and give them deliverance; and by his spetiall providence so to dis- pose that not any one of them were either hurte, or hitt, though their arrows came close by them, & on every side them, and sundry of their coats, which hunge up hi ye barricade, were shot throw & throw. Aterwards they gave God sollamne thanks & praise for their deliverance, & gathered up a bundle of their arrows, & sente them into England afterward by ye mr. of ye ship, and called that place ye first encounter. From hence they departed, & costed all along, but discerned no place likly for harbor; & therfore hasted to a place that io AMERICAN PROSE their pillote, (one Mr. Coppin who had bine in ye cuntrie before) did assure them was a good harbor, which he had been in, and they might fetch it before night; of which they were glad, for it begane to be foule weather. After some houres sailing, it begane to snow & raine, & about ye midle of ye afternoone, ye wind increased, & ye sea became very rough, and they broake their rudder, & it was as much as 2. men could doe to steere her with a cupple of oares. But their pillott bad them be of good cheere, for he saw ye harbor; but ye storme increasing, & night drawing on, they bore what saile they could to gett in, while they could see. But herwith they broake their mast in 3. peeces, & their saill fell over bord^in a very grown sea, so as they had like to have been cast away; yet by Gods mercie they recovered them selves, & having ye floud with them, struck into ye harbore. But when it came too, ye pillott was deceived in ye place, and said, ye Lord be mercifull unto them, for his eys never saw yt place before; & he & the mr. mate would have rune her ashore, in a cove full of breakers, before ye winde. But a lusty seaman which steered, bad those which rowed, if they were men, about with her, or ells they were all cast away ; the which they did with speed. So he bid them be of good cheere & row lustly, for ther was a f aire sound before them, & he doubted not but they should find one place or other wher they might ride in saftie. And though it was very darke, and rained sore, yet in ye end they gott under ye lee of a smalle iland, and remained ther all yt night in saftie. But they knew not this to be an iland till morning, but were devided in their minds; some would keepe ye boate for fear they might be amongst ye Indians; others were so weake and could, they could not endure, but got a shore, & with much adoe got fire, (all things being so wett,) and ye rest were glad to come to them; for after midnight ye wind shifted to the north-west, & it frose hard. But though this had been a day & night of much trouble & danger unto them, yet God gave them a morning of comforte & refreshing (as usually he doth to his children) , for ye next day was a faire sunshining day, and they found them sellvs to be on an iland secure from ye Indeans, wher they might drie their stufe, fixe their peeces, & rest them selves, and gave God thanks for his mercies, in their manifould deliverances. And this being the last day of ye weeke, they prepared ther to keepe ye Sabath. On Munday they sounded ye harbor, and founde it fitt for shipping; WILLIAM BRADFORD and marched into ye land, & found diverse cornfeilds, & litle runing brooks, a place (as they supposed) fitt for situation; at least it was ye best they could find, and ye season, & their presente necessitie, made them glad to accepte of it. So they returned to their shipp againe with this news to ye rest of their people, which did much corn- forte their harts. On ye 15. of Desemr: they wayed anchor to goe to ye place they had discovered, & came within 2. leagues of it, but were faine to bear up againe; but ye 16. day ye winde came faire, and they arrived safe in this harbor. And after wards tooke better view of ye place, and resolved wher to pitch their dwelling; and ye 25. day begane to erecte ye first house for commone use to receive them and their goods. THE FIRST WINTER I shall a litle returne backe and begine with a combination made by them before they came ashore, being ye first foundation of their govermente in this place; occasioned partly by ye discontented & mutinous speeches that some of the strangers amongst them had let fall from them in ye ship That when they came a shore they would use their owne libertie; for none had power to command them, the patente they had being for Virginia, and not for New-england, which belonged to an other Goverment, with which ye Virginia Company had nothing to doe. And partly that shuch an acte by them done (this their condition considered) might be as firme as any patent, and in some respects more sure. The forme was as followeth. In ye name of God, Amen. We whose names are underwriten, the loyall subjects of our dread soveraigne Lord, King James, by ye grace of God, of Great Britaine, Franc, & Ireland king, defender of ye faith, &c., haveing undertaken, for ye glorie of God, and advancemente of ye Christian faith, and honour of our king & countrie, a voyage to plant ye first colonie in ye Northerne parts of Virginia, doe by these presents solemnly & mutualy in ye presence of God, and one of another, covenant & combine our selves togeather into a civill body politick, for our better ordering & preservation & furtherance of ye ends aforesaid; and by vertue hearof to enacte, constitute, and frame such just & equall lawes, ordinances, acts, constitutions, & offices, from time to time, as shall be thought most meete & convenient for ye generall good of ye Colonie, unto which we promise all due submission and 12 AMERICAN PROSE obedience. In witnes wherof we have hereunder subscribed our names at Cap-Codd ye 1 1 . of November, in ye year of ye raigne of our soveraigne lord, King James, of England, France, & Ireland ye eighteenth, and of "Scotland ye fiftie fourth. Ano: Dom. 1620. After this they chose, or rather confirmed, Mr. John Carver (a man godly & well approved amongst them) their Governour for that year. And after they had provided a place for their goods, or comone store, (which were long in unlading for want of boats, foulnes of winter weather, and sicknes of diverce,) and begune some small cottages for their habitation, as time would admitte, they mette and consulted of lawes & orders, both for their civill & military Govermente, as ye necessitie of their condition did require, still adding therunto as urgent occasion in severall times, and as cases did require. In these hard & difficulte beginings they found some discontents & murmurings arise amongst some, and mutinous speeches & carriags in other; but they were soone quelled, & overcome, by ye wisdome, patience, and just & equall carrage of things by ye Govr and better part wch clave faithfully togeather in ye maine. But that which was most sadd, & lamentable was, that in 2. or 3. moneths time halfe of their company dyed, espetialy in Jan: & February, being ye depth of winter, and wanting houses & other comforts; being infected with ye scurvie & other diseases, which this long vioage & their inacomo- date condition had brought upon them; so as ther dyed some times 2. or 3. of a day, in ye foresaid time; that of 100. & odd persons scarce 50. remained. And of these in ye time of most distres ther was but 6. or 7. sound persons; who, to their great comendations be it spoken, spared no pains, night nor day, but with abundance of toyle and hazard of their owne health, fetched them woode, made them fires, drest them meat, made their beads, washed their lothsome cloaths, cloathed & uncloathed them ; in a word did all ye homly & necessarie offices for them, wch dainty & quesie stomacks cannot endure to hear named; and all this willingly & cherfully, without any grudging in ye least, shewing herein then: true love unto their freinds & bretheren. A rare example & worthy to be remembred. Tow of these 7. were Mr. William Brewster ther reverend Elder, & Myles Standish ther Captein & military comander, unto whom my selfe, & many others were much beholden in our low & sicke condition. And yet the Lord so upheld these persons, as in this generall calamity WILLIAM BRADFORD 13 they were not at all infected either with sicknes, or lamnes. And what I have said of these, I may say of many others who dyed in this generall vissitation, & others yet living, that whilst they had health, yea, or any strength continuing, they were not wanting to any that had need of them. And I doute not but their recompence is with ye Lord All this while ye Indians came skulking about them, and would sometimes show them selves aloofe of, but when any aproached near them, they would rune away. And once they stoale away their tools wher they had been at worke, & were gone to diner. But about ye 16. of March a certaine Indian came bouldly amongst them, and spoke to them in broken English, which they could well under- stand, but marvelled at it. At length they understood by discourse with him, that he was not of these parts, but belonged to ye eastrene parts wher some English-ships came to fhish, with whom he was aquainted, & could name sundrie of them by their names, amongst whom he had gott his language. He became proftable to them in aquainting them with many things concerning ye state of ye cuntry in ye east-parts wher he lived, which was afterwards profitable unto them; as also of ye people hear, of their names, number & strength; of their situation & distance from this place, and who was cheefe amongst them. His name was Samaset; he tould them also of another Indian whos name was Squanto, a native of this place, who had been in England & could speake better English then him selfe. Being, after some time of entertainmente & gifts dismist, a while after he came againe, & 5. more with him, & they brought againe all ye tooles that were stolen away before, and made way for ye coming of their great Sachem, called Massasoyt; who, about 4. or 5. days after, came with the cheefe of his freinds & other attendance, with the aforesaid Squanto. With whom, after frendly entertainment, & some gifts given him, they made a peace with him (which hath now continued this 24. years) in these terms. 1. That neither he nor any of his, should injurie or doe hurte to any of their peopl. 2. That if any of his did any hurte to any of theirs, he should send ye offender, that they might punish him. 3. That if any thing were taken away from any of theirs, he should cause it to be restored; and they should doe ye like to his. 14 AMERICAN PROSE 4. If any did unjustly warr against him, they would aide him; if any did warr against them, he should aide them. 5. He should send to his neighbours confederats, to certifie them of this, that they might not wrong them, but might be likewise comprised hi ye conditions of peace. 6. That when ther men came to them, they should leave their bows & arrows behind them. After these things he returned to his place caled Sowams, some 40. mile from this place, but Squanto continued with them, and was their interpreter, and was a spetiall instrument sent of God for their good beyond their expectation. He directed them how to set their come, wher to take fish, and to procure other comodities, and was also their pilott to bring them to unknowne places for their profitt, and never left them till he dyed. UNGODLY DOINGS AT MERRY MOUNT Aboute some 3. or 4. years before this tune, ther came over one Captaine Wolastone, (a man of pretie parts,) and with him 3. or 4. more of some eminencie, who brought with them a great many servants, with provissions & other implments for to begine a planta- tion; and pitched them selves in a place within the Massachusets, which they called, after their Captains name, Mount-Wollaston. Amongst whom was one Mr. Morton, who, it should seeme, had some small adventure (of his owne or other mens) amongst them; but had litle respecte amongst them, and was sleghted by ye meanest servants. Haveing continued ther some time, and not finding things to answer their expectations, nor profile to arise as they looked for, Captaine Wollaston takes a great part of ye sarvants, and transports them to Virginia, wher he puts them of at good rates, selling their time to other men; and writs back to one Mr. Rassdall, one of his cheefe partners, and accounted their marchant, to bring another parte of them to Verginia likewise, intending to put them of ther as he had done ye rest. And he, wth ye consente of ye said Rasdall, appoynted one Fitcher to be his Livetenante, and governe ye remaines of ye plantation, till he or Rasdall returned to take further order ther- aboute. But this Morton abovesaid, haveing more craft then honestie, (who had been a kind of petiefogger, of Furnefells Inne,) in ye others absence, watches an oppertunitie, (commons being WILLIAM BRADFORD 15 but hard amongst them,) and gott some strong drinck & other junkats, & made them a feast; and after they were merie, he begane to tell them, he would give them good counsell. You see (saith he) that many of your fellows are carried to Virginia; and if you stay till this Rasdall returne, you will also be carried away and sould for slaves with ye rest. Therfore I would advise you to thrust e out this Levetenant Pitcher; and I, having a parte in the plantation, will receive you as my partners and consociats; so may you be free fromy service, and we will converse, trad, plante, & live togeather as equalls, & supporte & protecte one another, or to like effecte. This counsell was easily received; so they tooke oppertunitie, and thrust Leveten- ante Fitcher out a dores, and would suffer him to come no more amongst them, but forct him to seeke bread to eate, and other releefe from his neigbours, till he could gett passages for England. After this they fell to great licenciousnes, and led a dissolute life, powering out them selves into all profanenes. And Morton became lord of misrule, and maintained (as it were) a schoole of Athisme. And after they had gott some good into their hands, and gott much by trading with ye Indeans, they spent it as vainly, in quaffing & drinking both wine & strong waters in great exsess, and, as some reported io. worth in a morning. They allso set up a May-pole, drinking and dancing aboute it many days togeather, inviting the Indean women, for their consorts, dancing and frisking togither, (like so many fairies, or furies rather,) and worse practises. As if they had anew revived & celebrated the feasts of ye Roman Goddes Flora, oryebeas^y practieses of ye madd Bacchinalians. Morton likwise (to shew his poetrie) com- posed sundry rimes & verses, some tending to lasciviousnes, and others to ye detraction & scandall of some persons, which he affixed to this idle or idoll May-polle. They chainged allso the name of their place, and in stead of calling it Mounte Wollaston, they call it Merie-mounte, as if this joylity would have lasted ever. .But this continued not long, for after Morton was sent for England, (as follows to be declared,) shortly after came over that worthy gentlman, Mr. John Indecott, who brought over a patent under ye broad seall, for ye govermente of ye Massachusets, who visiting those parts caused yt May-polle to be cutt downe, and rebuked them for their profannes, and admonished them to looke ther should be better walking; so they now, or others, changed ye name of their place againe, and called it Mounte-Dagon. 1 6 AMERICAN PROSE THOMAS MORTON FROM NEW ENGLISH CANAAN The Inhabitants of Pasonagessit (having translated the name of their habitation from that ancient Salvage name to Ma-re Mount; and being resolved to have the new name confirmed for a memorial to after ages) did devise amongst themselves to have it performed in a solemne manner with Revels, & merriment after the old English custome: prepared to sett up a Maypole upon the festivall day of Philip and Jacob; & therefore brewed a barrell of excellent beare, & provided a case of bottles to be spent, with other good cheare, for all commers of that day. And because they would have it in a com- pleat forme, they had prepared a song fitting to the time and present occasion. And upon May-day they brought the Maypole to the place appointed, with drumes, gunnes, pistols, and other fitting instruments, for that purpose; and there erected it with the help of Salvages, that came thether of purpose to see the manner of our Revels. A goodly pine tree of 80. foote longe, was reared up, with a peare of bucks- horns nayled one, somewhat neare unto the top of it: where it stood as a faire sea marke for directions; how to finde out the way to mine Hoste of Ma-re Mount The setting up of this Maypole was a lamentable spectacle to the precise seperatists: that lived at new Plimmouth. They termed it an Idoll; yea they called it the Calfe of Horeb: and stood at defiance with the place, naming it Mount Dagon; threatning to make it a woefull mount and not a merry mount There was likewise a merry song made, which (to make their Revells more fashionable) was sung with a Corus, every man bearing his part^ which they performed in a daunce, hand in hand about the Maypole, whiles one of the Company sung, and filled out the good liquor like gammedes and Jupiter. THE SONGE Cor. Drinke and be merry, merry, merry boyes, Let all your delight be in Hymens joy es, Id to Hymen now the day is come, About the merry Maypole take a Roome. JOHN WINTHROP 17 Make greene garlons, bring bottles out; And fill sweet Nectar, freely about, Uncover thy head, and feare no harme, For hers good liquor to keepe it warme. Then drinke and be merry, &c. 16 to Hymen, fire. Nectar is a thing assign'd, By the Deities owne min/le, To cure the hart opprest with greifc, And of good liquors is the cheife, Then drinke, fire. Id to Hymen, fire. Give to the Mettancotty man, A cup or two of 't now and than; This physick' will soone revive his bloud, And make him be of a merrier moode. Then drinke fire. Id to Hymen fire. Give to the Nymphe thats free from scorne, No Irish stuff nor Scotch overworne, Lasses in beaver coats come away, Yee shall be welcome to us night and day. To drinke and be merry fire. 16 to Hymen, &c. This harmeles mirth made by younge men (that lived in hope to have wifes brought over to them, that would save them a laboure to make a voyage to fetch any over) was much distasted, of the precise Seperatists: that keepe much a doe, about the tyth of Muit and Cummin; troubling their braines more then reason would require about things that are indifferent : and from that tune sought occasion against my honest Host of Ma-re Mount to overthrow his onder- takings, and to destroy his plantation quite and cleane. JOHN WINTHROP A PURITAN TO HIS WIFE Charleton in New England, July 16, 1630. My Dear Wife, Blessed be the Lord, our good God and merciful Father, that yet hath preserved me in life and health to salute thee, and to comfort i8 AMERICAN PROSE thy long longing heart with the joyful news of my welfare, and the welfare of thy beloved children. We had a long and troublesome passage, but the Lord made it safe and easy to us; and though we have met with many and great troubles, (as this bearer can certify thee,) yet he hath pleased to uphold us, and to give us hope of a happy issue. I am so overpressed with business, as I have no time for these or other mine own private occasions. I only write now, that thou mayest know, that yet I live and am mindful of thee in all my affairs. The larger discourse of all things thou shalt receive from my brother Downing, which I must send by some of the last ships. We have met with many sad and discomfortable things, as thou shalt hear after; and the Lord's hand hath been heavy upon myself in some very near to me. My son Henry! my son Henry! ah, poor child! Yet it grieves me much more for my dear daughter. The Lord strengthen and comfort her heart, to bear this cross patiently. I know thou wilt not be wanting to her in this distress. Yet, for all these things, (I praise my God,) I am not discouraged; nor do I see cause to repent or despair of those good days here, which will make amends for all. I shall expect thee next summer, (if the Lord please,) and by that time I hope to be provided for thy comfortable entertainment. My most sweet wife, be not disheartened; trust in the Lord, and thou shalt see his faithfulness. Commend me heartily to all our kind friends at Castleins, Groton Hall, Mr. Leigh and his wife, my neigh- bour Cole, and all the rest of my neighbours and their wives, both rich and poor. Remember me to them at Assington Hall, and Coden- ham Hall, Mr. Brand,' Mr. Alston, Mr. Mott, and their wives, good- man Pond, Charles Neale, &c. The good Lord be with thee and bless thee and all our children and servants. Commend my love' to them all. I kiss and embrace thee, my dear wife, and all my children, and leave thee in his arms, who is able to preserve you all, and to fulfil our joy in our happy meeting in his good time. Amen. Thy faithful husband, Jo. Winthrop. I shall write to my son John by London. To my very loving Wife, Mrs. Winthrop, Ike elder, at Groton in Sujfolk, near Sudbury. From New England. JOHN WINTHROP 19 FROM THE HISTORY OF NEW ENGLAND A THEOLOGICAL COMMONWEALTH [A.D. 1636.] Upon these publick occasions, other opinions brake out publickly in the church of Boston, as that the Holy Ghost dwelt in a believer as he is in heaven; that a man is justified before he believes; and that faith is no cause of justification. And others spread more secretly, as that the letter of the scripture holds forth nothing but a covenant of works; and that the covenant of grace was the spirit of the scripture, which was known only to believers; and that this covenant of works was given by Moses in the ten command- ments ; that there was a seed (viz. Abraham's carnal seed) went along in this, and there was a spirit and life in it, by virtue whereof a man might attain to any sanctification in gifts and graces, and might have spiritual and continual communion with Jesus Christ, and yet be damned. After, it was granted, that faith was before justification, but it was only passive, an empty vessel, &c.; but in conclusion, the ground of all was found to be assurance by immediate revela- tion. .... The differences in the said points of religion increased more and more, and the ministers of both sides (there being only Mr. Cotton of one party) did publickly declare their judgments hi some of them, so as all" men's mouths were full of them. And there being, 12 mo. 3, a ship ready to go for England, and many passengers in it, Mr. Cotton took occasion to speak to them about the differences, &c. and willed them to tell our countrymen, that all the strife amongst us was about magnifying the grace of God; one party seeking to advance the grace of God within us, and the other to advance the grace of God towards us (meaning by the one justification, and by the other sanctification;) and so bade them tell them, that, if there were any among them that would strive for grace, they should come hither; and so declared some particulars. Mr. Wilson spake after him, and declared, that he knew none of the elders or brethren of the churches, but did labour to advance the free grace of God in justification, so far as the word of God required; and spake also about the doctrine of sanctification, and the .use and necessity, &c. of it; by occasion whereof no man could tell (except some few, who knew the bottom of 20 AMERICAN PROSE the matter) where any difference was: which speech, though it offended those of Mr. Cotton's party, yet it was very seasonable to clear the rest, who otherwise should have been reputed to have opposed free grace. Thus every occasion increased the contention, and caused great alienation of minds; and the members of Boston (frequenting the lectures of other ministers) did make much dis- turbance by publick questions, and objections to their doctrines, which did any way disagree from their opinions; and it began to be as common here to distinguish between men, by being under a cove- nant of grace or a covenant of works, as in other countries between Protestants and Papists. A COLONIAL SCHOOLMASTER [A.D. 1639.] At the general court at Boston, one Mr. Nathaniel Eaton, brother to the merchant at Quilipiack, was convented and censured. The occasion was this: He was a schoolmaster, and had many scholars, the sons of gentlemen and others of best note in the country, and had entertained one Nathaniel Briscoe, a gentleman born, to be his usher, and to do some other things for him, which might not be unfit for a scholar. He had not been with him above three days but he fell out with him for a very small occasion, and, with reproachful terms, discharged him, and turned him out of his doors; but, it being then about eight of the clock after the Sabbath, he told him he should stay till next morning, and, some words growing between them, he struck him and pulled him into his house. Briscoe defended himself, and closed with him, and, being parted, he came in and went up to his chamber to lodge there. Mr. Eaton sent for the constable, who advised him first to admonish him, &c. and if he could not, by the power of a master, reform him, then he should complain to the magistrate. But he caused his man to fetch him a cudgel, which was a walnut tree plant, big enough to have killed a horse, and a yard in length, and, taking his two men with him, he went up to Briscoe, and caused his men to hold him till he had given him two hundred stripes about the head and shoulders, &c. and so kept him under blows (with some two or three short intermissions) about the space of two hours, about which time Mr. Shepherd and some others of the town came in at the outcry, and so he gave over. In this distress, Briscoe gate out his knife, and struck at the man that held JOHN WINTHROP him, but hurt him not. He also fell to prayer, (supposing he should have been murdered,) and then Mr. Eaton beat him for taking the name of God in vain. After this Mr. Eaton and Mr. Shepherd (who knew not then of these passages) came to the governour and some other of the magistrates, complaining of Briscoe for his insolent speeches, and for crying out murder and drawing his knife, and desired that he might be enjoined to a publick acknowledgment, &c. The magistrates answered, that they must first hear him speak, and then they would do as they should see cause. Mr. Eaton was dis- pleased at this, and went away discontented, &c. and, being after called into the court to make answer to the information, which had been given by some who knew the truth of the case, and also to answer for his neglect and cruelty, and other ill usage towards his scholars, one of the elders (not suspecting such miscarriages by him) came to the governour, and showed himself much grieved, that he should be publickly produced, alleging, that it would derogate from his authority and reverence among his scholars, &c. But the cause went on not- withstanding, and he was called, and these things laid to his charge in the open court. His answers were full of pride and disdain, telling the magistrates, that they should not need to do any thing herein, for he was intended to leave his employment. And being asked, why he used such cruelty to Briscoe his usher, and to other his scholars, (for it was testified by another of his ushers and divers of his scholars, that he would give them between twenty and thirty stripes at a tune, and would not leave till they had confessed what he required,) his answer was, that he had this rule, that he would not give over cor- recting till he had subdued the party to his will. Being also ques- tioned about the ill and scant diet of his boarders, (for, though their friends gave large allowance, yet their diet was ordinarily nothing but porridge and pudding, and that very homely,) he put it off to his wife. So the court dismissed him at present, and commanded him to attend again the next day, when, being called, he was commanded to the lower end of the table, (where all offenders do usually stand,) and, being openly convict of all the former offences, by the oaths of four or five witnesses, he yet continued to justify himself; so, it being near night, he was committed to the marshal till the next day. When the court was set in the morning, many of the elders came into the court, (it being then private for matter of consultation,) and AMERICAN PROSE declared how, the evening before, they had taken pains with him, to convince him of his faults; yet, for divers hours, he had still stood to his justification; but, in the end, he was convinced, and had freely and fully acknowledged his sin, and that with tears; so as they did hope he had truly repented, and therefore desired of the court, that he might be pardoned, and continued in his employment, alleging such further reasons as they thought fit. After the elders were departed, the court consulted about it, and sent for him, and there, in the open court, before a great assembly, he made a very solid, wise, eloquent and serious (seeming) confession, condeming himself in all the particulars, &c. Whereupon, being put aside, the court consulted privately about his sentence, and, though many were taken with his confession, and none but had a charitable opinion of it; yet, because of the scandal of religion, and offence which would be given to such as might intend to send their children hither, they all agreed to cen- sure him, and put him from that employment. So, being called in, the governour, after a short preface, &c. declared the sentence of the court to this effect, viz. that he should give Briscoe 30, fined 100 marks, and debarred teaching of children within our jurisdiction. A pause being made, and expectation that (according to his former confession) he would have given glory to God, and acknowledged the justice and clemency of the court, the governour giving him occasion, by asking him if he had ought to say, he turned away with a discontented look, saying, "If sentence be passed, then it is to no* end to speak." Yet the court remitted his fine to 20, and willed Briscoe to take but 20. The church at Cambridge, taking notice of these proceedings, intended to deal with him. The pastor moved the governour, if they might, without offence to the court, examine other witnesses. His answer was, that the court would leave them to their own liberty; but he saw not to what end they should do it, seeing there had been five already upon oath, and those whom they should examine should speak without oath, and it was an ordinance of God, that by the mouths of two or three witnesses every matter should be established. But he soon discovered himself ; for, ere the church could come to deal with him, he fled to Pascataquack, and, being pursued and apprehended by the governour there, he again acknowledged his great sin in flying, &c. and promised (as he was a Christian man) he JOHN WINTHROP 23 would return with the messengers. But, because his things he carried with him were aboard a bark there, bound to Virginia, he desired leave to go fetch them, which they assented unto, and went with him (three of them) aboard with him. So he took his truss and came away with them in the boat; but, being come to the shore, and two of them going out of the boat, he caused the boatsmen to put off the boat, and, because the^ third man would not go out, he turned him into the water, where he had been drowned, if he had not saved him- self by swimming. So he returned to the bark, and presently they set sail and went out of the harbour. Being thus gone, his creditors began to complain; and thereupon it was found, that he was run in debt about 1000, and had taken up most of this money upon bills he had charged into England upon his brother's agents, and others whom he had no such relation to. So his estate was seized, and put into commissioners' hands, to be divided among his creditors, allow- ing somewhat for the present maintenance of his wife and children. And, being thus gone, the church proceeded and cast him out. He had been sometimes initiated among the Jesuits, and, coming into England, his friends drew him from them, but, it was very probable, he now intended to return to them again, being at this tune about thirty years of age, and upwards. ANTI-EPISCOPAL MICE [A.D. 1640.] About this tune there fell out a thing worthy of observation. Mr. Winthrop the younger, one of the magistrates, having many books in a chamber where there was corn of divers sorts, had among them one wherein the Greek testament, the psalms and the common prayer were bound together. He found the common prayer eaten with mice, every leaf of it, and not any of the two other touched, nor any other of his books, though there were above a thousand. DIVINE DISCIPLINE [A.D. 1641.] A godly woman of the church of Boston, dwelling sometimes in London, brought with her a parcel of very fine linen of great value, which she set her heart too much upon, and had been at charge to have it all newly washed and curiously folded and pressed, and so left it in press in her parlour over night. She had a negro maid went into the room very late and let fall some snuff 24 AMERICAN PROSE of the candle upon the linen, so as by the morning all the linen was burned to tinder, and the boards underneath, and some stools and a part of the wainscot burned, and never perceived by any in the house, though some lodged in the chamber over head, and no ceiling between. But it pleased God that the loss of this linen did her much good, both in taking off her heart from worldly comforts, and in pre- paring her for a far greater affliction by the^ untimely death of her husband who was slain not long after at Isle of Providence. HERESY PUNISHED [A.D. 1643.] Gorton maintained, that the image of God wherein Adam was created was Christ, and so the loss of that image was the death of Christ, and the restoring of it in regeneration was Christ's resurrection, and so the death of him that was born of the Virgin Mary was but a manifestation of the former. In their letters, &c. they condemned all ordinances in the church, calling baptism an abomination, and the Lord's supper the juice of a poor silly grape turned into the blood of Christ by the skill of our magicians, &c. Yet upon examination they would say they did allow them to be the ordinances of Christ; but their meaning was that they were to con- tinue no longer than the infancy of the church lasted, (and but to novices then,) for after the revelation was written they were to cease, for there is no mention of them, say they, in that book The court and the elders spent near a whole day in discovery of Gorton's deep mysteries which he had boasted of in his letters, and to bring him to conviction, but all was in vain. Much pains was also taken with the rest, but to as little effect. They would acknowl- edge no errour or fault in their writings, and yet would seem sometimes to consent with us hi the truth After divers means had been used both in public and private to reclaim them, and all proving fruitless, the court proceeded to con- sider of their sentence, in which the court was much divided. All the magistrates, save three, were of opinion that Gorton ought to die, but the greatest number of the deputies dissenting, that vote did not pass. In the end all agreed upon this sentence, for seven of them, viz. that they should be dispersed into seven several towns, and there kept to work for their living, and wear irons upon one leg, and not to depart the limits of the town, nor by word or writing maintain any JOHN WINTHROP 25 of their blasphemous or wicked errours upon pain of death, only with exception for speech with any of the elders, or any other licensed by any magistrate to confer with them; this censure to continue during the pleasure of the court At the next court they were all sent away, because we found that they did corrupt some of our people, especially the women, by their heresies. PRETERNATURAL PHENOMENA [A.D. 1643.] The i8th of this month two lights were seen near Boston, (as is before mentioned,) and a week after the like was seen again. A light like the moon arose about the N.E. point in Boston, and met the former at Nottles Island, and there they closed in one, and then parted, and closed and parted divers tunes, and so went over the hill in the island and vanished. Sometimes they shot out flames and sometimes sparkles. This was about eight of the clock in the evening, and was seen by many. About the same time a voice was heard upon the water between Boston and Dorchester, calling out hi a most dreadful manner, boy, boy, come away, come away : and it suddenly shifted from one place to another a great distance, about twenty tunes. It was heard by divers godly persons. About 14 days after, the same voice in the same dreadful manner was heard by others on the other side of the town toward Nottles Island. These prodigies having some reference to the place where Cap- tain Chaddock's pinnace was blown up a little before, gave occasion of speech of that man who was the cause of it, who professed himself to have skill in necromancy, and to have done some strange things hi his way from Virginia hither, and was suspected to have murdered his master there; but the magistrates here had no notice of him till after he was blown up. This is to be observed that his fellows were all found, and others who were blown up in the former ship were also found, and others also who have miscarried by drowning, &c. have usually been found, but this man was never found. A PURITAN BLUE-STOCKING [A.D. 1645.] Mr. Hopkins, the governour of Hartford upon Connecticut, came to Boston, and brought his wife with him (a godly young woman, and of special parts) , who was fallen into a sad infirm- ity, the loss of her understanding and reason, which had been growing 26 AMERICAN PROSE upon her divers years, by occasion of her giving herself wholly to reading and writing, and had written many books. Her husband, being very loving and tender of her, was loath to grieve her; but he saw his errour, when it was too late. For if she had attended her household affairs, and such things as belong to women, and not gone out of -her way and calling to meddle in such things as are proper for men, whose minds are stronger &c. she had kept her wits, and might have improved them usefully and honourably in the place God had set her. He brought her to Boston, and left her with her brother, one Mr. Yale, a merchant, to try what means might be had here for her. But no help could be had. WITCHCRAFT [A.D. 1648.] At this court one Margaret Jones of Charlestown was indicted and found guilty of witchcraft, and hanged for it. The evidence against her was, i. that she was found to have such a malig- nant touch, as many persons (men, women and children,) whom she stroked or touched with any affection or displeasure or &c. were taken with deafness, or vomiting, or other violent pains or sickness, 2. she practising physick, and her medicines being such things as (by her own confession) were harmless, as aniseed, liquors &c. yet had extraordinary violent effects, 3. she would use to tell such as would not make use of her physick, that they would never be healed, and accord- ingly their diseases and hurts continued, with relapses against the ordinary course, and beyond the apprehension of all physicians and surgeons, 4. some things which she foretold came to pass accordingly; other things she could tell of (as secret speeches &c.) which she had no ordinary means to come to the knowledge of, .... 6. in the prison, in the clear day-light, there was seen in her arms, .... a little child, which ran from her into another room, and the officer following it, it was vanished. The like child was seen in two other places, to which she had relation; and one maid that saw it, fell sick upon it, and was cured by the said Margaret, who used means to be employed to that end. Her behaviour at her trial was very intemperate, lying notoriously, and railing upon the jury and witnesses &c. and hi the like distemper she died. The same day and hour she was executed, there was a very great tempest at Connecticut, which blew down many trees &c JOHN WINTHROP 27 The Welcome, of Boston, about 300 tons, riding before Charles- town, having in her eighty horses and 120 tons of ballast, in calm weather, fell a rolling, and continued so about twelve hours, so as though they brought a great weight to the one side, yet she would heel to the other, and so deep as they feared her foundering. It was then the tune of the county court at Boston, and the magistrates hearing of it, and withal that one Jones (the husband of the witch lately executed) had desired to have passage in her to Barbados, and could not have it without such payment &c. they sent the officer presently with a warrant to apprehend him, one of them saying that the ship would stand still as soon as he was in prison. And as the officer went, and was passing over the ferry, one said to him, you can tame men sometimes, can't you tame this ship. The officer answered, I have that here that ( it may be) will tame her, and make her be quiet ; and with that showed his warrant. And at the same instant, she began to stop and presently staid, and after he was put in prison, moved no more. There appeared over the harbour at New Haven, in the evening, the form of the keel of a ship with three masts, to which were suddenly added all the tackling and sails, and presently after, upon the top of the poop, a man standing with one hand akimbo under his left side, and in his right hand a sword stretched out towards the sea. Then from the side of the ship which was from the town arose a great smoke, which covered all the ship, and in that smoke she vanished away ; but some saw her keel sink into the water. This was seen by many, men and women, and it continued about a quarter of an hour. THE SNAKE IN THE SYNOD [A.D. 1648.] The synod met at Cambridge by adjournment. . . . . Mr. Allen of Dedham preached out of Acts 15, a very godly, learned, and particular handling of near all the doctrines and appli- cations concerning that subject, with a dear discovery and refutation of such errours, objections and scruples as had been raised about it by some young heads in the country. It fell out, about the midst of his sermon, there came a snake into the seat, where many of the elders sate behind the preacher. It came in at the door where people stood thick upon the stairs. Divers of the elders shifted from it, but Mr. Thomson, one of the elders of 28 AMERICAN PROSE Braintree, (a man of much faith,) trode upon the head of it, and so held it with his foot and staff with a small pair of grains, until it was killed. This being so remarkable, and nothing falling out but by divine providence, it is out of doubt, the Lord discovered some- what of his mind in it. The serpent is the devil; the synod, the representative of the churches of Christ in New England. The devil had formerly and lately attempted their disturbance and dissolution; but their faith in the seed of the woman overcame him and crushed his head. THE SPECIAL HAND OF GOD [A.D. 1648.] About eight persons were drowned this winter, all by adventuring upon the ice, except three, whereof two (one of them being far in drink) would needs pass from Boston to Winisemett in a "small boat and a tempestuous night. This man (using to come home to Winisemett drunken) his wife would tell him, he would one day be drowned &c. but he made light of it. Another went aboard a ship to make merry the last day at night, (being the beginning of the Lord's day,) and returning about midnight with three of the ship's company, the boat was overset by means of the ice, they guiding her by a rope, which went from the ship to the shore. The seamen waded out, but the Boston man was drowned, being a man of good conversation and hopeful of some work of grace begun in him, but drawn away by the seamen's invitation. God will be sanctified in them that come near him. Two others were the children of one of the church of Boston. While the parents were at the lecture, the boy (being about seven years of age,) having a small staff in his hand, ran down upon the ice towards a boat he saw, and the ice breaking, he fell in, but his staff kept him up, till his sister, about fourteen years old, ran down to save her brother (though there were four men at hand, and called to her not to go, being themselves hasting to save him) and so drowned herself and him also, being past recovery ere the men could come at them, and could easily reach ground with their feet. The parents had no more sons, and confessed they had been too indulgent towards him, and had set their hearts over much upon him. This puts me in mind of another child very strangely drowned a little before winter. The parents were also members of the church of Boston. The father had undertaken to maintain the mill-dam, THOMAS SHEPARD 29 and being at work upon it, (with some help he had hired,) in the afternoon of the last day of the week, night came upon them before they had finished what they intended, and his conscience began to put him in mind of the Lord's day, and he was troubled, yet went on and wrought an hour within night. The next day, after evening exercise, and after they had supped, the mother put two children to bed hi the room where themselves did lie, and they went out to visit a neighbour. When they returned, they continued about an hour in the room, and missed not the child, but then the mother going to the bed, and not finding her youngest child, (a daughter about five years of age,) after much search she found it drowned in a well hi her cellar; which was very observable, as by a special hand of God, that the child should go out of that room into another in the dark, and then fall down at a trap door, or go down the stairs, and so into the well in the farther end of the cellar, the top of the well and the water being even with the ground. But the father, freely in the open congregation, did acknowledge it the righteous hand of God for his profaning his holy day against the checks of his own conscience. THOMAS SHEPARD FROM THE SINCERE CONVERT Doct. 2. That those that are saved, are saved with much difficulty: or it is a wonderfull hard thing to be saved. The gate is strait, and therefore a man must sweat and strive to enter; both the entrance is difficult, and the progresse of salvation too. Jesus Christ is not got with a wet finger. It is not wishing and desir- ing to be saved, will bring men to heaven; hells mouth is full of good wishes. It is not shedding a tear at a Sermon, or blubbering now and then in a corner, and saying over thy prayers, and crying God mercy for thy sins, will save thee. It is not Lord have mercy upon us, will doe thee good. It is not coming constantly to Church; these are easie matters. But it is a tough work, a wonderfull hard matter to be saved, i Pet. 4. 18. Hence the way to heaven is compared to a Race, where a man must put forth all his strength, and stretch every limb, and all to get forward. Hence a Christians life is compared to wrestling, Eph. 6.12. All the policy and power of hell buckle together 30 AMERICAN PROSE against a Christian, therefore he must look to himself, or else he falls. Hence it is compared to fighting, 2 Tim. 4. 7. a man must fight against the Devill, the World, Himself; who shoot poysoned bullets in the soul, where a man must kill or be killed. God hath not lined the way to Christ with velvet, nor strewed it with rushes. He will never feed a slothfull humour in man, who will be saved if Christ and Heaven would drop into their mouthes, and if any would bear their charges thither: If Christ might be bought for a few cold wishes, and lazie desires, he would be of small reckoning amongst men, who would say, lightly come lightly gee. Indeed Christs yoke is easie in it self, and when a man is got into Christ, nothing is so sweet; but for a carnall dull heart, it is hard to draw in it; for, There are 4 strait gates wch every one must pass through before he can enter into heaven. 1. There is the strait gate of Humiliation; God saveth none, but first he humbleth them ; now it is hard to pass through the gates and flames of hell; for a heart as stiffe [as] a stake, to bow; as hard as a stone, to bleed for the least prick, not to mourne for one sin, but all sins; and not for a fit, but all a mans life time; Oh it is hard for a man to suffer himself to be loaden with sinne, and prest to death for sin, so as never to love sinne more, but to spit in the face of that which he once loved as dearly as his life. It is easie to drop a tear or two, and be Sermon-sick; but to have a heart rent for shine, and from sinne, this is true humiliation, and this is hard. 2. The strait gate of Faith, Eph. 1.19. It's an easie matter to presume, but hard to beleeve in Christ. It is easie for a man that was never humbled, to beleeve and say, 'Tis but beleeving: but it is an hard matter for a man humbled, when he sees all his sins in order before him, the Devill and Conscience roaring upon him, and crying out against him, and God frowning upon him, now to call God Father, is an hard work. Judas had rather be hang'd than believe. It is hard to see a Christ as a rock to stand upon, when we are overwhelmed with sorrow of heart for sinne. It is hard to prize Christ above ten thousand worlds of pearl: 'tis hard to desire Christ, and nothing but Christ; hard to follow Christ all the day long, and never to be quiet till he is got in thine armes, and then with Simeon to say, Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace. 3. The strait gate of Repentance. It is an easie matter for a man to confesse himselfe to be a sinner, and to cry God forgivenesse untill THOMAS SHEPAKD 31 next time: but to have a bitter sorrow and so to turn from all sin, and to return to God, and all the waies of God, which is true repentance indeed; this is hard. 4. The strait gate of opposition of Devils, the World, and a mans own Self, who knock a man down when he begins to look towards Christ and heaven. Hence learn, that every easie way to heaven is a false way, although ministers should preach it out of their Pulpits, and Angels should publish it out of heaven. Now there are nine easie wayes to heaven, (as men think) all which lead to hell. 1. The common broad way, wherein a whole parish may all goe a breadth in it; tell these people they shal be damned ; their answer is, then woe to many more besides me. 2. The way of Civill education, whereby many wilde natures are by little and little tamed, and like wolves are chained up easily while they are young. 3. Balams way of good, wishes, whereby many people will con- fesse their ignorance, forgetfulnesse, and that they cannot make such shewes as others doe, but they thank God their hearts are as good, and God for his part accepts (say they) the will for the deed. And, My son give me thine heart; the heart is all in all, and so long they hope to doe well enough. Poor deluded creatures thus think to break through armies of sinnes, Devils, temptations, and to break open the very gates of Heaven with a few good wishes; they think to come to their journeys end without legs, because their hearts are good to God. 4. The way of Formality, whereby men rest in the performance of most or of all externall duties without inward life, Mark, i . 14. Every man must have some Religion, some fig-leaves to hide then* naked- nesse. Now this Religion must be either true Religion, or the false one; if the true, he must either take up the power of it, but that he will not, because it is burdensome; or the forme of it, and this being easie men embrace it as their God, and will rather lose their lives than their Religion thus taken up. This form of Religion is the easiest Religion in the world; partly, because it easeth men of trouble of conscience, quieting that: Thou hast sinned, saith conscience, and God is offended, take a book and pray, keep thy conscience better, and bring thy Bible with thee. Now conscience is silent, being charmed down with the form of Religion, as the Devill is driven 32 AMERICAN PROSE away (as they say) with holy water; partly also because the form of religion credits a man, partly because it is easie in it selfe; it's of a light carriage, being but the shadow and picture of the substance of religion; as now, what an easie matter it is to come to Church? They hear (at least outwardly) very attentively and hour or more, and then to turn to a proof, and to turn down a leaf, here's the form. But now to spend Saturday night, and all the whole Sabbath day morning, in trimming the Lamp, and in getting oyle in the heart to meet the Bridegroom the next day, and so meet him in the Word, and there to tremble at the voice of God, and suck the brest while it is open, and when the word is done, to goe aside privately, and there to chew upon the word, there to lament with tears all the vain thoughts in duties, deadnesse in hearing, this is hard, because this is the power of godli- nesse, and this men will not take up: so for private prayer, what an easie matter it is for a man to say over a few prayers out of some devout book, or to repeat some old prayer got by heart since a childe, or to have two or three short winded wishes for Gods mercy in the morning and at night; this form is easie: but now to prepare the heart by serious meditation of God and mans self before he praies, then to come to God with a bleeding hunger-starved heart, not only with a desire, but with a warrant, I must have such or such a mercy, and there to wrestle with God, although it be an hour or two together for a blessing, this is too hard; men think none doe thus, and therefore they will not. Fifthly, the way of presumption, whereby men having seen their sins, catch hold easily upon Gods mercy, and snatch comforts, before they are reached out unto them. There is no word of com- fort in the book of God intended for such as regard iniquity in their hearts, though they doe not act it in their lives. Their only comfort is, that the sentence of damnation is not yet executed upon them. Sixthly, the way of sloth, whereby men lie still, and say God must doe all; If the Lord would set up a Pulpit at the Alehouse door, it may be they would hear oftner. If God will alwaies thunder, they will alwaye pray; if strike them now and then with sicknesse, God shall be paid with good words and promises enow, that they will be better if they live; but as long as peace lasts, they will run to Hell as fast as they can; and if God will not catch them, they care not, they will not return. ROGER WILLIAMS 33 Seventhly, the way of carelesnesse when men feeling many difficulties, pass through some of them, but not all, and what they cannot get now, they feed themselves with a false hope they shall hereafter; they are content to be called Precisians, and fools, and crazie brains, but they want brokennesse of heart, and they will pray (it may be) for it, and passe by that difficulty; but to keep the wound alwaies open, this they will not doe, to be alwaies sighing for help, and never to give themselves rest till their hearts are humbled; that they will not; these have a name to live, yet are dead. Eighthly, the way of moderation or honest discretion, Rev. 3 . 16. which indeed is nothing but lukewarmnesse of the soul, and that is, when a man contrives and cuts out such a way to Heaven, as he may be hated of none, but please all, and so do any thing for a quiet life, and so sleep in a whole skin. The Lord saith, He that will live godly, must suffer persecution: No, not so, Lord. Surely (think they) if men were discreet and wise, it would prevent a great deal of trouble and oposition in good courses; this man will commend those that are most zealous, if they were but wise; if he meet with a black-mouth'd swearer, he will not reprove him, lest he be displeased with him ; if he meet with an honest man, hee'l yeeld to all he saith, that so he may commend him; and when he meets them both together, they shall be both alike welcome, (what ever hee thinks) to his house and table, because he would fain be at peace with all men. Ninthly, and lastly, the way of Self-love, whereby a man fearing terribly he shall be damned, useth diligently all means whereby he shall be saved. Here is the strongest difficulty of all, to row against the stream, and to hate a mans self, and then to follow Christ fully. ROGER WILLIAMS FROM THE BLOUDY TENENT OF PERSECUTION FOR CAUSE OF CONSCIENCE FROM THE PREFACE First, That the blood of so many hundred thousand souls of- Protestants and Papists, spilt in the Wars of present and former Ages, for their respective Consciences, is not required nor accepted by Jesus Christ the Prince of Peace. 34 AMERICAN PROSE Secondly, Pregnant Scriptures and Arguments are throughout the Worke proposed against the Doctrine of Persecution for cause of Conscience. Thirdly, Satisfactorie Answers are given to Scriptures, and objections produced by Mr. Calvin, Beza, Mr. Cotton, and the Minis- ters of the New English Churches, and others former and later, tending to prove the Doctrine of Persecution for cause of Conscience. Fourthly, The Doctrine of Persecution for cause of Conscience, is proved guilty of all the blood of the Soules crying for vengeance under the Altar. Fifthly, All Civill Stales with their Officers of justice in their respective constitutions and administrations are proved essentially Civill, and therefore not Judges, Governours or Defendours of the Spirituall or Christian state and Worship. Sixtly, It is the will and command of God, that (since the comming of his Sonne the Lard Jesus) a permission of the most Paganish, Jew-ish, Turkish or Antichristian consciences and worships, bee granted to all men in all Nations and Countries: and they are onely to bee fought against with that Sword, which is only (hi Soule matters') able to conquer, to wit, the Sword of Gods Spirit, the Word of God. THE ANSWER OF MR. JOHN COTTON OF BOSTON IN NEW-ENGLAND, TO THE AFORESAID ARGUMENTS AGAINST PERSECUTION FOR CAUSE OF CONSCIENCE PROFESSEDLY MAINTEINING PERSECUTION FOR CAUSE OF CONSCIENCE The Question which you put, is, Whether Persecution for cause of Conscience, be not against the Doctrine of Jesus Christ the King of Kings. Now by Persecution for Cause of Conscience, I conceive you meane, either for professing some point of Doctrine which you believe in Conscience to be the Truth, or for practising some Worke which in Conscience you believe to be a Religious Duty. Now in Points of Doctrine some are fundamentall, without right beliefe whereof a Man cannot be saved: Others are circumstantiall or lesse principall, wherein Men may differ in judgement, without .prejudice of salvation on either part. In like sort, in Points of Practice, some concerne the waightier Duties of the Law, as, What God we worship, and with what kinde of ROGER WILLIAMS 35 Worship; whether such, as if it be Right, fellowship with God is held; if Corrupt, fellowship with Him is lost. Againe, in Points of Doctrine and Worship lesse Principall: either they are held forth in a meeke and peaceable way, though the Things be Erroneous or unlawfull: Or they are held forth with such Arrogance and Impetuousnesse, as tendeth and reacheth (even of it selfe) to the disturbance of CivUl Peace. Finally, let me adde this one distinction more: When we are persecuted for Conscience sake, It is either for Conscience rightly informed, or for erronious and blind Conscience. These things premised, I would lay down mine Answer to the Question in certaine Conclusions. First, it is not lawfull to persecute any for Conscience sake Rightly informed; for in persecuting such, Christ himselfe is persecuted in them, Acts 9.4. Secondly, for an Erronious and blind Conscience, (even in funda- mentall and weighty Points) It is not lawfull to persecute any, till after Admonition once or twice: and so the Apostle directeth, Tit. 3 . 10. and giveth the Reason, that infundamentall and principall points of Doctrine or Worship, the Word of God in such things is so cleare, that hee cannot but bee convinced in Conscience of the dangerous Errour of his way, after once or twice Admonition, wisely and faith- fully dispensed. And then if any one persist, it is not out of Con- science, but against his Conscience, as the Apostle saith vers. n. He is subverted and sinneth, being condemned of Himselfe, that is, of his owne Conscience. So that if such a Man after such Admonition shall still persist in the Errour of his way, and be therefore punished ; He is not persecuted for Cause of Conscience, but for sinning against his Owne Conscience. Thirdly, In things of lesser moment, whether Points of Doctrine or Worship, If a man hold them forth in a Spirit of Christian Meek- nesse and Love (though with Zeale and Constancie) he is not to be persecuted, but tolerated, till God may be pleased to manifest his Truth to him, Phil. 3. 17. Rom. 14. i, 2, 3, 4. But if a Man hold forth or professe any Errour or false way, with a boysterous and arrogant spirit, to the disturbance of Civill peace, he may justly be punished according to the qualitie and measure of the disturbance caused by him. 36 AMERICAN PROSE A REPLY TO THE AFORESAID ANSWER OF MR. COTTON IN A CONFERENCE BETWEENE TRUTH AND PEACE CHAP. I. Truth. In what darke corner of the World (sweet Peace) are we two met ? How hath this present evill World, banished Me from all the Coasts & Quarters of it ? and how hath the Righteous God in judgement taken Thee from the Earth, Rev. 6.4. Peace. "Pis lamentably true (blessed Truth) the foundations of the World have long been out of course: the Gates of Earth and Hell have conspired together to intercept our joyfull meeting and our holy kisses; With what a wearied, tyred Wing have I flowne over Nations, Kingdqmes, Cities, Townes, to finde out precious Truth ? Truth. The like enquiries in my flights and travells have I made for Peace, and still am told, she hath left the Earth, and fled to Heaven. Peace. Deare Truth, What is the Earth but a dungeon of dark- nesse, where Truth is not ? Truth. And what 's the Peace thereof but a fleeting dreame, thine Ape and Counterfeit? Peace. O where 's the Promise of the God of Heaven, that Right- eousnes and Peace shall kisse each other ? Truth. Patience (sweet Peace) these Heavens and Earth are growing 0/d, and shall be changed like a Garment, Psal. 102. They shall melt away, and be burnt up with all the Works that are therein; and the most high Eternall Creatour, shall gloriously create New Heavens and New Earth, wherein dwells Righetousnesse, 2 Pet. 3. Our kisses then shall have their endlesse date of pure and sweetest joyes ? till then both Thou and I must hope, and wait, and beare the furie of the Dragons wrath, whose monstrous Lies and Furies shall with himselfe be cast into the lake of Fire, the second death, Revel. 20. Peace. Most precious Truth, thou knowest we are both pursued and laid for: Mine heart is full of sighes, mine eyes with teares: Where can I better vent my full oppressed bosome, then into thine, whose faithfull lips may for these few houres revive my drooping wandring spirits, and here begin to wipe Teares from mine eyes, and the eyes of my dearest Children ? Truth. Sweet daughter of the God of Peace, begin; powre out thy sorrowes, vent thy complaints: how joyfull am I to improve ROGER WILLIAMS 37 these precious Minutes to revive our Hearts, both thine and mine, and the hearts of all that love the Truth and Peace, Zach. 8. Peace. Deare Truth, I know thy birth, thy nature, thy delight. They that know thee, will prize thee f arre above themselves and lives, and sell themselves to buy thee. Well spake that famous Elizabeth to her famous Attorney Sir Edward Coke: Mr. Attourney, goe on as thou hast begun, and still plead, not pro Domina Regina, but pro Domino, Veritate. Truth. "Pis true, my Crowne is high, my Scepter 's strong to breake down strongest holds, to throw down highest Crownes of all that plead (though but in thought) against me. Some few there are, but oh how few are valiant for the Truth, and dare to plead my Cause, as my Witnesses in sack-cloth, Revel, n. While all mens Tongues are bent like Bowes to shoot out lying words against Me! Peace. O how could I spend eternatt dayes and endlesse dates at thy holy feet, in listning to the precious Oracles of thy mouth! All the Words of thy moutjh are Truth, and there is no iniquity in them; Thy lips drop as the hony-combe. But oh! since we must part anon, let us (as thou saidst) improve our Minutes, and (according as thou promisedst) revive me with thy words, which are sweeter then the honey, and the honey-combe. CHAP. II. Deare Truth, I have two sad Complaints: First, The most sober of thy Witnesses, that dare to plead thy Cause, how are they charged to be mine Enemies, contentious, turbu- lent, seditious? Secondly, Thine Enemies, though they speake and raile against thee, though they outragiously pursue, imprison, banish, kill thy faithfull Witnesses, yet how is all vermillion'd o're for Justice 'gainst the Hereticks? Yea, if they kindle coales, and blow the flames of devouring Warres, that leave neither Spirituall nor Civill State, but burns up Branch and Root, yet how doe all pretend an holy War? He that kills, and hee that 's kitted, they both cry out, It is for God, and for their conscience. Tis true, nor one nor other seldome dare to plead the mighty Prince Christ Jesus for their Authour, yet both (both Protestant and Papist) pretend they have spoke with Moses and the Prophets, who all, say 38 AMERICAN PROSE they (before Christ came) allowed such holy persecutions, holy Warres against the enemies of holy Church Truth. Mine eares have long beene filled with a threefold dolefull Outcry. First, of one hundred forty foure thousand Virgins (Rev. 14) forc'd and ravisht by Emperours, Kings, and Governours to their beds of worship and Religion, set up (like A bsaloms) on high in their severall States and Countries. Secondly, the cry of those precious soules under the Altar (Rev. 6.) the soules of such as have beene persecuted and slaine for the testi- mony and wilnesse of Jesus, whose bloud hath beene spilt like water upon the earth, and that because they have held fast the truth and witnesse of Jesus, against the worship of the States and Times, com- pelling to an uniformity of State Religion. These cries of murthered Virgins who can sit still and heare? Who can but run with zeale inflamed to prevent the deflowring of chaste soules, and spilling of the bloud of the innocent f Humanity stirs up and prompts the Sonnes of men to draw materiall swords for a Virgins chastity and life, against a ravishing murtherer ? And Piety and Christianity must needs awaken the Sons of God to draw the spirituall sword (the Word of God) to preserve the chastity and life of spirituall Virgins, who abhorre the spiritual defilements of false worship, Rev. 14. Thirdly, the cry of the whole earth, made drunke with the bloud of its inhabitants, slaughtering each other in their blinded zeale, for Conscience, for Religion, against the Calholickes, against the Luther- ans, &c. What fearfull cries within these twenty years of hundred thous- ands men, women, children, fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, brethren, sisters, old and young, high and low, plundred, ravished, slaughtered, murthered, famished ? And hence these cries, that men fling away the spirituall sword and spirituall artillery (in spirituall and religious causes) and rather trust for the suppressing of each others God, Conscience, and Religion (as they suppose) to an arme of flesh, and sword of steele? Truth. Sweet Peace, what hast thou there? Peace. Arguments against persecution for cause of Conscience. Truth. And what there ? ROGER WILLIAMS 39 Peace. An Answer to such Arguments, contrarily maintaining such persecution for cause of Conscience. Truth. These Arguments against such persecution, and the Answer pleading for it, written (as Love hopes) from godly intentions, hearts, and hands, yet in a marvellous different stile and manner. The Arguments against persecution in milke, the ylwswer for it (as I may say) in bloud. The Aulhour of these Arguments (against persecution) (as I have beene informed) being committed by some then in power, close prisoner to Newgate for the witnesse of some truths of Jesus, and having not the use of Pen and Inke, wrote these Arguments in Milke, in sheets of Paper, brought to him by the Woman his Keeper, from a friend in London, as the stopples of his M*7& fo#/e. In such Paper written with Milk nothing will appeare, but the way of reading it by fire being knowne to this friend who received the Papers, he transcribed and kept together the Papers, although the Author himself e could not correct, nor view what himself e had written. It was in milke, tending to soule nourishment, even for Babes and Sucklings in Christ. It was in milke, spiritually white, pure and innocent, like those white horses of the Word of truth and meeknesse, and the white Linnen or Armour of righteousnesse, in the Army of Jesus. Rev. 6 . & 19. It was in milke, soft, meeke, peaceable and gentle, tending both to the peace of soules, and the peace of States and Kingdomes. Peace. The Answer (though I hope out of milkie pure intentions) is returned in bloud: bloudy & slaughterous conclusions; bloudy to the souls of all men, forc'd to the Religion and Worship which every civil State or Common-weale agrees on, and compells all subjects to in a dissembled uniformitie. Bloudy to the bodies, first of the holy witnesses of Christ Jesus, who testifie against such invented worships. Secondly, of the Nations and Peoples slaughtering each other for their severall respective Religions and Consciences. CHAP. III. Truth. In the Answer Mr. Cotton first layes downe severall distinctions and conclusions of his owne, tending to prove persecution. 40 AMERICAN PROSE Secondly, Answers to the Scriptures, and Arguments proposed against persecution. Peace. The first distinction is this: By persecution for cause of Conscience, "I conceive you meane either for professing some point of doctrine which you beleeve in conscience to be the truth, or for practising some worke which you beleeve in conscience to be a religious dutie." Truth. I acknowledge that to molest any person, Jew or Gentile, for either professing doctrine, or practising worship meerly religious or spirituall, it is to persecute him, and such a person (what ever, his doctrine or practice be, true or false ) suffereth persecution for con- science. But withall I desire it may bee well observed, that this distinction is not full and complete : For beside this that a man may be persecuted because he holdeth or practiseth what he beleeves in conscience to be a Truth, (as Daniel did, for which he was cast into the Lyons den, Dan. 6.) and many thousands of Christians, because they durst not cease to preach and practise what they beleeved was by God com- manded, as the Apostles answered (Acts 4 & 5.) I say besides this a man may also be persecuted, because hee dares not be constrained to yeeld obedience to such doctrines and worships as are by men invented and appointed. So the three famous Jewes were cast into the fiery furnace for refusing to fall downe (in a nonconformity to the whole conforming world) before the golden Image, Dan. 3.21. So thousands of Christs witnesses (and of late in those bloudy Marian dayes) have rather chose to yeeld their bodies to all sorts of torments, then to subscribe to doctrines, or practise worships, unto which the States and Times (as Nabuchadnezzar to his golden Image) have compelled and urged them CHAP. IV. Peace. The second distinction is this. In points of Doctrine some are fundamentall, without right beleefe whereof a man cannot be saved: others are circumstantiall and lesse principall, wherein a man may differ in judgement without prejudice of salvation on either part. Truth. To this distinction I dare not subscribe, for then I should everlastingly condemne thousands, and ten thousands, yea the ROGER WILLIAMS 41 whole generation of the righteous, who since the falling away (from the first primitive Christian state or worship) have and doe erre funda- mentally concerning the true matter, constitution, gathering and governing of the Church: and yet farre be it from any pious breast to imagine that they are not saved, and that their soules are not bound up in the bundle of eternall life CHAP. XI. Peace. After explication in these Distinctions, it pleaseth the Answerer to give his resolution to the question in foure particulars. First, that he holds it not lawfull to persecute any for conscience sake rightly informed, for in persecuting such (saith he) Christ himself is persecuted: for which reason, truly rendred, he quotes Act. 9.4. Saul, Saul, why persecutest thoume? Truth. He that shall reade this Conclusion over a thousand times, shall as soone finde darknesse in the bright beames of the Sunne, as in this so cleare and shining a beanie of Truth, viz. That Christ Jesus in his Truth must not be persecuted. Yet this I must aske (for it will be admired by all sober men) what should be the cause or inducement to the Answerers mind to lay down such a Position or Thesis as this is, It is not lawfull to perse- cute the Lord Jesus. Search all Scriptures, Histories, Records, Monuments, consult with all experiences, did ever Pharaoh, Saul, Ahab, Jezabel, Scribes and Pharises, the Jewes, Herod, the bloudy Neroes, Gardiners, Boners, Pope or Devill himselfe, professe to persecute the Son of God, Jesus as Jesus, Christ as Christ, without a mask or covering ? No, saith Pharaoh, the Israelites are idle, and therefore speake they of sacrificing: David is risen up in a conspiracy against Saul, therefore persecute him: Naboth hath blasphemed God and the King, therefore stone him: Christ is a seducer of the people, a blas- phemer against God, and tray tor against Casar, therefore hang him: Christians are schismaticall, factious, hereticall, therefore persecute them: The Devill hath deluded John Hus, therefore crowne him with a paper of Devils, and burne him, &c. Peace. One thing I see apparantly in the Lords over-ruling the pen of this worthy Answerer, viz. a secret whispering from heaven to him, that (although his soules ayme at Christ, and hath wrought 42 AMERICAN PROSE much for Christ in many sincere intentions, and Gods mercifull and patient acceptance) yet he hath never left the Tents of such who think they doe God good service in killing the Lord Jesus in his servants, and yet they say, if we had beene in the dayes of our Fathers in Queen Maries dayes, &c. we would never have consented to such persecution: And therefore when they persecute Christ Jesus in his truths or servants, they say, Doe not say you are persecuted for the Word for Christ his sake, for we hold it not lawfull to persecute Jesus Christ. Let me also adde a second; So farre as he hath beene a Guide (by preaching for persecution) I say, wherein he hath beene a Guide and Leader, by mis-interpreting and applying the Writings of Truth, so far I say his owne mouthes and hands shall judge (I hope not his persons, but) his actions, for the Lord Jesus hath suffered by him, Act. g. 3. and if the Lord Jesus himselfe were present, himselfe should suffer that in his owne person, which his servants witnessing his Truth doe suffer for his sake. NATHANIEL WARD FROM THE SIMPLE COBLER OF AGGAWAM THE IMPIOUS DOCTRINE OF TOLERATION Either I am in an Appoplexie, or that man is in a Lethargic, who doth not now sensibly feele God shaking the heavens over his head, and the earth under his feet : The Heavens so, as the Sun begins to turne into darknesse, the Moon into blood, the Starres to fall down to the ground; So that little Light of Comfort or Counsell is left to the sonnes of men: The Earth so, as the foundations are failing, the righteous scarce know where to finde rest, the inhabitants stagger like drunken men : it is in a manner dissolved both in Religions and Relations: And no marvell; for, they have defiled it by transgressing the Lawes, changing the Ordinances, and breaking the Everlasting Covenant. The Truths of God are the Pillars of the world, whereon States and Churches may stand quiet if they will; if they will not, Hee can easily shake them off into delusions, and distractions enough. NATHANIEL WARD 43 Sathan is now in his passions, he feeles his passion approaching; hee loves to fish in royled waters. Though that Dragon cannot sting the vitals of the Elect mortally, yet that Beelzebub can fly-blow their Intellectuals miserably: The finer Religion grows, the finer hee spins his Cobwebs, hee will hold pace with Christ so long as his wits will serve him. Hee sees himselfe beaten out of grosse Idolatries, Heresies, Ceremonies, where the Light breakes forth with power; he will therefore bestirre him to prevaricate Evangelicall Truths, and Ordi- nances, that if they will needs be walking, yet they shall laborare varicibus, and not keep their path: he will put them out of time and place; Assascinating for his Engineers, men of Paracelsian parts; well complexioned for honesty; for, such are fittest to Mountebanke his Chimistry into sick Churches and weake Judgements. Nor shall hee neede to stretch his strength overmuch in this worke: Too many men having not laid their foundations sure, nor ballasted their Spirits deepe with humility and feare, are prest enough of themselves to evaporate their owne apprehensions. Those that are acquainted with Story know, it hath ever been so in new Editions of Churches: Such as are least able, are most busie to pudder in the rubbish, and to raise dust in the eyes of more steady Repayrers. Civill Commotions make roome for uncivill practises: Religious mutations, for irreligious opinions: Change of Aire, discovers corrupt bodies; Reformation of Religion, unsound mindes. Hee that hath any well-faced phansy in his Crowne, and doth not vent it now, fears the pride of his owne heart will dub him dunce for ever. Such a one will trouble the whole Israel of God with his most untimely births, though he makes the bones of his vanity sticke up, to the view and griefe of all that are godly wise. The devill desires no better sport then to see light heads handle their heels, and fetch their carreers in a tune, when the Roofe of Liberty stands open. The next perplexed Question, with pious and ponderous men, will be: What should bee done for the healing of these comfortlesse exulcerations. I am the unablest adviser of a thousand, the unworthi- est of ten thousand; yet I hope I may presume to assert what follows without just offence. First, such as have given or taken any unfriendly reports of us New-English, should doe well to recollect themselves. Wee have beene reputed a Colluvies of wild Opinionists, swarmed into a remote 44 AMERICAN PROSE wildernes to find elbow-roome for our phanatick Doctrines and practices: I trust our diligence past, and constant sedulity against such persons and courses, will plead better things for us. I dare take upon me, to bee the Herauld of New-England so fane, as to proclaime to the world, in the name of our Colony, that all Familists, Antinomians, Anabaptists, and other Enthusiasts, shall have free Liberty to keep away from us, and such as will come to be gone as fast as they can, the sooner the beter. Secondly, I dare averre, that God doth no where in his word tolerate Christian States, to give Tolerations to such adversaries of his Truth, if they have power in their hands to suppresse them. Here is lately brought us an Extract of a Magna Charta, so called, compiled between the Sub-planters of a West-Indian Island ; whereof the first Article of constipulation, firmely provides free stable-room and litter for all kinde of consciences, be they never so dirty or jadish; making it actionable, yea, treasonable, to disturbe any man in his Religion, or to discommend it, whatever it be. Wee are very sorry to see such professed prophanenesse in English Professors, as indus- triously to lay their Religious foundations on the ruine of true religion; which strictly binds every conscience to contend earnestly for the Truth: to preserve unity of spirit, faith and Ordinances, to be all like-minded, of one accord ; every man to take his brother into his Christian care: to stand fast with one spirit, with one mind, striving together for the faith of the Gospel: and by no meanes to permit Heresies or erronious opinions: But God abhorring such loathsome beverages, hath in his righteous judgement blasted that enterprise, which might otherwise have prospered well, for ought I know; I presume their case is generally knowne ere this. If the devill might have his free option, I beleeve he would ask nothing else, but liberty to enfranchize all false Religions, and to embondage the true; nor should hee need: It is much to be feared, that laxe Tolerations upon State-pretences and planting necessities, will be the next subtle Stratagem he will spread to distate the Truth of God and supplant the peace of the Churches. Tolerations in things tolerable, exquisitely drawn out by the lines of the Scripture, and pensill of the Spirit, are the sacred favours of Truth, the due latitudes of Love, the faire Compartiments of Christian fraternity: but irregu- lar dispensations, dealt forth by the facilities of men, are the frontiers NATHANIEL WARD 45 of errour, the redoubts of Schisme, the perillous irritaments of carnall and spirituall enmity. My heart hath naturally detested foure things : The standing of the Apocrypha in the Bible; Forrainers dwelling in my Countrey, to crowd out native Subjects into the corners of the Earth; Alchy- mized comes; Tolerations of divers Religions, or of one Religion in segregant shapes: He that willingly assents to the last, if he examines his heart by day-light, his conscience will tell him, he is either an Atheist, or an Heretique, or an Hypocrite, or at best a captive to some Lust : poly-piety is the greatest impiety in the world. True Religion is Ignis probationis, which doth congregate homogenea 6* segregate heterogenia. Not to tolerate things meerly indifferent to weak consciences, argues a conscience too strong: pressed uniformity in these, causes much disunity: To tolerate more than indifferents, is not to deale indifferently with God; He that doth it, takes his Scepter out of his hand, and bids him stand by. Who hath to doe to institute Religion but God. The power of all Religion and Ordinances, lies in their purity: their purity in then* simplicity: then are mixtures pernicious. I lived in a City, where a Papist preached hi one Church, a Lutheran in another, a Calvinist hi a third; a Lutheran one part of the day, a Calvinist the other, hi the same Pulpit: the Religion of that place was but motly and meagre, their affections Leopard-like. If the whole Creature should conspire to doe the Creator a mis- chiefe, or offer him an insolency, it would be in nothing more, than hi erecting untruths against his Truth, or by sophisticating his Truths with humane medleyes: the removing of some one iota in Scripture, may draw out all the life, and traverse all the Truth of the whole Bible: but to authorise an untruth, by a Toleration of State, is to build a Sconce against the walls of heaven, to batter God out of his Chaire: To tell a practicall lye, is a great sin, but yet transient; but to set up a Theoricall untruth, is to warrant every lye that lyes from its root to the top of every branch it hath, which are not a few Concerning Tolerations I may further assert. That Persecution of true Religion, and Toleration of false, are the Jannes and Jambres to the Kingdome of Christ, whereof the last is farre the worst. Augustines tongue had not owed his mouth one 46 AMERICAN PROSE penny-rent though it had never spake word more in it, but this, Nuttum malum pejus libertate errandi. Frederick Duke of Saxon, spake not one foote beyond the mark when he said, He had rather the Earth should swallow him up quick, then he should give a toleration to any opinion against any truth of God. He that is willing to tolerate any Religion, or discrepant way of Religion, besides his own, unlesse it be in matters meerly indifferent, either doubts of his own, or is not sincere in it. He that is willing to tolerate any unsound Opinion, that his own may also be tolerated, though never so sound, will for a need hang Gods Bible at the Devils girdle. Every Toleration of false Religions, or Opinions hath as many Errours and sins in it, as all the false Religions and Opinions it toler- ates, and one sound one more. That State that will give Liberty of Conscience in matters of Religion, must give Liberty of Conscience and Conversation in their Morall Laws, or else the Fiddle will be out of tune, and some of the strings cracke. WOMEN'S FASHIONS AND LONG HAIR ON MEN Should I not keep promise in speaking a little to Womens fashions, they would take it unkindly: I was loath to pester better matter with such stuff e; I rather thought it meet to let them stand by themselves, like the Qua Genus in the Grammer, being Deficients, or Redundants, not to be brought under any Rule: I shall therefore make bold for this once, to borrow a little of their loose tongued Liberty, and mispend a word or two upon their long- wasted, but short-skirted patience: a little use of my stirrup will doe no harme. Redendem dicer e verum, quid prohibit ? Gray Gravity it selfe can well beteame, That Language be adopted to the Theme. Hee that to Parrots speaks, must parrotise; He that instructs afoole, may act th' unwise. It is known more then enough, that I am neither Nigard, nor Cinick, to the due bravery of the true Gentry: if any man mislikes a bully mong drossock more then I, let him take her for all mee: I NATHANIEL WARD 47 honour the woman that can honour her self with her attire: a good Text alwayes deserves a fair Margent: I am not much offended, if I see a trimme, far trimmer than she that wears it: in a word, whatever Christianity or Civility will allow, I can afford with London measure: but when I heare a nugiperous Gentledame inquire what dresse the Queen is in this week: what the nudiustertian fashion of the Court; I meane the very newest: with egge to be in it in all hast, what ever it be; I look at her as the very gizzard of a trifle, the product of a quarter of a cypher, the epitome of nothing, fitter to be kickt, if shee were of a kickable substance, than either honoured or humoured. To speak moderately, I truly confesse, it is beyond the kin of my understanding to conceive, how those women should have any true grace, or valuable vertue, that have so little wit, as to disfigure them- selves with such exotick garbes, as not only dismantles then- native lovely lustre, but transclouts them into gant bar-geese, ill-shapen- shotten-shell-fish, Egyptian Hyeroglyphicks, or at the best into French flurts of the pastery, which a proper English woman should scorne with her heeles : it is no marvell they weare drailes, on the hinder part of their heads, having nothing as it seems in the fore-part, but a few Squirrills braines, to help them frisk from one ill-favor'd fashion to another. These whimm' Crown' d shees, these fashion-fansying wits, Are empty thin brain 1 d shells and fidling Kits, the very troublers and impovirishers of mankind. I can hardly for- bear to commend to the world a saying of a Lady living sometime with the Queen of Bohemiah, I know not where she found it, but it is pitty it should be lost. The world is full of care, much like unto a bubble; Women and care, and care and women, and women and care and trouble. The Verses are even enough for such odde pegma's. I can make my selfe sick at any tune, with comparing the dazzeling splender wherwith our Gentlewomen were embellished in some former habits, with the gut-f oundred goosdom, wherewith they are now surcingled and debauched. We have about five or six of them in our Colony: if I see any of them accidentally, I cannot cleanse my phansie of them for a moneth after. I have been a solitary widdower almost twelve years, purposed lately to make a step over to my Native Country for a 48 AMERICAN PROSE yoke-fellow: but when I consider how women there have tripe- wif ted themselves with their cladments, I have no heart to the voyage, lest their nauseous shapes and the Sea, should work too sorely upon my stomach. I speak sadly; me thinkes it should break the hearts of English-men, to see so many goodly English-women imprisoned in French Cages, peering out of their hood-holes for some men of mercy to help them with a little wit, and no body relieves them. It is a more common then convenient saying, that nine Taylers make a man: it were well if nineteene could make a woman to her mind: if Taylors were men indeed, well furnished but with meer morall principles, they would disdain to be led about like Apes, by such mymick Marmosets. It is a most unworthy thing, for men that have bones in them, to spend their lives in making fidle-cases for futilous womens phansies; which are the very pettitoes of infirmity, the gyblits of perquisquilian toyes. I am so charitable to think, that most of that mistery would worke the cheerfuller while they live, if they might be well discharged of the tyring slavery of mis-tyring women: it is no labour to be continually putting up English-women into Out-landish caskes; who if they be not shifted anew, once in a few moneths, grow too sowre for then: Husbands. What this Trade will answer for themselves when God shall take measure of Taylors consciences is beyond my skill to imagine. There was a tune when Thejoyning of the Red-Rose with the White, Did set our State into a Damask plight. But now our Roses are turned to Flore de lices, our Carnations to Tulips, our Gilliflowers to pansies, our City-Dames, to an inde- nominable Quaemalry of overturcas'd things. Hee that makes Coates for the Moone, had need take measure every noone; and he that makes for women, every Moone, to keepe them from Lunacy. I have often heard divers Ladies vent loud feminine complaints of the wearisome varieties and chargable changes of fashions: I marvell themselves preferre not a Bill of redresse. I would Essex Ladies would lead the Chore, for the honour of their County and persons; or rather the thrice honourable Ladies of the Court, whom it best beseems: who may wel presume of a Le Roy le veult from our sober King, a Les Seigneurs ont Assentus from our prudent Peers, and the like Assentus, from our considerate, I dare not say wife-worne NATHANIEL WARD 49 Commons: who I beleeve had much rather passe one such Bill, than pay so many Taylors Bils as they are forced to doe. Most deare and unparallel'd Ladyes, be pleased to attempt it: as you have the precellency of the women of the world for beauty and feature; so assume the honour to give, and not take Law from any, in matter of attire: if ye can transact so faire a motion among your selves unanimously, I dare say, they that most renite, will least repent. What greater honour can your Honors desire, then to build a Promon- tory president to all foraigne Ladies, to deserve so eminently at the hands of all the English Gentry present and to come : and to confute the opinion of all the wise men in the world; who never thought it possible for women to doe so good a work ? I addresse my selfe to those who can both hear and mend all if they please: I seriously feare, if the pious Parliament doe not finde a time to state fashions, as ancient Parliaments have done in some part, God will hardly finde a tune to state Religion or Peace: They are the surguedryes of pride, the wantonnesse of idlenesse, provoking sins, the certain prodromies of assured judgement, Zeph. i. 7, 8. It is beyond all account, how many Gentlemens and Citizens estates are deplumed by their feather-headed wives, what usefull supplies the pannage of England would afford other Countries, what rich returnes to it selfe, if it were not slic'd out into male and female fripperies: and what a multitude of mis-employ'd hands, might be better improv'd in some more manly Manufactures for the publique weale: it is not easily credible, what may be said of the preterplurali- ties of Taylors in London: I have heard an honest man say that not long since there were numbered between Temple-barre and Charing- crosse, eight thousand of that Trade: let it be conjectured by that proportion how many there are in and about London, and in all Eng- land, they will appeare to be very numerous. If the Parliament would please to mend women, which their Husbands dare not doe, there need not so many men to make and 'mend as there are. I hope the present dolefull estate of the Realme, will perswade more strongly to some considerate course herein, than I now can. Knew I how to bring it in, I would speak a word to long haire, whereof I will say no more but this: if God proves not such a Barbor to it as he threatens, unlesse it be amended, Esa. 7 . 20. before the Peace of the State and Church be well setled, then let my prophecy 50 AMERICAN PROSE be scorned, as a sound minde scornes the ryot of that sin, and more it needs not. If those who are tearmed Rattle-heads and impuritans, would take up a Resolution to begin in moderation of haire, to the just reproach of those that are called Puritans and Round-heads, I would honour their manlinesse, as much as the others godlinesse, so long as I knew what man or honour meant: if neither can finde a Barbours shop, let them turne in, to Psal. 68. 21. Jer. 7.29. i Cor. ii. 14. If it be thought no wisedome in men to distinguish them- selves in the field by the Scissers, let it be thought no injustice in God, not to distinguish them by the Sword. I had rather God should know me by my sobriety, than mine enemy not know me by my vanity. He is ill kept, that is kept by his own sin. A short promise, is a farre safer guard than a long lock: it is an ill distinction which God is loth to looke at and his Angels cannot know his Saints by. Though it be not the mark of the Beast, yet it may be the mark of a beast prepared to slaughter. I am sure men use nott to weare such manes; I am also sure Souldiers use to weare other marklets or notadoes in time of battell. JOHN MASON FROM A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE PEQUOT WAR On the Thursday about eight of the Clock in the Morning, we Marched thence towards PEQUOT, with about five hundred Indians: But through the Heat of the Weather and want of Provisions, some of our Men Fainted: And having Marched about twelve Miles, we came to Pawcatuck River, at a Ford where our Indians told us the P equals did usually Fish; there making an Alta, we stayed some small tune: The Narragansett Indians manifesting great Fear, in so much that many of them returned, although they had frequently despised us, saying, That we durst not look upon a PEQUOT, but them- selves would perform great Things; though we had often told them that we came on purpose and were resolved, GOD assisting, to see Hie PEQUOTS, and to Fight with them before we returned , though we perished. I then enquired of ONKOS, what he thought tlie Indians would do? Who said, The NARRAGANSETTS would all leave us, but as for HIMSELF JOHN MASON 51 He would never have us: and so it proved: For which Expressions and some other Speeches of his, I shall never forget him. Indeed he was a great Friend, and did great Service. And after we had refreshed our selves with our mean Commons, we Marched about three Miles, and came to a Field which had lately been planted with Indian Corn: There we made another Alt, and called our Council, supposing we drew near to the Enemy: And being informed by the Indians that the Enemy had two Forts almost impregnable; but we were not at all Discouraged, but rather Ani- mated, in so much that we were resolved to Assault both their Forts at once. But understanding that one of them was so remote that we could not come up with it before Midnight, though we Marched hard; whereat we were much grieved, chiefly because the greatest and bloodiest Sachem there resided, whose Name was SASSACOUS: We were then constrained, being exceedingly spent hi our March with extream Heat and want of Necessaries, to accept of the nearest. We then Marching on in a silent Manner, the Indians that remained fell all into the Rear, who formerly kept the Van; (being possessed with great Fear) we continued our March till about one Hour in the Night: and coming to a little Swamp between two Hills, there we pitched our litttle Camp; much wearied with hard Travel, keeping great Silence, supposing we were very near the Fort as our Indians informed us; which proved otherwise: The Rocks were our Pillows; yet Rest was pleasant : The Night proved Comfortable, being clear and Moon Light: We appointed our Guards and placed our Sentinels at some distance; who heard the Enemy Singing at the Fort, who continued that Strain until Midnight, with great Insulting and Rejoycing, as we were afterwards informed: They seeing our Pinnaces sail by them some Days before, concluded we were affraid of them and durst not come near them; the Burthen of their Song tending to that purpose. In the Morning, we awaking and seeing it very light, supposing it had been day, and so we might have lost our Opportunity, having purposed to make our Assault before Day; rowsed the Men with all expedition, and briefly commended ourselves and Design to GOD, thinking immediately to go to the Assault; the Indians shewing us a Path, told us that it led directly to the Fort. We held on our March about two Miles, wondering that we came not to'the Fort, and fearing 52 AMERICAN PROSE we might be deluded: But seeing Corn newly planted at the Foot of a great Hill, supposing the Fort was not far off, a Champion Country being round about us; then making a stand, gave the Word for some of the Indians to come up: At length ONKOS and one WEQUOSH ap- peared : We demanded of them, Where was the Fort ? They answered, On the Top of that Hill: Then we demanded, Where were the Rest of the Indians? They answered, Behind, exceedingly afraid: We wished them to tell the rest of their Fellows, That they should by no means Fly, but stand at what distance they pleased, and see whether ENGLISH MEN would now Fight or not. Then Captain Underhill came up, who Marched in the Rear; and commending our selves to GOD divided our Men: There being two Entrances into the Fort, intending to enter both at once : Captain Mason leading up to that on the North East Side; who approaching within one Rod, heard a Dog bark and an Indian crying Owanuxl Owanux! which is Englishmen! English- men! We called up our Forces with all expedition, gave Fire upon them through the Pallizado; the Indians being in a dead indeed their last Sleep: Then we wheeling off fell upon the main Entrance, which was blocked up with Bushes about Breast high, over which the Cap- tain passed, intending to make good the Entrance, encouraging the rest to follow. Lieutenant Seeley endeavo'ured to enter; but being somewhat cumbred, stepped back and pulled out the Bushes and so entred, and with him about sixteen Men: We had formerly con- cluded to destroy them by the Sword and save the Plunder. Whereupon Captain Mason seeing no Indians, entred a Wigwam; where he was beset with many Indians, waiting all opportunities to lay Hands on him, but could not prevail. At length William Heydon espying the Breach in the Wigwam, supposing some English might be there, entred; but in his Entrance fell over a dead Indian; but speedily recovering himself, the Indians some fled, others crept under their Beds: The Captain going out of the Wigwam saw many Indians in the Lane or Street; he making towards them, they fled, were pur- sued to the End of the Lane, where they were met by Edward Pattison, Thomas Barber, with some others; where seven of them were Slain, as they said. The Captain facing about, Marched a slow Pace up the Lane he came down, perceiving himself very much out of Breath; and coming to the other End near the Place where he first entred, saw two Soldiers standing close to the Pallizado with their JOHN MASON 53 Swords pointed to the Ground: The Captain told them that We should never kill them after that manner: The Captain also said, WE MUST BURN THEM; and immediately stepping into the Wigwam where he had been before, brought out a Fire-Brand, and putting it into the Matts with which they were covered, set the Wigwams on Fire. Lieutenant Thomas Bull and Nicholas Omsted beholding, came up; and when it was throughly kindled, the Indians ran as Men most dreadfully Amazed. And indeed such a dreadful Terror did the ALMIGHTY let fall upon their Spirits, that they would fly from us and run into the very Flames, where many of them perished. And when the Fort was throughly Fired, Command was given, that all should fall off and surround the Fort] which was readily attended by all; only one Arthur Smith being so wounded that he could not move out of the Place, who was happily espied by Lieutenant Bull, and by'him rescued. The Fire was kindled on the North East Side to windward; which did swiftly overrun the Fort, to the extream Amazement of the Enemy, and great Rejoycing of our selves. Some of them climbing to the Top of the Palizado; others of them running into the very Flames; many of them gathering to windward, lay pelting at us with their Arrows; and we repayed them with our small Shot: Others of the Stoutest issued forth, as we did guess, to the Number of Forty, who perished by the Sword. What I have formerly said, is according to my own Knowlege, ' there being sufficient living Testimony to every Particular. But hi reference to Captain Underhill and his Parties acting in this Assault, I can only intimate as we were informed by some of them- selves immediately after the Fight. Thus They Marching up to the Entrance on the South West Side, there made some Pause; a valiant, resolute Gentleman, one Mr. HEDGE, stepping towards the Gate, saying, // we may not Enter, wherefore came we hear; and immedi- ately endeavoured to Enter; but was opposed by a sturdy Indian which did impede his Entrance: but the Indian being slain by him- self and Serjeant Davis, Mr. Hedge Entred the Fort with some others; but the Fort being on Fire, the Smoak and Flames were so violent that they were constrained to desert the Fort. Thus were they now at their Wits End, who not many Hours before exalted themselves hi their great Pride, threatning and resolving the 54 AMERICAN PROSE utter Ruin and Destruction of all the English, Exulting and Rejoycing with Songs and Dances: But GOD was above them, who laughed his Enemies and the Enemies of his People to Scorn, making them as a fiery Oven: Thus were the Stout Hearted spoiled, having slept their last Sleep, and none of their Men could find their Hands: Thus did the LORD judge among the Heathen, filling the Place with dead Bodies! MARY ROWLANDSON FROM A NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY On the tenth of February 1675, Came the Indians with great numbers upon Lancaster: Their first coming was about Sunrising; hearing the noise of some Guns, we looked out; several Houses were burning, and the Smoke ascending to Heaven. There were five persons taken in one house, the Father, and the Mother and a sucking Child they knockt on the head; the other two they took and carried away alive. Their were two others, who being out of their Garison upon some occasion, were set upon; one was knockt on the head, the other escaped: Another their was who running along was shot and wounded, and fell down; he begged of them his life, promising them Money (as they told me) but they would not hearken to him but knockt him in head, and stript him naked, and split open his Bowels. Another seeing many of the Indians about his Barn, ventured and went out, but was quickly shot down. There were three others belonging to the same Garison who were killed; the Indians getting up upon the roof of the Barn, had advantage to shoot down upon them over their Fortification. Thus these murtherous wretches went on, burning, and destroying before them. At length they came and beset our own house, and quickly it was the dolefullest day that ever mine eyes saw. The House stood upon the edg of a hill; some of the Indians got behind the hill, others into the Barn, and others behind any thing that could shelter them; from all which places they shot against the House, so that the Bullets seemed to fly like hail; and quickly they wounded one man among us, then another, and then a third. About two hours (according to my observation, in that amazing time) they had been about the house before they prevailed to fire it (which they did with Flax and MARY ROWLANDSON 55 Hemp, which they brought out of the Barn, and there being no defence about the House, only two Flankers at two opposite corners and one of them not finished) ; they fired it once and one ventured out and quenched it, but they quickly fired it again, and that took. Now is the dreadfull hour come, that I have often heard of (in tune of War, as it was the case of others) but now mine eyes see it. Some in our house were fighting for then- lives, others wallowing hi their blood, the House on fire over our heads, and the bloody Heathen ready to knock us on the head, if we stired out. Now might we hear Mothers & Children crying out for themselves, and one another, Lord, What shall we do? Then I took my Children (and one of my sisters, hers) to go forth and leave the house: but as soon as we came to the dore and appeared, the Indians shot so thick that the bulletts rattled against the House, as if one had taken an handfull of stones and threw them, so that we were fain to give back. We had six stout Dogs belonging to our Garrison, but none of them would stir, though another tune, if any Indian had come to the door, they were ready to fly upon him and tear him down. The Lord hereby would make us the more to acknowledge his hand, and to see that our help is alwayes in him. But out we must go, the fire increasing, and coming along behind us, roaring, and the Indians gaping before us with their Guns, Spears and Hatchets to devour us. No sooner were we out of the House, but my Brother in Law (being before wounded, in defending the house, hi or near the throat) fell down dead, whereat the Indians scornfully shouted, and hallowed, and were presently upon him, stripping off his cloaths; the bulletts flying thick, one went through my side, and the same (as would seem) through the bowels and hand of my dear Child in my arms. One of my elder Sisters Children, named William, had then his Leg broken, which the Indians perceiving, they knockt him on head. Thus were we butchered by those merciless Heathen, standing amazed, with the blood running down to our heels. My eldest Sister being yet in the House, and seeing those wofull sights, the Infidels haling Mothers one way, and Children another, and some wallowing hi their blood; and her elder Son telling her that her Son William was dead, and my self was wounded, she said, And, Lord let me dy with them; which was no sooner said, but she was struck with a Bullet, and fell down dead over the threshold. I hope she is reaping the fruit of her good labours, being faithfull to the service of God in her place. In her 56 AMERICAN PROSE younger years she lay under much trouble upon spiritual accounts, till it pleased God to make that precious Scripture take hold of her heart, 2 Cor. 12.9. And he said unto me my Grace is sufficient for thee. More then twenty years after I have heard her tell how sweet and com- fortable that place was to her. But to return: The Indians laid hold of me, pulling me on[e] way, and the Children another, and said, Come go along with us; I told them they would kill me: they answered, If I were willing to go along with them, they would not hurt me. Oh the dolefull sight that now was to behold at this House! Come, behold the works of the Lord, what dissolations he has made in the Earth. Of thirty seven persons who were in this one House, none escaped either present death, or a bitter captivity, save only one, who might say as he, Job. i. 15. And I only am escaped alone to tell the News. There were twelve killed, some shot, some stab'd with their Spears, some knock'd down with their Hatchets. When we are in prosperity, Oh the little that we think of such dreadfull sights, and to see our dear Friends, and Relations ly bleeding out their heart-blood upon the ground. There was one .who was chopt into the head with a Hatchet, and stript naked, and yet was crawling up and down. It is a solemn sight to see so many Christians lying in their blood, some here, and some there, like a company of Sheep torn by Wolves. All of them stript naked by a company of hell-hounds, roaring, singing, ranting and insulting, as if they would have torn our very hearts out; yet the Lord by his Almighty power preserved a number of us from death, for there were twenty-four of us taken alive and carried Captive. / had often before this said, that if the Indians should come, I should chuse rather to be killed by them then taken alive but when it came to the tryal my mind changed; their glittering weapons so daunted my spirit, that I chose rather to go along with those (as I may say) ravenous Bears, then that moment to end my dayes; and that I may the better declare what happened to me during that grievous Cap- tivity I shall particularly speak of the severall Removes we had up and down the Wilderness. The first Remove Now away we must go with those Barbarous Creatures, with our bodies wounded and bleeding, and our hearts no less than our MARY ROWLANDSON 57 bodies. About a mile we went that night, up upon a hill within sight of the Town where they intended to lodge. There was hard by a vacant house (deserted by the English before, for fear of the Indians') ; I asked them whither I might not lodge in the house that night to which they answered, What, will you love English men still ? This was the dolefullest night that ever my eyes saw. Oh the roar- ing, and singing and danceing, and yelling of those black creatures in the night, which made the place a lively resemblance of hell. And as miserable was the wast that was there made, of Horses, Cattle, Sheep, Swine, Calves, Lambs, Roasting Pigs, and Fowl [which they had plundered in the Town] some roasting, some lying and burning, and some boyling to feed our merciless Enemies; who were joyful enough though we were disconsolate. To add to the dolefulness of the former day, and the dismalness of the present night: my thoughts ran up on my losses and sad bereaved condicion. All was gone, my Husband gone (at least separated from me, he being in the Bay; and to add to my grief, the Indians told me they would kill him as he came homeward), my Children gone, my Relations and Friends gone, our House and home and all our comforts within door, and without, all was gone (except my life) and I knew not but the next moment that might go too. There remained nothing to me but one poor wounded Babe, and it seemed at present worse than death that it was in such a pitiful condition, bespeaking Compassion, and I had no refreshing for it, nor suitable things to revive it. Little do many think what is the savageness and bruitishness of this barbarous Enemy; even those that seem to profess more than others among them, when the English have fallen into then: hands. Those seven that were killed at Lancaster the summer before upon a Sabbath day, and the one that was afterward killed upon a week day, were slain and mangled in a barbarous manner, by one- ey'd John, and Marlborough's Praying Indians, which Capt. Mostly brought to Boston, as the Indians told me. The second Remove But now, the next morning, I must turn my back upon the Town, and travel with them into the vast and desolate Wilderness, I knew not whither. It is not my tongue, or pen can express the sorrows of my heart, and bitterness of my spirit, that I had at this departure: but 58 AMERICAN PROSE God was with me, in a wonderful! manner, carrying me along, and bearing up my spirit, that it did not quite fail. One of the Indians carried my poor wounded Babe upon a horse; it went moaning all along, I shall dy, I shall dy. I went on foot after it, with sorrow that cannot be exprest. At length I took it off the horse, and carried it in my armes till my strength failed, and I fell down with it: Then they set me upon a horse with my wounded Child in my lap; and there being no furnituure upon the horse back, as we were going down a steep hill, we both fell over the horses head, at which they like inhumane creatures laught, and rejoyced to see it, though I thought we should there have ended our dayes, as overcome with so many difficulties. But the Lord renewed my strength still, and carried me along, that I might see more of his Power; yea, so much that I could never have thought of, had I not experienced it. After this it quickly began to snow, and when night came on, they stopt: and now down I must sit in the snow, by a little fire, and a few boughs behind me, with my sick Child in my lap; and calling much for water, being now (through the wound) fallen into a violent Fever. My own wound also growing so stiff, that I could scarce sit down or rise up; yet so it must be, that I must sit all this cold winter night upon the cold snowy ground, with my sick Child in my armes, looking that every hour would be the last of its life; and having no Christian friend near me, either to comfort or help me. Oh, I may see the wonderfull power of God, that my Spirit did not utterly sink under my affliction: still the Lord upheld me with his gracious and mercifull Spirit, and we were both alive to see the light of the next morning. The twelfth Remove It was upon a Sabbath-day-morning, that they prepared for their Travel. This morning I asked my master whither he would sell me to my Husband; he answered me Nux, which did much rejoyce my spirit. My mistriss, before we went, was gone to the burial of a Papoos, and returning, she found me sitting and reading in my Bible; she snatched it hastily out of my hand, and threw it out of doors; I ran out and catcht it up, and put it into my pocket, and never let her see it afterward. Then they pack'd up their things to be gone, and gave me my load: I complained it was too heavy whereupon she MARY ROWLANDSON 59 gave me a slap in the face, and bade me go; I lifted up my heart to God, hoping the Redemption was not far off: and the rather because their insolency grew worse and worse. But the thoughts of my going homeward (for so we bent our course) much cheared my Spirit, and made my burden seem light, and almost nothing at all. But (to my amazment and great perplexity) the scale was soon turned: for when we had gone a little way, on a sudden my mistriss gives out, she would go no further, but turn back again, and said I must go back again with her, and she called her Sannup, and would have had him gone back also, but he would not, but said, He would go on, and come to us again in three dayes. My Spirit was upon this, I confess, very impatient, and almost outragious. ' I thought I could as well have dyed as went back: I cannot declare the trouble that I was in about it; but yet back again I must go. As soon as I had an opportunity, I took my Bible to read, and that quieting Scripture came to my hand, Psal. 46.10. Be still, and know that I am God. Which stilled my spirit for the present: But a sore time of tryal, I concluded, I had to go through. My master being gone, who seemed to me the best friend that I had of an Indian, both in cold and hunger, and quickly so it proved. Down I sat, with my heart as full as it could hold, and yet so hungry that I could not sit neither: but going out to see what I could find, and walking among the Trees, I found six Acrons, and two Ches-nuts, which were some refreshment to me. Towards Night I gathered me some sticks for my own comfort, that I might not ly a-cold: but when we came to ly down they bade me go out, and ly some-where-else, for they had company (they said) come in more than their own: I told them, I could not tell where to go, they bade me go look; I told them, if I went to another Wigwam they would be angry, and send me home again. Then one of the Company drew his sword, and told me he would run me thorough if I did not go presently. Then was I fain to stoop to this rude fellow, and to go out in the night, I knew not whither. Mine eyes have seen that fellow afterwards walking up and down Boston, under the appearance of a Friend-Indian, and sever all others of the like Cut. I went to one Wigwam, and they told me they had no room. Then I went to another, and they said the same; at last an old Indian bade me come to him, and his Squaw gave me some Ground-nuts; she gave me also something to lay under my head, 60 AMERICAN PROSE and a good fire we had: and through the good providence of God, I had a comfortable lodging that night. In the morning, another Indian bade me come at night, and he would give me six Ground nuts, which I did. We were at this place and time about two miles from Connecticut River. We went in the morning to gather Ground-nuts, to the River, and went back again that night. I went with a good load at my back (for they when they went, though but a little way, would carry all their trumpery with them); I told them the skin was off my back, but I had no other comforting answer from them than this, That it would be no matter if my head were of too. The ninteenth Remove They said, when we went out, that we must travel to Wachuset this day. But a bitter weary day I had of it, travelling now three dayes together, without resting any day between. At last, after many weary steps, I saw Wachuset hills, but many miles off. Then we came to a great Swamp, through which we travelled up to the knees, in mud and water, which was heavy going to one tyred before. Being almost spent, I thought I should have sunk down at last, and never gat out; but I may say, as in Psal.g^. 18. When my foot slipped, thy mercy, Lord held me up. Going along, having indeed my life, but little spirit, Philip, who was in the Company, came up and took me by the hand, and said, Two weeks more and you shal be Mistress again. I asked him, if he spake true ? he answered, Yes, and quickly you shal come to your master again; who had been gone from us three weeks. After many weary steps we came to Wachuset, where he was: and glad I was to see him. He asked me, When I washt me? I told him not this month, then he fetcht me some water himself, and bid me wash, and gave me the Glass to see how I lookt; and bid his Squaw give me something to eat : so she gave me a mess of Beans and meat, and a little Ground-nut Cake. I was wonderfully revived with this favour shewed me, Psal. 106.46. He made them also to be pittied, of all those that carried them Captives. My master had three Squaws, living sometimes with one, and some- times with another one, this old Squaw, at whose Wigwan / was, and with whom my Master had been those three weeks. Another was Wettimore, with whom I had lived and served all this while : A severe MARY ROWLANDSON 6l and proud Dame she was; bestowing every day in dressing her self neat as much time as any of the Gentry of the land : powdering her hair, and painting her face, going with Neck-laces, with Jewels in her ears, and Bracelets upon her hands: When she had dressed her self, her work was to make Girdles of Wampom and Beads. The third Squaw was a younger one, by whom he had two Papooses. By that time I was refresht by the old Squaw, with whom my master was, Wettimores Maid came to call me home, at which I fell a weeping. Then the old Squaw told me, to encourage me, that if I wanted victuals, I should come to her, and that I should ly there in her Wigwam. Then I went with the maid, and quickly came again and lodged there. The Squaw laid a Mat under me, and a good Rugg over me; the first time I had any such kindness shewed me. I under- stood that Wettimore thought, that if she should let me go and serve with the old Squaw, she would be in danger to loose, not only my service, but the redemption-pay also. And I was not a little glad to hear this; being by it raised in my hopes, that in Gods due time there would be an end of this sorrowfull hour. Then came an Indian, and asked me to knit him three pair of Stockins, for which I had a Hat, and a silk Handkerchief. Then another asked me to mak her a shift, for which she gave me an Apron I may well say as his Psal. 107.12 Oh give thanks unto the Lord for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever. Let the Redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the Enemy, especially that I should come away in the midst of so many hundreds of Enemies quietly and peacably, and not a Dog moving his tongue. So I took my leave of them, and in coming along my heart melted into tears, more then all the while I was with them, and I was almost swallowed up with the thoughts that ever I should go home again. About the Sun going down, Mr. Hoar, and my self, and the two Indians came to Lancaster, and a solemn sight it was to me. There had I lived many comfortable years amongst my Relations and Neighbours, and now not one Christian to be seen, nor one house left standing. We went on to a Farm house that was yet standing, where we lay all night: and a comfortable lodging we had, though nothing but straw to ly on. The Lord preserved us in safety that night, and raised us up again in the morning, and carried us along, that before 62 AMERICAN PROSE noon, we came to Concord. Now was I full of joy, and yet not with- out sorrow : joy to see such a lovely sight, so many Christians together, and some of them my Neighbours: There I met with my Brother, and my Brother in Law, who asked me, if I knew where his Wife was ? Poor heart! he had helped to bury her, and knew it not; she being shot down by the house was partly burnt: so that those who were at Boston at the desolation of the Town, and came back after- ward, and buried the dead, did not know her. Yet I w[a]s not with- out sorrow, to think how many were looking and longing, and my own Children amongst the rest, to enjoy that deliverance that I had now received; and I did not know whither ever I should see them again. Being recruited with food and raiment we went to Boston that day, where I met with my dear Husband, but the thoughts of our dear Children, one being dead, and the other we could not tell where, abated our comfort each to other Before I knew what affliction meant, I was ready sometimes to wish for it. When I lived in prosperity ; having the comforts of the World about me, my relations by me, my Heart chearfull: and taking little care for any thing; and yet seeing many, whom I preferred before my self, under many tryals and afflictions, in sickness, weak- ness, poverty, losses, crosses, and cares of the World, I should be sometimes jealous least I should have my portion in this life, and that Scripture would come to my mind, Heb. 12.6. For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every Son whom he receiveth. But now I see the Lord had his time to scourge and chasten me. The portion of some is to have their afflictions by drops, now one drop and then another: but the dregs of the Cup, the Wine of astonishment, like a sweeping rain that leaveth no food, did the Lord prepare to be my portion. Affliction I wanted, and affliction I had, full measure (I thought) pressed down and running over; yet I see, when God calls a Persen to any thing, and through never so many difficulties, yet he is fully able to carry them through and make them see, and say they have been gainers thereby. And I hope I can say in some measure, As David did, It is good for me that I have been afflicted. The Lord hath shewed me the vanity of these outward things. That they are the Vanity of vanities, and vexation of spirit ; that they are but a shadow, a blast, a bubble, and things of no continuance. That we must rely on God himself , and our whole dependance must INCREASE MATHER 63 be upon him. If trouble from smallar matters begin to arise in me, I have something at hand to check my self with, and say, why am I troubled ? It was but the other day, that if I had had the world, I would have given it for my freedom, or to have been a Servant to a Christian. I have learned to look beyond present and smaller troubles, and to be quieted under them, as Moses said, Exod. 14. 13. Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord. INCREASE MATHER FROM AN ESSAY FOR THE RECORDING OF ILLUSTRIOUS PROVIDENCES A BEWITCHED HOUSE As there have been several Persons vexed with evil Spirits, so divers Houses have been wofully Haunted by them. In the Year 1679, the House of William Morse in Newberry in New-England, was strangely disquieted by a Damon. After those troubles began, he did by the Advice of Friends write down the particulars of those unusual Accidents. And the Account which he giveth thereof is as followeth; On December 3. In the night time, he and his Wife heard a noise upon the roof of their House, as if Sticks and Stones had been thrown against it with great violence; whereupon he rose out of his Bed but could see nothing. Locking the Doors fast, he returned to Bed again. About midnight they heard an Hog making a great noise in the House, so that the Man rose again, and found a great Hog in the house, the door being shut, but upon the opening of the door it ran out. On December 8. In the Morning, there were five great Stones and Bricks by an invisible hand thrown in at the west end of the house while the Mans Wife was making the Bed, the Bedstead was lifted up from the floor, and the Bedstaff flung out of the Window, and a Cat was hurled at her; a long Staff danced up and down in the Chim- ney; a burnt Brick, and a piece of a weather-board were thrown in at the Window: The Man at his going to Bed put out his Lamp, but 64 AMERICAN PROSE in the Morning found that the Saveall of it was taken away, and yet it was unaccountably brought into its former place. On the same day, the long Staff but now spoken of, was hang'd up by a line, and swung to and fro, the Man's Wife laid it in the fire, but she could not hold it there, inasmuch as it would forcibly fly out; yet after much ado with joynt strength they made it to burn. A shingle flew from the Window, though no body near it, many sticks came in at the same place, only one of these was so scragged that it could enter the hole but a little way, whereupon the Man pusht it out, a great Rail like- wise was thrust in at the Window, so as to break the Glass. At another time an Iron Crook that was hanged on a Nail, violently flew up and down, also a Chair flew about, and at last lighted on the Table where Victuals stood ready for them to eat, and was likely to spoil all, only by a nimble catching they saved some of their Meal with the loss of the rest, and the overturning of their Table. People were sometimes Barricade 'd out of doors, when as yet there was no body to do it: and a Chest was removed from place to place, no hand touching it. Their Keys being tied together, one was taken from the rest, & the remaining two would fly about making a loud noise by knocking against each other. But the greatest part of this Devils feats were his mischievous ones, wherein indeed he was sometimes Antick enough too, and therein the chief sufferers were, the Man and his Wife, and his Grand-Son. The Man especially had his share in these Diabolical Molestations. For one while they could not eat their Suppers quietly, but had the Ashes on the Hearth before their 'eyes thrown into their Victuals; yea, and upon their heads and Clothes, insomuch that they were forced up into their Chamber, and yet they had no rest there; for one of the Man's Shoes being left below, 'twas filled with Ashes and Coals, and thrown up after them. Their Light was beaten out, and they being laid in their Bed with their little Boy between them, a great stone (from the Floor of the Loft) weighing above three pounds was thrown upon the mans stomach, and he turning it down upon the floor, it was once more thrown upon him. A Box, and a Board were likewise thrown upon them all. And a Bag of Hops was taken out of their Chest, wherewith they were beaten, till some of the Hops were scattered on the floor, where the Bag was then laid, and left. INCREASE MATHER 65 In another Evening, when they sat by the fire, the Ashes were so whirled at them, that they could neither eat their Meat, nor endure the House. A Peel struck the Man in the face. An Apron hanging by the fire, was flung upon it, and singed before they could snatch it off. The Man being at Prayer with his Family, a Beesom gave him a blow on his head behind, and fell, down before his face. On another day, when they were Winnowing of Barley, some hard dirt was thrown in, hitting the Man on the Head, and both the Man and his Wife on the back ; and when they had made themselves clean, they essayed to fill their half Bushel but the foul Corn was in spite of them often cast in amongst the clean, and the Man being divers times thus abused was forced to give over what he was about. On January 23 (hi particular) the Man had an iron Pin twice thrown at him, and his Inkhorn was taken away from him while he was writing, and when by all his seeking it he could not find it, at last he saw it drop out of the Air, down by the fire: a piece of Leather was twice thrown at him; and a shoe was laid upon his shoulder, which he catching at, was suddenly rapt from him. An handful of Ashes was thrown at his face, and upon his clothes: and the shoe was then clapt upon his head, and upon it he clapt his hand, holding it so fast, that somewhat unseen pulled him with it backward on the floor. On the next day at night, as they were going to Bed, a lost Ladder was thrown against the Door, and their Light put out; and when the Man was a bed, he was beaten with an heavy pair of Leather Breeches, and pull'd by the Hair of his Head and Beard, Pinched and Scratched, and his Bed-board was taken away from him; yet more in the next night, when the Man was likewise a Bed, his Bed- board did rise out of its place, notwithstanding his putting forth all his strength to keep it in; one of his Awls wa[s] brought out of the next room into his Bed, and did prick him; the clothes wherewith he hoped to save his head from blows were violently pluckt from thence. Within a night or two after, the Man and his Wife received both of them a blow upon their heads, but it was so dark that they could not see the stone which gave it; the Man had his Cap pulled off from his head while he sat by the fire. 66 AMERICAN PROSE The night following, they went to bed undressed, because of their late disturbances, and the Man, Wife, Boy, presently felt them- selves pricked, and upon search found in the Bed a Bodkin, a knitting Needle, and two sticks picked at both ends. He received also a great blow, as on his Thigh, so on his Face, which fetched blood: and while he was writing a Candlestick was twice thrown at him, and a great piece of Bark fiercely smote him, and a pail of Water turned up without hands. On the 28 of the mentioned Moneth, frozen clods of Cow-dung were divers times thrown at the man out of the house in which they were; his Wife went to milk the Cow, and received a blow on her head, and sitting down at her Milking-work had Cow- dung divers times thrown into her Pail, the Man tried to save the Milk, by holding a Piggin side-wayes under the Cowes belly, but the Dung would in for all, and the Milk was only made fit for Hogs. On that night ashes were thrown into the porridge which they had made ready for their Supper, so as that they could not eat it; Ashes were likewise often thrown into the Man's Eyes, as he sat by the fire. And an iron Hammer flying at him, gave him a great blow on his back; the Man's Wife going into the Cellar for Beer, a great iron Peel flew and fell after her through the trap-door of the Cellar; and going afterwards on the same Errand to the same place, the door shut down upon her, and the Table came and lay upon the door, and the man was forced to remove it e're his Wife could be released from where she was; on the following day while he was Writing, a dish went out of its place, leapt into the pale, and cast Water upon the Man, his Paper, his Table, and disappointed his procedure in what he was about; his Cap jumpt off from his head, and on again, and the Pot-lid leapt off from the Pot into the Kettle on the fire. February 2. While he and his Boy were eating of Cheese, the pieces which he cut were wrested from them, but they were after- wards found upon the Table under an Apron, and a pair of Breeches: And also from the fire arose little sticks and Ashes, which flying upon the Man and his Boy, brought them into an uncomfortable pickle All this while the Devil did not use to appear in any visible shape, only they would think they had hold of the Hand that sometimes scratched them; but it would give them the slip. And once the Man was discernably beaten by a Fist, and an Hand got hold of his INCREASE MATHER 67 Wrist which he saw, but could not catch; and the likeness of a Blackmore Child did appear from under the Rugg and Blanket, where the Man lay, and it would rise up, fall down, nod & slip under the clothes when they endeavoured to clasp it, never speaking any thing. Neither were there many Words spoken by Satan all this time, only once having put out their Light, they heard a scraping on the Boards, and then a Piping and Drumming on them, which was fol- lowed with a Voice, singing Revenge! Revenge! Sweet is Revenge! And they being well terrified with it, called upon God; the issue of which was, that suddenly with a mournful Note, there were six times over uttered such expressions as Alas! Alas! me knock no morel me knock no morel and now all ceased. PROBATION OF WITCHES BY COLD WATER There is another Case of Conscience which may here be enquired into, viz. Whether it be lawful to bind persons suspected for Witches, and so cast them into the Water, in order to making a discovery of their innocency or guiltiness; so as that if they keep above the Water, they shall be deemed as confederate with the Devil, but if they sink they are to be acquitted from the crime of Witchcraft. As for this way of pur- gation it cannot be denied but that some learned men have indulged it. King JAMES appro veth of it, in his Discourse of Witch-craft B. 3. Chap. 6. supposing that the water refuseth to receive Witches into its Bosom, because they have perfidiously violated their Cove- nant with God, confirmed by Water in Baptism. Kornmannus and Scribonius do upon the same ground justifie this way of tryal. But a worthy Casuist of our own, giveth a judicious Reply to this sup- posal, viz. that all Water is not the Water of Baptism, but that only which is used in the very act of Baptism. Moreover, according to this notion the Proba would serve only for such persons as have been Baptized. Wierus and Bodinus have written against this Experi- ment. So hath Hemmingius; who saith, that it is both superstitious and ridiculous. Likewise, that Learned Physitian John Heurnius has published a Treatise, which he calls, Responsum ad supremam curiam Hollandice, nullum esse cequce innatationemlamiarum indicium. That Book I have not seen, but I find it mentioned in Meursius his Athene^ Batava. Amongst Englisti Authors, Dr. Cott hath endeav- oured to shew the unlawfulness of using such a practice. Also 68 4 MER *CAN PROSE Mr. Perkins is so far from approving of this probation by cold water, as that he rather inclines to think that the persons who put it in practice are themselves after a sort practisers of Witch-craft. That most Learned, Judicious, and Holy Man, Gisbertus Voetius in his forementioned Exercitation de Magia, P. 573. endeavours to evince that the custom of trying Witches by casting them into the Water is unlawful, a Tempting of God, and indirect Magic, And that it is utterly unlawful, I am by the following Reasons, convinced: 1. This practice has no Foundation in nature, nor in Scripture. If the Water will bear none but Witches, this must need proceed either from some natural or some supernatural cause. No natural cause is or can be assigned why the bodies of such persons should swim rather than of any other. The Bodies of Witches have not lost their natural Properties, they have weight in them as well as others. Moral changes and viceousness of mind, make no altera- tion as to these natural proprieties which are inseparable from the body. Whereas some pretend that the Bodies of Witches are pos- sessed with the Devil, and on that account are uncapable of sinking under the water; M aiders his reply is rational, viz. that the Allega- tion has no solidity in it, witness the Gadarens Hoggs, which were no sooner possessed with the Devil but they ran into the Water, and there perished. But if the experiment be supernatural, it must either be Divine or Diabolical. It is not divine; for the Scripture does ho where appoint any such course to be taken to find out whether per- sons are in league with the Devil or no. It remains then that the experiment is Diabolical. If it be said, that the Devil has made a compact with Wizards, that they shall not be drowned, and by that means that Covenant is discovered; the Reply is, we may not in the least build upon the Devils word. By this Objection the matter is ultimately resolved into a Diabolical Faith. And shall that cast the scale, when the lives of men are concerned ? Suppose the Devil saith these persons are Witches, must the Judge therefore condemn them ? 2. Experience hath proved this to be a fallacious way of trying Witches, therefore it ought not to be practised. Thereby guilty persons may happen to be acquitted, and the innocent to be con- demned. The Devil may have power to cause supernatation on the water in a person that never made any compact with him. And many times known and convicted Wizards have sunk under the INCREASE MATHER 69 water when thrown thereon. In the Bohemian History mention is made of several Witches, who being tried by cold water were as much subject to submersion as any other persons. Delrio reports the like of another Witch. And Godelmannus speaks of six Witches in whom this way of trial failed. Malderus saith It has been known that the very same persons being often brought to this probation by Water, did at one time swim and another time sink; and this difference has sometimes hapned according to the different persons making the experiment upon them; in which respect one might with greater reason conclude that the persons who used the experiment were Witches, then that the persons tried were so. 3. This way of purgation is to be accounted of, like other provo- cations or appeals to the Judgement of God, invented by men: such as Camp-fight, Explorations by hot water, &V. In former times it hath been customary (and I suppose tis so still among the Norwegians) that the suspected party was to put his hand into scalding water, and if he received no hurt thereby then he was reputed innocent; but if otherwise, judged as guilty. Also, the trial by fire Ordeal has been used in our Nation in times of Darkness. Thus Emma the Mother of King Edward the Confessor, was led barefoot and blind- fold over certain hot irons, and not hapning to touch any of them, was judged innocent of the crime which some suspected her as guilty of. And Kunegund Wife to the Emperour Henry II. being accused of Adultery, to clear her self, did in a great and honourable Assembly take up seven glowing irons one after another with her bare hand, and had no harm thereby. These bloody kind of Experiments are now generally banished out of the World. It is pity the Ordeal by cold water is not exploded with the other. 4. This vulgar probation (as it useth to be called) was first taken up in times of Superstition, being (as before was hinted of other Magical Impostures) propagated from Pagans to Papists, who would (as may be gathered from Bernards 66 Serm. in Cantica) sometimes bring those that were under suspicion for Heresie unto their Purga- tion in this way. We know that our Ancestors, the old Pagan Saxons had amongst them four sorts of Ordeal (i.e. Trial or Judgement as the Saxon word signifies) whereby when sufficient proof was wanting, they sought (according as the Prince of darkness had instructed them) to find out the truth concerning suspected persons, one of which 70 AMERICAN PROSE Ordeals was this, the persons surmised to be guilty, having Cords tied under their Arms, were thrown with it into some River, to see whether they would sink or swim. So that this Probation was not originally confined to Witches, but others supposed to be Criminals were thus to be tried: but in some Countries they thought meet thus to examine none but those who have been suspected for familiarity with the Devil. That this custom was in its first rise superstitious is evident from the Ceremonies of old used about it. For the Proba is not canonical, except the person be cast into the Water with his right hand tied to his left foot. Also, by the Principle which some approvers of this Experiment alledge to confirm their fansies; their Principle is, Nihil quod per Necromantian fit, potest in aqua fallere aspectum intuentium. Hence William of Malmsbury, Lib. 2. P. 67. tells a fabulous Story (though he relates it not as such) of a Traveller in Italy that was by a Witch transformed into an Asse, but retaining his humane understanding would do such feats of activity, as one that had no more wit than an Asse could not do ; so that he was sold for a great price; but breaking his Halter he ran into the Water, and thence was instantly unbewitched, and turned into a Man again. This is as true as Lucian's Relation about his own being by Witch- craft transformed into an Asse; and I suppose both are as true as that cold water will discover who are Witches. It is to be lamented, that Protestants should in these days of light, either practise or plead for so Superstitious an Invention, since Papists themselves have of later times been ashamed of it. Verstegan in his Antiquities, Lib. 3. P. 53. speaking of the trials by Ordeal, and of this by cold water in particular, has these words; These aforesaid kinds of Ordeals, the Saxons long after their Christianity continued: but seeing they had their beginnings in Paganism and were not thought fit to be continued amongst Christians; at the last by a Decree of Pope Stephen II. they were abolished. Thus he. Yea, this kind of trial by Water, was put down in Paris A. D. 1594. by the supream Court there. Some learned Papists have ingenuously acknowledged that such Probations are Superstitious. It is confessed that they are so by Tyraus, Bins- feldius, Delrio, and by Malderus de magia, Tract. 10. Cap. 8. Dub. ii. who saith, that they who shall practise this Superstition, and pass a judgement of Death upon any persons on this account, will (with- out repentance) be found guilty of Murder before God. COTTON MATHER 71 COTTON MATHER FROM THE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD THE TRIAL OF BRIDGET BISHOP: ALIAS, OLIVER. AT THE COURT OF OYER AND TERMINER HELD AT SALEM. JUNE 2. 1692. 7. She was Indicted for Bewitching of several persons in the Neighbourhood, the Indictment being drawn up, according to the Form in such Cases Usual. And pleading, Not Guilty, there were brought in several persons, who had long undergone many kinds of Miseries, which were preternaturally Inflicted, and generally ascribed unto an horrible Witchcraft. There was little Occasion to prove the Witchcraft; it being Evident and Notorious to all Beholders. Now to fix the Witchcraft on the Prisoner at the Bar, the first thing used was, the Testimony of the Bewitched; whereof, several Testify 'd, That the Shape of the Prisoner did oftentimes very grievously pinch them, choak them, Bite them, & Afflict them; urging them to write their Names in a Book, which the said Spectre called, Ours. One of them did further Testify, that it was the Shape of this Prisoner, with another, which one Day took her from her Wheel, and carrying her to the River side, threatned there to Drown her, if she did not Sign to the Book mentioned: which yet she refused. Others of them did also Testify, that the said Shape, did in her Threats, brag to them, that she had been the Death of sundry persons, then by her Named; that she had Ridden a man, then likewise Named. Another Testify'd, the Apparition of Ghosts unto the Spectre of Bishop, crying out, You Murdered us! About the Truth whereof, there was in the matter of Fact, but too much Suspicion. II. It was Testify'd, That at the Examination of the Prisoner, before the Magistrates, the Bewitched were extreamly Tortured. If she did but cast her Eyes on them, they were presently struck down; and this in such a manner as there could be no Collusion in the Busi- ness. But upon the Touch of her Hand upon them, when they lay in their Swoons, they would immediately Revive; and not upon the Touch of any ones else. Moreover, upon some Special Actions of her Body, as the shaking of her Head, or the Turning of her Eyes, they presently and painfully fell into the like postures. And many 72 AMERICAN PROSE of the like Accidents now fell out, while she was at the Bar. One at the same time testifying, That she said, She could not be Troubled to see the Afflicted thus Tormented. III. There was Testimony likewise brought in, that a man striking once at the place, where a Bewitched person said, the Shape of this Bishop stood, the Bewitched cryed out, that he had Tore her Coat, in the place then particularly specify 'd; and the Womans Coat, was found to be Torn in that very place. IV. One Deliverance Hobbs, who had confessed her being a Witch, was now Tormented by the Spectres, for her Confession. And she now Testify'd, That this Bishop, tempted her to Sign the Book again, and to Deny what she had Confess'd. She affirmed, that it was the Shape of this Prisoner, which whipped her with Iron Rods, to compel her thereunto. And she affirmed, that this Bishop was at a General Meeting of the Witches, in a Field at Sa/em-Village and there partook of a Diabolical Sacrament, in Bread and Wine then Administred! V. To render it further Unquestionable, that the prisoner at the Bar, was the Person truly charged in THIS Witchcraft, there were produced many Evidences of OTHER Witchcrafts, by her perpetrated. For Instance, John Cook testify'd, that about five or six years ago, One morning, about Sun-Rise, he was in his Chamber, assaulted by the Shape of this prisoner: which Look'd on him, grin'd at him, and very much hurt him, with a Blow on the side of the Head: and that on the same day, about Noon, the same Shape walked in the Room where he was, and an Apple strangely flew out of his Hand, into the Lap of his mother, six or eight foot from him. VI. Samuel Gray, testify'd, That about fourteen years ago, he wak'd on a Night, & saw the Room where he lay, full of Light; & that he then saw plainly a Woman between the Cradle, and the Bed- side, which look'd upon him. He Rose, and it vanished; tho' he found the Doors all fast. Looking out at the Entry-Door, he saw the same Woman, in the same Garb again; and said, In Gods Name, what do you come for ? He went to Bed, and had the same Woman again assaulting him. The Child in the Cradle gave a great schreech, and the Woman Disappeared. It was long before the Child could be quieted; and tho' it were a very likely thriving Child, yet from this time it pined away, and after divers months dy'd in a sad Condition. He knew not Bishop, nor her Name; but when he saw her after COTTON MATHER 73 this, he knew by her Countenance, and Apparrel, and all Circum- stances, that it was the Apparition of this Bishop, which had thus troubled him. VII. John Ely and his wife, testify'd, that he bought a sow of Edward Bishop, the Husband of the prisoner; and was to pay the price agreed, unto another person. This Prisoner being Angry that she was thus hindred from fingring the money, QuarrelTd with Bly. Soon after which the Sow, was taken with strange Fits; Jumping, Leaping, and knocking her head against the Fence, she seem'd Blind and Deaf, and would neither eat nor be suck'd. Whereupon a neighbour said, she believed the Creature was Over-Looked; & sundry other circumstances concurred, which made the Deponents Belive that Bishop had Bewitched it. VIII. Richard Coman testify'd, that eight years ago, as he lay Awake in his Bed, with a Light Burning in the Room, he was annoy'd with the Apparition of this Bishop, and of two more that were strangers to him; who came and oppressed him so that he could neither stir himself, nor wake any one else : and that he was the night after, molested again in the like manner; the said Bishop taking him by the Throat, and pulling him almost out of the Bed. His kinsman offered for this cause to lodge with him; and that Night, as they were Awake Discoursing together, this Coman was once more visited, by the Guests which had formerly been so troublesome; his kinsman being at the same time strook speechless and unable to move Hand 01 Foot. He had laid his sword by him; which these unhappy spectres, did strive much to wrest from him; only he held too fast for them. He then grew able to call the People of his house; but altho' they heard him, yet they had not power to speak or stirr, until at last, one of the people crying out, what's the matter! the spectres all vanished. IX. Samuel Shattock testify'd, That in the Year 1680. this Bridget Bishop, often came to his house upon such frivolous and foolish errands, that they suspected she came indeed with a purpose of mischief. Presently whereupon his eldest child, which was of as promising Health & Sense, as any child of its Age, began to droop exceedingly; & the oftener that Bishop came to the House, the worse grew the Child. As the Child would be standing at the Door, he would be thrown and bruised against the stones, by an Invisible Hand, and in like sort knock his Face against the sides of the House, 74 AMERICAN PROSE and bruise it after a miserable manner. Afterwards this Bishop would bring him things to Dy, whereof he could not Imagine any use; and when she paid him a piece of Money, the Purse and Money were unaccountably conveyed out of a Lock'd box, and never seen more. The Child was immediately hereupon taken with terrible fits, whereof his Friends thought he would have dyed : indeed he did almost nothing but cry and Sleep for several Months together: and at length his understanding was utterly taken away. Among other Symptoms of an Inchantment upon him, one was, that there was a Board hi the Garden, whereon he would walk; and all the invitations in the world could never fetch him off. About Seventeen or Eighteen years after, there came a Stranger to Shattocks House, who seeing the Child, said, This poor Child is Bewitched; and you have a Neighbour living not far off, who is a Witch. He added, Your Neighbour has had a falling out with your Wife', and she said in her Heart, your Wife is a proud Woman, and she would bring down her Pride in this Child: He then Remembred, that Bishop had parted from his Wife in muttering and menacing Terms, a little before the Child was taken ill. The above- said Stranger would needs carry the Bewitched Boy with him, to Bishops House, on pretence of buying a pot of Cyder. The Woman Entertained him in furious manner; and flew also upon the Boy, scratching his Face till the Blood came, and saying, Thou Rogue, what ? dost thou bring this Fellow here to plague me ? Now it seems the man had said before he went, that he would fetch Blood of her. Ever after the Boy was follow'd with grievous Fits, which the Doctors themselves generally ascribed unto Wit[c]hcraft; and wherein he would be thrown still into the Fire or the Water, if he were not con- stantly look'd after; and it was verily believed that Bishop was the cause of it. X. John Louder testify'd, that upon some little controversy with Bishop about her fowles, going well to Bed, he did awake in the Night by moonlight, and did see clearly the likeness of this woman grievously oppressing him; in which miserable condition she held him unable to help him self, till near Day. He told Bishop of this; but she deny'd it, and threatned him, very much. Quickly after this, being at home on a Lords Day, with the doors shutt about him, he saw a Black Pig approach him; at which he going to kick, it vanished away. Immediately after, sitting down, he saw a Black COTTON MATHER 75 thing Jump in at the Window, & come & stand before him. The Body, was like that of a Monkey, the Feet like a Cocks, but the Face much like a mans. He being so extreemly affrighted, that he could not speak; this Monster spoke to him, and said, I am a Messenger sent unto you, for I understand that you are in some Trouble of Mind, and if you will be ruled by me, you shall want for nothing in this world. Whereupon he endeavoured to clap his hands upon it; but he could feel no substance, and it jumped out of the window again; but immediately came in by the Porch, though the Doors were shut, and said, You had better take my Counsel! He then struck at it with a stick, but struck only the Groundsel, and broke the stick. The Arm with which he struck was presently Disenabled, and it vanished away. He presently went out at the Back-Door, and spyed, this Bishop, in her Orchard, going toward her House; but he had not power to set one foot forward unto her. Whereupon returning into the House, he was immediately accosted by the Monster he had seen before; which Goblin was now going to Fly at him: whereat he cry'd out, The whole Armour of God, be between me and you! So it sprang back, and flew over the Apple Tree; shaking many Apples off the Tree, in its flying over. At its Leap, it flung Dirt with its Feet, against the Stomach of the man; whereon he was then struck Dumb, and so continued for three Days together. Upon the pro- ducing of this Testimony, Bishop deny'd that she knew this Deponent: yet their two Orchards joined, and they had often had their Little Quarrels for some years together. XI. William Stacy, Testifyed, that receiving Money of this Bishop, for work done by him, he was gone but a matter of Three Rods from her, and looking for his money, found it unaccountably gone from him. Some time after, Bishop asked him whether his Father would grind her grist for her? He demanded why? she Reply'd, Because Folks count me a witch. He answered, No Question, but he will grind it for you. Being then gone about six Rods from her, with a small Load in his Cart, suddenly the Off-wheel slump't and sunk down into an Hole upon plain ground, so that the Deponent, was forced to get help for the Recovering of the wheel. But stepping Back to look for the Hole which might give him this disaster, there was none at all to be found. Some time after, he was waked in the Night; but it seem'd as Light as Day, and he perfectly saw the shape 76 AMERICAN PROSE of this Bishop, in the Room, Troubling of him; but upon her going out, all was Dark again. He charg'd Bishop afterwards with it: and she deny'd it not; but was very angry. Quickly after, this Deponent having been threatned by Bishop, as he was in a dark Night going to the Barn, he was very suddenly taken or lifted from the ground, and thrown against a stone wall; After that, he was again hoisted up and thrown down a Bank, at the end of his House. After this again, passing by this Bishop, his Horse with a small load, striving to Draw, all his Gears flew to pieces, and the Cart fell down; and this deponent going then to lift a Bag of corn, of about two Bushels; could not budge it, with all 'his might. Many other pranks, of this Bishops, this deponent was Ready to testify. He also testify'd, that he verily Believed, the said Bishop, was the Instrument of his Daughter, Priscilla's Death; of which sus- picion, pregnant Reasons were assigned. XII. To Crown all, John Bly, and William Ely, Testify'd, That being Employ 'd by Bridget Bishop, to help take down the Cellar-wall, of the old House, wherein she formerly Lived, they did in Holes of the said old Wall, find several Poppets, made up of Rags, and Hogs Brussels, with Headless Pins in them, the points being outward. Whereof she could now give no Account unto the Court, that was Reasonable or Tolerable. XIII. One thing that made against the Prisoner was, her being evidently convicted of Gross Lying, in the Court, several Times, while she was making her Plea. But besides this, a Jury of Women, found a preternatural Teat upon her Body; but upon a second search, within Three or four Hours, there was no such thing to be seen. There was also an account of other people whom this woman had afflicted. And there might have been many more, if they had been enquired for. But there was no need of them. XIV. There was one very strange thing more, with which the Court was newly Entertained. As this Woman was under a Guard, passing by the Great and Spacious Meeting-House of Salem, she gave a Look towards the House. And immediately a Damon Invisibly Entring the Meeting-house, Tore down a part of it; so that tho' there were no person to be seen there, yet the people at the Noise running in, found a Board, which was strongly fastned with several Nails, transported unto another quarter of the House. COTTON MATHER 77 FROM MAGNALIA CHRISTI AMERICANA CAPTAIN PHIPS'S SEARCH FOR SUNKEN TREASURE .4 Being thus of the True Temper, for doing of Great Things, he betakes himself to the Sea, the Right Scene for such Things; and upon Advice of a Spanish Wreck about the Bahama's, he took a Voyage thither; but with little more success, than what just served him a little to furnish him for a Voyage to England; whither he went in a Vessel, not much unlike that which the Dutch- men stamped on their First Coin, with these Words about it, Incertum quo Fata ferant. Having first informed himself that there was another Spanish Wreck, wherein was lost a mighty Treasure, hither- to undiscovered, he had a strong Impression upon his Mind that He must be the Discoverer; and he made such Representations of his Design at White-Hall, that by the Year 1683. he became the Captain of a King's Ship, and arrived at New-England Commander of the Algier-Rose, a Frigot of Eighteen Guns, and Ninety-Five Men. . 5. To Relate all the Dangers through which he passed, both by Sea and Land, and all the Tiresome Trials of his Patience, as well as of his Courage, while Year after Year the most vexing Accidents imaginable delay'd the Success of his Design, it would even Tire the patience of the Reader: For very great was the Experiment that Captain Phips made of the Italian Observation, He that cann't suffer both Good and Evil, will never come to any great Preferment . 6. So proper was his Behaviour, that the best Noble Men in the Kingdom now admitted him into their Conversation; but yet he was opposed by powerful Enemies, that Clogg'd his Affairs with such Demurrages, and such Disappointments, as would have wholly Discouraged his Designs, if his Patience had not been Invincible. He who can wait, hath what he desireth. This his Indefatigable Patience, with a proportionable Diligence, at length overcame the Difficulties that had been thrown in his way; and prevailing with the Duke of Albemarle, and some other Persons of Quality, to fit him out, he set Sail for the Fishing-Ground, which had been so well baited half an Hundred Years before : And as he had already discovered his Capacity for Business in many considerable Actions, he now added unto those Discoveries, by not only providing all, but also by inventing many of 78 AMERICAN PROSE the Instruments necessary to the prosecution of his intended Fishery. Captain Phips arriving with a Ship and a Tender at Port de la Plata, made a stout Canoo of a stately Cotton-Tree, so large as to carry Eight or Ten Oars, for the making of which Periaga (as they call it) he did, with the same industry that he did every thing else, employ his own Hand and Adse, and endure no little hardship, lying abroad in the Woods many Nights together. This Periaga, with the Tender, being Anchored at a place Convenient, the Periaga kept Busking to and again, but could only discover a Reef of Rising Shoals thereabouts, called, The Boilers, which Rising to be within Two or Three Foot of the Surface of the Sea, were yet so steep, that a Ship striking on them, would immediately sink down, who could say, how many Fathom into the Ocean? Here they could get no other Pay for their long peeping among the Boilers, but only such as caused them to think upon returning to their Captain with the bad News of their total Disap- pointment. Nevertheless, as they were upon the Return, one of the Men looking, over the side of the Periaga, into the calm Water, he spied a Sea Feather, growing, as he judged, out of a Rock; whereupon they bad one of their Indians to Dive and fetch this Feather, that they might however carry home something with them, and make, at least, as fair a Triumph as Caligula's. The Diver bringing up the Feather, brought therewithal a surprizing Story, That he perceived a Number of Great Guns in the Watry World where he had found his Feather; the Report of which Great Guns exceedingly astonished the whole Com- pany ; and at once turned their Despondencies for their ill success into Assurances, that they had now lit upon the true Spot of Ground which they had been looking for; and they were further confirmed in these Assurances, when upon further Diving, the Indian fetcht up a Sow, as they stil'd it, or a Lump of Silver, worth perhaps Two or Three Hundred Pounds. Upon this they prudently Buoy'd the place, that they might readily find it again; and they went back unto their Captain whom for some while they distressed with nothing but such Bad News, as they formerly thought they must have carried him: Nevertheless, they so slipt in the Sow of Silver on one side under the Table, where they were now sitting with the Captain, and hearing him express his Resolutions to wait still patiently upon the Providence of God under these Disappointments, that when he should look on one side, he might see that Odd Thing before him. At last he saw it ; see- COTTON MATHER . 79 ing it, he cried out with some Agony, Why ? What is this ? Whence comes this? And then, with changed Countenances, they told him how, and where they got it: Then, said he, Thanks be to God/ We are made; and so away they went, all hands to Work; wherein they had this one further piece of Remarkable Prosperity, that whereas if they had first fallen upon that part of the Spanish Wreck, where the Pieces of Eight had been stowed in Bags among the Ballast, they had seen a more laborious, and less enriching time of it: Now, most happily, they first fell upon that Room in the Wreck where the Bullion had been stored up; and they so prospered in this New Fishery, that in a little while they had, without the loss of any Man's Life, brought up Thirty Two Tuns of Silver; for it was now come to measuring of Silver by Tuns. Besides which, one Adderly of Providence, who had formerly been very helpful to Captain Phips hi the Search of this Wreck, did upon former Agreement meet him now with a little Vessel here; and he, with his few hands, took up about Six Tuns of Silver; whereof nevertheless he made so little use, that in a Year or Two he Died at Bermudas, and as I have heard, he ran Distracted some while before he Died. Thus did there once again come into the Light of the Sun, a Treasure which had been half an Hundred Years groaning under the Waters: And in this time there was grown upon the Plate a Crust like Limestone, to the thickness- of several Inches; which Crust being broken open by Irons contrived for that purpose, they knockt out whole Bushels of rusty Pieces of Eight which were grown there- into. Besides that incredible Treasure of Plate in various Forms, thus fetch'd up, from Seven or Eight Fathom under Water, there were vast Riches of Gold, and Pearls, and Jewels, which they also lit upon; and indeed, for a more Comprehensive Invoice, I must but summarily say, All that a Spanish Frigot uses to be enricht withal. Thus did they continue Fishing till their Provisions failing them, 'twas time to be gone; but before they went, Captain Phips caused Adderly and his Folk to swear, That they would none of them Discover the Place of the Wreck, or come to the Place any more till the next Year, when he expected again to be there himself. And it was also Remarkable, that though the Sows came up still so fast, that on the very last Day of their being there, they took up Twenty, yet it was afterwards found, that they had in a manner wholly cleared that Room of the Ship where those Massy things were Stowed. 8o AMERICAN PROSE THOMAS HOOKER 14. Returning into England in order to a further Voyage, he was quickly scented by the Pursevants; who at length got so far up with him, as to knock at the Door of that very Chamber, where he was now discoursing with Mr. Stone; who was now become his designed Companion and Assistent for the New English Enterprize. Mr. Stone was at that Instant smoking of Tobacco; for which Mr. Hooker had been reproving him, as being then used by few Persons of Sobriety; being also of a sudden and pleasant Wit, he stept unto the Door, with his Pipe hi his mouth, and such an Air of Speech and Look, as gave him some Credit with the Officer. The Officer demanded, Whether Mr. Hooker were not there ? Mr. Stone replied with a braving sort of Confidence, What Hooker ? Do you mean Hooker that liv'd once at Chelmsford! The Officer answered, Yes, He! Mr. Stone imme- diately, with a Diversion like that which once helped Athanasius, made this true Answer, // it be he you look for, I saw him about an Hour ago, at such an House in the Town ; you had best hasten thither after him. The Officer took this for a sufficient Account, and went his way; but Mr. Hooker, upon this Intimation, concealed himself more carefully and securely, till he went on Board, at the Downs, in the Year 1633, the Ship which brought him, and Mr. Cotton, and Mr. Stone to New- England: Where none but Mr. Stone was owned for a Preacher, at their first coming aboard ; the other two delaying to take their Turns in the Publick Worship of the Ship, till they were got so far into the main ocean, that they might with Safety, discover who they were 16. Mr. Hooker and Mr. Cotton were, for their different Genius, the Luther and Melancthon of New England; at their Arrival unto which Country, Mr. Cotton settled with the Church of Boston, but Mr. Hooker with the Church of New-Town, having Mr. Stone for his Assistant. Inexpressible now was the Joy of Mr. Hooker, to find himself surrounded with his Friends, who were come over the Year before, to prepare for his Reception; with open Arms he embraced them, and uttered these words, Now I live, if you standfast in the Lord. But such multitudes flocked over to New-England after them, that the Plantation of New Town became to straight for them; and jt was Mr. Hooker's Advice, that they should not incur the danger of a Sitna, or an Esek, where they might have a Rehoboth. Accordingly in the COTTON MATHER 8l Month of June 1636, they removed an Hundred Miles to the West- ward, with a purpose to settle upon the delightful Banks of Con- necticut River: And there were about an Hundred Persons in the first Company that made this Removal; who not being able to walk above Ten Miles a Day, took up near a Fortnight in the Journey; having no Pillows to take their Nightly Rest upon, but such as their Father Jacob found in the way to Padan-Aram. Here Mr. Hooker was the chief Instrument of beginning another Colony, as Mr. Cotton, whom he left behind him, was, of preserving and perfecting that Colony where he left him; for, indeed each of them were the Oracle of their several Colonies. 17. Tho' Mr. Hooker had thus removed from the Massachuset- Bay, yet he sometimes came down to visit the Churches in that Bay: But when ever he came, he was received with an Affection, like that which Paul found among the Galatians; yea, 'tis thought, that once there seemed some Intimation from Heaven, as if the good People had overdone in that Affection: For on May 26. 1639. Mr. Hooker being here to preach that Lord's Day in the Afternoon, his great Fame had gathered a vast Multitude of Hearers from several other Congrega- tions, and among the rest, the Governour himself, to be made Par- taker of his Ministry. But when he came to preach, he found himself so unaccountably at a loss, that after some shattered and broken Attempts to proceed, he made a full stop; saying to the Assembly, That every thing which he -would have spoken, was taken both out of his Mouth, and out of his Mind also', wherefore he desired them to sing a Psalm, while he withdrew about half an Hour from them: Returning then to the Congregation, he preached a most admirable Sermon, wherein he- held them for two Hours together in an extraordinary Strain both of Pertinency and Vivacity 20. That Reverend and Excellent Man, Mr. Whitfield, having spent many Years in studying of Books, did at length take two or three Years to study Men; and in pursuance of this Design, having acquainted himself with the most considerable Divines in England, at last he fell into the Acquaintance of Mr. Hooker; concerning whom, he afterwards gave this Testimony: 'That he had not thought there had been such a Man on Earth; a Man hi whom there shone so many Excellencies, as were in this incomparable Hooker; a Man in whom Learning and Wisdom, were so tempered with Zeal, Holiness, and 82 AMERICAN PROSE Watchfulness.' And the same Observer having exactly Noted Mr. Hooker, made this Remark, and gave this Report more particularly of him, That he had the best Command of his own Spirit, which he ever saw in any Man whatever. For though he were a Man of a Cholerick Disposition, and had a mighty Vigour and Fervour of Spirit, which as occasion served, was wondrous useful unto him, yet he had ordinarily as much Government of his Choler, as a Man has of a Mastiff Dog hi a Chain; he could let out his Dog, and pull in his Dog, as he pleased. And another that observed the Heroical Spirit and Courage, with which this Great Man fulfilled his Ministry, gave this Account of him, He was a Person who while doing his Master's Work, would put a King in his Pocket JOHN ELIOT, APOSTLE TO THE INDIANS The Natives of the Country now Possessed by the New- Englanders, had been forlorn and wretched Heathen ever since their first herding here; and tho' we know not When or How those Indians first became Inhabitants of this mighty Continent, yet we may guess that probably the Devil decoy'd those miserable Salvages hither, in hopes that the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ would never come here to destroy or disturb his Absolute Empire over them. But our Eliot was in such ill Terms with the Devil, as to alarm him with sound- ing the Silver Trumpets of Heaven in his Territories, and make some Noble and Zealous Attempts towards outing him of his Ancient Possessions here. There were, I think, Twenty several Nations (if I may call them so) of Indians upon that spot of Ground, which fell under the Influence of our Three United Colonies; and our Eliot was willing to rescue as many of them as he could, from that old usurping Landlord of America, who is by the Wrath of God, the Prince of this World The First Step which he judg'd necessary now to be taken by him, was to learn the Indian Language; for he saw them so stupid and senseless, that they would never do so much as enquire after the Religion of the Strangers now come into their Country, much less would they so far imitate us, as to leave off their beastly way of living, that they might be Partakers of any Spiritual Advantage by us: Unless we could first address them in a Language of their own. Behold, new Difficulties to be surmounted by our indefatigable Eliot! He hires a Native to teach him this exotick Language, and with a COTTON MATHER 83 laborious Care and Skill, reduces it into a Grammar which afterwards he published. There is a Letter or two of our Alphabet, which the Indians never had in theirs; tho' there were enough of the Dog in their Temper, there can scarce be found an R in their Language; (any more than in the Language of the Chinese, or of the Greenlanders) save that the Indians to the Northward, who have a peculiar Dialect, pronounce an R where an N is pronounced by our Indians', but if their Alphabat be short, I am sure the Words composed of it are long enough to tire the Patience of any Scholar in the World; they are Sesquipe- dalia Verba, of which their Linguo is composed; one would think, they had been growing ever since Babel, unto the Dimensions to which they had now extended. For instance, if my Reader will count how many Letters there are hi this one Word, Nummatchekodtantamooon- ganunnonash, when he has done, for his Reward I'll tell him, it signi- fies no more in English, than our Lusts; and if I were to translate, our Loves, it must be nothing shorter than Noowomantammooonkanunon- nash. Or, to give my Reader a longer Word than either of these, Kummogkodonattoottummooetiteaongannunnonash, is in English, Our Question: But I pray, Sir, count the Letters! Nor do we find in all this Language the least Affinity to, or Derivation from any European Speech that we are acquainted with. I know not what Thoughts it will produce in my Reader, when I inform him, that once finding that the Damons in a possessed young Woman, understood the Latin and Greek and Hebrew Languages, my Curiosity led me to make Trial of this Indian Language, and the Damons did seem as if they did not understand it. This tedious Language our Eliot (the Anagram of whose Name was TOILE) quickly became a Master of; he employ'd a pregnant and witty Indian, who also spoke English well, for his Assistance in it; and compiling some Discourses by his Help, he would single out a Word, a Noun, a Verb, and pursue it through all its Variations: Having finished his Grammar, at the close he writes, Prayers and Pains thro' Faith in Christ Jesus will do any thing! And being by his Prayers and P-ains thus furnished, he set himself in the Year 1646 to preach the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, among these Desolate Outcasts. A BEWITCHED CHILD Four Children of John Goodwin in Boston, which had enjoy'd a Religious Education, and answer'd it with a towardly Ingenuity: 84 AMERICAN PROSE Children indeed of an exemplary Temper and Carriage, and an Example to all about them for Piety, Honesty, and Industry. These were in the year 1688. arrested by a very stupendous Witchcraft It was the Eldest of these Children that fell chiefly under my own Observation : For I took her home to my own Family, partly out of compassion to her Parents, but chiefly, that I might be a critical Eye- Witness of things that would enable me to confute the Sadducism of this Debauch'd Age. Here she continu'd well for some Days; applying her self to Actions of Industry and Piety: But Nov. 20. 1688. she cry'd out, Ah, they have found me out! and immediately she fell into her Fits; wherein we often observ'd, that she would cough up a Ball as big as a small Egg, into the side of her Wind pipe, that would near choak her, till by Stroaking and by Drinking it was again carry'd down. When I pray'd in the Room, first her Hands were with a strong, tho' not even Force, clapt upon her Ears: And when her Hands were by our Force pull'd away, she cry'd out, They make such a Noise, I cannot hear a Word! She complain'd that Glover's Chain was upon her Leg; and assaying to go, her Gate was exactly such as the chain 'd Witch had before she dy'd. When her Tortures pass'd over, still Frolicks would succeed, wherein she would continue Hours, yea, Days together, talking perhaps never wickedly but always wittily byond her self: And at certain Provocations her Torments would renew upon her, till we had left off to Give them; yet she frequently told us in these Frolicks, That if she might but steal or be drunk, she should be well immediately. She told us, that she must go down to the bottom of our Well, (and we had much ado to hinder it) for they said there was Plate there, and they would bring her up safely again. We wonder' d at this: For she had never heard of any Plate there; and we our selves, who had newly bought the House, were ignorant of it: but the former Owner of the House just then coming in, told us There had been Plate for many Years lost at the Bottom of the Well. Moreover, one singular Passion that frequently attended her, was this: An invisibk Chain would be clapt about her, and she in much pain and Fear, cry out when [They] 1 began to put it on. Sometimes we could with our Hands knock it off, as it began to be fasten'd: But ordinarily, when it was on, she would be pull'd out of her Seat, with 1 Throughout this account the brackets are those of the original edition. COTTON MATHER 85 such Violence, towards the Fire, that it was as much as one or two of us could do to keep her out. Her Eyes were not brought to be per- pendicular to her Feet, when she rose out of her Seat, as the Mechan- ism of an humane Body requires in them that rise; but she was dragg'd wholly by other Hands. And if we stamp'd on the Hearth, just between her and the Fire, she scream'd out, That by jarring the Chain, we hurt her. I may add, that [They] put an unseen Rope, with a cruel Noose, about her Neck, whereby she was choak'd until she was black hi the Face: And tho' it was got off before it had kill'd her; yet there were the Red Marks of it, and of a Finger and a Thumb near it, remaining to be seen for some while afterwards. Furthermore, not only upon her own looking into the Bible, but if any one else in the Room did it, wholly unknown to her, she would fall into unsufferable Torments. A Quaker's Book being brought her, she could quietly read whole Pages of it; only the Name of GOD and CHRIST, she still skipp'd over, being unable to pronounce it, except sometimes, stammering a Minute or two, or more upon it: And when we urg'd her to tell what the Word was that she miss'd, she would say, / must not speak it: They say I must not. You know what it is: 'Tis G, and 0, and D. But a Book against Quakerism [They] would not allow her to meddle with. Such Books, as it might have been profitable and edifying for her to read, and especially her Catechisms, if she did but offer to read a Line in them, she would be cast into hideous Convulsions, and be tost about the House like a Foot ball: But Books of Jest being shewn her, she could read them well enough, and have cunning Descants upon them. Popish Books [They] would not hinder her from reading; but [They] would from reading Books against Popery. A Book which pretends to prove That there are no Witches, was easily read by her; only the Name Devils and Witches might not be utter'd. A Book which proves That there are Witches, being exhibited unto her, she might not read it: And that Expression in the Story of Ann Cole, about running to the Rock, always threw her into sore Confusions. Divers of these Trials were made by many Witnesses: But I considering that there might be a Snare in it, put a seasonable Stop to this fanciful Business. Only I could not but be amaz'd at one thing: A certain Prayer-Book being brought her, she not only could read it very well, but also did read a large Part of it over, calling it 86 AMERICAN PROSE her Bible, and putting a more than ordinary Respect upon it. If she were going into her Tortures, at the Tender of this Book, she would recover her self to read it: Only when she came to the Lord's Prayer now and then occurring in that Book, she would have her Eyes put out; so that she must turn over a new Leaf, and then she could read again. Whereas also there are Scriptures in that Book, she could read them there: but if any shew'd her the very same Scriptures in the Bible it self, she should sooner die than read them: And she was likewise made unable to read the Psalms hi an ancient Metre, which this Prayer-Book had in the same Volume with it. Besides these, there was another inexplicable Thing in her Con- dition. Ever now and then, an Invisible Horse would be brought unto her by those whom she only call'd [Them,] and [Her Company,] upon the Approach of which, her Eyes wou'd be still clos'd up: For (said she) They say I am a Tell-tale, and therefore they will not let me see them. Hereupon she would give a Spring as one mounting an Horse, and selling her self in a riding Posture, she would in her Chair be agi- tated, as one sometimes Ambling, sometimes Trotting, and sometimes Galloping very furiously. In these Motions we could not perceive that she was mov'd by the Stress of her Feet upon the Ground, for often she touch'd it not. When she had rode a Minute or two, she would seem to be at a Rendezvous with [Them] that were [Her Company^ and there she would maintain a Discourse with them, ask- ing them many Questions concerning her self [we gave her none of ours] and have Answers from them which indeed none but her self perceiv'd. Then would she return and inform us, How [They] did in- tend to handle her for a Day or two afterwards, and some other things that she inquir'd. Her Horse would sometimes throw her with much Violence; especially if any one stabb'd or cut the Air under her. But she would briskly mount again, and perform her Fantastick Journies, mostly in her Chair; but sometimes also she would be carry 'd from her Chair, out of one Room into another, very odly, in the Postures of a riding Woman. At length, she pretended, that her Horse could ride up the Stairs; and unto admiration she rode, (that is, was toss'd as one that rode) up the Stairs. There then stood open the Study of one belonging to the Family: Into which entring, she stood immediately on her Feet, and cry'd out, They are gone! They are gone! They say that they cannot, God won't let 'em come here! Adding a Reason COTTON MATHER 87 for it, which the Owner of the Study thought more Kind than True. And she presently and perfectly came to her self, so that her whole Dis- course and Carriage was alter 'd unto the greatest measure of Sobriety; and she sate reading of the Bible and other good Books, for a good part of the Afternoon. Her Affairs calling her anon to go down again, the Damons were in a quarter of a Minute as bad upon her as before ; and her Horse was waiting for her. Some then to see whether there had not been a Fallacy in what had newly hapned, resolv'd for to have her up unto the Study, where she had been at ease before; but she was then so strangely distorted, that it was an extream Diffi- culty to drag her up stairs. The Damons would pull her out of the Peoples Hands, and make her heavier than perhaps Three of her self. With incredible Toil (tho' she kept screaming, They say I must not go in) She was pull'd in ; where she was no sooner got, but she could stand on her Feet, and with an alter'd Note, say, Now I am well. She would be faint at first, and say, She felt something to go out of her! (the Noises whereof we sometimes heard, like those of a Mouse) but in a Minute or two she could apply her self to Devotion, and express her self with Discretion, as wel t l as ever in her Life. To satisfie some Strangers, the Experiment was divers times with the same Success, repeated; until my Lothness to have any thing done like making a Charm of a Room, caus'd me to forbid the Repetition of it. But enough of this. The Ministers of Boston and Charlstown, kept another Day of Prayer with Fasting for Goodwin's afflicted Family: After which, the Children had a Sensible, but a Gradual Abatement of their Sorrows, until Perfect Ease was at length restor'd unto them. The young Woman dwelt at my House the rest of the Winter; having by a vertuous Conversation made her self enough wel- come to the Family. But e're long, I thought it convenient for me to entertain my Congregation with a Sermon on the memorable Providences wherein these Children had been concern'd, [afterwards publish'd.] When I had begun to study my Sermon, her Tormentors again seiz'd upon her, and manag'd her with a special Design, as was plain, to disturb me in what I was then about. In the worst of her Extravagancies formerly, she was more dutiful to my self than I had reason to expect: But now her whole Carriage to me was with a Sawciness, which I was not us'd any where to be treated withal. She would knock at my Study door, affirming That AMERICAN PROSE some below would be glad to see me; tho' there was none that ask'd for me: And when I chid her for telling what was false, her Answer was Mrs Mather is always glad to see you! She would call to me with numberless Impertinencies: And when I came down, she would throw things at me, tho' none of them could ever hurt me: And she would Hector me at a strange rate for something I was doing above, and threaten me with Mischief and Reproach that should revenge it. Few Tortures now attended her, but such as were provok'd. Her Frolicks were numberless; if we may call them hers. I was in Latin telling some young Gentlemen, That if I should bid her look to God, her Eyes would be put out: Upon which her Eyes were presently serv'd so. Perceiving that her Troublers understood Latin, some Trials were thereupon made whether they understood Greek and Hebrew, which it seems, they also did; but the Indian Languages they did seem not so well to understand. When we went unto prayer, the Damons would throw her on the Floor at the Feet of him that pray'd, where she would whistle, and sing, and yell, to drown the Voice of the Prayer, and she would fetch Blows with her Fist, and Kicks with her Foot, at the Man that Pray'd: But still her Fist and Foot would always recoyl, when they came within an Inch or two of him, as if rebounding against a Wall : and then she would beg hard of other People to strike him, which (you may be sure) not being done, she cry'd out, He has wounded me in the Head. But before the Prayer was over, she would be laid for dead, wholly senseless, and (unto appearance) breathless, with her Belly swell'd like a Drum; And sometimes with croaking Noises in her. Thus wou'd she lie, most exactly with the Stiffness and Posture of one that had been two Days laid out for dead. Once lying thus, as he that was praying, was alluding to the Words of the Canaanitess, and saying, Lord, have mercy on a Daughter vex'd with a Devil, there came a big, but low Voice from her, in which the Spectators did not see her Mouth to move, There's two or three of us. When Prayer was ended, she would revive in a Minute or two, and continue as frolicksome as before. She thus continu'd until Saturday towards the Evening; when she assay 'd with as nimble, and various, and pleasant an Application, as could easily be us'd, for to divert the young Folks in the Family from such Exercises, as it was proper to meet the Sabbath withal: But SAMUEL SEW ALL 89 they refusing to be diverted, she fell fast asleep, and in two or three Hours wak'd perfectly her self, weeping bitterly to remember what had befallen her. When Christinas arriv'd, both she at my House, and her Sister at home, were by the Damons made very drunk, tho' we are fully satisfied they had no Strong Drink to make them so; nor would they willingly have been so, to have gain'd the World. When she began to feel her self Drunk, she complain'd, Oh! they say they will have me to keep Christmas with them. They will disgrace me, when they can do nothing else. And immediately the ridiculous Behaviours of one drunk, were with a wondrous Exactness represented in her Speaking, and Reeling and Spewing, and anon Sleeping, till she was well again. At last the Damons put her upon saying that she was dying, and the matter prov'd such, that we fear'd she really was; for she lay, she toss'd, she pull'd, just like one dying, and urg'd hard for some one to die with her, seeming loth to die alone. She argu'd concerning Death, with Paraphrases on the Thirty first Psalm, in Strains that quite amaz'd us: And concluded, 'that tho' she was loth to die, yet if God said she must, she must! Adding, that the Indians would quickly shed much Blood in the Countrey, and horrible Tragedies would be acted in the Land. Thus the Vexations of the Children ended. But after a while, they began again; and then one particular Minister taking a particular Compassion on the Family, set himself to serve them in the methods prescrib'd by our Lord Jesus Christ. Accordingly, the Lord being besought thrice in Three Days of Prayer, with Fasting on this occasion, the Family then saw their Deliverance perfected ; and the Children afterwards all of them, not only approv'd themselves Devout Christians; but unto the Praise of God reckon 'd these their Afflictions among the special Incentives of their Christianity. SAMUEL SEWALL FROM THE DIARY Dec. 20, [1676] Mrs. Usher lyes very sick of an Inflam- mation in the Throat, which began on Monday. Called at her House coming home, to tell Mr. Fosterling's Receipt, i. e, A Swallows Nest (the inside) stamped and applied to the throat outwardly. .... go AMERICAN PROSE July 8, 1677. New Meeting House Mane: In Sermon time there came in a female Quaker, in a Canvas Frock, her hair disshevelled and loose like a Periwigg, her face as black as ink, led by two other Quakers, and two other followed. It occasioned the greatest and most amazing uproar that I ever saw. Isaiah I. 12, 14 Friday May 22d. 1685, had a private Fast: the Magistrates of this town with their Wives here. Mr. Eliot prayed, Mr. Willard preached. I am afraid of Thy judgments Text Mother gave. Mr. Allen prayed; cessation half an hour. Mr. Cotton Mather prayed; Mr. Mather preached Ps. 79, 9. Mr. Moodey prayed about an hour and half; Sung the 79th Psalm from the 8th to the End: dis- tributed some Biskets, and Beer, Cider, Wine. The Lord hear in Heaven his dwelling place Monday, July 6th An Indian was branded in Court and had a piece of his Ear cut off for Burglary Thorsday, Novr. 12 After, the Ministers of this Town Come to the Court and complain against a Dancing Master who seeks to set up here and hath mixt Dances, and his time of Meeting is Lecture-Day; and 'tis reported he should say that by one Play he could teach more Divinity than Mr. Willard or the Old Testament. Mr. Moodey said 'twas not a time for N.E. to dance. Mr. Mather struck at the Root, speaking against mixt Dances Friday, Augt. 20. [1686]. Read the 143, 144 Psalms mane, and Sam Read the loth of Jeremiah. I was and am in great exercise about the Cross to be put into the Colours, and afraid if I should have a hand in 't whether it may not hinder my Entrance into the Holy Land Sabbath, Feb. 6. [1687]. Between hour after n. and hour after 12. at Noon, many Scores of great Guns fired at the Castle and Town, suppose upon account of the King's entring on the third year of his Reign This day the Lord's Supper was administered at the middle and North Meeting-Houses; the ratling of the Guns during almost all the time, gave them great disturbance. 'Twas never so in Boston before. Feb. 15, 1686/7. Js- Maylem carries a Cock at his back, with a Bell in 's hand, in the Main Street; several follow him blindfold, and under pretence of striking him or 's cock, with great cart-whips strike passengers, and make great disturbance SAMUEL SEW ALL 91 Wednesday, May 30. [1688] Mr. Joseph Eliot here, says the two days wherein he buried his Wife and Son, were the best that ever he had in the world Friday, Oct. 5 About 9. night, Thomas, an Indian and very usefull Servant of Mr. Oliver, hang'd himself in the Brewhouse. Satterday, Oct. 6. The Coroner sat on him, having a Jury, and ordered his burial by the highway with a Stake through his Grave Monday, Oct. 22. Mr. Isaac Walker is buried. Bearers, Mr. James Taylor, Mr. Francis Burroughs, Capt. Tho. Savage, Mr. Simeon Stoddard, Mr. George Elleston, Mr. Saml. Checkly; Deacon Eliot and I led the young widow, and had Scarfs and Gloves. The Lord fit me, that my Grave may be a Sweetening place for my Sin- polluted Body Sabbath, Jan. 12. [1689]. Richard Dumer, a flourishing youth of 9 years old, dies of the Small Pocks. I tell Sam. of it and what need he had to prepare for Death, and therefore to endeavour really to pray when he said over the Lord's Prayer: He seem'd not much to mind, eating an Apple; but when he came to say, Our father, he burst out into a bitter Cry, and when I askt what was the matter and he could speak, he burst out into a bitter Cry and said he was afraid he should die. I pray'd with him, and read Scriptures com- forting against death, as, O death where is thy sting, &c. All things yours. Life and Immortality brought to light by Christ, &c. 'Twas at noon Sabbath-day, August the four and twentieth, 1690. I publish my little Daughter's name to be Judith, held her up for Mr. Willard to baptize her. She cried not at all, though a pretty deal of water was poured on her by Mr. Willard when He baptized her Sept. 20 My little Judith languishes and moans, ready to die. Sabbath, Sept. 21. About 2 mane, I rise, read some Psalms and pray with my dear Daughter. Between 7. and 8. (Mr. Moodey preaches in the Forenoon) I call Mr. Willard, and he prays. Told Mr. Walter of her condition at the funeral, desiring him to give her a lift towards heaven. Mr. Baily sat with me in the Afternoon. I acquainted Him. Between 7. and 8. in the evening the child died, and I hope sleeps in Jesus 9 2 AMERICAN PROSE Augt. i gth, 1692 This day George Burrough, John Willard, Jno Procter, Martha Carrier and George Jacobs were executed at Salem, a very great number of Spectators being present. Mr. Cotton Mather was there, Mr. Sims, Hale, Noyes, Chiever &c. All of them said they were innocent, Carrier and all. Mr. Mather says they all died by a Righteous Sentence. Mr. Burrough by his Speech, Prayer, protestation of his Innocence, did much move unthinking persons, which occasions their speaking hardly concerning his being executed. Monday, Sept. 19, 1692. About noon, at Salem, Giles Corey was press'd to death for standing mute; much pains was used with him two days, one after another, by the Court and Capt. Gardner of Nantucket who had been of his acquaintance; but all in vain. Nov. 6. Joseph threw a knop of Brass and hit his Sister Betty on the forhead so as to make it bleed and swell; upon which, and for his playing at Prayer-time, and eating when Return Thanks, I whipd him pretty smartly. When I first went in (call'd by his Grandmother) he sought to shadow and hide himself from me behind the head of the Cradle: which gave me the sorrowfull remembrance of Adam's carriage. Fifth-day, May 7, 1696. Col. Shrimpton marries his Son to his wive's Sisters daughter, Elisabeth Richardson. All of the Council in Town were invited to the Wedding, and many others. Only I was not spoken to. As I was glad not to be there because the lawfullness of the intermarrying of Cousin-Germans is doubted; so it grieves me to be taken up in the Lips of Talkers, and to be in such a Condition that Col. Shrimpton shall be under a temptation in defence of Himself, to wound me; if any should happen to say, Why was not such a one here ? The Lord help me not to do, or neglect any thing that should prevent the dwelling of brethren together in unity. And, Oh most bountifull and Gracious God, who givest lib- erally and upbraidest not, admit me humbly to bespeak an Invitation to the Marriage of the Lamb, and let thy Grace with me and in me be sufficient for me in making my self Ready 6th. day, Deer. 25, 1696. We bury our little daughter. In the chamber, Joseph in course reads Ecclesiastes 3d. a time to be born and a time to die Elisabeth, Rev. 22. Hannah, the 38th Psalm. I speak to each, as God helped, to our mutual comfort I hope. I SAMUEL SEW ALL 93 order'd Sam. to read the 102. Psalm. Elisha Cooke, Edw. Hutchin- son, John Baily, and Josia Willard bear my little daughter to the Tomb. Note. Twas wholly dry, and I went at noon to see in what order things were set; and there I was entertain'd with a view of, and converse with, the Coffins of my dear Father Hull, Mother Hull, Cousin Quinsey, and my Six Children: for the little posthumous was now took up and set in upon that that stands on John's: so are three, one upon another twice, on the bench at the end. My Mother ly's on a lower bench, at the end, with head to her Husband's head: and I order'd little Sarah to be set on her Grandmother's feet. 'Twas an awfull yet pleasing Treat; Having said, The Lord knows who shall be brought hether next, I came away. Mr. Willard pray'd with us the night before; I gave him a Ring worth about 203. Sent the President one, who is sick of the Gout. He prayd with my little daughter. Mr. Oakes, the Physician, Major Townsend, Speaker, of whoes wife I was a Bearer, and was join'd with me in going to Albany and has been Civil and treated me several times. Left a Ring at Madam Cooper's for the Governour. Gave not one pair of Gloves save to the Bearers Copy of the Bill I put up on the Fast day; giving it to Mr. Willard as he pass'd by, and standing up at the reading of it, and bowing when finished; in the Afternoon. Samuel Sewall, sensible of the reiterated strokes of God upon himself and family; and being sensible, that as to the Guilt con- tracted upon the opening of the late Commission of Oyer and Ter- miner at Salem (to which the order for this Day relates) he is, upon many accounts, more concerned than any that he knows of, Desires to take the Blame and shame of it, Asking pardon of men, And especially desiring prayers that God, who has an Unlimited Authority, would pardon that sin and all other his sins; personal and Relative: And according to his infinite Benignity, and Sovereignty, Not Visit the sin of him, or of any other, upon himself or any of his, nor upon the Land: But that He would powerfully defend him against all Temptations to Sin, for the future; and vouchsafe him the effi- cacious, saving Conduct of his Word and Spirit. Sixth-day, Octr. i. 1697. Jer. Balchar's sons came for us to go to the Island. My Wife, through Indisposition, could not goe: But 94 AMERICAN PROSE I carried Sam. Hannah, Elisa, Joseph, Mary and Jane Tapan: I prevail 'd with Mr. Willard to goe, He carried Simon, Elisabeth, William, Margaret, and Elisa Tyng: Had a very comfortable Passage thither and home again; though against Tide: Had first Butter, Honey, Curds and Cream. For Dinner, very good Rost Lamb, Turkey, Fowls, Applepy. After Dinner sung the 121 Psalm. Note. A Glass of spirits my Wife sent stood upon a Joint-Stool which, Simon W. jogging, it fell down and broke all to shivers: I said twas a lively Emblem of our Fragility and Mortality. When came home met Capt Scottow led between two: He came to visit me and fell down and hurt himself; bruis'd his Nose, within a little of our House Second-day, Febr. 14. 1697/8 Col. Saml. Shrimpton was buried with Arms; Ten Companies, 8, Muddy River and Sconce: No Horse nor Trumpet: but a Horse led Mr. Dyers, the Colonel's would not endure the cloa thing: Mourning Coach also and Horses in Mourning: Scutcheon on their sides and Deaths heads on their foreheads: Coach stood by the way here and there and mov'd soli- tarily Third-Day, July, 25. 1699 When I came home Sam, Hannah and Joanna being gon to Dorchester with Madam Usher to the Lecture, I found the House empty and Lock'd. Taking the key I came in and made a shift to find a solitary Dinner of bak'd Pigeons and a piece of Cake. How happy I were, if I could once become wise as a Serpent and harmless as a Dove! .... Tuesday, June, loth. [1701]. Having last night heard that Josiah Willard had cut off his hair (a very full head of hair) and put on a Wigg, I went to him this morning. Told his Mother what I came about, and she call'd him. I enquired of him what Extremity had forced him to put off his own hair, and put on a Wigg? He answered, none at all. But said that his Hair was streight, and that it parted behinde. Seem'd to argue that men might as well shave their hair off their head, as off their face. I answered men were men before they had hair on their faces, (half of mankind have never any). God seems to have ordain'd our Hair as a Test, to see whether we can bring our minds to be content to be at his finding: or whether we would be our own Carvers, Lords, and come no more at Him. SAMUEL SEW ALL 95 Octr. 20. Mr. Cotton Mather came to Mr. Wilkins's shop, and there talked very sharply against me as if I had used his father worse than a Neger; spake so loud that people in the street might hear him. Then went and told Sam, That one pleaded much for Negros, and he had used his father worse than a Negro, and told him that was his Father. I had read in the morn Mr. Dod's saying; Sanctified Afflictions are good Promotions. I found it now a cordial. And this caus'd me the rather to set under my Father and Mother's Epitaph, Psal. 27.10 Octr. 9. I sent Mr. Increase Mather a Hanch of very good Venison; I hope hi that I did not treat him as a Negro Octobr. 22. 1701. I, with Major Walley and Capt. Saml Checkly, speak with Mr. Cotton Mather at Mr. Wilkins's. I expostulated with him from i Tim. 5.1. Rebuke not an elder. He said he had consider'd that : I told him of his book of the Law of Kindness for the Tongue, whether this were correspondent with that. Whether cor- respondent with Christ's Rule: He said, having spoken to me before there was no need to speak to me again; and so justified his reviling me behind my back. Charg'd the Council with Lying, Hypocrisy, Tricks, and I know not what all. I ask'd him if it were done with that Meekness as it should; answer'd, yes Thorsday, Octr. 23. Mr. Increase Mather said at Mr. Wilkins's, If I am a Servant of Jesus Christ, some great Judgment will fall on Capt. Sewall, or his family Second-Day; Jany. 24. 1703/4 I paid Capt. Belchar 8-15-0. Took 243 in my pocket, and gave my Wife the rest of my cash 4.3-8, and tell her she shall now keep the Cash; if I want I will borrow of her. She has a better faculty than I at managing Affairs: I will assist her; and will endeavour to live upon my Salary; will see what it will doe. The Lord give his Blessing Feria Sexta, Junii, 30, 1704 After Dinner, about 3. p.m. I went to see the Execution Many were the people that saw upon Broughton's Hill. But when I came to see how the River was cover'd with People, I was amazed: Some say there were 100 Boats. 150 Boats and Canoes, saith Cousin Moody of York. He told them. Mr. Cotton Mather came with Capt. Quelch and six others for Execution from the Prison to Scarlet's Wharf, and from thence in the Boat to the place of Execution about the midway 96 AMERICAN PROSE between Hanson's point and Broughton's Warehouse. Mr. Bridge was there also. When the scaffold was hoisted to a due height, the seven Malefactors went up; Mr. Mather pray'd for them standing upon the Boat. Ropes were all fasten'd to the Gallows (save King, who was Repriev'd). When the Scaffold was let to sink, there was such a Screech of the Women that my wife heard it sitting in our Entry next the Orchard, and was much surprised at it ; yet the wind was sou-west. Our house is a full mile from the place Feria septima, Apr. 3. [1708]. I went to Cous. Burner's to see his News-Letter: while I was there Mr. Nathl Henchman came in with his Flaxen Wigg; I wish'd him Joy, i.e. of his Wedding. I could not observe that he said a Word to me; and generally he tupi'd his back upon me, when none were in the room but he and I. This is the Second tune I have spoken to him, in vain, as to any Answer from him. First was upon the death of his Wife, I cross'd the way near our house, and ask'd him how he did: He only shew'd his Teeth Augt. 26. Mr. Henry Flint, in the way from Lecture came to me and mention'd my Letter, and would have discoursed about it in the Street: I prevail'd with him to come and dine with me, and after that I and he discours'd alone. He argued that saying Saint Luke was an indifferent thing; and twas commonly used; and therefore, he might use it. Mr. Brattle used it. I argued that 'twas not Scriptural; that twas absurd and partial to saint Matthew &c. and Not to say Saint Moses, Saint Samuel &c. And if we said Saint we must goe thorough, and keep the Holy-days appointed for them, and turn'd to the Order hi the Common-Prayer Book April, 30. [1710] Note. Last night the Rudder of Capt. Rose's Ship was cut; The reason was Capt. Belchar's sending of her away Laden with Wheat in this time when Wheat is so dear. Second-day, May, i, 1710. Fourty or fifty Men get together and seek some body to head them to hale Capt. Roses Ship ashoar: but they were dissuaded by several sober Men to desist, which they did Octobr. 22. [1713]. I go to Salem, visit Mrs. Epes, Col. Hathorne. See Mr. Noyes marry Mr. Aaron Porter and Mrs. Susan Sewall, at my Brother's. Was a pretty deal of Company present; Mr. Hirst SAMUEL SEW ALL 97 and wife, Mr. Blower, Mr. Prescot, Mr. Tuft Senr. and junr, Madam Leverett, Foxcroft, Goff, Kitchen; Mr. Samuel Porter, Father of the Bridegroom, I should have said before. Many young Gentle- men and Gentlewomen. Mr. Noyes made a Speech, said Love was the Sugar to sweeten every Condition in the married Relation. Pray'd once. Did all very well. After the Sack-Posset, &c. Sung the 45th. Psalm from the 8th verse to the end, five staves. I set it to Windsor Tune. I had a very good Turky-Leather Psalm-Book which I look'd in while Mr. Noyes Read: and then I gave it to the Bridegroom saying, "I give you this Psalm-Book in order to your perpetuating this Song: and I would have you pray that it may be an Introduction to our Singing with the Choir above." .... April, i. [1719]. Midweek. Col. Townsend and Mr. Wood dine with me. In the morning I dehorted Sam. Hirst and Grindal Raw- son from playing Idle Tricks because 'twas first of April; They were the greatest fools that did so. N.E. Men came hither to avoid anni- versary days, the keeping of them, such as the 25th of Deer. How displeasing must it be to God, the giver of our Time, to keep anni- versary days to play the fool with ourselves and others 8r. i. [1720]. Satterday, I dine at Mr. Stoddard's: from thence I went to Madam Winthrop's just at 3. Spake to her, saying, my loving wife died so soon and suddenly, 'twas hardly convenient for me to think of Marrying again; however I came to this Resolution, that I would not make my Court to any person without first Con- sulting with her. Had a pleasant discourse about 7 Single persons sitting in the Fore-seat 71. 2Qth, viz. Madm Rebekah Dudley, Catharine Winthrop, Bridget Usher, Deliverance Legg, Rebekah Loyd, Lydia Colman, Elizabeth Bellingham. She propounded one and another for me; but none would do, said Mrs. Loyd was about her Age. Octobr. 3. 2. Waited on Madam Winthrop again; 'twas a little while before she came in. Her daughter Noyes being there alone with me, I said, I hoped my Waiting on her Mother would not be disagreeable to her. She answer'd she should not be against that that might be for her comfort By and by in came Mr. Airs, Chaplain of the Castle, and hang'd up his Hat, which I was a little startled at, it seeming as if he was to lodge there. At last Madam Winthrop came too. After a considerable time, I went up to her and 98 AMERICAN PROSE said, if it might not be inconvenient I desired to speak with her. She assented, and spake of going into another Room; but Mr. Airs and Mrs. Noyes presently rose up, and went out, leaving us there alone. Then I usher'd in Discourse from the names in the Fore- seat; at last I pray'd that Katharine might be the person assign'd for me. She instantly took it up in the way of Denyal, as if she had catch'd at an Opportunity to do it, saying she could not do it before she was asked. Said that was her mind unless she should Change it, which she believed she should not; could not leave her Children. I express'd my Sorrow that she should do it so Speedily, pray'd her Consideration, and ask'd her when I should wait on her agen. She setting no time, I mention'd that day Sennight. Gave her Mr. Willard's Fountain open'd with the little print and verses; saying, I hop'd if we did well read that book, we should meet together here- after, if we did not now. She took the Book and put in her Pocket. Took Leave 8r. 6th. A little after 6. p.m. I went to Madam Winthrop's. She was not within. I gave Sarah Chickering the Maid 23., Juno, who brought in wood, is. Afterward the Nurse came in, I gave her i8d, having no other small Bill. After awhile Dr. Noyes came in with his Mother; and quickly after his wife came in: They sat talking, I think till eight a-clock. I said I fear'd I might be some Interruption to their Business: Dr. Noyes reply'd pleasantly: He fear'd they might be an Interruption to me, and went away. Madam seem'd to harp upon the same string. Must take care of her Children ; could not leave that House and Neighbourhood where she had dwelt so long. I told her she might doe her children as much or more good by bestowing what she laid out in Hous-keeping, upon them. Said her Son would be of Age the 7th of August. I said it might be incon- venient for her to dwell with her Daughter-in-Law, who must be Mistress of the House. I gave her a piece of Mr. Belcher's Cake and Ginger-Bread wrapped up in a clean sheet of Paper; told her of her Father's kindness to me when Treasurer, and I Constable. My Daughter Judith was gon from me and I was more lonesom might help to forward one another in our Journey to Canaan. Mr. Eyre came within the door; I saluted him, ask'd how Mr. Clark did, and he went away. I took leave about 9 aclock. I told I came now to refresh her Memory as to Monday-night; said she had not forgot it. SAMUEL SEW ALL 99 In discourse with her, I ask'd leave to speak with her Sister; I meant to gain Madm Mico's favour to persuade her Sister. She seem'd surpris'd and displeas'd, and said she was in the same condi- tion! .... 8r. loth In the Evening I visited Madam Winthrop, who treated me with a great deal of Curtesy; Wine, Marmalade 8r. nth. I writ a few Lines to Madam Winthrop to this pur- pose: "Madam, These wait on you with Mr. Mayhew's Sermon, and Account of the state of the Indians on Martha's Vinyard. I thank you for your Unmerited Favours of yesterday; and hope to have the Happiness of Waiting on you to-morrow before Eight a-clock after Noon. I pray GOD to keep you, and give you a joyfull entrance upon the Two Hundred and twenty ninth year of Chris- topher Columbus his Discovery; and take Leave, who am, Madam, your humble Servt. S. S. Sent this by Deacon Green, who deliver'd it to Sarah Chicker- ing, her Mistress not being at home. 8r. 12 At Madm Winthrop's Steps I took leave of Capt Hill, &c. Mrs. Anne Cotton came to door (twas before 8.) said Madam Winthrop was within, directed me into the little Room, where she was full of work behind a Stand; Mrs. Cotton came in and stood. Madam Winthrop pointed to her to set me a Chair. Madam Win- throp's Countenance was much changed from what 'twas on Monday, look'd dark and lowering. At last, the work, (black stuff or Silk) was taken away, I got my Chair in place, had some Converse, but very Cold and indifferent to what 'twas before. Ask'd her to acquit me of Rudeness if I drew off her Glove. Enquiring the reason, I told her twas great odds between handling a dead Goat, and a living Lady. Got it off. I told her I had one Petition to ask of her, that was, that she would take off the Negative she laid on me the third of October; She readily answer'd she could not, and enlarg'd upon it; She told me of it so soon as she could; could not leave her house, children, neighbours, business. I told her she might do som Good to help and support me. Mentioning Mrs. Gookin, Nath, the widow Weld was spoken of; said I had visited Mrs. Denison. Z told her Yes! After- ward I said, If after a first and second Vagary she would Accept of me returning, Her Victorious Kindness and Good Will would be very ioo AMERICAN PROSE Obliging. She thank'd me for my Book, (Mr. Mayhew's Sermon), But said not a word of the Letter. When she insisted on the Nega- tive, I pray'd there might be no more Thunder and Lightening, I should not sleep all night. I gave her Dr. Preston, The Church's Marriage and the Church's Carriage, which cost me 6s at the Sale. The door standing open, Mr. Airs came in, hung up his Hat, and sat down. After awhile, Madam Winthrop moving, he went out. Jno Eyre look'd in, I said How do ye, or, your servant Mr. Eyre: but heard no word from him. Sarah fill'd a Glass of Wine, she drank to me, I to her, She sent Juno home with me with a good Lantern, I gave her 6d. and bid her thank her Mistress. In some of our Dis- course, I told her I had rather go to the Stone-House adjoining to her, than to come to her against her mind. Told her the reason why I came every other night was lest I should drink too deep draughts of Pleasure. She had talk'd of Canary, her kisses were to me better than the best Canary. Explain'd the expression Concerning Colum- bus 8r. 17 In the Evening I visited Madam Winthrop, who Treated me Courteously but not in Clean Linen as sometimes. She said, she did not know whether I would come again, or no. I ask'd her how she could so impute inconstancy to me. (I had not visited her since Wednesday night being unable to get over the Indisposition received by the Treatment received that night, and / must in it seem'd to sound like a made piece of Formality.) Gave her this day's Gazett 8r. 19. Midweek, Visited Madam Winthrop; Sarah told me she was at Mr. Walley's, would not come home till late. I gave her Hannah 3 oranges with her Duty, not knowing whether I should find her or no. Was ready to go home: but said if I knew she was there, I would go thither. Sarah seem'd to speak with pretty good Cour- age, She would be there. I went and found her there, with Mr. Walley and his wife in the little Room below. At 7 a-clock I mentioned going home; at 8. 1 put on my Coat, and quickly waited on her home. She found occasion to speak loud to the servant, as if she had a mind to be known. Was Courteous to me; but took occasion to speak pretty earnestly about my keeping a Coach: I said 'twould cost 100. per annum: she said twould cost but 40. Spake much against John Winthrop, his false-heartedness. Mr. Eyre came in and sat SAMUEL SEW ALL 101 awhile; I offer'd him Dr. Incr. Mather's Sermons, whereof Mr. Appleton's Ordination Sermon was one; said he had them already. I said I would give him another. Exit. Came away somewhat late. 8r. 20 Madam Winthrop not being at Lecture, I went thither first; found her very Serene with her daughter Noyes, Mrs. Bering, and the widow Shipreev sitting at a little Table, she in her arm'd Chair. She drank to me, and I to Mrs. Noyes. After awhile pray'd the favour to speak with her. She took one of the candles, and went into the best Room, clos'd the shutters, sat down upon the Couch. She told me Madam Usher had been there, and said the Coach must be set on Wheels, and not by Rusting. She spake som- thing of my needing a Wigg. Ask'd me what her Sister said to me. I told her, She said, If her Sister were for it, She would not hinder it. But I told her, she did not say she would be glad to have me for her brother. Said, I shall keep you in the Cold, and asked her if she would be within to morrow night, for we had had but a running Feat. She said she could not tell whether she should, or no. I took leave. As were drinking at the Governour's, he said: In England the Ladies minded little more than that they might have Money, and Coaches to ride in. I said, And New-England brooks its Name. At which Mr. Dudley smiled. Govr said they were not quite so bad here. 8r. 21. Friday, My Son, the Minister, came to me p.m. by appointment and we pray one for another in the Old Chamber; more especially respecting my Courtship. About 6. 'a-clock I go to Madam Winthrop's; Sarah told me her Mistress was gon out, but did not tell me whither she went. She presently prder'd me a Fire; so I went in, having Dr. Sibb's Bowels with me to read. I read the two first Sermons, still no body came in: at last about 9. a-clock Mr. Jno Eyre came in; I took the opportunity to say to him as I had done to Mrs. Noyes before, that I hoped my Visiting his Mother would not be disagreeable to him; He answered me with much Respect. When twas after 9. a-clock He of himself said he would go and call her, she was but at one of his Brothers: A while after I heard Madam Winthrop's voice, enquiring somthing about John. After a good while and Clapping the Garden door twice or thrice, she came in. I mention'd somthing of the lateness; she banter'd AMERICAN PROSE me, and said I was later. She receiv'd me Courteously. I ask'd when our proceedings should be made publick: She said They were like to be no more publick than they were already. Offer'd me no Wine that I remember. I rose up at n a-clock to come away, saying I would put on my Coat, She offer'd not to help me. I pray'd her that Juno might light me home, she open'd the Shutter, and said twas pretty light abroad; Juno was weary and gon to bed. So I came home by Star-light as well as I could. At my first coming in, I gave Sarah five shillings. I writ Mr. Eyre his Name in his book with the date Octobr. 21. 1720. It cost me 8s. Jehovah jireh! Madam told me she had visited M. Mico, Wendell, and Wm Clark of the South. Octobr. 22. Daughter Cooper visited me before my going out of Town, staid till about Sun set. I brought her going near as far as the Orange Tree. Coming back, near Leg's Corner, Little David Jeffries saw me, and looking upon me very lovingly, ask'd me if I was going to see his Grandmother ? I said, Not to-night. Gave him a peny, and bid him present my Service to his Grandmother. Octobr. 24. I went in the Hackny Coach through the Common, stop'd at Madam Winthrop's (had told her I would take my departure from thence). Sarah came to the door with Katee in her Anns: but I did not think to take notice of the Child. Call'd her Mistress. I told her, being encourag'd by David Jeffries loving eyes, and sweet Words, I was come to enquire whether she could find in her heart to leave that House and Neighbourhood, and go and dwell with me at the South-end; I think she said softly, Not yet. I told her It did not ly in my Lands to keep a Coach. If I should, I should be in danger to be brought to keep company with her Neighbour Brooker, (he was a little before sent to prison for Debt). Told her I had an Antipathy against those who would pretend to give themselves; but nothing of their Estate. I would a proportion of my Estate with my self. And I suppos'd she would do so. As to a Perriwig, My best and greatest Friend, I could not possibly have a greater, began to find me with Hair before I was born, and had continued to do so ever since; and I could not fincl in my heart to go to another. She com- mended the book I gave her, Dr. Preston, the Church Marriage; quoted him saying 'twas inconvenient keeping out of a Fashion commonly used. I said the Time and Tide did circumscribe my Visit. She gave me a Dram of Black-Cherry Brandy, and gave me SAMUEL SEWALL 103 a lump of the Sugar that was in it. She wish'd me a good Journy. I pray'd God to keep her, and came away. Had a very pleasant Journy to Salem Novr. 2. Midweek, went again, and found Mrs. Alden there, who quickly went out. Gave her about ^ pound of Sugar Almonds, cost 35 per . Carried them on Monday. She seem'd pleas'd with them, ask'd what they cost. Spake of giving her a Hundred pounds per annum if I dy'd before her. Ask'd her what sum she would give me, if she should dy first ? Said I would give her time to Consider of it. She said she heard as if I had given all to my Children by Deeds of Gift. I told her 'twas a mistake, Point-Judith was mine &c. That in England, I own'd, my Father's desire was that it should go to my eldest Son; 'twas 2o per annum; she thought 'twas forty. I think when I seem'd to excuse pressing this, she seem'd to think twas best to speak of it; a long winter was coming on. Gave me a Glass or two of Canary. Novr. 4th. Friday, Went again about 7. a-clock; found there Mr. John Walley and his wife: sat discoursing pleasantly. I shew'd them Isaac Moses's Writing. Madam W. serv'd Comfeits to us. After a-while a Table was spread, and Supper was set. I urg'd Mr. Walley to Crave a Blessing; but he put it upon me. About 9. they went away. I ask'd Madam what fashioned Neck-lace I should present her with, She said, None at all. I ask'd her Whereabout we left off last time; mention'd what I had offer'd to give her; Ask'd her what she would give me; She said she could not Change her Condition: She had said so from the beginning; could not be so far from her Children, the Lecture. Quoted the Apostle Paul affirming that a single Life was better than a Married. I answer'd That was for the present Distress. Said she had not pleasure in things of that nature as formerly: I said, you are the fitter to make me a Wife. If she held in that mind, I must go home and bewail my Rashness in making more haste than good Speed. However, con- sidering the Supper, I desired her to be within next Monday night, if we liv'd so long. Assented. She charg'd me with saying, that she must put away Juno, if she came to me: I utterly denyed it, it never came in my heart; yet she insisted upon it; saying it came in upon discourse about the Indian woman that obtained her Freedom this Court. About 10. I said I would not disturb the good orders 104 AMERICAN PROSE of her House, and came away. She not seeming pleas'd with my Coming away. Spake to her about David Jeffries, had not seen him. Monday, Novr. yth I went to Mad. Winthrop; found her rocking her little Katee in the Cradle. I excus'd my Coming so late (near Eight). She set me an arm'd Chair and Cusheon; and so the Cradle was between her arm'd Chair and mine. Gave her the rem- nant of my Almonds; She did not eat of them as before; but laid them away; I said I came to enquire whether she had alter 'd her mind since Friday, or remained of the same mind still. She said, Thereabouts. I told her I loved her, and was so fond as to think that she loved me: She said had a great respect for me. I told her, I had made her an offer, without asking any advice; she had so many to advise with, that twas a hindrance. The Fire was come to one short Brand besides the Block, which Brand was set up in end; at last it fell to pieces, and no Recruit was made: She gave me a Glass of Wine. I think I repeated again that I would go home and bewail my Rashness in making more haste than good Speed. I would endeavour to contain myself, and not go on to sollicit her to do that which she could not Consent to. Took leave of her. As came down the steps she bid me have a Care. Treated me Courteously. Told her she had enter'd the 4th year of her Widowhood. I had given her the News-Letter before: I did not bid her draw off her Glove as sometime I had done. Her Dress was not so clean as somtime it had been. Jehovah jireh! Midweek, gr. gth. Dine at Bro Stoddard's: were so kind as to enquire of me if they should invite M'm Winthrop; I answer'd No At night our Meeting was at the Widow Belknap's. Gave each one of the Meeting One of Mr. Homes's Sermons, 12 in all; She sent her servant home with me with a Lantern. Madam Win- throp's Shutters were open as I pass'd by Novr. nth. Went not to Mm. Winthrop's. This is the 2d Withdraw Novr. 14. Madam Winthrop visits my daughter Sewall with her Katee About the middle of Deer Madam Winthrop made a Treat for her Children; Mr. Sewall, Prince, Willoughby: I knew nothing of it; but the same day abode in the Council Chamber for fear of the Rain, and din'd alone upon Kilby's Pyes and good Beer SARAH K. KNIGHT 105 March, 5. [1721]. Lord's Day, Serene, and good but very cold, yet had a comfortable opportunity to celebrate the Lord's Supper. Mr. Prince, p.m. preach'd a Funeral Sermon from Psal. oo. 10. Gave Capt. Hill a good Character. Just as I sat down in my Seat, one of my Fore-teeth in my under Jaw came out, and I put it in my pocket. This old servant and daughter of Musick leaving me, does thereby give me warning that I must shortly resign my Head: the Lord help me to do it cheerfully! SARAH K. KNIGHT FROM THE JOURNAL Monday, Octb'r. ye second, 1704. About three o'clock after- noon, I begun my Journey from Boston to New-Haven; being about two Hundred Mile. My Kinsman, Capt. Robert Luist, waited on me as fair as Dedham, where I was to meet ye Western post. I vissitted the Reverd. Mr. Belcher, ye Minister of ye town, and tarried there till evening, in hopes ye post would come along. But he not coming, I resolved to go to Billingses where he used to lodg, being 12 miles further. But being ignorant of the way, Madm Billings, seing no persuasions of her good spouses or hers could pre- vail with me to Lodg there that night, Very kindly went wyth me to ye Tavern, where I hoped to get my guide, And desired the Hostess to inquire of her guests whether any of them would go with mee. But they being tyed by the Lipps to a pewter engine, scarcely allowed themselves time to say what clownish ***** [Here half a page of the MS. is gone.} * * * Pieces of eight, I told her no, I would not be accessary to such extortion. Then John shan't go, sais shee. N6, indeed, shan't hee; And held forth at that rate a long tune, that I began to fear I was got among the Quaking tribe, beleeving not a Limbertong'd sister among them could out do Madm. Hostes. Upon this, to my no small surprise, son John arrose, and gravely demanded what I would give him to go with me? Give you, sais io6 AMERICAN PROSE I, are you John? Yes, says he, for want of a Better; And behold! this John look't as old as my Host, and perhaps had bin a man in the last Century. Well, Mr. John, sais I, make your demands. Why, half a pss. of eight and a dram, sais John. I agreed, and gave him a Dram (now) in hand to bind the bargain. My hostess catechis'd John for going so cheep, saying his poor wife would break her heart ***** [Here another half page of the MS is gone.] His shade on his Hors resembled a Globe on a Gate post. His habitt, Hors and furniture, its looks and goings Incomparably answered the rest. Thus Jogging on with an easy pace, my Guide telling mee it was dangero's to Ride hard in the Night, (whch his horse had the the sence to avoid,) Hee entertained me with the Adventurs he had passed by late Rideing, and eminent Dangers he had escaped, so that, Remembring the Hero's in Parismus and the Knight of the Oracle, I didn't know but I had mett wth a Prince disguis'd. When we had Ridd about an how'r, wee come into a thick swamp, wch. by Reason of a great fogg, very much startled mee, it being now very Dark. But nothing dismay'd John: Hee had encountered a thousand and a thousand such Swamps, having a Universal! Knowledge in the woods; and readily Answered all my inquiries wch. were not a few. In about an how'r, or something more, after we left the Swamp, we come to Billinges, where I was to Lodg. My Guide dismounted and very Complasantly help't me down and shewd the door, signing to me wth his hand to Go in; wch I Gladly did But had not gone many steps into the Room, ere I was Interogated by a young Lady I understood afterwards was the Eldest daughter of the family, with these, or words to this purpose, (viz.) Law for mee what in the world brings You here at this time a night ? I never see a woman on the Rode so Dreadfull' late, in all the days of my versall life. Who are You ? Where are You going ? I'me scar'd out of my witts with much now of the same Kind. I stood aghast, Prepareing to reply, when in comes my Guide to him Madam turn'd, Roreing out: Lawfull heart, John, is it You? how de do! Where in the world are you going with this woman? Who is she? John made SARAH K. KNIGHT 107 no Ansr. but sat down in the corner, fumbled out his black Junk, and saluted that instead of Debb; she then turned agen to mee and fell anew into her silly questions, without asking me to sitt down. I told her shee treated me very Rudely, and I did not think it my duty to answer her unmannerly Questions. But to get ridd of them, I told her I come there to have the post's company with me to-morrow on my Journey, &c. Miss star'd awhile, drew a chair, bid me sitt, And then run up stairs and putts on two or three Rings, (or else I had not seen them before,) and returning, sett herself just before me, showing the way to Reding, that I might see her Orna- ments, perhaps to gain the more respect. But her Granam's new Rung sow, had it appeared, would [have] affected me as much. I paid honest John wth money and dram according to contract, and Dismist him, and pray'd Miss to shew me where I must Lodg. Shee conducted me to a parlour in a little back Lento, wch was almost fill'd wth the bedsted, wch was so high that I was forced to climb on a chair to gitt up to ye wretched bed that lay on it; on wch having Stretcht my tired Limbs, and lay'd my head on a Sad-colourd pillow, I began to think on the transactions of ye past day. Tuesday, October ye third, about 8 in the morning, I with the Post proceeded forward without observing any thing remarkable; And about two, afternoon, Arrived at the Post's second stage, where the western Post mett him and exchanged Letters. Here, having called for something to eat, ye woman bro't in a Twisted thing like a cable, but something whiter; and laying it on the bord, tugg'd for life to bring it into a capacity to spread; wch having wth great pains accomplished, shee serv'd in a dish of Pork and Cabage, I suppose the remains of Dinner. The sause was of a deep Purple, wch I tho't was boil'd in her dye Kettle; the bread was Indian, and every thing on the Table service Agreeable to these. I, being hungry, gott a little down; but my stomach was soon cloy'd, and what cabbage I swallowed" serv'd me for a Cudd the whole day after. Having here discharged the Ordnary for self and Guide, (as I understood was the custom,) About Three afternoon went on with my Third Guide, who Rode very hard; and having crossed Provi- dence Ferry, we come to a River wch they Generally Ride thro'. But I dare not venture; so the Post got a Ladd and Cannoo to carry me to tother side, and hee rid thro' and Led my hors. The Cannoo 108 AMERICAN PROSE was very small and shallow, so that when we were in she seem'd redy to take in water, which greatly terrified mee, and caused me to be very circumspect, sitting with my hands fast on each side, my eyes stedy, not daring so much as to lodg my tongue a hair's breadth more on one side of my mouth then tother, nor so much as think on Lott's wife, for a wry thought would have oversett our wherey: But was soon put out of this pain, by feeling the Cannoo on shore, wch I as soon almost saluted with my feet; and Rewarding my sculler, again mounted and made the best of our way forwards. The Rode here was very even and ye day pleasant, it being now near Sunsett. But the Post told mee we had neer 14 miles to Ride to the next Stage, (where we were to Lodg.) I askt him of the rest of the Rode, foreseeing wee must travail in the night. Hee told mee there was a bad River we were to Ride thro', wch was so very firce a hors could sometimes hardly stem it: But it was but narrow, and wee should soon be over. I cannot express The concern of mind this relation sett me in: no thoughts but those of the dang'ros River could entertain my Imagination, and they were as formidable as varies, still Tormenting me with blackest Ideas of my Approching fate Sometimes seing my self drowning, otherwhiles drowned, and at the best like a holy Sister Just come out of a Spiritual Bath in dripping Garments. Now was the Glorious Luminary, wth his swift Coursers arrived at his Stage, leaving poor me wth the rest of this part of the lower world in darkness, with which wee were soon Surrounded. The only Glimering we now had was from the spangled Skies, Whose Imper- fect Reflections rendered every Object formidable. Each lifeless Trunk, with its shatter'd Limbs, appear'd an Armed Enymie; and every little stump like a Ravenous devourer. Nor could I so much as discern my Guide, when at any distance, which added to the terror. Thus, absolutely lost in Thought, and dying with the very thoughts of drowning, I come up wth the post, who I did not see till even with his Hors: he told mee he stopt for mee; and wee Rode on Very deliberatly a few paces, when we entred a Thickett of Trees and Shrubbs, and I perceived by the Hors's going, we were on the descent of a Hill, wch, as wee come neerer the bottom, 'twas totaly dark wth the Trees that surrounded it. But I knew by the Going of the Hors wee had entred the water, wch my Guide told mee was SARAH K. KNIGHT 109 the hazzardos River he had told me off; and hee, Riding up close to my Side, Bid me not fear we should be over Imediatly. I now ralyed all the Courage I was mistriss of, Knowing that I must either Venture my fate of drowning, or be left like ye Children in the wood. So, as the Post bid me, I gave Reins to my Nagg; and sitting as Stedy as Just before in the Cannoo, in a few minutes got safe to the other side, which hee told mee was the Narragansett country Being come to mr. Havens', I was very civilly Received, and courteously entertained, in a clean comfortable House; and the Good woman was very active in helping off my Riding clothes, and then ask't what I would eat. I told her I had some Chocolett, if shee would prepare it; which with the help of some Milk, and a little clean brass Kettle, she soon effected to my satisfaction. I then betook me to my Apartment, wch was a little Room parted from the Kitchen by a single bord partition; where, after I had noted the Occurrances of the past day, I went to bed, which, tho' pretty hard, Yet neet and handsome. But I could get no sleep, because of the Clamor of some of the Town tope-ers in next Room, Who were entred into a strong debate concerning ye Signifycation of the name of their Country, (viz.) Narraganset. One said it was named so by ye Indians, because there grew a Brier there, of a prodigious Highth and bigness, the like hardly ever known, called by the Indians Narragansett; And quotes an Indian of so Barberous a name for his Author, that I could not write it. His Antagonist Replyed no It was from a Spring it had its name, wch hee well knew where it was, which was extreem cold in summer, and as Hott as could be imagined in the winter, which was much resorted too by the natives, and by them called Narra- gansett, (Hott and Cold,) and that was the originall of their places name with a thousand Impertinances not worth notice, wch He utter'd with such a Roreing voice and Thundering blows with the fist of wickedness on the Table, that it peirced my very head. I heartily fretted, and wish't 'urn tongue tyed; but wth as little succes as a freind of mine once, who was (as shee said) kept a whole night awake, on a Jorny, by a country Left, and a Sergent, Insigne and a Deacon, contriving how to bring a triangle into a Square. They kept calling for tother Gill, wch while they were swallowing, was some Intermission; But presently, like Oyle to fire, encreased the flame. HO AMERICAN PROSE I set my Candle on a Chest by the bed side, and setting up, fell to my old way of composing my Resentments, in the following manner: I ask thy Aid, O Potent Rum! To Charm these wrangling Topers Dum. Thou hast their Giddy Brains possest The man confounded wth the Beast And I, poor I, can get no rest. Intoxicate them with thy fumes: O still their Tongues till morning comes 1 And I know not but my wishes took effect; for the dispute soon ended wth 'tother Dram; and so Good night! Wedensday, Octobr 4th. About four in the morning, we set out for Kingston (for so was the Town called) with a french Docter in our company. Hee and ye Post put on very furiously, so that I could not keep up with them, only as now and then they'd stop till they see mee. This Rode was poorly furnished wth accommodations for Travellers, so that we were forced to ride 22 miles by the post's account but neerer thirty by mine, before wee could bait so much as our Horses, wch I exceedingly complained of. But the post encourag'd mee, by saying wee should be well accommodated anon at mr. Devills, a few miles further. But I questioned whether we ought to go to the Devil to be helpt out of affliction. However, like the rest of, De- luded souls that post to ye Infernal denn, Wee made all posible speed to this Devil's Habitation; where alliting, in full assurance of good accommodation, wee were going in. But meeting his two daughters, as I suposed twins, they so neerly resembled each other, both in features and habit, and look't as old as the Divel himselfe, and quite as Ugly, We desired entertainm't, but could hardly get a word out of 'um, till with our Importunity, telling them our necesity, &c. they call'd the old Sophister, who was as sparing of his words as his daughters had bin, and no, or none, was the reply's hee made us to our demands. He differed only in this from the old fellow in to'ther Country: hee let us depart From hence we proceeded (about ten forenoon) through the Narragansett country, pretty Leisurely; and about one afternoon come to Paukataug River, wch was about two hundred paces over, and now very high, and no way over to to'ther side but this. I darid not venture to Ride thro, my courage at best in such cases but small, And now at the Lowest Ebb, by reason of my weary, very weary, hungry and uneasy Circum- SARAH K. KNIGHT III stances. So takeing leave of my company, tho' wth no little Reluc- tance, that I could not proceed wth them on my Jorny, Stop at a little cottage Just by the River, to wait the Waters falling, wch the old man that lived there said would be in a little time, and he would conduct me safe over. This little Hutt was one of the wretchedest I ever saw a habitation for human creatures. It was suported with shores enclosed with Clapbords, laid on Lengthways, and so much asunder, that the Light come throu' every where; the doore tyed on wth a cord in ye place of hinges; The floor the bear earth; no windows but such as the thin covering afforded, nor any furniture but a Bedd wth a glass Bottle hanging at ye head on't; an earthan cupp, a small pewter Bason, A Bord wth sticks to stand on, instead of a table, and a block or two in ye corner instead of chairs. The family were the old man, his wife and two Children; all and every part being the picture of poverty. Notwithstanding both the Hutt and its Inhabitance were very clean and tydee: to the crossing the Old Proverb, that bare walls make giddy hows-wifes. I Blest myselfe that I was not one of this misserable crew .... I had scarce done thinking, when an Indian-like Animal come to the door, on a creature very much like himselfe, in mien and feature, as well as Ragged cloathing; and having 'litt, makes an Awkerd Scratch wth his Indian shoo, and a Nodd, sitts on ye block, fumbles out his black Junk, dipps it in ye Ashes, and presents it piping hott to his muscheeto's, and fell to sucking like a calf, without speaking, for near a quarter of a hower. At length the old man said how do's Sarah do ? who I understood was the wretches wife, and Daughter to ye old man: he Replyed as well as can be expected, &c. So I remembred the old say, and supposed I knew Sarah's case. Butt hee being, as I understood, going over the River, as ugly as hee was, I was glad to ask him to show me ye way to Saxtons, at Stoningtown; wch he promising, I ventur'd over wth the old mans assistance; who having rewarded to content, with my tattertailed guide, I Ridd on very slowly thro' Stoningtown, where the Rode was very Stony and uneven. I asked the fellow, as we went, divers questions of the place and way, &c. I being arrived at my country Saxtons, at Stonington, was very well accommodated both as to victuals and Lodging, the only Good of both I had found since my setting out. Here I heard there was an old man and his Daughter to come that AMERICAN PROSE way, bound to N. London; and being now destitute of a Guide, gladly waited for them, being in so good a harbour, and accordingly, Thirsday, Octobr ye 5th, about 3 in the afternoon, I sat forward with neighbour Polly and Jemima, a Girl about 18 Years old, who hee said he had been to fetch out of the Narragansetts, and said they had Rode thirty miles that day, on a sory lean Jade, wth only a Bagg under her for a pillion, which the poor Girl often complain'd was very uneasy Being safely arrived at the house of Mrs. Prentices in N. London, I treated neighbour Polly and daughter for their divirting company, and bid them farewell; and between nine and ten at night waited on the Revd Mr. Gurdon Saltonstall, minister of the town, who kindly Invited me to Stay that night at his house, where I was very hand- somely and plentifully treated and Lodg'd; and made good the Great Character I had before heard concerning him: viz. that hee was the most affable, courteous, Genero's and best of men. Friday, Octor 6th. I got up very early, in Order to hire somebody to go with mee to New Haven, being in Great parplexity at the thoughts of proceeding alone; which my most hospitable entertainer observing, himselfe went, and soon return'd wth a young Gentleman of the town, who he could confide in to Go with mee; and about eight this morning, wth Mr. Joshua Wheeler my new Guide, takeing leave of this worthy Gentleman, Wee advanced on towards Seabrook Saturday, Oct. 7th, we sett out early in the Morning, and being something unaquainted wth the way, having ask't it of some wee mett, they told us wee must Ride a mile or two and turne down a Lane on the Right hand; and by their Direction wee Rode on, but not Yet comeing to ye turning, we mett a Young fellow and ask't him how farr it was to the Lane which turn'd down towards Guilford. Hee said wee must Ride a little further, and turn down by the Corner of uncle Sams Lott. My Guide vented his Spleen at the Lubber; and we soon after came into the Rhode, and keeping still on, without any thing further Remarkabell, about two a clock afternoon we arrived at New Haven, where I was received with all PosibleRespects and civility. Here I discharged Mr. Wheeler with a reward to his satisfaction, and took some time to rest after so long and toilsome a Journey; And Inform'd myselfe of the manners and customs of the place, and at the same time employed myselfe in the afair I went there upon. WILLIAM BYRD 113 WILLIAM BYRD 1 FROM HISTORY OF THE DIVIDING LINE [March 13, 1728.] Tis hardly credible how little the Bordering inhabitants were acquainted with this mighty Swamp, notwithstand- ing they had liv'd their whole lives within Smell of it. Yet, as great Strangers as they were to it, they pretended to be very exact in their Account of its Dimensions, and were positive it could not be above 7 or 8 Miles wide, but knew no more of the Matter than Star-gazers know of the Distance of the Fixt Stars. At the Same time, they were Simple enough to amuse our Men with Idle Stories of the Lyons, Panthers and Alligators, they were like to encounter in that dreadful Place. In short, we saw plainly there was no Intelligence of this Terra Incognita to be got, but from our own Experience. For that Reason it was resolv'd to make the requisite Dispositions to enter it next Morning. We allotted every one of the Surveyors for this painful Enterprise, with 12 Men to attend them. Fewer than that cou'd not be employ'd in clearing the way, carrying the Chain, mark- ing the Trees, and bearing the necessary Bedding and Provi- sions. Nor wou'd the Commissioners themselves have Spared their Persons on this Occasion, but for fear of adding to the poor men's Burthen, while they were certain they cou'd add nothing to their Resolution Altho' there was no need of Example to inflame Persons already so cheerful, yet to enter the People with better grace, the Author and two more of the Commissioners accompanied them half a Mile into the Dismal. The Skirts of it were thinly Planted with Dwarf Reeds and Gall-Bushes, but when we got into the Dismal itself, we found the Reeds grew there much taller and closer, and, to mend the matter was so interlac'd with bamboe-briers, that there was no scuffling thro' them without the help of Pioneers. At the same tune, we found the Ground moist and trembling under our feet like a Quagmire, insomuch 'The selections from Byrd are reprinted, by permission, from the copyright edition of his writings edited by J. S. Bassett and published by Doubleday, Page & Co.; see Bibliography. i 114 AMERICAN PROSE that it was an easy Matter to 'run a Ten-Foot-Pole up to the Head in it, without exerting any uncommon Strength to do it. Two of the Men, whose Burthens were the least cumbersome, had orders to march before, with their Tomahawks, and clear the way, in order to make an Opening for the Surveyors. By their Assistance we made a Shift to push the Line half a Mile in 3 Hours, and then reacht a small piece of firm Land, about 100 Yards wide, Standing up above the rest like an Island. Here the people were glad to lay down their Loads and take a little refreshment, while the happy man, whose lot it was to carry the Jugg of Rum, began already, like Aesop's Bread- Carriers, to find it grow a good deal lighter. After reposing about an Hour, the Commissioners recommended Vigour and Constancy to their Fellow-Travellers, by whom they were answer'd with 3 Cheerful Huzzas, in Token of Obedience. This Ceremony was no sooner over but they took up their Burthens and attended the Motion of the Surveyors, who, tho' they workt with all their might, could reach but one Mile farther, the same obstacles still attending them which they had met with in the Morning. However small this distance may seem to such as are us'd to travel at their Ease, yet our Poor Men, who were oblig'd to work with an unwieldy Load at their Backs, had reason to think it a long way; Especially in a Bogg where they had no firm Footing, but every Step made a deep Impression, which was instantly fill'd with Water. At the same time they were labouring with their Hands to cut down the Reeds, which were Ten-feet high, their Legs were hampered with the Bryars. Besides, the Weather happen'd to be very warm, and the tallness of the Reeds kept off every Friendly Breeze from coming to refresh them. And, indeed, it was a little provoking to hear the Wind whistling among the Branches of the White Cedars, which grew here and there amongst the Reeds, and at the same time not have the Comfort to feel the least Breath of it. In the mean time the 3 Commissioners return'd out of the Dismal the same way they went in, and, having join'd their Brethren, pro- ceeded that Night as far as Mr. Wilson's. This worthy Person lives within sight of the Dismal, in the Skirts whereof his Stocks range and Maintain themselves all the Winter, and yet he knew as little of it as he did of Terra Australis Incognita. He told us a Canterbury Tale of a North Briton, whose Curiosity Spurr'd WILLIAM BYRD 115 him a long way into this great Desart, as he call'd it, near 20 Years ago, but he having no Compass, nor seeing the Sun for several Days Together, wander 'd about till he was almost famisht; but at last he bethought himself of a Secret his Countrymen make use of to Pilot themselves in a Dark day. He took a fat Louse out of his Collar, and expos'd it to the open day on a Piece of White Paper, which he brought along with hirh for his Journal. The poor Insect having no Eye-lids, turn'd himself about till he found the Darkest Part of the Heavens, and so made the best of his way towards the North. By this Direction he Steer'd himself Safe out, and gave such a frightful account of the Monsters he saw, and the Distresses he underwent, that no mortall Since has been hardy enough to go upon the like dangerous Discovery. 15. The Surveyors pursued their work with all Diligence, but Still found the Soil of the Dismal so Spongy that the Water ouzed up into every foot-step they took. To their Sorrow, too, they found the Reeds and Bryars more firmly interwoven than they did the day before. But the greatest Grievance was from large Cypresses, which the Wind had blown down and heap'd upon one another. On the Limbs of most of them grew Sharp Snags, Pointing every way like so many Pikes, that requir'd much Pains and Caution to avoid. These Trees being Evergreens, and Shooting their Large Tops Very high, are easily overset by every Gust of Wind, because there is no firm Earth to Steddy their Roots. Thus many of them were laid prostrate to the great Encumbrance of the way. Such Variety of Difficulties made the Business go on heavily, insomuch that, from Morning till Night, the Line could advance no further than i Mile and 31 Poles. Never was Rum, that cordial of Life, found more necessary than it was in this Dirty Place. It did not only recruit the People's Spirits, now almost Jaded with Fatigue, but serv'd to correct the Badness of the Water, and at the same time to resist the Malignity of the Air. Whenever the Men wanted to drink, which was very often, they had nothing more to do but to make a Hole, and the Water bubbled up in a Moment. But it was far from being either clear or well tasted, and had besides a Physical Effect, from the Tincture it receiv'd from the Roots of the Shrubbs and Trees that grew in the Neighbourhood Il6 AMERICAN PROSE 1 7th Since the Surveyors had enter'd the Dismal, they had laid Eyes on no living Creature: neither Bird nor Beast, Insect nor Reptile came in View. Doubtless, the Eternal Shade that broods over this mighty Bog, and hinders the sun-beams from blessing the Ground, makes it an uncomfortable Habitation for any thing that has life. Not so much as a Zealand Frog cou'd endure so Aguish a Situation. It had one Beauty, however, that delighted the Eye, tho' at the Expense of all the other Senses: the Moisture of the Soil pre- serves a continual Verdure, and makes .every Plant an Evergreen, but at the same time the foul Damps ascend without ceasing, corrupt the Air, and render it unfit for Respiration. Not even a Turkey-Buzzard will venture to fly over it, no more than the Italian Vultures will over the filthy Lake Avernus, or the Birds in the Holy-Land over the Salt Sea, where Sodom and Gomorrah formerly stood. In these sad Circumstances, the kindest thing we cou'd do for our Suffering Friends was to give them a place in the Litany. Our Chaplain, for his Part, did his Office, and rubb'd us up with a Season- able Sermon. This was quite a new thing to our Brethren of North Carolina, who live in a climate where no clergyman can Breathe, any more than Spiders in Ireland. For want of men in Holy Orders, both the Members of the Council and Justices of the Peace are empower'd by the Laws of that Country to marry all those who will not take One another's Word; but for the ceremony of Christening their children, they trust that to chance. If a Parson come in their way, they will crave a Cast of his office, as they call it, else they are content their Offspring should remain as Arrant Pagans as themselves. They account it among their greatest advantages that they are not Priest-ridden, not remembering that the Clergy is rarely guilty of Bestriding such as have the misfortune to be poor. One thing may be said for the Inhabitants of that Province, that they are not troubled with any Religious Fumes, and have the least Superstition of any People living. They do not know Sunday from any other day, any more than Robinson Crusoe did, which would give them a great Advantage were they given to be industrious. But they keep so many Sabbaths every week, that their disregard of the WILLIAM BYRD 117 Seventh Day has no manner of cruelty in it, either to Servants or Cattle 19. We Ordered Several Men to Patrole on the Edge of the Dis- mal, both towards the North and towards the South, and to fire Guns at proper Distances. This they perform'd very punctually, but cou'd hear nothing in return, nor gain any Sort of Intelligence. In the mean time whole Flocks of Women and Children flew hither to Stare at us, with as much curiosity as if we had lately Landed from Bantam or Morocco. Some Borderers, too, had a great Mind to know where the Line wou'd come out, being for the most part Appre- hensive lest their Lands Should be taken into Virginia. In that case they must have submitted to some Sort of Order and Government; whereas, in N Carolina, every One does what seems best in his own Eyes. There were some good Women that brought their children to be Baptiz'd, but brought no Capons along with them to make the solemnity cheerful. In the mean time it was Strange that none came to be marry'd in such a Multitude, if it had only been for the Novelty of having their Hands Joyn'd by one in Holy Orders. Yet so it was, that tho' our chaplain Christen'd above an Hundred, he did not marry so much as one Couple dureing the whole Expedition. But marriage is reckon'd a Lay contract in Carolina, as I said before, and a Country Justice can tie the fatal Knot there, as fast as an Arch-Bishop. None of our Visiters could, however, tell us any News of the Surveyors, nor Indeed was it possible any of them shou'd at that time, They being still laboring in the Midst of the Dismal. It seems they were able to carry the Line this Day no further than one mile and 61 Poles, and that whole distance was thro' a Miry cedar Bogg, where the ground trembled under their Feet most frightfully. In many places too their Passage was retarded by a great number of fallen Trees, that lay Horsing upon one Another. Tho' many circumstances concurr'd to make this an unwhole- some Situation, yet the Poor men had no time to be sick, nor can one conceive a more Calamitous Case than it would have been to be laid up in that uncomfortable Quagmire. Never were Patients more tractable, or willing to take Physick, than these honest Fellows; but it was from a Dread of laying their Bones in a Bogg that wou'd Il8 AMERICAN PROSE soon spew them up again. That Consideration also put them upon more caution about their Lodging. They first cover'd the Ground with Square Pieces of Cypress bark, which now, in the Spring, they cou'd easily Slip off the Tree for that purpose. On this they Spread their Bedding; but unhappily the Weight and Warmth of their Bodies made the Water rise up betwixt the Joints of the Bark, to their great Inconvenience. Thus they lay not only moist, but also exceedingly cold, because their Fires were continually going out. For no sooner was the Trash upon the Surface burnt away, but immediately the Fire was extinguisht by the Moisture of the Soil, Insomuch that it was great part of the Centinel's Business to rekindle it again in a Fresh Place, every Quarter of an Hour. Nor cou'd they indeed do their duty better, because Cold was the only Enemy they had to Guard against in a miserable Morass, where nothing can inhabit 21. The Surveyors and their Attendants began now in good Earnest to be alarm'd with Apprehensions of Famine, nor could they forbear looking with Some Sort of Appetite upon a dog that had been the faithful Companion of their Travels. Their Provisions were now near exhausted. They had this Morn- ing made the last Distribution, that so each might Husband his small Pittance as he pleas'd. Now it was that the fresh Colour'd Young Man began to tremble every Joint of Him, having dreamed, the Night before, that the Indians were about to Barbacue him over live coals. The Prospect of Famine determin'd the People, at last, with one consent, to abandon the Line for the Present, which advanced but slowly, and make the best of their way to firm Land. Accordingly they sat off very early, and, by the help of the Compass which they carried along with them, Steer'd a direct Westwardly Course. They marcht from Morning till Night, and Computed their Journey to amount to about 4 Miles, which was a great way, considering the difficulties of the Ground. It was all along a Cedar-Swamp, so dirty and perplext, that if they had not travell'd for their Lives, they cou'd not have reacht so far. On their way they espied a Turkey-Buzzard, that flew prodigi- ously high to get above the Noisome Exhalations that ascend from that filthy place. This they were willing to understand as a good WILLIAM BYRD IK) Omen, according to the Superstitions of the Ancients, who had great Faith in the Flight of Vultures. However, after all this tedious Journey, they could yet discover no End of their toil, which made them very pensive, especially after they had eat the last Morsel of their Provisions. But to their unspeakable comfort, when all was husht in the Evening, they heard the Cattle low, and the Dogs bark, very distinctly, which, to Men in that distress, was more delightful Music than Faustina or Farinelli cou'd have made. In the mean time the Commissioners could get no News of them from any of their Visiters, who assembled from every Point of the Com- pass 22 In the midst of our concern, we were most agreeably surpriz'd, just after Dinner, with the News that the Dismalites were all Safe. These blessed Tidings were brought to us by Mr. Swan, the Carolina-Surveyor, who came to us in a very tatter 'd condition. After very Short Salutations, we got about Him as if He had been a Hottentot, and began to Inquire into his Adventures. He gave us a Detail of their uncomfortable Voyage thro' the Dismal, and told us, particularly, they had pursued their Journey early that Morning, encouraged by the good Omen of seeing the Crows fly over their Heads; that, after an Hour's march over very Rotten Ground, they, on a Sudden, began to find themselves among tall Pines, that grew in the Water, which in Many Places was Knee-deep. This Pine Swamp, into which that of Coropeak drain'd itself, extended near a Mile in Breadth; and tho' it was exceedingly wet, yet it was much harder at Bottom than the rest of the Swamp ; that about Ten in the Morning, they recovered firm Land, which they embraced with as much Pleasure as Shipwreckt Wretches do the shoar. FROM A PROGRESS TO THE MINES [September 21, 1732.] I was sorry in the morning to find myself stopt in my Career by bad Weather brought upon us by a North- East Wind. This drives a World of Raw unkindly Vapours upon us from Newfoundland, loaden with Elite, Coughs, and Pleurisys. However, I complain'd not, lest I might be suspected to be tir'd of the good Company. Tho' Mrs. Fleming was not so much upon her Guard, but mutiny'd strongly at the Rain, that hinder'd her from AMERICAN PROSE pursuing her dear Husband. I said what I cou'd to comfort a Gentle- woman under so sad a Disappointment. I told her a Husband, that staid so much at Home as her's did, cou'd be no such violent Rarity, as for a Woman to venture her precious Health, to go daggling thro' the Rain after him, or to be miserable if she happen 'd to be prevented. That it was prudent for marry'd people to fast Sometimes from one another, that they might come together again with the better Stomach. That the best things in this World, if constantly us'd, are apt to be cloying, which a little absence and Abstinence wou'd prevent. This was Strange Doctrine to a fond Female who fancys People shou'd love with as little Reason after Marriage as before. In the After- noon Monsieur Marij, the Minister of the Parish, came to make me a Visit. He had been a Romish Priest, but found Reasons, either Spiritual or temporal, to quit that gay Religion. The fault of this new Convert is, that he looks for as much Respect from his Protestant Flock, as is paid to the Popish Clergy, which our ill-bred Hugonots dont understand. Madam Marij, had so much Curiosity as to want to come too; but another Horse was wanting, and she believ'd it would have too Vulgar an Air to ride behind her Husband. This Woman was of the true Exchange Breed, full of Discourse, but void of Discretion, and marry'd a Parson, with the Idle hopes he might some time or other come to be his Grace of Canterbury. The Gray Mare is the better Horse in that Family, and the poor man Submits to her wild Vagarys for Peace' Sake. She has just enough of the fine Lady, to run in debt, and be of no signification in her Household. And the only thing that can prevent her from undoing her loving Husband will be, that nobody will trust them beyond the 16000, which is soon run out in a Goochland store. The way of Dealing there is, for some small Merchant or Pedler to buy a Scots Penny- worth of Goods, and clap 150 p cent, upon that. At this Rate the Parson cant be paid much more for his preaching than tis worth. No sooner was our Visiter retired, but the facetious Widow was so kind as to let me into all this Secret History, but was at the same time exceedingly Sorry that the Woman should be so indiscreet, and the man so tame as to be govern'd by an unprofitable and fantastical Wife. 22. We had another wet day, to try both Mrs. Fleming's Patience and my good Breeding. The N E Wind commonly sticks by us 3 or 4 days, filling the Atmosphere with damps, injurious both to man and WILLIAM BYRD 121 Beast. The worst of it was, we had no good Liquor to warm our Blood, and fortify our Spirits against so strong a Malignity. How- ever, I was cheerful under all these Misfortunes, and exprest no Con- cern but a decent Fear lest my long visit might be troublesome. Since I was like to have thus much Leizure, I endeavour'd to find out what Subject a dull marry'd man cou'd introduce that might best bring the Widow to the Use of her Tongue. At length I dis- cover'd she was a notable Quack, and therefore paid that regard to her Knowledge, as to put some Questions to her about the bad dis- temper that raged then in the Country. I mean the Bloody Flux, that was brought us in the Negro-ship consigned to Colo. Braxton. She told me she made use of very Simple remedy s in that Case, with very good Success. She did the Business either with Hartshorn Drink, that had Plantain Leaves boil'd in it, or else with a Strong decoction of St. Andrew's Cross, in New milk instead of Water. I agreed with her that those remedys might be very good, but would be more effectual after a dose or two of Indian Physick. But for fear this Conversation might be too grave for a Widow, I turn'd the discourse, and began to talk of Plays, & finding her Taste lay most towards Comedy, I offer'd my Service to read one to Her, which she kindly accepted. She produced the 2d part of the Beggar's Opera, which had diverted the Town for 40 Nights successively, and gain'd four thousand pounds to the Author. This was not owing altogether to the Wit or Humour that Sparkled in it, but to some Political Reflections, that seem'd to hit the Ministry. But the great Advan- tage of the Author was, that his Interest was solicited by the Dutchess of Queensbury, which no man could refuse who had but half an Eye in his head, or half a Guinea in his Pocket. Her Grace, like Death, spared nobody, but even took my Lord Selkirk in for 2 Guineas, to repair which Extravagance he liv'd upon Scots Herrings 2 Months afterwards. But the best Story was, she made a very Smart Officer in his Majesty's Guards give her a Guinea, who Swearing at the same time twas all he had in the World, she sent him 50 for it the next day, to reward his Obedience. After having acquainted my Company with the history of the Play, I read 3 Acts of it, and left Mrs. Fleming and Mr. Randolph to finish it, who read as well as most Actors do at a Rehearsal. Thus we kill'd the time, and triumpht over the bad Weather. AMERICAN PROSE JONATHAN EDWARDS THE SWEET GLORY OF GOD From my Childhood up, my Mind had been wont to be full of Objections against the Doctrine of GOD's Sovereignty, in choosing whom he would to eternal Life, and rejecting whom he pleased; leaving them eternally to perish, and be everlastingly tormented in Hell. It used to appear like a horrible Doctrine to me. But I remember the Time very well, when I seemed to be convinced, and fully satisfied, as to this Sovereignty of God, and his Justice in thus eternally disposing of Men, according to his sovereign Pleasure. But never could give an Account, how, or by what Means, I was thus convinced; not in the least imagining, in the Time of it, nor a long Time after, that there was any extraordinary Influence of God's Spirit in it: but only that now I saw further, and my Reason appre- hended the Justice and Reasonableness of it. However, my Mind rested in it; and it put an end to all those Cavils and Objections, that had 'till then abode with me, all the preceeding part of my Life. And there has been a wonderful Alteration in my Mind, with respect to the Doctrine of God's Sovereignty, from that Day to this: so that I scarce ever have found so much as the rising of an Objection against God's Sovereignty, in the most absolute Sense, in shewing Mercy on whom he will shew Mercy, and hardening and eternally damning whom he will. God's absolute Sovereignty, and Justice, with respect to Salvation and Damnation, is what my Mind seems to rest assured of, as much as of any Thing that I see with my Eyes; at least it is so at Times. But I have often times since that first Conviction, had quite another Kind of Sense of God's Sovereignty, than I had then. I have often since, not only had a Conviction, but a delightful Con- viction. The Doctrine of God's Sovereignty has very often appeared, an exceeding pleasant, bright and sweet Doctrine to me: and absolute Sovereignty is what I love to ascribe to God. But my first Conviction was not with this. The first that I remember that ever I found any thing of that Sort of inward, sweet Delight in GOD and divine Things, that I have lived much in since, was on reading those Words, i Tim. i. 17: Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise GOD, be Honor and Glory for ever and ever, Amen. As I read the Words, JONATHAN EDWARDS 123 there came into my Soul, and was as it were diffused thro' it, a Sense of the Glory of the Divine Being; a new Sense, quite different from any Thing I ever experienced before. Never any Words of Scripture seemed to me as these Words did. I thought with my self, how excellent a Being that was; and how happy I should be, if I might enjoy that GOD, and be wrapt up to GOD in Heaven, and be as it were swallowed up in Him. I kept saying, and as it were singing over these Words of Scripture to my self; and went to Prayer, to pray to GOD that I might enjoy him; and prayed in a manner quite different from what I used to do; with a new sort of Affection. But it never came into my Thought, that there was any thing spiritual, or of a saving Nature in this. From about that Time, I began to have a new Kind of Appre- hensions and Ideas of Christ, and the Work of Redemption, and the glorious Way of Salvation by him. I had an inward, sweet Sense of these Things, that at times came into my Heart; and my Soul was led away in pleasant Views and Contemplations of them. And my Mind was greatly engaged, to spend my Time in reading and medi- tating on Christ; and the Beauty and Excellency of his Person, and the lovely Way of Salvation, by free Grace in him. I found no Books so delightful to me, as those that treated of these Subjects. Those Words Cant. ii. i. used to be abundantly with me: I am the Rose of Sharon, the Lilly of the Valleys. The Words seemed to me, sweetly to represent, the Loveliness and Beauty of Jesus Christ. And the whole Book of Canticles used to be pleasant to me; and I used to be much in reading it, about that time. And found, from Time to Time, an inward Sweetness, that used, as it were, to carry me away in my Contemplations; in what I know not how to express otherwise, than by a calm, sweet Abstraction of Soul from all the Concerns of this World; and a kind of Vision, or fix'd Ideas and Imaginations, of being alone in the Mountains, or some solitary Wilderness, far from all Mankind, sweetly conversing with Christ, and wrapt and swallowed up in GOD. The Sense I had of divine Things, would often of a sudden, as it were, kindle up a sweet burning in my Heart; an ardor of Soul, that I know not how to express. Not long after I first began to experience these Things, I gave an Account to my Father, of some Things that had pass'd in my Mind. I was pretty much affected by the Discourse we had together. And when the Discourse was ended, I walked abroad alone, in a solitary 124 AMERICAN PROSE Place in my Father's Pasture, for Contemplation. And as I was walking there, and looked up on the Sky and Clouds; there came into my Mind, a sweet Sense of the glorious Majesty and Grace of GOD, that I know not how to express. I seemed to see them both hi a sweet Conjunction: Majesty and Meekness join'd together: it was a sweet and gentle, and holy Majesty; and also a majestick Meekness; an awful Sweetness; a high, and great, and holy Gentleness. After this my Sense of divine Things gradually increased, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward Sweetness. The Appearance of every thing was altered: there seem'd to be, as it were, a calm, sweet Cast, or Appearance of divine Glory, in almost every Thing. God's Excellency, his Wisdom, his Purity and Love, seemed to appear in every Thing; in the Sun, Moon and Stars; in the Clouds, and blue Sky; in the Grass, Flowers, Trees; in the Water, and all Nature; which used greatly to fix my Mind. I often used to sit & view the Moon, for a long Time; and so in the Day-time, spent much time in viewing the Clouds & Sky, to behold the sweet Glory of GOD in these Things: in the mean Time, singing forth with a low Voice, my Contemplations of the Creator & Re- deemer. And scarce any Thing, among all the Works of Nature, was so sweet to me as Thunder and Lightning. Formerly, nothing had been so terrible to me. I used to be a Person uncommonly terri- fied with Thunder: and it used to strike me with Terror, when I saw a Thunder-storm rising. But now, on the contrary, it rejoyced me. I felt GOD at the first Appearance of a Thunder storm. And used to take the Opportunity at such Times, to fix my self to view the Clouds, and see the Lightnings play, and hear the majestick & awful Voice of God's Thunder: which often times was exceeding entertaining, leading me to sweet Contemplations of my great and glorious GOD. And while I viewed, used to spend my time, as it always seem'd natural to me, to sing or chant forth my Meditations; to speak my Thoughts in Soliloquies, and speak with a singing Voice. FROM SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD The USE may be of Awakning to unconverted Persons in this Congregation. This that you have heard is the Case of every one of you that are out of Christ. That World of Misery, that Lake of JONATHAN EDWARDS 125 burning Brimstone, is extended abroad under you. There is the dreadful Pit of the glowing Flames of the Wrath of God; there is Hell's wide gaping Mouth open; and you have nothing to stand upon, nor any Thing to take hold of: There is nothing between you and Hell but the Air; 'tis only the Power and mere Pleasure of God that holds you up. You probably are not sensible of this; you find you are kept out of Hell, but don't see the Hand of God in it, but look at other Things, as the good State of your bodily Constitution, your Care of your own Life, and the Means you use for your own Preservation. But indeed these Things are nothing; if God should withdraw his Hand, they would avail no more to keep you from falling, than the thin Air to hold up a Person that is suspended in it. Your Wickedness makes you as it were heavy as Lead, and to tend downwards with great Weight and Pressure towards Hell; and, if God should let you go, you would immediately sink, and swiftly descend and plunge into the bottomless Gulf; and your healthy Constitution, and your own Care and Prudence, and best Contrivance, and all your Righteousness, would have no more Influence to uphold you and keep you out of Hell, than a Spider's Web would have to stop a falling Rock. Were it not that so is the sovereign Pleasure of God, the Earth would not bear you one Moment; for you are a Burden to it; the Creation grones with you; the Crea- ture is made subject to the Bondage of your Corruption, not willingly; the Sun don't willingly shine upon you, to give you Light to serve Sin and Satan; the Earth don't willingly yield her Increase to satisfy your Lusts, nor is it willingly a Stage for your Wickedness to be acted upon; the Air don't willingly serve you for Breath to maintain the Flame of Life in your Vitals, while you spend your Life in the Service of God's Enemies. God's Creatures are good, and were made for Men to serve God with, and don't willingly subserve to any other Purpose, and grone when they are abused to Purposes so directly contrary to their Nature and End: And the World would spue you out, were it not for the sovereign Hand of him who hath subjected it in Hope. There are the black Clouds of God's Wrath now hanging directly over your Heads, full of the dreadful Storm, and big with Thunder; and, were it not for the restraining Hand of God, it would immediately burst forth upon you. The sovereign Pleasure of God 126 AMERICAN PROSE for the present stays his rough Wind; otherwise it would come with Fury, and your Destruction would come like a Whirlwind, and you would be like the Chaff of the Summer Threshing-floor. The Wrath of God is like great Waters that are dammed for the present; they increase more and more, and rise higher and higher, till an Outlet is given; and the longer the Stream is stopt, the more rapid and mighty is its Course when once it is let loose. 'Tis true, that Judgment against your evil Works has not been executed hitherto; the Floods of God's Vengeance have been withheld; but your Guilt in the mean Time is constantly increasing, and you are every Day treasuring up more Wrath; the Waters are continually rising, and waxing more and more mighty; and there is nothing but the mere Pleasure of God that holds the Waters back that are unwilling to be stopt, and press hard to go forward; if God should only withdraw his Hand from the Flood-gate, it would immediately fly open, and the fiery Floods of the Fierceness and Wrath of God would rush forth with inconceivable Fury, and would come upon you with omnipotent Power; and if your Strength were Ten thousand Times greater than it is, yea Ten thousand Times greater than the Strength of the stoutest, sturdiest Devil in Hell, it would be nothing to withstand or endure it. The Bow of God's Wrath is bent, and the Arrow made ready on the String; and Justice bends the Arrow at your Heart, and strains the Bow; and it is nothing but the mere Pleasure of God, and that of an angry God, without any Promise or Obligation at all, that keeps the Arrow one Moment from being made drunk with your Blood. Thus are all you that never passed under a great Change of Heart, by the mighty Power of the SPIRIT of GOD upon your Souls; all that were never born again, and made new Creatures, and raised from being dead in Sin, to a State of new, and before altogether unex- perienced Light and Life, (however you may have reformed your Life in many Things, and may have had religious Affections, and may keep up a Form of Religion in your Families and Closets, and in the House of God, and may be strict in it) you are thus in the Hands of an angry God; 'tis nothing but his mere Pleasure that keeps you from being this Moment swallowed up in everlasting Destruction. However unconvinced you may now be of the Truth of what you hear, by and by you will be fully convinced of it. Those that are gone JONATHAN EDWARDS 127 from being in the like Circumstances with you, see that it was so with them; for Destruction came suddenly upon most of them, when they expected nothing of it, and while they were saying, Peace and Safety: Now they see, that those Things that they depended on for Peace and Safety, were nothing but thin Air and empty Shadows. The God that holds you over the Pit of Hell, much as one holds a Spider or some lothsom Insect over the Fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked; his Wrath towards you burns like Fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into the Fire; he is of purer Eyes than to bear to have you in his Sight; you are Ten thousand Times so abominable in his Eyes as the most hateful venomous Serpent is in ours. You have offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn Rebel did his Prince; and yet 'tis nothing but his Hand that holds you from falling into the Fire every Moment : 'Tis to be ascribed to nothing else, that you did not go to Hell the last Night; that you was suffered to awake again in this World, after you closed your Eyes to sleep: And there is no other Reason to be given why you have not dropt into Hell since you arose in the Morn- ing, but that God's Hand has held you up: There is no other Reason to be given why you han't gone to Hell since you have sat here in the House of God, provoking his pure Eyes by your sinful wicked Manner of attending his solemn Worship; yea, there is nothing else that is to be given as a Reason why you don't this very Moment drop down into Hell. O Sinner! Consider the fearful Danger you are in: 'Tis a great Furnace of Wrath, a wide and bottomless Pit, full of the Fire of Wrath, that you are held over in the Hand of that God, whose Wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you as against many of the Damned in Hell: You hang by a slender Threed, with the Flames of Divine Wrath flashing about it, and ready every Moment to singe it, and burn it asunder; and you have no Interest in any Mediator, and nothing to lay hold of to save yourself, nothing to keep off the Flames of Wrath, nothing of your own, nothing that you ever have done, nothing that you can do, to induce God to spare you one Moment. .... How dreadful is the State of those that are daily and hourly in Danger of this great Wrath, and infinite Misery! But this is the dismal Case of every Soul in this Congregation that has not been born 128 AMERICAN PROSE again, however moral and strict, sober and religious they may other- wise be. Oh that you would consider it, whether you be Young or Old! There is Reason to think, that there are many in this Congre- gation, now hearing this Discourse, that will actually be the Subjects of this very Misery to all Eternity. We know not who they are, or in what Seats they sit, or what Thoughts they now have: It may be they are now at Ease, and hear all these Things without much Disturbance, and are now flattering themselves that they are not the Persons, promising themselves that they shall escape. If we knew that there was one Person, and but one, in the whole Congregation that was to be the Subject of this Misery, what an awful Thing would it be to think of! If we knew who it was, what an awful Sight would it be to see such a Person! How might all the rest of the Congre- gation lift up a lamentable and bitter Cry over him! But alas! Instead of one, how many is it likely will remember this Discourse in Hell ? And it would be a Wonder if some that are now present should not be in Hell in a very short Time, before this Year is out ; and it would be no Wonder if some Person that now sits here in some Seat of this Meeting-House in Health, and quiet and secure, should be there before To-Morrow Morning. Those of you that finally continue in a natural Condition, that shall keep out of Hell longest, will be there in a little Time! your Damnation don't slumber; it will come swiftly, and in all Probability very suddenly upon many of you. You have Reason to wonder, that you are not already in Hell. 'Tis doubtless the Case of some that heretofore you have seen and known, that never deserved Hell more than you, and that heretofore appeared as likely to have been now alive as you: Their Case is past all Hope; they are crying in extreme Misery and perfect Despair: But here you are in the Land of the Living, and in the House of God, and have an Opportunity to obtain Salvation. What would not those poor damned, hopeless Souls give for one Day's such Opportunity as you now enjoy! FROM ENQUIRY INTO THE FREEDOM OF THE WILL A Great Argument for Self -determining Power, is the supposed Experience we universally have of an Ability to determine our Wills, in Cases wherein no prevailing Motive is presented: The Will (as is JONATHAN EDWARDS 129 supposed) has it's Choice to make between two or more Things, that are perfectly equal in the View of the Mind; and the Will is appar- ently altogether indifferent; and yet we find no Difficulty in coming to a Choice; the Will can instantly determine it self to one, by a sovereign Power which it has over it self, without being moved by any preponderating Inducement. Thus the forementioned Author of an Essay on the Freedom of the Witt &c. P. 25, 26, 27, supposes, "That there are many Instances, wherein the Will is determined neither by present Uneasiness, nor by the greatest apparent Good, nor by the last Dictate of the Under- standing, nor by any Thing else, but meerly by it self, as a Sovereign Self-determining Power of the Soul; and that the Soul does not will this or that Action, in some Cases, by any other Influence, but because it will. Thus (says he) I can turn my Face to the South, or the North; I can point with my Finger upward, or downward. And thus, in some Cases, the Will determines it self in a very sover- eign Manner, because it will, without a Reason borrowed from the Understanding: and hereby it discovers it's own perfect Power of Choice, rising from within it self, and free from all Influence or Restraint of any Kind." And in Pages 66, 70, & 73, 74. This Author very expresly supposes the Will in many Cases to be deter- mined by no Motive at all, and acts altogether without Motive, or Ground of Preference. Here I would observe, i. The very Supposition which is here made, directly contra- dicts and overthrows it self. For the Thing supposed, wherein this grand Argument consists, is, That among several Things the Will actually chuses one before another, at the same Time that it is per- fectly indifferent; which is the very same Thing as to say, the Mind has a Preference, at the same Tune that it has no Preference. What is meant can't be, that the Mind is indifferent before it comes to have a Choice, or 'till it has a Preference; or, which is the same Thing, that the Mind is indifferent until it comes to be not indiffer- ent. For certainly this Author did not suppose he had a Con- troversy with any Person in supposing this. And then it is Nothing to his Purpose, that the Mind which chuses, was indifferent once; unless it chuses, remaining indifferent ; for otherwise, it don't chuse at all in that Case of Indifference, concerning which is all the Question. Besides, it appears in Fact, that the Thing which this Author supposes, 130 AMERICAN PROSE is not that the Will chuses one Thing before another, concern- ing which it is indifferent before it chuses; but also is indifferent when it chuses; and that it's being otherwise than indifferent is not 'till afterwards, in Consequence of it's Choice; that the chosen Thing's appearing preferable and more agreable than another, arises from it's Choice already made. His Words are (P. 30.) "Where the Objects which are proposed, appear equally fit or good, the Will is left without a Guide or Director; and therefore must make it's own Choice, by it's own Determination; it being properly a Self- determining Power. And in such Cases the Will does as it were make a Good to it self by it's own Choice, i. e. creates it's own Pleasure or Delight in this Self-chosen Good. Even as a Man by seizing upon a Spot of unoccupied Land, in an uninhabited Country, makes it his own Possession and Property, and as such rejoyces in it. Where Things were indifferent before, the Will finds Nothing to make them more agreable, considered meerly in themselves; but the Pleasure it feels ARISING FROM IT'S OWN CHOICE, and it's Perseverance therein. We love many Things which we have chosen, AND PURELY BECAUSE WE CHOSE THEM." This is as much as to say, that we first begin to prefer many Things, now ceasing any longer to be indifferent with Respect to them, purely because we have prefer'd and chosen them before. These Things must needs be spoken inconsiderately by this Author. Choice or Preference can't be before it self, in the same Instance, either in the Order of Time or Nature: It can't be the Foundation of it self, or the Fruit or Consequence of it self. The very Act of chusing one Thing rather than another, is preferring that Thing, and that is setting a higher Value on that Thing. But that the Mind sets an higher Value on one Thing than another, is not, in the first Place, the Fruit of it's setting a higher Value on that Thing. This Author says, P. 36, "The Will may be perfectly indiffer- ent, and yet the Will may determine it self to chuse one or the other." And again in the same Page, "I am entirely indifferent to either; and yet my Will may determine it self to chuse." And again, "Which I shall chuse must be determined by the meer Act of my Will." If the Choice is determined by a meer Act of Will, then the Choice is de- termined by a meer Act of Choice. And concerning this Matter, viz. that the Act of the Will it self is determined by an Act of Choice, this JONATHAN EDWARDS 131 Writer is express, in P. 72. Speaking of the Case, where there is no superiour Fitness in Objects presented, he has these Words: "There it mus: act by it's own CHOICE, and determine it self as it PLEASES." Where it is supposed that the very Determination, which is the Ground and Spring of the Will's Act, is an Act of Choice and Pleasure, wherein one Act is more agreable, and the Mind better pleased in it than another; and this Preference, and superiour Pleased/ness is the Ground of all it does in the Case. And if so, the Mind is not indifferent when it determines it self, but had rather do one Thing than another, had rather determine it self one Way than another. And therefore the Will don't act at all in Indifference; not so much as in the first Step it takes, or the first Rise and Beginning of it's acting. If it be possible for the Understanding to act in Indifference, yet to be sure the Will never does; because the Will's beginning to act is the very same Thing as it's beginning to chuse or prefer. And if in the very first Act of the Will, the Mind prefers something, then the Idea of that Thing prefer 'd, does at that Time preponderate, or prevail in the Mind; or, which is the same Thing, the Idea of it has a prevailing Influence on the Will. So that this wholly destroys the Thing supposed, viz. That the Mind can by a sovereign Power chuse one of two or more Things, which in the View of the Mind are, in every Respect, perfectly equal, one of which does not at all preponder- ate, nor has any prevailing Influence on the Mind above another. So that this Author, in his grand Argument for the Ability of the Will to chuse one of two, or more Things, concerning which it is perfectly indifferent, does at the same Time, in Effect, deny the Thing he supposes, and allows and asserts the Point he endeavours to overthrow ; even that the Will, in chusing, is subject to no prevailing Influence of the Idea, or View of the Thing chosen. And indeed it is impossible to offer this Argument without overthrowing it; the Thing supposed in it being inconsistent with it self, and that which denies it self. To suppose the Will to act at all in a State of perfect Indifference, either to determine it self, or to do any Thing else, is to assert that the Mind chuses without chusing. To say that when it is indifferent, it can do as it pleases, is to say that it can follow it's Pleasure, when it has no Pleasure to follow. And therefore if there be any Difficulty in the Instances of two Cakes, or two Eggs &c. which are exactly alike, one as good as another; concerning which this 132 AMERICAN PROSE Author supposes the Mind in Fact has a Choice, and so in Effect supposes that it has a Preference; it as much concern'd Himself to solve the Difficulty, as it does those whom he opposes. For if these Instances prove any Thing to his Purpose, they prove that a Man chuses without Choice. And yet this is not to his Purpose; because if this is what he asserts, his own Words are as much against him, and do as much contradict him, as the Words of those he disputes against can do. 2. There is no great Difficulty in shewing, in such Instances as are alledged, not only that it must needs be so, that the Mind must be influenced in it's Choice by something that has a preponderat- ing Influence upon it, but also how it is so. A little Attention to our own Experience, and a distinct Consideration of the Acts of our own Minds in such Cases, will be sufficient to clear up the Matter. Thus, supposing I have a Chess-board before me; and because I am required by a Superiour, or desired by a Friend, or to make some Experiment concerning my own Ability and Liberty, or on some other Consideration, I am determined to touch some one of the Spots or Squares on the Board with my Finger; not being limited or directed in the first Proposal, or my own first Purpose, which is general, to any one in particular; and there being nothing in the Squares in themselves considered, that recommends any one of all the sixty four, more than another: In this Case, my Mind determines to give it self up to what is vulgarly called Accident, by determining to touch that Square which happens to be most in View, which my Eye is especially upon at that Moment, or which happens then to be most in my Mind, or which I shall be directed to by some other such-like Accident. Here are several Steps of the Mind's proceeding (tho' all may be done as it were in a Moment) : the first Step is it's general Determination that it will touch one of the Squares. The next Step is another general Determination to give it self up to Accident, in some certain Way; as to touch that which shall be most in the Eye or Mind at that Time, or to some other such-like Accident. The third and last Step is a particular Determination to touch a certain indi- vidual Spot, even that Square, which, by that Sort of Accident the Mind has pitched upon, has actually offered it self beyond others. Now 'tis apparent that in none of these several Steps does the Mind JOHN WOOLMAN 133 proceed in absolute Indifference, but in each of them is influenced by a preponderating Inducement. So it is in the first Step; The Mind's general Determination to touch one of the sixty four Spots: The Mind is not absolutely indifferent whether it does so or no: It is induced to it, for the Sake of making some Experiment, or by the Desire of a Friend, or some other Motive that prevails. So it is in the second Step, The Mind's determining to give it self up to Accident, by touching that which shall be most in the Eye, or the Idea of which shall be most prevalent in the Mind &c. The Mind is not absolutely indifferent whether it proceeds by this Rule or no; but chuses it, because it appears at that Time a convenient and requisite Expedient in order to fulfil the general Purpose aforesaid. And so it is in the third and last Step, It's determining to touch that individual Spot which actually does prevail in the Mind's View. The Mind is not indifferent concerning this; but is influenced by a prevailing Induce- ment and Reason; which is, that this is a Prosecution of the preceed- ing Determination, which appeared requisite, and was fix'd before in the second Step. JOHN WOOLMAN FROM THE JOURNAL Two things were remarkable to me in this journey: first, in regard to my entertainment; when I eat, drank, and lodged free-cost with people, who lived in ease on the hard labour of their slaves, I felt uneasy; and as my mind was inward to the Lord, I found, from place to place, this uneasiness return upon me, at times, through the whole visit. Where the masters bore a good share of the burthen, and lived frugally, so that their servants were well provided for, and their labour moderate, I felt more easy; but where they lived in a costly way, and laid heavy burthens on their slaves, my exercise was often great, and I frequently had conversation with them, in private, con- cerning it. Secondly: this trade of importing slaves from their native country being much encouraged amongst them, and the white people and their children so generally living without much labour, 134 AMERICAN PROSE was frequently the subject of my serious thoughts: and I saw in these southern provinces so many vices and corruptions, increased by this trade and this way of life, that it appeared to me as a dark gloominess hanging over the land; and though now many willingly run into it, yet in future the consequence will be grievous to posterity: I express it as it hath appeared to me, not at once, nor twice, but as a matter fixed on my mind. RELIGIOUS SCRUPLES AGAINST DYED GARMENTS From my early acquaintance with truth, I have often felt an inward distress, occasioned by the striving of a spirit in me, against the operation of the heavenly principle; and hi this circumstance have been affected with a sense of my own wretchedness, and in a mourn- ing condition felt earnest longing for that divine help, which brings the soul into true liberty; and sometimes in this state, retiring into private places, the spirit of supplication hath been given me; and under a heavenly covering, have asked my gracious Father, to give me a heart in all things resigned to the direction of his wisdom, and in uttering language like this, the thoughts of my wearing hats and garments dyed with a dye hurtful to them, has made lasting impressions on me. In visiting people of note in the society who had slaves, and labouring with them in brotherly love on that account, I have seen, and the sight has affected me, that a conformity to some customs, distinguishable from pure wisdom, has entangled many; and the desire of gain to support these customs, greatly opposed the work of truth: and sometimes when the prospect of the work before me has been such, that in bowedness of spirit, I have been drawn into retired places, and besought the Lord with tears that he would take me wholly under his direction, and shew me the way in which I ought to walk; it hath revived with strength of conviction, that if I would be bis faithful servant, I must in all things attend to his wisdom, and be teachable; and so cease from all customs contrary thereto, however used amongst religious people. As he is the perfection of power, of wisdom, and of goodness; so I believe, he hath provided, that so much labour shall be necessary for men's support, in this world, as would, being rightly divided, be a JOHN WOOLMAN 135 suitable employment of their time; and that we cannot go into super- fluities, or grasp after wealth in a way contrary to his wisdom, without having connection with some degree of oppression, and with that spirit which leads to self-exaltation and strife, and which frequently brings calamities on countries, by parties contending about their claims. Being thus fully convinced, and feeling an increasing desire to live in the spirit of peace; being often sorrowfully affected with the thinking on the unquiet spirit in which wars are generally carried on, and with the miseries of many of my fellow-creatures engaged therein; some suddenly destroyed; some wounded, and after much pain remain cripples; some deprived of all their outward substance, and reduced to want; and some carried into captivity. Thinking often on these things, the use of hats and garments dyed with a dye hurtful to them, and wearing more clothes in summer than are useful, grew more uneasy to me, believing them to be customs which have not their foundation in pure wisdom. The apprehension of being singular from my beloved friends, was a strait upon me; and thus I remained in the use of some things contrary to my judgment. On the thirty-first day of the fifth month, 1761, I was taken ill of a fever; and, after having it near a week, I was in great distress of body: and one day there was a cry raised in me, that I might under- stand the cause why I was afflicted, and improve under it: and my conformity to some customs, which I believed were not right, were brought to my remembrance; and in the continuation of this exercise, I felt all the powers in me yield themselves up into the hands of Him who gave me being; and was made thankful, that he had taken hold of me by his chastisement: feeling the necessity of further purifying, there was now no desire in me for health, until the design of my cor- rection was answered; and thus I lay in abasement and brokenness of spirit, and as I felt a sinking down into a calm resignation, so I felt, as in an instant, an inward healing in my nature; and from that time forward I grew better. Though I was thus settled in my mind hi relation to hurtful dyes, I. felt easy to wear my garments heretofore made; and so continued about nine months. Then I thought of getting a hat the natural colour of the furr; but the apprehension of being looked upon as one affecting singularity, felt uneasy to me: and here I had occasion 136 AMERICAN PROSE to consider, that things, though small in themselves, being clearly enjoined by divine authority, became great things to us; and I trusted that the Lord would support me in the trials that might attend singularity, while that singularity was only for his sake: on this account, I was under close exercise of mind in the time of our General spring meeting 1762, greatly desiring to be rightly directed; when being deeply bowed in spirit before the Lord, I was made willing to submit to what I apprehended was required of me; and when I returned home, got a hat of the natural colour of the furr. In attending meetings, this singularity was a trial upon me, and more especially at this time, white hats being used by some who were fond of following the changeable modes of dress; and as some friends, who knew not on what motives I wore it, carried shy of me, I felt my way for a tune shut up hi the exercise of the ministry: and in this con- dition, my mind being turned toward my heavenly Father, with fervent cries that I might be preserved to walk before him in the meekness of wisdom, my heart was often tender in meetings; and I felt an inward consolation, which to me was very precious under those difficulties. I had several dyed garments fit for use, which I believed it best to wear, till I had occasion of new ones: and some friends were appre- hensive, that my wearing such a hat savoured of an affected singu- larity: and such who spake with me in a friendly way, I generally informed in a few words, that I believed my wearing it, was not in my own will. I had, at times, been sensible, that a superficial friendship had been dangerous to me; and many friends being now uneasy with me, I had an inclination to acquaint some with the manner of my being led into these things; yet, upon a deeper thought, I was for a time most easy to omit it, believing the present dispensation was profitable ; and trusting, that if I kept my place, the Lord in his own time would open the hearts of friends toward me: since which, I have had cause to admire his goodness and loving-kindness, in leading about and instructing, and opening and enlarging my heart in some of our meetings. A SPIRITUAL VISION In a time of sickness with the pleurisy, a little upward of two years and a half ago, I was brought so near the gates of death, that JOHN WOOLMAN 137 I forgot my name: being then desirous to know who I was, I saw a mass of matter of a dull gloomy colour, between the south and the east; and was informed, that this mass was human beings in as great misery as they could be, and live; and that I was mixed in with them, and that henceforth I might not consider myself as a distinct or separate being. In this state I remained several hours. I then heard a soft melodious voice, more pure and harmonious than any I had heard with my ears before; I believed it was the voice of an angel, who spake to the other angels: the words were John Woolman is dead. I soon remembered that I once was John Woolman; and being assured that I was alive in the body, I greatly wondered what that heavenly voice could mean. I believed, beyond doubting, that it was the voice of an holy angel; but, as yet, it was a mystery to me. I was then carried in spirit to the mines, where poor oppressed people were digging rich treasures for those called Christians; and heard them blaspheme the name of Christ, at which I was grieved; for his name to me was precious. Then I was informed, that these heathen were told, that those who oppressed them were the followers of Christ; and they said amongst themselves, If Christ directed them to use us in this sort, then Christ is a cruel tyrant. All this time the song of the angel remained a mystery; and in the morning, my dear wife and some others coming to my bedside, I asked them, if they knew who I was: and they telling me, I was John Woolman, thought I was light-headed: for I told them not what the angel said, nor was I disposed to talk much to any one; but was very desirous to get so deep, that I might understand this mystery. My tongue was often so dry, that I could not speak till I had moved it about and gathered some moisture, and as I lay still for a time, at length I felt divine power prepare my mouth that I could speak; and then I said, "I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ that liveth in me: and the life I now live in the flesh, is by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." Then the mystery was opened; and I perceived there was joy in heaven over a sinner who had repented ; and that that language (John Woolman is dead} meant no more than the death of my own will. 138 AMERICAN PROSE ]. HECTOR ST. JOHN CREVECCEUR LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN FARMER FROM LETTER HI. WHAT IS AN AMERICAN? I wish I could be acquainted with the feelings and thoughts which must agitate the heart and present themselves to the mind of an enlightened Englishman, when he first lands on this continent. He must greatly rejoice that he lived at a time to see this fair country discovered and settled; he must necessarily feel a share of national pride, when he views the chain of settlements which embellishes these extended shores. When he says to himself, this is the work of my countrymen, who, when convulsed by factions, afflicted by a variety of miseries and wants, restless and impatient, took refuge here. They brought along with them their national genius, to which they prin- cipally owe what liberty they enjoy, and what substance they possess. Here he sees the industry of his native country displayed in a new manner, and traces in their works the embrios of all the arts, sciences, and ingenuity which flourish in Europe. Here he beholds fair cities, substantial villages, extensive fields, an immense country filled with decent houses, good roads, orchards, meadows, and bridges, where an hundred years ago all was wild, woody and uncultivated! What a train of pleasing ideas this fair spectacle must suggest; it is a pros- pect which must inspire a good citizen with the most heartfelt pleasure. The difficulty consists in the manner of viewing so extensive a scene. He is arrived on a new continent; a modern society offers itself to his contemplation, different from what he had hitherto seen. It is not composed, as in Europe, of great lords who possess every thing, and of a herd of people who have nothing. Here are no aristocratical families, no courts, no kings, no bishops, no ecclesiastical dominion, no invisible power giving to a few a very visible one; no great manu- facturers employing thousands, no great refinements of luxury. The rich and the poor are not so far removed from each other as they are in Europe. Some few towns excepted, we are all tillers of the earth, from Nova Scotia to West Florida. We are a people of culti- vators, scattered over an immense territory, communicating with each other by means of good roads and navigable rivers, united by /. HECTOR ST. JOHN CREVEC(EUR 139 the silken bands of mild government, all respecting the laws, without dreading their power, because they are equitable. We are all ani- mated with the spirit of an industry which is unfettered and unre- strained, because each person works for himself. If he travels through our rural districts he views not the hostile castle, and the haughty mansion, contrasted with the clay-built hut and miserable cabbin, where cattle and men help to keep each other warm, and dwell in meanness, smoke, and indigence. A pleasing uniformity of decent competence appears throughout our habitations. The mean- est of our log-houses is a dry and comfortable habitation. Lawyer or merchant are the fairest titles our towns afford; that of a farmer is the only appellation of the rural inhabitants of our country. It must take some time ere he can reconcile himself to our dictionary, which is but short in words of dignity, and names of honour. There, on a Sunday, he sees a congregation of respectable farmers and their wives, all clad in neat homespun, well mounted, or riding in their own humble waggons. There is not among them an esquire, saving the unlettered magistrate. There he sees a parson as simple as his flock, a farmer who does not riot on the labour of others. We have no princes, for whom we toil, starve, and bleed: we are the most perfect society now existing in the world. Here man is free as he ought to be; nor is this pleasing equality so transitory as many others are. Many ages will not see the shores of our great lakes replenished with inland nations, nor the unknown bounds of North America entirely peopled. Who can tell how far it extends? Who can tell the millions of men whom it will feed and contain ? for no European foot has as yet travelled half the extent of this mighty continent! The next wish of this traveller will be to know whence came all these people ? they are a mixture of English, Scotch, Irish, French, Dutch, Germans, and Swedes. From this promiscuous breed, that race now called Americans have arisen. The eastern provinces must indeed be excepted, as being the unmixed descendents of Englishmen. I have heard many wish that they had been more intermixed also: for my part, I am no wisher, and think it much better as it has hap- pened. They exhibit a most conspicuous figure in this great and variegated picture; they too enter for a great share in the pleasing perspective displayed in these thirteen provinces. I know it is fashionable to reflect on them, but I respect them for what they have 140 AMERICAN PROSE done; for the accuracy and wisdom with which they have settled their territory; for the decency of their manners; for their early love of letters; their ancient college, the first in this hemisphere; for their industry; which to me who am but a farmer, is the criterion of every- thing. There never was a people, situated as they are, who with so ungrateful a soil have done more in so short a time. Do you think that the monarchical ingredients which are more prevalent in other governments, have purged them from all foul stains ? Their histories assert the contrary, In this great American asylum, the poor of Europe have by some means met together, and in consequence of various causes; to what purpose should they ask one another what countrymen they are? Alas, two thirds of them had no country. Can a wretch who wanders about, who works and starves, whose life is a continual scene of sore affliction or pinching penury; can that man call England or any other kingdom his country ? A country that had no bread for him, whose fields procured him no harvest, who met with nothing but the frowns of the rich, the severity of the laws, with jails and punishments; who owned not a single foot of the extensive surface of this planet ? No! urged by a variety of motives, here they came. Every thing has tended to regenerate them; new laws, a new mode of living, a new social system; here they are become men: in Europe they were as so many useless plants, wanting vegitative mould, and refreshing showers; they withered, and were mowed down by want, hunger, and war; but now by the power of transplantation, like all other plants they have taken root and flourished! Formerly they were not numbered in any civil lists of their country, except in those of the poor; here they rank as citizens. By what invisible power has this surprising metamorphosis been performed? By that of the laws and that of their industry. The laws, the indulgent laws, pro- tect them as they arrive, stamping on them the symbol of adoption; they receive ample rewards for their labours; these accumulated rewards procure them lands; those lands confer on them the title of freemen, and to that title every benefit is affixed which men can possibly require. This is the great operation daily performed by our kws. From whence proceed these laws? From our government. Whence the government ? It is derived from the original genius and strong desire of the people ratified and confirmed by the crown. J. HECTOR ST. JOHN CREVECCEUR 141 This is the great chain which links us all, this is the picture which every province exhibits, Nova Scotia excepted. There the crown has done all; either there were no people who had genius, or it was not much attended to: the consequence is, that the province is very thinly inhabited indeed; the power of the crown in conjunction with the musketos has prevented men from settling there. Yet some parts of it flourished once, and it contained a mild harmless set of people. But for the fault of a few leaders, the whole were banished. The greatest political error the crown ever committed in America, was to cut off men from a country which wanted nothing but men! What attachment can a poor European emigrant have for a country where he had nothing ? The knowledge of the language, the love of a few kindred as poor as himself, were the only cords that tied him: his country is now that which gives him land, bread, protection, and consequence: Ubi panis ibi patria, is the motto of all emigrants. What then is the American, this new man ? He is either an European, or the descendant of an European, hence that strange mixture of blood, which you will find in no other country. I could point out to you a family whose grandfather was an Englishman, whose wife was Dutch, whose son married a French woman, and whose present four sons have now four wives of different nations. He is an Ameri- can, who leaving behind him all his ancient prejudices and manners, receives new ones from the new mode of life he has embraced, the new government he obeys, and the new rank he holds. He becomes an American by being received in the broad lap of our great Alma Mater. Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new race of men, whose labours and posterity will one day cause great changes in the world. Americans are the western pilgrims, who are carrying along with them that great mass of arts, sciences, vigour, and indus- try which began long since in the east ; they will finish the great circle. The Americans were once scattered all over Europe; here they are incorporated into one of the finest systems of population which has ever appeared, and which will hereafter become distinct by the power of the different climates they inhabit. The American ought there- fore to love this country much better than that wherein either he or his forefathers were born. Here the rewards of his industry follow with equal steps the progress of his labour; his labour is founded on the basis of nature, self-interest; can it want a stronger allurement ? 142 AMERICAN PROSE Wives and children, who before in vain demanded of him a morsel of bread, now, fat and frolicsome, gladly help their father to clear those fields whence exuberant crops are to arise to feed and to clothe them all; without any part being claimed, either by a despotic prince, a rich abbot, or a mighty lord. Here religion demands but little of him; a small voluntary salary to the minister, and gratitude to God; can he refuse these? The American is a new man, who acts upon new principles; he must therefore entertain new ideas, and form new opinions. From involuntary idleness, servile dependence, penury, and useless labour, he has passed to toils of a very different nature, rewarded by ample subsistence. This is an American. LETTER X. ON SNAKES; AND ON THE HUMMING BIRD. Why would you prescribe this task; you know that what we take up ourselves seems always lighter than what is imposed on us by others. You insist on my saying something about our snakes; and in relating what I know concerning them, were it not for two singularities, the one of which I saw, and the other I received from an eye-witness, I should have but very little to observe. The south- ern provinces are the countries where nature has formed the greatest variety of alligators, snakes, serpents; and scorpions, from the smallest size, up to the pine barren, the largest species known here. We have but two, whose stings are mortal, which deserve to be men- tioned; as for the black one, it is remarkable for nothing but its industry, agility, beauty, and the art of inticing birds by the power of its eyes. I admire it much, and never kill it, though its formidable length and appearance often get the better of the philosophy of some people, particularly of Europeans. The most dangerous one is the pilot, or copperhead; for the poison of which no remedy has yet been discovered. It bears the first name because it always precedes the rattlesnake; that is, quits its state of torpidity in the spring a week before the other. It bears the second name on account of its head being adorned with many copper-coloured spots. It lurks in rocks near the water, and is extremely active and dangerous. Let man beware of it! I have heard only of one person who was stung by a copperhead in this country. The poor wretch instantly swelled in a most dreadful manner; a multitude of spots of different hues J. HECTOR ST. JOHN CREVECCEUR 143 alternately appeared and vanished, on different parts of his body; his eyes were filled with madness and rage, he cast them on all present with the most vindictive looks: he thrust out his tongue as the snakes do; he hissed through his teeth with inconceivable strength, and became an object of terror to all bye-standers. To the lividness of a corpse he united the desperate force of a maniac; they hardly were able to fasten him, so as to guard themselves from his attacks; when in the space of two hours death relieved the poor wretch from his struggles, and the spectators from their apprehensions. The poison of the rattle-snake is not mortal in so short a space, and hence there is more time to procure relief; we are acquainted with several antidotes with which almost every family is provided. They are extremely inactive, and if not touched, are perfectly inoffensive. I once saw, as I was travelling, a great cliff which was full of them; I handled several, and they appeared to be dead; they were all entwined together, and thus they remain until the return of the sun. I found them out, by following the track of some wild hogs which had fed on them; and even the Indians often regale on them. When they find them asleep, they put a small forked stick over their necks, which they keep immoveably fixed on the ground; giving the snake a piece of leather to bite: and this they pull back several tunes with great force, until they observe their two poisonous fangs torne out. Then they cut off the head, skin the body, and cook it as we do eels; and their flesh is extremely sweet and white. I once saw a tamed one, as gentle as you can possibly conceive a reptile to be; it took to the water and swam whenever it pleased; and when the boys to whom it belonged called it back, their summons was readily obeyed. It had been deprived of its fangs by the preceding method; they often stroked it with a soft brush, and this friction seemed to cause the most pleasing sensations, for it would turn on its back to enjoy it, as a cat does before the fire. One of this species was the cause, some years ago, of a most deplorable accident which I shall relate to you, as I had it from the widow and mother of the victims. A Dutch farmer of the Minisink went to mowing, with his negroes, in his boots, a precaution used to prevent being stung. Inadvertently he trod on a snake, which immediately flew at his legs; and as it drew back in order to renew its blow, one of his negroes cut it in two with his scythe. They prosecuted their work, and returned home; at night the farmer 144 AMERICAN PROSE pulled off his boots and went to bed; and was soon after attacked with a strange sickness at his stomach; he swelled, and before a physician could be sent for, died. The sudden death of this man did not cause much inquiry; the neighbourhood wondered, as is usual in such cases, and without any further examination the corpse was buried. A few days after, the son put on his father's boots, and went to the meadow ; at night he pulled them off, went to bed, and was attacked with the same symptoms about the same tune, and died in the morning. A little before he expired the doctor came, but was not able to assign what could be the cause of so singular a disorder; however, rather than appear wholly at a loss before the country people, he pronounced both father and son to have been bewitched. Some weeks after, the widow sold all the moveables for the benefit of the younger children; and the farm was leased. One of the neighbours, who bought the boots, presently put them on, and was attacked in the same manner as the other two had been; but this man's wife being alarmed by what had happened in the former family, dispatched one of her negroes for an eminent physician, who fortunately having heard something of the dreadful affair, guessed at the cause, applied oil, &c. and recovered the man. The boots which had been so fatal, were then carefully examined; and he found that the two fangs of the snake had been left in the leather, after being wrenched out of their sockets by the strength with which the snake had drawn back its head. The bladders which contained the poison, and several of the small nerves were still fresh, and adhered to the boot. The unfortu- nate father and son had been poisoned by pulling off these boots, in which action they imperceptibly scratched their legs with the points of the fangs, through the hollow of which, some of this astonishing poison was conveyed. You have no doubt heard of their rattles, if you have not seen them; the only observation I wish to make is, that the rattling is loud and distinct when they are angry ; and on the contrary, when pleased, it sounds like a distant trepidation, in which nothing distinct is heard. In the thick settlements, they are now become very scarce; for wherever they are met with, open war is declared against them; so that in a few years there will be none left but on our mountains. The black snake on the contrary, always diverts me because it excites no idea of danger. Their swiftness is astonishing; they will sometimes equal that of an horse; at other /. HECTOR ST. JOHN CREVECCEUR 145 times they will climb up trees in quest of our tree toads; or glide on the ground at full length. On some occasions they present them- selves half in the reptile state, half erect; their eyes and their heads in the erect posture, appear to great advantage: the former display a fire which I have often admired, and it is by these they are enabled to fascinate birds and squirrels. When they have fixed their eyes on an animal, they become immoveable; only turning their head sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, but still with their sight invariably directed to the object. The distracted victim, instead of flying its enemy, seems to be arrested by some invincible power; it screams; now approaches, and then recedes; and after skipping about with unaccountable agitation, finally rushes into the jaws of the snake, and is swallowed, as soon as it is covered with a slime or glue to make it slide easily down the throat of the devourer. One anecdote I must relate, the circumstances of which are as true as they are singular. One of my constant walks when I am at leisure, is in my lowlands, where I have the pleasure of seeing my cattle, horses, and colts. Exuberant grass replenishes all my fields, the best representative of our wealth; in the middle of that track I have cut a ditch eight feet wide, the banks of which nature adorns every spring with the wild salendine, and other flowering weeds, which on these luxuriant grounds shoot up to a great height. Over this ditch I have erected a bridge, capable of bearing a loaded waggon; on each side I carefully sow every year, some grains of hemp, which rise to the height of fifteen feet, so strong and so full of limbs as to resemble young trees: I once ascended one of them four feet above the ground. These produce natural arbours, rendered often still more compact by the assistance of an annual creeping plant which we call a vine, that never fails to entwine itself among their branches, and always produces a very desirable shade. From this simple grove I have amused myself an hundred tunes in observing the great number of humming birds with which our country abounds: the wild blos- soms every where attract the attention of these birds, which like bees subsist by suction. From this retreat I distinctly watch them in all their various attitudes; but their flight is so rapid, that you cannot distinguish the motion of their wings. On this little bird nature has profusely lavished her most splendid colours; the most 146 AMERICAN PROSE perfect azure, the most beautiful gold, the most dazzling red, are for ever in contrast, and help to embellish the plumes of his majestic head. The richest pallet of the most luxuriant painter, could never invent any thing to be compared to the variegated tints, with which this insect bird is arrayed. Its bill is as long and as sharp as a coarse sewing needle; like the bee, nature has taught it to find out in the calix of flowers and blossoms, those mellifluous particles that serve it for sufficient food; and yet it seems to leave them untouched, undeprived of any thing that our eyes can possibly distinguish. When it feeds, it appears as if immoveable, though continually on the wing; and sometimes, from what motives I know not, it will tear and lacerate flowers into a hundred pieces: for, strange to tell, they are the most irascible of the feathered tribe. Where do passions find room in so diminutive a body ? They often fight with the fury of lions, until one of the combatants falls a sacrifice and dies. When fatigued, it has often perched within a few feet of me, and on such favourable opportunities I have surveyed it with the most minute attention. Its little eyes appear like diamonds, reflecting light on every side: most elegantly finished in all parts it is a miniature work of our great parent; who seems to have formed it the smallest, and at the same time the most beautiful of the winged species. As I was one day sitting solitary and pensive in my primitive arbour, my attention was engaged by a strange sort of rustling noise at some paces distant. I looked all around without distinguishing any thing, until I climbed one of my great hemp stalks; when to my astonishment, I beheld two snakes of considerable length, the one pursuing the other with great celerity through a hemp stubble field. The aggressor was of the black kind, six feet long; the fugitive was a water snake, nearly of equal dimensions. They soon met, and in the fury of their first encounter, they appeared in an instant firmly twisted together; and whilst their united tails beat the ground, they mutually tried with open jaws to lacerate each other. What a fell aspect did they present! their heads were compressed to a very small size, their eyes flashed fire; and after this conflict had lasted about five minutes, the second found means to disengage itself from the first, and hurried toward the ditch. Its antagonist instantly assumed a new posture, and half creeping and half erect, with a majestic mein, overtook and attacked the other again, which placed itself in J. HECTOR ST. JOHN CR&VECCEUR 147 the same attitude, and prepared to resist. The scene was uncommon and beautiful; for thus opposed they fought with their jaws, biting each other with the utmost rage; but notwithstanding this appear- ance of mutual courage and fury, the water snake still seemed desirous of retreating toward the ditch, its natural element. This was no sooner perceived by the keen-eyed black one, than twisting its tail twice round a stalk of hemp, and seizing its adversary by the throat, not by means of its jaws, but by twisting its own neck twice round that of the water snake, pulled it back from the ditch. To prevent a defeat the latter took hold likewise of a stalk on the bank, and by the acquisition of that point of resistance became a match for its fierce antagonist. Strange was this to behold; two great snakes strongly adhering to the ground mutually fastened together by means of the writhings which lashed them to each other, and stretched at their full length, they pulled but pulled in vain; and in the moments of greatest exertions that part of their bodies which was entwined, seemed extremely small, while the rest appeared inflated, and now and then convulsed with strong undulations, rapidly following each other. Their eyes seemed on fire, and ready to start out of their heads; at one time the conflict seemed decided; the water-snake bent itself into two great folds, and by that operation rendered the other more than commonly outstretched; the next minute the new struggles of the black one gained an unexpected superiority, it acquired two great folds likewise, which necessarily extended the body of its adversary in proportion as it had contracted its own. These efforts were alternate; victory seemed doubtful, inclining sometimes to the one side and sometimes to the other; until at last the stalk to which the black snake fastened, suddenly gave way, and in consequence of this accident they both plunged into the ditch. The water did not extinguish their vindictive rage; for by their agitations I could trace, though not distinguish their mutual attacks. They soon re-appeared on the surface twisted together, as in their first onset; but the black snake seemed to retain its wonted supe- riority, for its head was exactly fixed above that of the other, which it incessantly pressed down under the water, until it was stifled, and sunk. The victor no sooner perceived its enemy incapable of farther resistance, than abandoning it to the current, it returned on shore and disappeared. 148 AMERICAN PROSE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN FROM THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY A BOYISH LEADER At ten years old, I was taken to help my father in his business of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler, a business to which he was not bred, but had assumed on his arrival in New England, because he found that his dying trade, being in little request, would not main- tain his family. Accordingly, I was employed in cutting the wick for the candles, filling the molds for cast candles, attending the shop, going of errands, &c. I disliked the trade, and had a strong inclination to go to sea, but my father declared against it; but residing near the water, I was much in and on it. I learnt to swim well, and to manage boats; and when embarked with other boys, I was commonly allowed to govern, especially in any case of difficulty; and upon other occa- sions, I was generally the leader among the boys, and sometimes led them into scrapes, of which I will mention an instance, as it shews an early projecting public spirit, though not then justly conducted. There was a salt marsh which bounded part of the mill-pond, on the edge of which at high water we used to stand to fish for minnows; by much trampling we had made it a mere quagmire. My proposal was to build a wharf there for us to stand upon, and I shewed my comrades a large heap of stones, which were intended for a new house near the marsh, and which would very well suit our purpose. Accord- ingly, in the evening, when the workmen were gone home, I assembled a number of my playfellows, and we worked diligently like so many emmets, sometimes two or three to a stone, till we had brought them all to make our little wharf. The next morning the workmen were surprised, on missing the stones which formed our wharf; inquiry was made after the authors of this transfer, we were discovered, com- plained of, and corrected by our fathers; and though I demonstrated the utility of our work, mine convinced me that, that which was not truly honest could not be truly useful. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 149 LEARNING TO WRITE About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spectator. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing excel- lent, and wished if possible to imitate it. With that view I took some of the papers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by a few days, and then without looking at the book, tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length and as fully as it had been expressed before in any suitable words that should occur to me. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and cor- rected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness in recollecting and using them, which I thought I should have acquired before that time, if I had gone on making verses; since the continual search for words of the same import, but of different lengths, to suit the measure, or of different sounds for the rhyme, would have laid me under a constant necessity of searching for variety, and also have tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I took some of the tales in the Spectator, and turned them into verse: and after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned them back again. I also sometimes jumbled my collection of hints into confusion, and after some weeks endeavored to reduce them into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences and complete the subject. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of the thoughts. By comparing my work with the original, I discovered many faults and corrected them; but I some- times had the pleasure to fancy, that in particulars of small conse- quence I had been fortunate enough to improve the method or the language, and this encouraged me to think, that I might in time come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I was extremely ambitious. The time I alloted for writing exercises and for reading, was at night, or before work began in the morning, or on Sunday, when I contrived to be in the printing house, avoiding as much as I could, the constant attendance at public worship, which my father used to exact from me when I was under his care, and which I still continued to consider as a duty, though I could not afford time to practise it. 150 AMERICAN PROSE ENTRANCE INTO PHILADELPHIA I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, and shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your mind compare such unlikely beginnings, with the figure I have since made there. I was in my working dress, my best clothes coming round by sea. I was dirty, from my being so long hi the boat: my pockets were stuffed out with shirts and stockings, and I knew no one, nor where to look for lodging. Fatigued with walking, rowing, and the want of sleep, I was very hungry; and my whole stock of cash con- sisted in a single dollar, and about a shilling in copper coin, which I gave to the boatmen for my passage. At first they refused it, on account of my having rowed, but I insisted on their taking it. Man is sometimes more generous when he has little money, than when he has plenty; perhaps to prevent his being thought to have but little. I walked towards the top of the street, gazing about still in Market- street, where I met a boy with bread. I had often made a meal of dry bread, and inquiring where he had bought it, I went immediately to the baker's he directed me to. I asked for biscuits, meaning such as we had at Boston : that sort, it seems, was not made in Philadelphia. I then asked for a three-penny loaf, and was told they had none. Not knowing the different prices, nor the names of the different sorts of bread, I told him to give me three-penny worth of any sort. He gave me accordingly three great puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but took it, and having no room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up Market-street as far as Fourth-street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father; when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut-street and part of Walnut-street, eating my roll all the way, and coming round found myself again at Market-street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of the river water; and being filled with one of my rolls gave the other two to a woman and her child that came down the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which by this tune had many clean-dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way: I joined them and thereby was led into the great meeting house of the Quakers near the market. I sat down among BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 151 them, and after looking round awhile, and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy, through labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till the meeting broke up, when some one was kind enough to rouse me. This therefore was the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia. SUCCESS IN BUSINESS I now opened a small stationer's shop: I had in it blanks of all kinds; the correctest that ever appeared among us. I was assisted in that by my friend Breintnal: I had also paper, parchment, chap- men's books, &c. One Whitemash, a compositor I had known in London, an excellent workman, now came to me, and worked with me constantly and diligently; and I took an apprentice, the son of Aquila Rose. I began now gradually to pay off the debt I was under for the printing house. In order to secure my credit and character as a tradesman, I took care not only to be in reality industrious and frugal, but to avoid the appearances to the contrary. I dressed plain, and was seen at no places of idle diversion: I never went out a fishing or shooting: a book indeed sometimes debauched me from my work, but that was seldom, was private, and gave no scandal: and, to shew that I was not above my business, I sometimes brought home the paper I purchased at the stores through the streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus being esteemed an industrious, thriving young man, and paying duly for what I bought, the merchants who imported stationary solicited my custom; others proposed supplying me with books, and I went on prosperously. RELIGION I had been religiously educated as a Presbyterian; but though some of the dogmas of that persuasion, such as the eternal decrees of God, election, reprobation, &c. appeared to me unintelligible, and I early absented myself from the public assemblies of the sect, (Sunday being my studying day,) I never was without some religious prin- ciples: I never doubted, for instance, the existence of a Deity, that he made the world, and governed it by his providence; that the most acceptable service of God was the doing good to man; that our souls are immortal; and that all crimes will be punished, and virtue rewarded, either here or hereafter; these I esteemed the essentials of 152 AMERICAN PROSE every religion, and being to be found in all the religions we had in our country, I respected them all, though with different degrees of respect, as I found them more or less mixed with other articles, which without any tendency to inspire, promote, or confirm morality served prin- cipally to divide us, and make us unfriendly to one another. This respect to all, with an opinion that the worst had some effects, induced me to avoid all discourse that might tend to lessen the good opinion another might have of his own religion; and as our province increased in people, and new places of worship were continually wanted, and generally erected by voluntary contribution, my mite for such purpose, whatever might be the sect, was never refused. THE PURSUIT OF MORAL PERFECTION It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous project )f arriving at moral perfection; I wished to live without committing \ny fault at any time, and to conquer all that either natural inclina- tion, custom, or company might lead me into. As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had under- taken a task of more difficulty than I had imagined : while my attention was taken up, and care employed in guarding against one fault, I was often surprised by another: habit took the advantage of inattention; inclination was sometimes too strong for reason. I concluded at length that the mere speculative conviction, that it was our interest to be completely virtuous, was not sufficient to prevent our slipping; and that the contrary habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and established, before we can have any dependance on a steady uniform rectitude of conduct. For this purpose I therefore tried the following method. In the various enumerations of the moral virtues I had met with in my reading, I found the catalogue more or less numerous, as differ- ent writers included more or fewer ideas under the same name. Temperance for example, was by some confined to eating and drinking; while by others ijt was extended to mean the moderating every other pleasure, appetite, inclination, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our avarice and ambition. I proposed to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use rather more names, with fewer ideas annexed to each, than a few names with more ideas; and I included under thir- BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 153 teen names of virtues, all that at that time occurrred to me as neces- sary or desirable; and annexed to each a short precept, which fully expressed the extent I gave to its meaning. These names of virtues, with their precepts, were; 1 . TEMPERANCE. Eat not to dulness : drink not to elevation. 2. SILENCE. Speak not but what may benefit others or your- self: avoid trifling conversation. 3. ORDER. Let all your things have their places: let each part of your business have its time. 4. RESOLUTION. Resolve to perform what you ought: per- form without fail what you resolve. 5. FRUGALITY. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself: i.e. waste nothing. 6. INDUSTRY. Lose no time: be always employed in some- thing useful: cut off all unnecessary actions. 7. SINCERITY. Use no hurtful deceit: think innocently and justly: and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 8. JUSTICE. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty. 9. MODERATION. A void extremes: forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve. 10. CLEANLINESS. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation. 11. TRANQUILLITY. Be not disturbed at trifles, nor at acci- dents common or unavoidable. 12. CHASTITY.. . . . 13. HUMILITY. Imitate Jesus and Socrates. My intention being to acquire the habitude of all these virtues, I judged it would be well not to distract my attention by attempting the whole at once, but to fix it on one of them at a time; and when I should be master of that, then to proceed to another; and so on till I should have gone through the thirteen: and as the previous acquisition of some, might facilitate the acquisition of certain others, I arranged them with that view as they stand above. Temperance first, as it tends to procure that coolness and clearness of head, which is so necessary where constant vigilance was to be kept up, and a guard maintained against the unremitting attraction of ancient habits and the force of perpetual temptations. This being acquired and 154 AMERICAN PROSE established, Silence would be more easy; and my desire being to gain knowledge at the same time that I improved in virtue; and con- considering that in conversation it was obtained rather by the use of the ear than of the tongue, and therefore wishing to break a habit I was getting into of prattling, punning, and jesting, (which only made me acceptable to trifling company) I gave Silence the second place. This and the next, Order, I expected would allow me more time for attending to my project and my studies. Resolution once become habitual, would keep me firm in my endeavors to obtain all the sub- sequent virtues. Frugality and Industry relieving me from my remain- ing debt, and producing affluence and independence, would make more easy the practice of Sincerity and Justice, &c. &c. Conceiving then, that agreeably to the advice of Pythagoras in his Golden Verses, daily examination would be necessary; I contrived the following method for conducting that examination. I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each of the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns, one for each day of .the week, marking each column with a letter for the day. I crossed these columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues; on which line, and in its proper column, I might mark by a little black spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been com- mitted respecting that virtue, upon that day I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of the virtues successively. Thus in the first week, my great guard was to avoid every the least offence against Temperance; leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only marking every evening the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line marked T. clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and its opposite weakened, that I might venture extending my attention to include the next; and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots. Proceeding thus to the .last, I could get through a course complete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. And like him who having a garden to weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, (which would exceed his reach and his strength,) but works on one of the beds at a time, and having accomplished the first, proceeds to a second; so I should have (I hoped) the encouraging pleasure, of seeing on my BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 155 pages the progress made in virtue, by clearing successively my lines of their spots; till in the end, by a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean book, after a thirteen weeks' daily exam- ination I entered upon the execution of this plan for self-examination, and continued it with occasional intermissions for some time. I was surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. To avoid the trouble of renewing now and then my little book, which by scraping out the marks on the paper of .old faults to make room for new ones in a new course, became full of holes, I transformed my tables and precepts to the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines were drawn with red ink, that made a durable stain; and on those lines I marked my faults with a black lead pencil ; which marks I could easily wipe out with a wet sponge. After a while I went through one course only in a year; and afterwards only one in several years; till at length I omitted them entirely, being employed in voyages and business abroad, with a multiplicity of affairs, that interfered; but I always carried my little book with me. WHITEFIELD'S ELOQUENCE Mr. Whitefield, on leaving us, went preaching all the way through the colonies to Georgia. The settlement of that province had lately been begun, but instead of being made with hardy industrious hus- bandmen, accustomed to labor, the only people fit for such an enter- prise, it was with families of broken shopkeepers, and other insolvent debtors; many of indolent and idle habits, taken out of the jails, who being set down in the woods, unqualified for clearing land, and unable to endure the hardships of a new settlement, perished in numbers, leaving many helpless children unprovided for. The sight of their miserable situation inspired the benevolent heart of Mr. Whitefield, with the idea of building an orphan-house there, in which they might be supported and educated. Returning northward, he preached up this charity, and made large collections: for his eloquence had a wonderful power over the hearts and purses of his hearers, of which I myself was an instance. I did not disapprove of the design, but as Georgia was then destitute of materials and workmen, and it was proposed to send them from Philadelphia at a great expense, I thought 156 AMERICAN PROSE it would have been better to have built the house at Philadelphia and brought the children to it. This I advised, but he was resolute in his first project, rejected my counsel, and I therefore refused to con- tribute. I happened soon after to attend one of his sermons, in the course of which, I perceived he intended to finish with a collec- tion, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me: I had in my pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold; as he proceeded I began to soften, and concluded to give the copper. Another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver; and he finished so admirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the collector's dish, gold and all! BENEVOLENT CUNNING In 1751, Dr. Thomas Bond, a particular friend of mine, conceived the idea of establishing an hospital in Philadelphia, (a very beneficent design, which has been ascribed to me, but was originally and truly his) for the reception and cure of poor sick persons, whether inhabit- ants of the province or strangers. He was zealous and active in endeavoring to procure subscriptions for it; but the proposal being a novelty in America, and at first not well understood, he met but with little success. At length he came to me with the compliment, that he found there was no such a thing as carrying a public-spirited project through without my being concerned in it. "For," said he, "I am often asked by those to whom I propose subscribing, Have you consulted Franklin on this business? And what does he think of it? And when I tell them that I have not, (supposing it rather out of your line) they do not subscribe, but say, they will consider it." I inquired into the nature and probable utility of the scheme, and receiving from him a very satisfactory explanation, I not only sub- scribed to it myself, but engaged heartily in the design of procuring subscriptions from others: previous however to the solicitation, I endeavored to prepare the minds of the people, by writing on the subject in the newspapers, which was my usual custom in such cases, but which Dr. Bond had omitted. The subscriptions afterwards were more free and generous; but beginning to flag, I saw they would be insufficient without some assistance from the assembly, and there- fore proposed to petition for it; which was done. The country BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 157 members did not at first relish the project: they objected that it could only be serviceable to the city, and therefore the citizens alone should be at the expense of it; and they doubted whether the citizens themselves generally approved of it. My allegation on the contrary, that it met with such approbation as to leave no doubt of our being able to raise two thousand pounds by voluntary donations, they con- sidered as a most extravagant supposition and utterly impossible. On this I formed my plan; and asking leave to bring in a bill for incorporating the contributors according to the prayer of their petition, and granting them a blank sum of money; which leave was obtained chiefly on the consideration, that the house could throw the bill out if they did not like it, I drew it so as to make the important clause a conditional one; viz. "And be it enacted by the authority aforesaid, that when the said contributors shall have met and chosen their managers and treasurer, and shall have raised by their con- tributions a capital stock of two thousand pounds value, (the yearly interest of which is to be applied to the accommodation of the sick poor in the said hospital, and of charge for diet, attendance, advice, and medicines,) and shall make the same appear to the satisfaction of the speaker of the Assembly for the time being; that then it shall and may be lawful for the said speaker, and he is hereby required to sign an order on the provincial treasurer, for the payment of two thousand pounds in two yearly payments, to the treasurer of the said hospital, to be applied to the founding, building, and finishing of the same." This condition carried the bill through; for the members who had opposed the grant, and now conceived they might have the credit of being charitable without the expense, agreed to its passage : and then hi soliciting subscriptions among the people, we urged the conditional promise of the law as an additional motive to give, since every man's donation would be doubled: thus the clause worked both ways. The subscriptions accordingly soon exceeded the requisite sum, and we claimed and received the public gift, which enabled us to carry the design into execution. A convenient and handsome building was soon erected; the institution has by constant experience been found useful, and flourishes to this day; and I do not remember any of my political manoeuvres, the success of which at the tune gave me more pleasure; or wherein, after thinking of it, I more easily excused myself for having made some use of cunning. 158 AMERICAN PROSE THE WAY TO WEALTH COURTEOUS READER I have heard that nothing gives an Author so great Pleasure, as to find his Works respectfully quoted by other learned Authors. This Pleasure I have seldom enjoyed; for tho' I have been, if I may say it without Vanity, an eminent Author of Almanacks annually now a full Quarter of a Century, my Brother Authors in the same Way, for what Reason I know not, have ever been very sparing in their Applauses, and no other Author has taken the least Notice of me, so that did not my Writings produce me some solid Pudding, the great Deficiency of Praise would have quite discouraged me. I concluded at length, that the People were the best Judges of my Merit; for they buy my Works; and besides, in my Rambles, where I am not personally known, I have frequently heard one or other of my Adages repeated, with, as Poor Richard says, at the End on't; this gave me some Satisfaction, as it showed not only that my Instructions were regarded, but discovered likewise some Respect for my Authority; and I own, that to encourage the Practice of remem- bering and repeating those wise Sentences, I have sometimes quoted myself with great Gravity. Judge, then how much I must have been gratified by an Incident I am going to relate to you. I stopt my Horse lately where a great Number of People were collected at a Vendue of Merchant Goods. The Hour of Sale not being come, they were conversing on the Badness of the Times, and one of the Company call'd to a plain clean old Man, with white Locks, "Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the Times ? Won't these heavy Taxes quite ruin the Country ? How shall we be ever able to pay them ? What would you advise us to ? " Father Abraham stood up, and reply 'd, "If you'd have my Advice, I'll give it you in short, for A Word to the Wise is enough, and many Words won't fill a Bushel, as Poor Richard says." They all join'd in desiring him to speak his Mind, and gathering round him, he pro- ceeded as follows: "Friends," says he, "and Neighbours, the Taxes are indeed very heavy, and if those laid on by the Government were the only Ones we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more grievous to some of us. We are taxed BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 159 twice as much by our Idleness, three times as much by our Pride, and four times as much by our Folly; and from these Taxes the Com- missioners cannot ease or deliver us by allowing an Abatement. However let us hearken to good Advice, and something may be done for us; God helps them that help themselves, as Poor Richard says, in his Almanack of 1733. It would be thought a hard Government that should tax its People one-tenth Part of their Time, to be employed in its Service. But Idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that is spent in absolute Sloth, or doing of nothing, with that which is spent in idle Employments or Amusements, that amount to nothing. Sloth, by bringing on Diseases, absolutely shortens Life. Sloth, like Rust, consumes faster than Labour wears; while the used Key is always bright, as Poor Richard says. But dost thou love Life, then do not squander Time, for that's the stuff Life is made of, as Poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep, forgetting that The sleeping Fox catches no Poultry, and that There will be sleeping enough in the Grave, as Poor Richard says. // Time be of all Things the most precious, wasting of Time must be, as Poor Richards says, the greatest Prodigality; since, as he else- where tells us, Lost Time is never found again; and what we call Time enough, always proves little enough. Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the Purpose; so by Diligence shall we do more with less Perplexity. Sloth makes all Things difficult, but Industry all easy, as Poor Richard says; and He that riseth late must trot all Day, and shall scarce overtake his Business at Night; while Laziness travels so slowly, that Poverty soon overtakes him, as we read in Poor Richard, who adds, Drive thy Business, let not that drive thee; and Early to Bed, and early to rise, makes a Man healthy, wealthy, and wise. So what signifies wishing and hoping for better Times. We may make these Times better, if we bestir ourselves. Industry need not wish, as Poor Richard says, and he that lives upon Hope will die fasting. There are no Gains without Pains; then Help, Hands, for I have no Lands, or if I have, they are smartly taxed. And, as Poor Richard likewise observes, He that hath a Trade hath an Estate; and he that hath a Calling, hath an Office of Profit and Honour; but then the Trade must be worked at, and the Calling well followed, or neither the Estate nor the Office will enable us to pay our Taxes. If we are 160 AMERICAN PROSE industrious, we shall never starve; for, as Poor Richard says, At the working Man's House Hunger looks in, but dares not enter. Nor will the Bailiff or the Constable enter, for Industry pays Debts, while Despair encreaseth them, says Poor Richard. What though you have found no Treasure, nor has any rich Relation left you a Legacy, Diligence is the Mother of Good-luck as Poor Richard says and God gives all Things to Industry. Then plough deep, while Sluggards sleep, and you shall have Corn to sell and to keep, says Poor Dick. Work while it is called To-day, for you know not how much you may be hindered To-morrow, which makes Poor Richard say, One to-day is worth two To-morrows, and farther, Have you somewhat to do To-morrow, do it To-day. If you were a Servant, would you not be ashamed that a good Master should catch you idle ? Are you then your own Master, be ashamed to catch yourself idle, as Poor Dick says. When there is so much to be done for yourself, your Family, your Country, and your gracious King, be up by Peep of Day; Let not the Sun look down and say, Inglorious here he lies. Handle your Tools without Mittens; remember that The Cat in Gloves catches no Mice, as Poor Richard says. 'T is true there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed, but stick to it steadily; and you will see great Effects, for Constant Dropping wears away Stones, and by Diligence and Patience the Mouse ate in two the Cable; and Little Strokes fell great Oaks, as Poor Richard says in his Almanack, the Year I cannot just now remember. Methinks I hear some of you say, Must a Man afford himself no Leisure? I will tell thee, my friend, what Poor Richard says, Employ thy Time well, if thou meanest to gain Leisure; and, since thou art not sure of a Minute, throw not away an hour. Leisure, is Time for doing something useful; this Leisure the diligent Man will obtain, but the lazy Man never; so that, as Poor Richard says A Life of Leisure and a Life of Laziness are two Things. Do you imagine that Sloth will afford you more Comfort than Labour ? No, for as Poor Richard says, Trouble springs from Idleness, and grievous Toil from needless Ease. Many without Labour, would live by their Wits only, but they break for Want of Stock. Whereas Industry gives Comfort, and Plenty, and Respect: Fly Pleasures, and they'll follow you. The diligent Spinner has a large Shift; and now I have a Sheep and a Cow, every Body bids me good Morrow; all which is well said by Poor Richard. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 161 But with our Industry, we must likewise be steady, settled, and careful, and oversee our own Affairs with our own Eyes, and not trust too much to others; for, as Poor Richard says I never saw an oft-removed Tree, Nor yet an oft-removed Family. That throve so well as those that settled be. And again, Three Removes is as bad as a Fire; and again, Keep thy Shop, and thy Shop will keep thee; and again, // you would have your Busi- ness done, go; if not, send. And again, He that by the Plough would thrive Himself must either hold or drive. And again, The Eye of a Master will do more Work than both his Hands; and again, Want of Care does us more Damage than Want of Knowl- edge; and again, Not to oversee Workmen, is to leave them your Purse open. Trusting too much to others' Care is the Ruin of many; for, as the Almanack says, In the Affairs of this World, Men are saved, not by Faith, but by the Want of it; but a Man's own Care is profitable; for, saith Poor Dick, Learning is to the Studious, and Riches to the Careful, as well as, Power to the Bold, and Heaven to the Virtuous, And farther, // you would have a faithful Servant, and one that you like, serve yourself. And again, he adviseth to Circumspection and Care, even in the smallest Matters, because sometimes, A little Neg- lect may breed great Mischief; adding, for want of a Nail the Shoe was lost; for want of a Shoe the Horse was lost; and for want of a Horse the Rider was lost, being overtaken and slain by the Enemy; all for want of Care about a Horse-shoe Nail. So much for Industry, my Friends, and Attention to one's own Business; but to these we must add Frugality, if we would make our Industry more certainly successful. A Man may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, keep his Nose all his Life to the Grindstone, and die not worth a Groat at last. A fat Kitchen makes a lean Will, as Poor Richard says; and Many Estates are spent in the Getting, Since Women for Tea forsook Spinning and Knitting, And Men for Punch forsook Hewing and Splitting. If you would be wealthy, says he in another Almanack, think of Saving as well as of Getting: The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her Outgoes are greater than her Incomes. 162 AMERICAN PROSE Away then with your expensive Follies, and you will not then have so much Cause to complain of hard Times, heavy Taxes, and chargeable Families; for, as Poor Dick says, Women and Wine, Game and Deceit, Make the Wealth small and the Wants great. And farther, What maintains one Vice, would bring up two Children. You may think perhaps, that a little Tea, or a little Punch now and then, Diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little Enter- tainment now and then, can be no great Matter; but remember what Poor Richard says, Many a Little makes a Mickle; and farther, Beware of little Expences; A small Leak will sink a great Ship; and again, Who Dainties love, shall Beggars prove; and moreover, Fools make Feasts, and wise Men eat them. Here you are all got together at this Vendue of Fineries and Knick- nacks. You call them Goods; but if you do not take Care, they will prove Evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may for less than they cost; but if you have no Occasion for them, they must be dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says; Buy what thou hast no Need of, and ere long thou shall sell thy Necessaries. And again, At a great Pennyworth pause a while: He means, that perhaps the Cheapness is apparent only, and not Real; or the bargain, by straitening thee in thy Business, may do thee more Harm than Good. For in another Place he says, Many have been 'ruined by buying good Pennyworths. Again, Poor Richard says, 't is foolish to lay out Money in a Purchase of Repentance; and yet this Folly is practised every Day at Vendues, for want of minding the Almanack. Wise Men, as Poor Dick says, learn by others Harms, fools scarcely by their own; but felix quern faciunt aliena pericula cautum. Many a one, for the Sake of Finery on the Back, have gone with a hungry Belly, and half-starved their Families. Silks and Sattins, Scarlet and Velvet, as Poor Richard says, put out the Kitchen Fire. These are not the Necessaries. of Life; they can scarcely be called the Conveniences; and yet only because they look pretty, how many want to have them! The artificial Wants of Mankind thus become more numerous than the Natural; and, as Poor Dick says, for one poor Person, there are an hundred Indigent. By these, and other BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 163 Extravagancies, the Genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who through Industry and Frugality have maintained their Standing; in which Case it appears plainly, that A Ploughman on his Legs is higher than a Gentleman on his Knees, as Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small Estate left them, which they knew not the Getting of; they think, '/ is Day, and will never be Night; that a little to be spent out of so much is not worth minding; a Child and a Fool, as Poor Richard says, imagine Twenty shillings and Twenty Years can never be spent, but always taking out of the Meal-tub, and never putting in, soon comes to the Bottom; as Poor Dick says, When the Well's dry, they know the Worth of Water. But this they might have known before, if they had taken his Advice; // you would know the Value of Money, go and try to borrow some; for, he that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing; and indeed so does he that lends to such People, when he goes to get it in again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says, Fond Pride of Dress is sure a very Curse; E'er Fancy you consult, consult your Purse. And again, Pride is as loud a Beggar as Want, and a great deal more saucy. When you have bought one fine Thing, you must buy ten more, that your Appearance may be all of a Piece; but Poor Dick says, 'Tis easier to suppress the first Desire, than to satisfy all that follow it. And 't is as truly Folly for the Poor to ape the Rich, as for the Frog to swell, in order to equal the Ox. Great Estates may venture more, But little Boats should keep near Shore. 'T is, however, a Folly soon punished; for, Pride that dines on Vanity, sups on Contempt, as Poor Richard says. And in another Place, Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and supped with Infamy. And after all, of what Use is this Pride of Appearance, for which so much is risked so much is suffered? It cannot promote Health, or ease Pain; it makes no Increase of Merit in the Person, it creates Envy, it hastens Misfortune. What is a Butterfly ? At best He 's but a Caterpillar drest; The gaudy Fop 's his Picture just, as Poor Richard says. 164 AMERICAN PROSE But what Madness must it be to run in Debt for these Super- fluities! We are offered, by the Terms of this Vendue, Six Months' Credit; and that perhaps has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready Money, and hope now to be fine without it. But, ah, think what you do when you run in Debt; You give to another Power over your Liberty. If you cannot pay at the Time, you will be ashamed to see your Creditor; you will be in Fear when you speak to him; you will make poor pitiful sneaking Excuses, and by Degrees come to lose your Veracity, and sink into base downright lying; for, as Poor Richard says The second Vice is Lying, the first is running in Debt. And again, to the same Purpose, Lying rides upon Debt's Back. Whereas a free-born Englishman ought not to be ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any Man living. But Poverty often deprives a Man of all Spirit and Virtue: 'T is hard for an empty Bag to stand upright, as Poor Richard truly says. What would you think of that Prince, or that Government, who should issue an Edict forbidding you to dress like a Gentleman or a Gentlewoman, on Pain of Imprisonment or Servitude ? Would you not say, that you were free, have a Right to dress as you please, and that such an Edict would be a Breach of your Privileges, and such a Government tyrannical? And yet you are about to put yourself under that Tyranny, when you run in Debt for such Dress! Your Creditor has Authority, at his Pleasure to deprive you of your Liberty, by confining you in Goal for Life, or to sell you for a Servant, if you should not be able to pay him! When you have got your Bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of Payment; but Creditors, Poor Richard tells us, have better Memories than Debtors; and in another Place says, Creditors are a superstitious Sect, great Observers of set Days and Times. The Day comes round before you are aware, and the Demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it, Or if you bear your Debt in Mind, the Term which at first seemed so long, will, as it lessens, appear extreamly short. Time will seem to have added Wings to his Heels, as well as Shoulders. Those have a short Lent, saith Poor Richard, who owe Money to be paid at Easter. Then since, as he says, The Borrower is a Slave to the Lender, and the Debtor to the Creditor, disdain the Chain, preserve your Freedom; and maintain your Independency: Be industrious a.ndfree; be frugal and free. At present, perhaps, you may think yourself in thriving BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 16$ Circumstances, and that you can bear a little Extravagance without Injury; but, For Age and Want, save while you may; No Morning Sun lasts a whole Day, as Poor Richard says. Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever while you live, Expence is constant and certain; and '/ is easier to build two Chimnies, than to keep one in Fuel, as Poor Richard says. So, Rather go to Bed supperless than rise in Debt. Get what you can, and what you get hold; 'T is the Stone that will turn all your lead into Gold, as Poor Richard says. And when you have got the Philosopher's Stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad Times, or the Difficulty of paying Taxes. This Doctrine, my friends, is Reason and Wisdom; but after all, do not depend too much upon your own Industry, and Frugality, and Prudence, though excellent Things, for they may all be blasted with- out the Blessing of Heaven; and therefore, ask that Blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. Remember, Job suffered, and was after- wards prosperous. And now to conclude, Experience keeps a dear School, but Fools will learn in no other, and scarce in that; for it is true, we may give Advice, but we cannot give Conduct, as Poor Richard says: However, remember this, They that won't be counselled, can't be helped, as Poor Richard says; and farther, That, if you will not hear Reason, she'll surely rap your Knuckles." Thus the old Gentleman ended his Harangue. The People heard it, and approved the Doctrine, and immediately practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common Sermon; for the Vendue opened, and they began to buy extravagantly, notwithstanding, his Cautions and their own Fear of Taxes. I found the good Man had thoroughly studied my Almanacks, and digested all I had dropt on these Topicks during the Course of Five and Twenty Years. The frequent Mention he made of me must have tired any one else, but my Vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I was conscious 166 AMERICAN PROSE that not a tenth Part of the Wisdom was my own, which he ascribed to me, but rather the Gleanings I had made of the Sense of all Ages and Nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the Echo of it; and though I had at first determined to buy Stuff for a new Coat I went away resolved to wear my old One a little longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy Profit will be as great as mine. I am, as ever, thine to serve thee, RICHARD SAUNDERS. July 7, 1757. THE EPHEMERA AN EMBLEM OF HUMAN LIFE To Madame Brillon, of Passy You may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent that happy day in the delightful garden and sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I stopped a little in one of our walks, and stayed some time behind the company. We had been shown numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly, called an ephemera, whose successive generations, we were told, were bred and expired within the day. I happened to see a living company of them on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. You know I understand all the inferior animal tongues. My too great application to the study of them is the best excuse I can give for the little progress I have made in your charming language. I listened through curiosity to the discourse of these little creatures; but as they, in their national vivacity, spoke three or four together, I could make but little of their conversation. I found, however, by some broken expressions that I heard now and then, they were dis- puting warmly on the merit of two foreign musicians, one a cousin, the other a moscheto; in which dispute they spent their time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life as if they had been sure of living a month. Happy people ! thought I ; you are certainly under a wise, just, and mild government, since you have no public grievances to complain of, nor any subject of contention but the perfections and imperfections of foreign music. I turned my head from them to an old grey-headed one, who was single on another leaf, and talking to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I put it down in writing, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom I am so much indebted BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 167 for the most pleasing of all amusements, her delicious company and heavenly harmony. "It was," said he, "the opinion of learned philosophers of our race, who lived and nourished long before my time, that this vast world, the Moulin Joly, could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours; and I think there was some foundation for that opinion, since, by the apparent motion of the great luminary that gives life to all nature, and which in my time has evidently declined considerably towards the ocean at the end of our earth, it must then finish its course, be extinguished in the waters that surround us, and leave the world in cold and darkness, necessarily producing universal death and destruction. I have lived seven of those hours, a great age, being no less than four hundred and twenty minutes of time. How very few of us continue so long! I have seen generations born, flourish, and expire. My present friends are the children and grand- children of the friends of my youth, who are now, alas, no more! And I must soon follow them; for, by the course of nature, though still in health, I cannot expect to live above seven or eight minutes longer. What now avails all my toil and labor, in amassing honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy! What the political struggles I have been engaged in, for the good of my compatriot inhabitants of this bush, or my philosophical studies for the benefit of our race in general! for, in politics, what can laws do without morals? Our present race of ephemerae will in a course of minutes become cor- rupt, like those of other and older bushes, and consequently as wretched. And in philosophy how small our progress! Alas! art is .long, and life is short! My friends would comfort me with the idea of a name, they say, I shall leave behind me ; and they tell me I have lived long enough to nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera who no longer exists? And what will become of all history in the eighteenth hour, when the world itself, even the whole Moulin Joly, shall come to its end, and be buried in universal ruin ? " To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now remain, but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephemerae, and now and then a kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Brillante. B. FRANKLIN l68 AMERICAN PROSE DIALOGUE BETWEEN FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT Midnight, 22 October, 1780. FRANKLIN. Eh! Oh! Eh! What have I done to merit these cruel sufferings ? GOUT. Many things; you have ate and drank too freely, and too much indulged those legs of yours in their indolence. FRANKLIN. Who is it that accuses me ? GOUT. It is I, even I, the Gout. FRANKLIN. What ! my enemy in person ? GOUT. No, not your enemy. FRANKLIN. I repeat it; my enemy; for you would not only torment my body to death, but ruin my good name; you reproach me as a glutton and a tippler; now all the world, that knows me, will allow that I am neither the one nor the other. GOUT. The world may think as it pleases; it is always very complaisant to itself, and sometimes to its friends; but I very well know that the quantity of meat and drink proper for a man, who takes a reasonable degree of exercise, would be too much for another, who never takes any. FRANKLIN. I take Eh ! Oh ! as much exercise Eh ! as I can, Madam Gout. You know my sedentary state, and on that account, it would seem, Madam Gout, as if you might spare me a little, seeing it is not altogether my own fault. GOUT. Not a jot; your rhetoric and your politeness are thrown away; your apology avails nothing. If your situation in life is a sedentary one, your amusements, your recreations, at least, should be active. You ought to walk or ride; or, if the weather prevents that, play at billiards. But let us examine your courseof life. While the mornings are long, and you have leisure to go abroad, what do you do? Why, instead of gaining an appetite for breakfast, by salutary exercise, you amuse yourself with books, pamphlets, or news- papers, which commonly are not worth the reading. Yet you eat an inordinate breakfast, four dishes of tea, with cream, and one or two buttered toasts, with slices of hung beef, which I fancy are not* things the most easily digested. Immediately afterward you sit down to write at your desk, or converse with persons who apply to you on business. Thus the time passes till one without any kind of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 169 bodily exercise. But all this I could pardon, in regard, as you say, to your sedentary condition. But what is your practice after dinner ? Walking in the beautiful gardens of those friends, with whom you have dined, would be the choice of men of sense; yours is to be fixed down to chess, where you are found engaged for two or three hours! This is your perpetual recreation, which is the least eligible of any for a sedentary man, because, instead of accelerating the motion of the fluids, the rigid attention it requires helps to retard the circulation and obstruct internal secretions. Wrapt in the speculations of this wretched game, you destroy your constitution. What can be expected from such a course of living, but a body replete with stag- nant humors, ready to fall a prey to all kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the Gout, did not occasionally bring you relief by agitating those humors, and so purifying or dissipating them? If it was in some nook or alley in Paris, deprived of walks, that you played awhile at chess after dinner, this might be excusable; but the same taste prevails with you in Passy, Auteuil, Montmartre, or Sanoy, places where there are the finest gardens and walks, a pure air, beautiful women, and most agreeable and instructive conversation; all which you might enjoy by frequenting the walks. But these are rejected for this abominable game of chess. Fie, then, Mr. Franklin ! But amidst my instructions, I had almost forgot to administer my whole- some corrections; so take that twinge, and that. FRANKLIN. Oh! Eh! Oh! Ohhh! As much instruction as you please, Madam Gout, and as many reproaches; but pray, Madam, a truce with your corrections! GOUT. No, Sir, no, I will not abate a particle of what is so much for your good, therefore FRANKLIN. Oh! Ehhh! It is not fair to say I take no exercise, when I do very often, going out to dine and returning in my carriage. GOUT. That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most slight and insignificant, if you allude to the motion of a carriage suspended on springs. By observing the degree of heat obtained by different kinds of motion, we may form an estimate of the quantity of exercise given by each. Thus, for example, if you turn out to walk in winter with cold feet, in an hour's tune you will be in a glow all over; ride on horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived by four hours' round trotting; but if you loll in a carriage, such as you have I yo AMERICAN PROSE mentioned, you may travel all day, and gladly enter the last inn to warm your feet by a fire. Flatter yourself then no longer, that half an hour's airing in your carriage deserves the name of exercise. Provi- dence has appointed few to roll in carriages, while he has given to all a pair of legs, which are machines infinitely more commodious and serviceable. Be grateful, then, and make a proper use of yours. Would you know how they forward the circulation of your fluids, in the very action of transporting you from place to place; observe when you walk, that all your weight is alternately thrown from one leg to the other; this occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the foot, and repels their contents; when relieved, by the weight being thrown on the other foot, the vessels of the first are allowed to replenish, and, by a return of this weight, this repulsion again suc- ceeds; thus accelerating the circulation of the blood. The heat produced in any given time, depends on the degree of this accelera- tion; the fluids are shaken, the humors attenuated, the secretions facilitated, and all goes well; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is established. Behold your fair friend at Auteuil; a lady who received from bounteous nature more really useful science, than half a dozen such pretenders to philosophy as you have been able to extract from all your books. When she honors you with a visit, it is on foot. She walks all hours of the day, and leaves indolence, and its con- comitant maladies, to be endured by her horses. In this see at once the preservative of her health and personal charms. But when you go to Auteuil, you must have your carriage, though it is no further from Passy to Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy. FRANKLIN. Your reasonings grow very tiresome. GOUT. 1 stand corrected. I will be silent and continue my office; take that, and that. FRANKLIN. Oh! Ohh! Talk on, I pray you! GOUT. No, no; I have a good number of twinges for you to-night, and you may be sure of some more to-morrow. FRANKLIN. What, with such a fever! I shall go distracted. Oh! Eh! Can no one bear it for me ? GOUT. Ask that of your horses ; they have served you faithfully. FRANKLIN. How can you so cruelly sport with my torments ? GOUT. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a list of offences against your own health distinctly written, and can justify every stroke inflicted on you. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 171 FRANKLIN. Read it then. GOUT. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly mention some particulars. FRANKLIN. Proceed. I am all attention. GOUT. Do you remember how often you have promised your- self, the following morning, a walk in the grove of Boulogne, in the garden de la Muette, or in your own garden, and have violated your promise, alleging, at one time, it was too cold, at another too warm, too windy, too moist, or what else you pleased; when in truth it was too nothing, but your insuperable love of ease ? FRANKLIN. That I confess may have happened occasionally, probably ten times in a year. GOUT. Your confession is very far short of the truth; the gross amount is one hundred and ninety-nine times. FRANKLIN. Is it possible ? GOUT. So possible, that it is fact; you may rely on the accuracy of my statement. You know Mr. Brillon's gardens, and what fine walks they contain; you know the handsome flight of an hundred steps, which lead from the terrace above to the lawn below. You have been in the practice of visiting this amiable family twice a week, after dinner, and it is a maxim of your own, that "a man may take as much exercise in walking a mile, up and down stairs, as in ten on level ground." What an opportunity was here for you to have had exercise in both these ways! Did you embrace it, and how often ? FRANKLIN. I cannot immediately answer that question. GOUT. I will do it for you; not once. FRANKLIN. Not once ? GOUT. Even so. During the summer you went there at six o'clock. You found the charming lady, with her lovely children and friends, eager to walk with you, and entertain you with their agreeable conversation; and what has been your choice? Why to sit on the terrace, satisfying yourself with the fine prospect, and passing your eye over the beauties of the garden below, without taking one step to descend and walk about in them. On the contrary, you call for tea and the chess-board; and lo! you are occupied in your seat till nine o'clock, and that besides two hours' play after dinner; and then, instead of walking home, which would have bestirred you a little, you step into your carriage. How absurd to suppose that all this carelessness can be reconcilable with health, without my interposition! 172 AMERICAN PROSE FRANKLIN. I am convinced now of the justness of poor Richard's remark, that "Our debts and our sins are always greater than we think for." GOUT. So it is. You philosophers are sages in your maxims, and fools in your conduct. FRANKLIN. But do you charge among my crimes, that I return in a carriage from Mr. Brillon's ? GOUT. Certainly; for, having been seated all the while, you cannot object the fatigue of the day, and cannot want therefore the relief of a carriage. FRANKLIN. What then would you have me do with my carriage ? GOUT. Burn it if you choose; you would at least get heat out of it once in this way; or, if you dislike that proposal, here 's another for you; observe the poor peasants, who work in the vineyards and grounds about the villages of Passy, Auteuil, Chaillot, &c.; you may find every day, among these deserving creatures, four or five old men and women, bent and perhaps crippled by weight of years, and too long and too great labor. After a most fatiguing day, these people have to trudge a mile or two to their smoky huts. Order your coach- man to set them down. This is an act that will be good for your soul; and, at the same time, after your visit to the Brillons, if you return on foot, that will be good for your body. FRANKLIN. Ah! how tiresome you are! GOUT. Well, then, to my office; it should not be forgotten that I am your physician. There. FRANKLIN. Ohhh! what a devil of a physician! GOUT. How ungrateful you are to say so! Is it not I who, in the character of your physician, have saved you from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy? one or other of which would have done for you long ago, but for me. FRANKLIN. I submit, and thank you for the past, but entreat the discontinuance of your visits for the future; for, in my mind, one had better die than be cured so dolefully. Permit me just to hint, that I have also not been unfriendly to you. I never feed physician or quack of any kind, to enter the list against you; if then you do not leave me to my repose, it may be said you are ungrateful too. GOUT. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any objection. As to quacks, I despise them: they may kill you indeed, but cannot BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 173 injure me. And, as to regular physicians, they are at last convinced, that the gout, in such a subject as you are, is no disease, but a remedy; and wherefore cure a remedy ? but to our business, there. FRANKLIN. Oh! Oh! for Heaven's sake leave me; and I promise faithfully never more to play at chess, but to take exercise daily, and live temperately. GOUT. I know you too well. You promise fair; but, after a few months of good health, you will return to your old habits; your fine promises will be forgotten like the forms of the last year's clouds. Let us then finish the account, and I will go. But I leave you with an assurance of visiting you again at a proper time and place; for my object is your good, and you are sensible now that I am your real friend. LETTERS TO MRS. JANE MECOM New York, 19 April, 1757. DEAR SISTER, I wrote a few lines to you yesterday, but omitted to answer yours, relating to sister Dowse. As having their own way is one of the great- est comforts of life to old people, I think their friends should endeav- our to accommodate them in that, as well as in any thing else. When they have long lived in a house, it becomes natural to them; they are almost as closely connected with it, as the tortoise with his shell; they die, if you tear them out of it; old folks and old trees, if you remove them, it is ten to one that you kill them; so let our good old sister be no more importuned on that head. We are growing old fast ourselves, and shall expect the same kind of indulgences; if we give them, we shall have a right to receive them in our turn. And as to her few fine things, I think she is in the right not to sell them, and for the reason she gives, that they will fetch but little ; when that little is spent, they would be of no further use to her; but perhaps the expectation of possessing them at her death may make that person tender and careful of her, and helpful to her to the amount of ten times their value. If so, they are put to the best use they possibly can be. 174 AMERICAN PROSE I hope you visit sister as often as your affairs will permit, and afford her what assistance and comfort you can in her present situa- tion. Old age, infirmities, and poverty, joined, are afflictions enough. The neglect and slights of friends and near relations should never be added. People in her circumstances are apt to suspect this sometimes without cause; appearances should therefore be attended to, in our conduct towards them, as well as realities. I write by this post to cousin Williams, to continue his care, which I doubt not he will do. We expect to sail in about a week, so that I can hardly hear from you again on this side the water; but let me have a line from you now and then, while I am in London. I expect to stay there at least a twelvemonth. Direct your letters to be left for me at the Penn- sylvania Coffee-house, in Birchin Lane, London. My love to all, from, dear sister, your affectionate brother, B. FRANKLIN P.S. April 25th. We are still here, and perhaps may be here a week longer. Once more adieu, my dear sister. TO BENJAMIN WEBB Passy, 22 April, 1764. DEAR SIR, I received yours of the isth instant, and the memorial it enclosed. The account they give of your situation grieves me. I send you herewith a bill for ten louis d'ors. I do not pretend to give such a sum; I only lend it to you. When you shall return to your country with a good character, you cannot fail of getting into some business, that will in time enable you to pay all your debts. In that case, when you meet with another honest man in similar distress, you must pay me by lending this sum to him; enjoining him to discharge the debt by a like operation, when he shall be able, and shall meet with such another opportunity. I hope it may thus go through many hands, before it meets with a knave that will stop its progress. This is a trick of mine for doing a deal of good with a little money. I am not rich enough to afford much in good works, and so am obliged to be cunning and make the most of a little. With best wishes for the suc- cess of your memorial, and your future prosperity, I am, dear Sir, your most obedient servant, B. FRANKLIN BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 175 TO SAMUEL MATHER Passy, 12 May, 1784. REVEREND SIR, I received your kind letter, with your excellent advice to the people of the United States, which I read with great pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such writings, though they may be lightly passed over by many readers, yet, if they make a deep impres- sion on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be considerable. Permit me to mention one little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite uninteresting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book, entitled "Essays to do Good," which I think was written by your father. It had been so little regarded by a former possessor, that several leaves of it were, torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking, as to have an influence on my con- duct through life; for I have always set a greater value on the char- acter of a doer of good, than on any other kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book. You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year; I am in my seventy-ninth ; we are grown old together. It is now more than sixty years since I left Boston, but I remember well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last tune I saw your father was in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him after my first trip to Penn- sylvania. He received me in his library, and on my taking leave showed me a shorter way out of the house through a narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam over head. We were still talking as I withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he said hastily, "Stoop, stoop!" I did not understand him, till I felt my head hit against the beam. He was a man that never missed any occasion of giving instruction, and upon this he said to me: " You are young, and have the world before you; STOOP as you go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps." This advice, thus beat into my head, has frequently been of use to me; and I often think of it, when I see pride mortified, and misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their heads too high. I long much to see again my native place, and to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723; I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763. 176 AMERICAN PROSE In 1773 I was in England; in 1775 I had a sight of it, but could not enter, it being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to have been there in 1783, but could not obtain my dismission from this employ- ment here; and now I fear I shall never have that happiness. My best wishes however attend my dear country. Esto perpetua. It is now blest with an excellent constitution; may it last for ever! This powerful monarchy continues its friendship for the United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance to our security, and should be carefully cultivated. Britain has not yet well digested the loss of its dominion over us, and has still at times some flattering hopes of recovering it. Accidents may increase those hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts. A breach between us and France would infallibly bring the English again upon our backs; and yet we have some wild heads among our countrymen, who are endeavour- ing to weaken that connexion! Let us preserve our reputation by performing our engagements; our credit by fulfilling our contracts; and friends by gratitude and kindness; for we know not how soon we may again have occasion for all of them. With great and sincere esteem, I have the honor to be, &c., g FRANKLIN JOHN DICKINSON FROM LETTERS FROM A FARMER IN PENNSYLVANIA LETTER I My dear COUNTRYMEN, I am a Farmer, settled, after a variety of fortunes, near the banks of the river Delaware, in the province of Pennsylvania. I received a liberal education, and have been engaged in the busy scenes of life; but am now convinced, that a man may be as happy without bustle, as with it. My farm is small; my servants are few, and good; I have a little money at interest; I wish for no more; my employment in my own affairs is easy; and with a contented grateful mind, un- disturbed by worldly hopes or fears, relating to myself, I am compleat- ing the number of days allotted to me by divine goodness. Being generally master of my time, I spend a good deal of it in a library, which I think the most valuable part of my small estate; and JOHN DICKINSON 177 being acquainted with two or three gentlemen of abilities and learning, who honor me with their friendship, I have acquired, I believe, a greater knowledge in history, and the laws and constitution of my country, than is generally attained by men of my class, many of them not being so fortunate as I have been in the opportunities of getting information. From my infancy I was taught to love humanity and liberty. Enquiry and experience have since confirmed my reverence for the lessons then given me, by convincing me more fuUy of their truth and excellence. Benevolence towards mankind, excites wishes for their welfare, and such wishes endear the means of fulfilling them. These can be found in liberty only, and therefore her sacred cause ought to be espoused by every man, on every occasion, to the utmost of his power. As a charitable, but poor person does not withhold his mite, because he cannot relieve all the distresses of the miserable, so should not any honest man suppress his sentiments concerning freedom, however small their influence is likely to be. Perhaps he "may touch some wheel," that will have an effect greater than he could reasonably expect. These being my sentiments, I am encouraged to offer to you, my countrymen, my thoughts on some late transactions, that appear to me to be of the utmost importance to you. Conscious of my own defects, I have waited some time, in expectation of seeing the subject treated by persons much better qualified for the task; but being therein disappointed, and apprehensive that longer delays will be injurious, I venture at length to request the attention of the public, praying, that these lines may be read with the same zeal for the happiness of British America, with which they were wrote. With a good deal of surprize I have observed, that little notice has been taken of an act of parliament, as injurious in its principle to the liberties of these colonies, as the Stamp- Act was: I mean the act for suspending the legislation of New-York. The assembly of that government complied with a former act of parliament, requiring certain provisions to be made for the troops in America, in every particular, I think, except the articles of salt, pepper and vinegar. In my opinion they acted imprudently, con- sidering all circumstances, in not complying so far as would have given satisfaction, as several colonies did: But my dislike of their conduct 178 AMERICAN PROSE in that instance, has not blinded me so much, that I cannot plainly perceive, that they have been punished in a manner pernicious to American freedom, and justly alarming to all the colonies. If the British parliament has a legal authority to issue an order, that we shall furnish a single article for the troops here, and to compel obedience to that order, they have the same right to issue an order for us to supply those troops with arms, deaths, and every necessary; and to compel obedience to thai order also; in short, to lay any burthens they please upon us. What is this but taxing us at a certain sum, and leaving to us only the manner of raising it ? How is this mode more tolerable than the Stamp-Act? Would that act have appeared more pleasing to Americans, if being ordered thereby to raise the sum total of the taxes, the mighty privilege had been left to them, of saying how much should be paid for an instrument of writing on paper, and how much for another on parchment ? An act of parliament, commanding us to do a certain thing, if it has any validity, is a tax upon us for the expence that accrues in complying with it; and for this reason, I believe, every colony on the continent, that chose to give a mark of their respect for Great-Britain, in complying with the act relating to the troops, cautiously avoided the mention of that act, lest their conduct should be attributed to its supposed obligation. The matter being thus stated, the assembly of New-York either had, or had not, a right to refuse submission to that act. If they had, and I imagine no American will say they had not, then the parliament had no right to compel them to execute it. If they had not this right, they had no right to punish them for not executing it; and therefore no right to suspend their legislation, which is a punishment. In fact, if the people of New-York cannot be legally taxed but by their own representatives, they cannot be legally deprived of the privilege of legislation, only for insisting on that exclusive privilege of taxation. If they may be legally deprived in such a case, of the privilege of legislation, why may they not, with equal reason, be deprived of every other privilege ? Or why may not every colony be treated in the same manner, when any of them shall dare to deny their assent to any impositions, that shall be directed? Or what signifies the repeal of the Stamp- Act, if these colonies are to lose their other privi- leges, by not tamely surrendering that of taxation ? JOHN DICKINSON 179 There is one consideration arising from this suspension, which is not generally attended to, but shews its importance very clearly. It was not necessary that this suspension should be caused by an act of parliament. The crown might have restrained the governor of New-York, even from calling the assembly together, by its prerogative in the royal governments. This step, I suppose, would have been taken, if the conduct of the assembly of New-York had been regarded as an act of disobedience to the crown alone; but it is regarded as an act of "disobedience to the authority of the BRITISH LEGISLATURE." This gives the suspension a consequence vastly more affecting. It is a parliamentary assertion of the supreme authority of the British legislature over these colonies, in the point of taxation, and is intended to COMPEL New-York into a submission to that authority. It seems therefore to me as much a violation of the liberties of the people of that province, and consequently of all these colonies, as if the parlia- ment had sent a number of regiments to be quartered upon them till they should comply. For it is evident, that the suspension is meant as a compulsion; and the method of compelling is totally indifferent. It is indeed probable, that the sight of red coats, and the hearing of drums, would have been most alarming; because people are generally more influenced by their eyes and ears, than by their reason. But whoever seriously considers the matter, must perceive that a dreadful stroke is aimed at the liberty of these colonies. I say, of these colonies; for the cause of one is the cause of all. If the parliament may lawfully deprive New-York of any of her rights, it may deprive any, or all the other colonies of their rights; and nothing can possibly so much encourage such attempts, as a mutual inattention to the interests of each other. To divide, and thus to destroy, is the first political maxim in attacking those, who are powerful by their union. He certainly is not a wise man, who folds his arms, and reposes him- self at home, viewing, with unconcern, the flames that have invaded his neighbour's house, without using any endeavours to extinguish them. When Mr. Hampden's ship money cause, for Three Shillings and Four-pence, was tried, all the people of England, with anxious expectation, interested themselves in the important decision; and when the slightest point, touching the freedom of one colony, is agitated, I earnestly wish, that all the rest may, with equal ardor, support their sister. Very much may be said on this subject; but I hope, more at present is unnecessary. l8o AMERICAN PROSE With concern I have observed, that two assemblies of this province have sat and adjourned, without taking any notice of this act. It may perhaps be asked, what would have been proper for them to do ? I am by no means fond of inflammatory measures; I detest them. I should be sorry that any thing should be done, which might justly displease our sovereign, or our mother country: But a firm, modest exertion of a free spirit, should never be wanting on public occasions. It appears to me, that it would have been sufficient for the assembly, to have ordered our agents to represent to the King's ministers, their sense of the suspending act, and to pray for its repeal. Thus we should have borne our testimony against it; and might therefore reasonably expect that, on a like occasion, we might receive the same assistance from the other colonies. Concordia res parvce crescunt. Small things grow great by concord. Nov. <;. A FARMER. SAMUEL SEABURY FROM FREE THOUGHTS ON THE PROCEEDINGS OF THE CONTINENTAL CONGRESS You know, my Friends, that the sale of your seed not only pays your taxes, but furnishes you with many of the little conveniencies, and comforts of life; the loss of it for one year would be of more damage to you, than paying the three-penny duty on tea for twenty. Let us compare matters a little. It was inconvenient for me this year to sow more than one bushel of seed. I have threshed and cleaned up eleven bushels. The common price now is at least ten shillings; my seed then will fetch me five pounds, ten shillings. But I will throw in the ten shillings for expences. There remain five pounds: in five pounds are four hundred three-pences; four hundred three-pences currency, will pay the duty upon two hundred pounds of tea, even reckoning the exchange with London at 200 per cent, that is, reckoning 100 1. sterling, to be equal to 200 1. currency; whereas in fact it is only equal to 175 or 180 1. at the most. I use in my family about six pounds of tea: few farmers in my neighbour- SAMUEL SEABURY 181 hood use so much: but I hate to stint my wife and daughters, or my friendly neighbours when they come to see me. Besides, I like a dish of tea too, especially after a little more than ordinary fatigue in hot weather. Now 200 pounds of tea, at six pounds a year, will last just 33 years, and eight months. So that in order to pay this monstrous duty upon tea, which has raised all this confounded com- bustion in the country, I have only to sell the produce of a bushel of flax-seed once in THIRTY-THREE years. Ridiculous! But, to leave jesting. The loss of the sale of your seed only for one year, would be a considerable damage to you. And yet the Con- gress have been so inattentive to your interests, that they have laid you under, almost, an absolute necessity of losing it the next year. They have decreed, and proclaimed a non-exportation, to commence in September next. The Irish will be alarmed. They will look out somewhere else. Or should they determine to send their ships the earlier, we cannot, without the utmost inconvenience, get our seed to market by that time; especially, not from the remoter parts of the province. The consequence will be, that we must sell our seed at the oil-mills in New- York, just at the price the manufacturers shall please to give us Let us now attend a little to the Non-Consumption Agreement, which the Congress, in their Association, have imposed upon us. After the first of March we are not to purchase or use any East- India Tea whatsoever; nor any goods, wares, or merchandize from Great-Britain or Ireland, imported after the first day of December next: nor any molasses, syrups, &c. from the British plantations in the West-Indies, or from Dominica; nor wine from Madeira, or the Western Islands; nor foreign indigo. Will you submit to this slavish regulation? You must. Our sovereign Lords and Masters, the High and Mighty Delegates, in Grand Continental Congress assembled, have ordered and directed it. They have directed the Committees in the respective colonies, to establish such further regulations as they may think proper, for carrying their association, of which this Non-consumption agreement is a part, into execution. Mr. ******** o f New- York, under the authority of their High-Mightinesses, the Delegates, by, and with the advice of his Privy Council, the Committee of New- York, hath issued his mandate, bearing date Nov. 7, 1774, recommending it 182 AMERICAN PROSE to the freeholders and freemen of New- York, to assemble on the i8th of November, to choose eight persons out of every ward, to be a Committee, to carry the Association of the Congress into execution. The business of the Committee so chosen is to be, to inspect the conduct of the inhabitants, and see whether they violate the Asso- ciation. Among other things, Whether they drink any Tea or wine in their families, after the first of March; or wear any British or Irish manufactures; or use any English molasses, &c., imported after the first day of December next. If they do, their names are to be published in the Gazette, that they may be publickly known, and universally contemned, as foes to the Rights of British America, and enemies of American Liberty. And then the parties of the said Asso- ciation will respectively break ojf all dealings with him or her. In plain English, They shall be considered as Out-laws, unworthy of the protection of civil society, and delivered over to the vengeance of a lawless, outrageous mob, to be tarred, feathered, hanged, drawn, quartered, and burnt. rare American Freedom! Probably, as soon as this point is settled in New- York, the said Mr. ******** in the plentitude of his power, by, and with the advice of his Privy Council aforesaid, will issue his Mandate to the super- visors in the several counties, as he did about the choice of Delegates, and direct them to have Committees chosen in their respective districts, for the same laudable purpose. Will you be instrumental in bringing the most abject slavery on yourselves ? Will you choose such Committees ? Will you submit to them, should they be chosen by the weak, foolish, turbulent part of the country people? Do as you please: but, by HIM that made me, I will not. No, if I must be enslaved, let it be by a KING at least, and not by a parcel of upstart lawless Committee-men. If I must be devoured, let me be devoured by the jaws of a lion, and not gnawed to death by rats and vermin. Did you choose your supervisors for the purpose of inslaving you ? What right have they to fix up advertisements to call you together, for a very different purpose from that for which they were elected ? Are our supervisors our masters ? And should half a dozen foolish people meet together again, in consequence of their advertisements, and choose themselves to be a Committee, as they did in many districts, in the affair of choosing Delegates, are we obliged to submit to such a Committee ? You ought, my friends, to assert your own FRANCIS HOPKIXSON 183 freedom. Should such another attempt be made upon you, assemble yourselves together: tell your supervisor, that he has exceeded his commission: That you will have no such Committees: That you are Englishmen, and will maintain your rights and privileges, and will eat, and drink, and wear, whatever the public laws of your coun- try permit, without asking leave of any illegal, tyrannical Congress or Committee on earth. But however, as I said before, do as you please: If you like it better, choose your Committee, or suffer it to be chosen by half a dozen Fools in your neighbourhood, open your doors to them, let them examine your tea-cannisters, and molasses-jugs, and your wives and daughters petty-coats, bow, and cringe, and tremble, and quake, fall down and worship our sovereign Lord the Mob. But I repeat it, By H n, I will not. No, my house is- my castle: as such I will consider it, as such I will defend it, while I have breath. No King's officer shall enter it without my permission, unless supported by a warrant from a magistrate. And shall my house be entered, and my mode of living enquired into, by a domineering Committee- man? Before I submit, I will die: live you, and be slaves. Do, I say, as you please : but should any pragmatical Committee- gentleman come to my house, and give himself airs, I shall shew him the door, and if he does not soon take himself away, a good hiccory cudgel shall teach him better manners. FRANCIS HOPKINSON A PRETTY STORY CHAP. I. Once upon a Time, a great While ago, there lived a certain Nobleman, who had long possessed a very valuable Farm, and had a great Number of Children and Grandchildren. Besides the annual Profits of his Land, which were very consider- able, he kept a large Shop of Goods; and being very successful in Trade, he became, in Process of Time, exceedingly rich and powerful; insomuch that all his Neighbours feared and respected him. With Respect to the Management of his Family, it was thought he had adopted the most perfect Mode that could be devised, for he had been at the Pains to examine the (Economy of all his Neighbours, 184 AMERICAN PROSE and had selected from their Plans all such Parts as appeared to be equitable and beneficial, and omitted those which from Experience were found to be inconvenient. Or rather, by blending their several Constitutions together he had so ingeniously counterbalanced the Evils of one Mode of Government with the Benefits of another, that the Advantages were richly enjoyed, and the Inconveniencies scarcely felt. In short, his Family was thought to be the best ordered of any in his Neighbourhood. He never exercised any undue Authority over his Children or Servants ; neither indeed could he oppress them if he was so disposed ; for it was particularly covenanted in his Marriage Articles that he should not at any Time impose any Tasks or Hardships whatever upon his Children without the free Consent of his Wife. Now the Custom in his Family was this, that at the End of every seven Years his Marriage became of Course null and void; at which Time his Children and Grandchildren met together and chose another Wife for him, whom the old Gentleman was obliged to marry under the same Articles and Restrictions as before. If his late Wife had conducted herself, during her seven Year's Marriage, with Mildness, Discretion and Integrity, she was re-elected; if otherwise, deposed: By which Means the Children had always a great Interest in their Mother in Law; and through her, a reasonable Check upon their Father's Temper. For besides that he could do nothing material respecting his Children without her Approbation, she was sole Mis- tress of the Purse Strings; and gave him out, from Time to Time, such Sums of Money as she thought necessary for the Expences of his Family. Being one Day in a very extraordinary good Humour, he gave his Children a Writing under his Hand and Seal, by which he released them from many Badges of Dependance, and confirmed to them several very important Privileges. The chief were the two following, viz. that none of his Children should be punished for any Offence, or supposed Offence, until his brethren had first declared him worthy of such Punishment; and secondly, he gave fresh Assurances that he would impose no Hardships upon them without the Consent of their Mother in Law. , This Writing, on account of its singular Importance, was called THE GREAT PAPER. After it was executed with the utmost solem- FRANCIS HOPKINSON 185 nity, he caused his Chaplain to publish a dire Anathema against all who should attempt to violate the Articles of the Great Paper, in the Words following. "In the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, AMEN! Whereas our Lord and Master, to the Honour of God and for the common Profit of this Farm hath granted, for him and his Heirs forever, these Articles above written: I, his Chaplain and spiritual Pastor of all this Farm, do admonish the People of the Farm Once, Twice, and Thrice: Because that Shortness will not suffer so much Delay as to give Knowledge to the People of these Presents in Writing; I there- fore enjoyn all Persons, of what Estate soever they be, that they and every of them, as much as in them is, shall uphold and maintain these Articles granted by our Lord and Master in all Points. And all those that in any Point do resist, or break, or in any Manner hereafter procure, counsel or any Ways assent to resist or break these Ordi- nances, or go about it by Word or Deed, openly or privately, by any Manner of Pretence or Colour: I the aforesaid Chaplain, by my Authority, do excommunicate and accurse, and from the Body of our Lord Jesus Christ, and from all the Company of Heaven, and from all the Sacraments of holy Church do sequester and exclude" Now it came to pass that this Nobleman had, by some Means or other, obtained a Right to an immense Tract of wild uncultivated Country at a vast Distance from his Mansion House. But he set little Store by this Acquisition, as it yielded him no Profit; nor was it likely to do so, being not only difficult of Access on Account of the Distance, but was also overrun with innumerable wild Beasts very fierce and savage; so that it would be extremely dangerous to attempt taking Possession of it. In Process of Time, however, some of his Children, more stout and enterprising than the rest, requested Leave of their Father to go and settle on this distant Tract of Land. Leave was readily obtained; but before they set out certain Agreements were stipulated between them the principal were The old Gentleman, on his Part, engaged to protect and defend the Adventurers in their new Settlements; to assist them in chacing away the wild Beasts, and to extend to them all the Benefits of the Government under which they were born: l86 AMERICAN PROSE Assuring them that although they should be removed so far from his Presence they should nevertheless be considered as the Children of his Family, and treated accordingly. At the same Time he gave each of them a Bond for the faithful performance of these Promises; in which, among other Things, it was covenanted that they should, each of them in their several Families, have a Liberty of making such Rules and Regulations for their own good Government as they should find convenient; provided these Rules and Regulations should not contradict or be inconsistent with the general standing Orders estab- lished in his Farm. In Return for these Favours he insisted that they, on their Parts, should at all Times acknowledge him to be their Father; that they should not deal with their Neighbours without his Leave, but send to his Shop only for such Merchandize as they should want. But in Order to enable them to pay for such Goods as they should purchase, they were permitted to sell the Produce of their Lands to certain of his Neighbours. These Preliminaries being duly adjusted, our Adventurers bid Adieu to the Comforts and Conveniencies of their Father's House, and set off on their Journey Many and great were the Difficulties they encountered on their Way: but many more and much greater had they to combat on their Arrival in the new Country. Here they found Nothing but wild Nature. Mountains over-grown with inac- cessible Foliage, and Plains steeped in stagnated Waters. Their Ears are no longer attentive to the repeated Strokes of industrious Labour and the busy Hum of Men; instead of these, the roaring Tempest and incessant Howlings of Beasts of Prey fill their minds with Horror and Dismay. The needful Comforts of Life are no longer in their Power no friendly Roof to shelter them from inclement Skies; no Fortress to protect them from surrounding Dangers. Unaccustomed as they were to Hardships like these, some were cut off by Sfckness and Disease, and others snatched away by the Hands of Barbarity. They began however, with great Perseverance, to clear the Land of encum- bering Rubbish, and the Woods resound with the Strokes of Labour; they drain the Waters from the sedged Morass, and pour the Sun Beams on the reeking Soil ; they are forced to exercise all the powers of Industry and (Economy for bare Subsistence, and like their first Parent, when driven from Paradise, to earn their Bread with the Sweat FRANCIS HOPKINSON 187 of their Brows. In this Work they were frequently interrupted by the Incursions of the wild Beasts, against whom they defended themselves with heroic Prowess and Magnanimity. After some Time, however, by Dint of indefatigable Persever- ance, they found themselves comfortably settled in this new Farm; and had the delightful Prospect of vast Tracts of Land waving with luxuriant Harvests, and perfuming the Air with delicious Fruits, which before had been a dreary Wilderness, unfit for the Habitation of Men. In the mean Time they kept up a constant Correspondence with their Father's Family, and at a great Expence provided Waggons, Horses and Drivers to bring from his Shop such Goods and Mer- chandize as they wanted, for which they paid out of the Produce of their Lands. CHAP. m. Now the new Settlers had adopted a Mode of Government in their several Families similar to that their Father had established in the old Farm ; in taking a new Wife at the End of certain Periods of Time; which Wife was chosen for them by their Children, and with- out whose Consent they could do nothing material in the Conduct of their Affairs. Under these Circumstances they thrived exceed- ingly, and became very numerous; living in great Harmony amongst themselves, and in constitutional Obedience to their Father and his Wife. Notwithstanding their successful Progress, however, they were frequently annoyed by the wild Beasts, which were not yet expelled the Country; and were moreover troubled by some of their Neigh- bours, who wanted to drive them off the Land, and take Possession of it themselves. To assist them in these Difficulties, and protect them from Danger, the old Nobleman sent over several of his Servants, who with the Help of the new Settlers drove away their Enemies. But then he required that they should reimburse him for the Expence and Trouble he was at in their Behalf; this they did with great Cheerful- ness, by applying from Time to Time to their respective Wives, who always commanded their Cash. Thus did Matters go on for a considerable Time, to their mutual Happiness and Benefit. But now the Nobleman's Wife began to i88 AMERICAN PROSE cast an avaricious Eye upon the new Settlers; saying to herself, if by the natural Consequence of their Intercourse with us my Wealth and Power are so much increased, how much more would they accumu- late if I can persuade them that all they have belonged to us, and therefore I may at any Time demand from them such Part of their Earnings as I please. At the same Time she was fully sensible of the Promises and agreements her Husband had made when they left the old Farm, and of the Tenor and Purport of the Great Paper. She therefore thought it necessary to proceed with great Caution and Art, and endeavoured to gain her Point by imperceptible Steps. In Order to this, she first issued an Edict setting forth, That whereas the Tailors of her Family were greatly injured by the People of the new Farm, inasmuch as they presumed to make their own Clothes whereby the said Tailors were deprived of the Benefit of their Custom ; it was therefore ordained that for the future the new Settlers should not be permitted to have amongst them any Shears or Scissars larger than a certain fixed size. In Consequence of this, our Adven- turers were compelled to have their Clothes made by their Father's Tailors: But out of Regard to the old Gentleman, they patiently submitted to this Grievance. Encouraged by this Success, she proceeded in her Plan. Observ- ing that the new Settlers were very fond of a particular Kind of Cyder which they purchased of a Neighbour, who was in Friendship with their Father (the Apples proper for making this Cyder not growing on their own Farm) she published another Edict, obliging them to pay her a certain Stipend for every Barrel of Cyder used in their Families! To this likewise they submitted: Not yet seeing the Scope of her Designs against them. After this Manner she proceeded, imposing Taxes upon them on various Pretences, and receiving the Fruits of their Industry with both Hands. Moreover she persuaded her Husband to send amongst them from Time to Time a Number of the most lazy and useless of his Servants, under the specious Pretext of defending them in their Settlements, and of assisting to destroy the wild Beasts; but in Fact to rid his own House of their Company, not having Employment for them; and at the same Time to be a Watch and a Check upon the People of the new Farm. FRANCIS HOPKINSON 189 It was likewise ordered that these Protectors, as they were called, should be supplied with Bread and Butter cut in a particular Form: But the Head of one of the Families refused to comply with this Order. He engaged to give the Guests thus forced upon him, Bread and Butter sufficient; but insisted that his Wife should have the liberty of cutting it in what shape she pleased. This put the old Nobleman into a violent Passion, inscmuch that he had his Son's Wife put into Gaol for presuming to cut her Loaf otherwise than as had been directed. As the old Gentleman advanced in Years he began to neglect the Affairs of his Family, leaving them chiefly to the Management of his Steward. Now the Steward had debauched his Wife, and by that Means gained an entire Ascendency over her. She no longer deliberated what would most benefit either the old Farm or the new; but said and did whatever the Steward pleased. Nay so much was she influenced by him that she could neither utter Ay or No but as he directed. For he had cunningly persuaded her that it was very fashionable for Women to wear Padlocks on their Lips, and that he was sure they would become her exceedingly. He therefore fastened a Padlock to each Corner of her Mouth; when the one was open, she could only say Ay, and when the other was loosed, could only cry No. He took Care to keep the Keys of these Locks himself; so that her Will became entirely subject to his Power. Now the old Lady and the Steward had set themselves against the People of the new Farm; and began to devise Ways and Means to impoverish and distress them. They prevailed on the Nobleman to sign an Edict against the new Settlers, in which it was declared that it was their Duty as Children to pay something towards the supplying their Father's Table with Provisions, and to the supporting the Dignity of his Family; for that Purpose it was ordained that all their Spoons, Knives and Forks, Plates and Porringers, should be marked with a certain Mark, by Officers appointed for that End; for which marking they were to pay a certain Stipend: And that they should not, under severe Penalties, presume to make use of any Spoon, Knife or Fork, Plate or Porringer, before it had been so marked, and the said Stipend paid to the Officer. 190 AMERICAN PROSE The Inhabitants of the new Farm began to see that their Father's Affections were alienated from them; and that their Mother was but a base Mother in Law debauched by their Enemy the Steward. They were thrown into great Confusion and Distress. They wrote the most supplicating Letters to the old Gentleman, in which they acknowledged him to be their Father in Terms of the greatest Respect and Affection they recounted to him the Hardships and Difficulties they had suffered in settling his new Farm; and pointed out the great Addition of Wealth and Power his Family had acquired by the Improvement of that Wilderness; and showed him that all the Fruits of their Labours must in the natural Course of Things unite, in the long Run, in his Money Box. They also, in humble Terms, reminded him of his Promises and Engagements on their leaving Home, and of the Bonds he had given them; of the Solemnity and Importance of the Great Paper with the Curse annexed. They acknowledged that he ought to be reimbursed the Expences he was at on then- Account, and that it was their Duty to assist in supporting the Dig- nity of his Family. All this they declared they were ready and willing to do; but requested that they might do it agreeable to the Purport of the Great Paper, by applying to their several Wives for the Keys of their Money Boxes and furnishing him from thence; and not be subject to the Tyranny and Caprice of an avaricious Mother in Law, whom they had never chosen, and of a Steward who was their declared Enemy. Some of these Letters were intercepted by the Steward; others were delivered to the old Gentleman, who was at the same Time per- suaded to take no Notice of them; but, on the Contrary, to insist the more" strenuously upon the Right his Wife claimed of marking their Spoons, Knives and Forks, Plates and Porringers. The new Settlers, observing how Matters were conducted in their Father's Family became exceedingly distressed and mortified. They met together and agreed one and all that they would no longer submit to the arbitrary Impositions of their Mother in Law, and their Enemy the Steward. They determined to pay no Manner of Regard to the new Decree, considering it as a Violation of the Great Paper. But to go on and eat their Broth and Pudding as usual. The Cooks also and Butlers served up their Spoons, Knives and Forks, Plates and Porringers, without having them marked by the new Officers. FRANCIS HOP KIN SON IQI The Nobleman at length thought fit to reverse the Order which had been made respecting the Spoons, Knives and Forks, Plates and Porringers of the new Settlers. But he did this with a very ill Grace: For he, at the same Time avowed and declared that he and his Wife had a Right to mark all their Furniture, if they pleased, from the Silver Tankard down to the very Chamber Pots: That as he was their Father he had an absolute Controul over them, and that their Liberties, Lives and Properties were at the entire Disposal of him and his Wife: That it was not fit that he who was allowed to be Omni- present, Immortal, and incapable of Error, should be confined by the Shackles of the Great Paper; or obliged to fulfil the Bonds he had given them, which he averred he had a Right to cancel whenever he pleased. His Wife also became intoxicated with Vanity. The Steward had told her that she was an omnipotent Goddess, and ought to be worshipped as such : That it was the Height of Impudence and Dis- obedience in the new Settlers to dispute her Authority, which, with Respect to them, was unlimited: That as they had removed from their Father's Family, they had forfeited all Pretensions to be con- sidered as his Children, and lost the Privileges of the Great Paper: That, therefore, she might look on them only as Tenants at Will upon her Husband's Farm, and exact from them what Rent she pleased. All this was perfectly agreeable to Madam, who admitted this new Doctrine in its full Sense. The People of the new Farm however took little Notice of these pompous Declarations. They were glad the marking Decree was reversed, and were in Hopes that Things would gradually settle into their former Channel. CHAP. v. In the mean Time the new Settlers increased exceedingly, and as they increased, their Dealings at their Father's Shop were propor- tionably enlarged. It is true they suffered some Inconveniencies from the Protectors that had been sent amongst them, who became very troublesome in their Houses:' They seduced their Daughters; introduced Riot and Intemperance into their Families, and derided and insulted the Orders and Regulations they had made for their own good Government. IQ2 AMERICAN PROSE Moreover the old Nobleman had sent amongst them a great Number of Thieves, Ravishers and Murderers, who did a great deal of Mischief by practising those Crimes for which they had been banished the old Farm. But they bore these Grievances with as much Patience as could be expected; not choosing to trouble their aged Father with Complaints, unless in Cases of important Necessity. Now the Steward continued to hate the new Settlers with exceed- ing great Hatred, and determined to renew his Attack upon their Peace and Happiness. He artfully insinuated to the old Gentleman and his foolish Wife, that it was very mean and unbecoming in them to receive the Contributions of the People of the new Farm, towards supporting the Dignity of his Family, through the Hands of their respective Wives: That upon this Footing it would be in their Power to refuse his Requisitions whenever they should be thought to be unreasonable, of which they would pretend to be Judges themselves; and that it was high Time they should be compelled to acknowledge his arbitrary Power, and his Wife's Omnipotence. For this Purpose, another Decree was prepared and published, ordering that the new Settlers should pay a certain Stipend upon particular Goods, which they were not allowed to purchase any where but at their Father's Shop ; and that this Stipend should not be deemed an Advance upon the original Price of the Goods, but be paid on their arrival at the new Farm, for the express Purpose of supporting the Dignity of the old Gentleman's Family, and of defraying the Expences he affected to afford them. This new Decree gave our Adventurers the utmost Uneasiness. They saw that the Steward and their Mother in Law were determined to oppress and enslave them. They again met together and wrote to their Father, as before, the most humble and persuasive Letters; but to little Purpose: A deaf Ear was turned to all their Remon- strances; and their dutiful Requests treated with Contempt. Finding this moderate and decent Conduct brought them no Relief, they had Recourse to another Expedient. They bound them- selves in a solemn Engagement not to deal any more at their Father's Shop until this unconstitutional Decree should be reversed; which they declared to be a Violation of the Great Paper. This Agreement was so strictly adhered to, that in a few Months the Clerks and Apprentices in the old Gentleman's Shop began to FRANCIS HOP KIN SON 193 make a sad Outcry. They declared that their Master's Trade was declining exceedingly, and that his Wife and Steward would, by their mischievious Machinations, ruin -the whole Farm: They forthwith sharpened their Pens and attacked the Steward, and even the old Lady herself with great Severity. Insomuch that it was thought proper to withdraw this Attempt likewise upon the Rights and Liberties of the new Settlers. One Part only of the new Decree remained unre- versed viz. the Tax upon Water Gruel. Now there were certain Men on the old Farm, who had obtained from the Nobleman an exclusive Right of selling Water Gruel. Vast Quantities of this Gruel were vended amongst the new Settlers; for it became very fashionable for them to use it in their Families in great Abundance. They did not however trouble themselves much about the Tax on Water Gruel: They were well pleased with the Reversal of the other Parts of the Decree, and considering Gruel as not absolutely necessary to the Comfort of Life, they were determined to endeavour to do without it; and by that Means avoid the remaining effects of the new Decree. The Steward found his Designs once more frustrated; but was not discouraged by this Disappointment. He formed another Scheme so artfully contrived that he thought himself sure of Success. He sent for the Persons who had the sole Right of vending Water Gruel, and after reminding them of the Obligations they were under to the Nobleman and his Wife for their exclusive Privilege, he desired that they would send sundry Waggon Loads of Gruel to the new Farm, promising that the accustomed Duty which they paid for their exclu- sive Right should be taken off from all the Gruel they should send amongst the new Settlers: And that in Case their Cargoes should come to any Damage, he would take Care that the Loss should be repaired out of the old Gentleman's Coffers. The Gruel Merchants readily consented to this Proposal, knowing that if their Cargoes were sold, they would reap considerable Profits; and if they failed, the Steward was to make good the Damage. On the other hand the Steward concluded that the new Settlers could not resist purchasing the Gruel to which they had been so long accustomed; and if they did purchase it when subject to the Tax aforesaid, this would be an avowed Acknowledgment on their Parts that their Father and his Wife had a Right to break through the Tenor of the 194 AMERICAN PROSE Great Paper, and to lay on them what Impositions they pleased, with- out the Consent of their respective Wives. But the new Settlers were well aware of this Decoy. They saw clearly that the Gruel was not sent to accommodate, but to enslave them; and that if they suffered any Part of it to be sold amongst them, it would be deemed a Submission to the assumed Omnipotence of the Great Madam. CHAP. VI. On the Arrival of the Water Gruel, the People of the new Farm were again thrown into great Alarms and Confusions. Some of them would not suffer the Waggons to be unloaded at all, but sent them immediately back to the Gruel Merchants: Others permitted the Waggons to unload, but would not touch the hateful Commodity; so that it lay neglected about their Roads and Highways until it grew sour and spoiled. But one of the new Settlers, whose Name was Jack, either from a keener Sense of the Injuries attempted against him, or from the Necessity of his Situation, which was such that he could not send back the Gruel because of a Number of Mercenaries whom his Father had stationed before his House to watch and be a Check upon his Conduct: He, I say, being almost driven to Despair, fell to Work, and with great Zeal stove to Pieces the Casks of Gruel, which had been sent him, and utterly demolished the whole Cargoe. These Proceedings were soon known at the old Farm. Great and terrible was the Uproar there. The old Gentleman fell into great Wrath, declaring that his absent Children meant to throw off all Dependence upon him, and to become altogether disobedient. His Wife also tore the Padlocks from her Lips, and raved and stormed like a Billingsgate. The Steward lost all Patience and Moderation, swearing most prophanely that he would leave no Stone unturned 'till he had humbled the Settlers of the new Farm at his Feet, and caused their Father to trample on their necks. Moreover the Gruel Mer- chants roared and bellowed for the Loss of their Gruel; and the Clerks and Apprentices were in the utmost Consternation lest the People of the new Farm should again agree to have no Dealings with their Father's Shop Vengeance was immediately set on Foot, particu- larly against Jack. With him they determined to begin; hoping that by making an Example of him they should so terrify the other FRANCIS HOP KIN SON 195 Families of the new Settlers, that they would all submit to the Designs of the Steward, and the Omnipotence of the old Lady. A very large Padlock was, accordingly, prepared to be fastened upon Jack's great gate; the Key of which was to be given to the old Gentleman ; who was not to open it again until he had paid for the Gruel he had spilt, and resigned all Claim to the Privileges of the Great Paper: Nor then neither unless he thought fit. Secondly, a Decree was made to new model the Regulations and (Economy of Jack's Family in such Manner that they might for the Future be more sub- ject to the Will of the Steward. And, thirdly, a large Gallows was erected before the Mansion House in the old Farm, and an Order made that if any of Jack's Children or Servants should be suspected of Misbehaviour, they should not be convicted or acquitted by the Consent of their Brethren, agreeable to the Purport of the Great Paper, but be tied Neck and Heels and dragged to the Gallows at the Mansion House and there be hanged without Mercy. No sooner did tidings of this undue Severity reach the new Farm, but the People were almost ready to despair. They were altogether at a Loss how to act, or by what Means they should avert the Ven- geance to which they were doomed: But the old Lady and Steward soon determined the Matter; for the Padlock was sent over, and with- out Ceremony fastened upon Jack's great Gate. They did not wait to know whether he would pay for the Gruel or not, or make the required Acknowledgments; nor give him the least Opportunity to make his Defence The great Gate was locked, and the Key given to the old Nobleman, as had been determined. Poor Jack found himself in a most deplorable Condition. The great Inlet to his Farm was entirely blocked up, so that he could neither carry out the Produce of his Land for Sale, nor receive from abroad the Necessaries for his Family. But this was not all His Father, along with the Padlock afore- said, had sent an Overseer to hector and domineer over him and his Family; and to endeavour to break his Spirit by exercising every possible Severity: For which Purpose he was attended by a great number of Mercenaries, and armed with more than common Authorities. On his first arrival in Jack's Family he was received with con- siderable Respect, because he was the Delegate of their aged Father: 196 AMERICAN PROSE For, notwithstanding all that had past, the People of the new Settle- ments loved and revered the old Gentleman with a truly filial Attach- ment; attributing his unkindness entirely to the Intrigues of their Enemy the Steward. But this fair 'Weather did not last. long. The new Overseer took the first Opportunity of showing that he had no Intentions of living in Harmony and Friendship with the Family. Some of Jack's Domesticks had put on their Sunday Clothes, and attended the Overseer in the great Parlour, in Order to pay him their Compliments on his Arrival, and to request his Assistance in recon- ciling them to their Father: But he rudely stopped them short, in the Midst of their Speech; called them a Parcel of disobedient Scoundrels, and bid them go about their Business. So saying, he turned upon his Heel, and with great Contempt left the Room. Now Jack and his Family finding themselves oppressed, insulted and tyrannised over in the most cruel and arbitrary Manner, advised with their Brethren what Measures should be adopted to relieve them from their intolerable Grievances. Their Brethren, one and all, united in sympathising with their Afflictions; they advised them to bear their Sufferings with Fortitude for a Time, assuring them that they looked on the Punishments and Insults laid upon them with the same Indignation as if they had been inflicted on themselves, and that they would stand by and support them to the last. But, above all, earnestly recommended it to them to be firm and steady in the Cause of Liberty and Justice, and never acknowledge the Omnipotence of their Mother in Law; nor yield to the Machinations of their Enemy the Steward. In the mean Time, lest Jack's Family should suffer for Want of Necessaries, their great Gate being fast locked, liberal and very generous Contributions were raised among the several Families of the new Settlements, for their present Relief. This seasonable Bounty was handed to Jack over the Garden Wall All Access to the Front of his House being shut up. Now the Overseer observed that the Children and Domesticks of Jack's Family had frequent Meetings and Consultations together: Sometimes in the Garret, and sometimes in the Stable: Understand- ing, likewise, that an Agreement not to deal in their Father's Shop, PATRICK HENRY 197 until their Grievances should be redressed, was much talked of amongst them, he wrote a thundering Prohibition, much like a Pope's Bull, which he caused to be pasted up in every Room in the House: In which he declared and protested that these Meetings were treasonable, traiterous and rebellious; contrary to the Dignity of their Father, and inconsistent with the Omnipotence of their Mother in Law: Denoun- cing also terrible Punishments against any two of the Family who should from thenceforth be seen whispering together, and strictly forbidding the Domesticks to hold any more Meetings in the Garret or Stable. These harsh and unconstitutional Proceedings irritated Jack and the other inhabitants of the new Farm to such a Degree that ************* Catera desunt. PATRICK HENRY SPEECH IN THE VIRGINIA CONVENTION OF DELEGATES No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the house. But different men often see the same subjects in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen, if, entertaining as I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely, and without reserve. This is no time for ceremony. The question be- fore the house is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery. And in proportion to the magnitude of the subject, ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfil the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offence, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings. Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth and listen to the song of that syren, till she transforms us into beasts. Is 1 98 AMERICAN PROSE this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of the number of those, who having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, 7 am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house ? Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received ? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our peti- tion comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love ? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation the last arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentle- men, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains, which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we try argument ? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we any thing new to offer upon the subject ? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find, which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done every thing that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have peti- tioned we have remonstrated we have supplicated we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its inter- PATRICK HENRY 199 position to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parlia- ment. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long con- tending if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon, until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained we must fight ! I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! ! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us! They tell us, sir, that we are weak unable to cope with so formid- able an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week or the'next year ? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot ? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations; and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable and let it come!! I repeat it, sir, let it come!!! It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, peace, peace but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? What 200 AMERICAN PROSE would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be pur- chased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death! ETHAN ALLEN FROM A NARRATIVE OF COL. ETHAN ALLEN'S CAPTIVITY Ever since I arrived to a state of manhood, and acquainted myself with the general history of mankind, I have felt a sincere passion for liberty. The history of nations doomed to perpetual slavery, in consequence of yielding up to tyrants their natural-born liberties, I read with a sort of philosophical horror; so that the first systematical and bloody attempt at Lexington, to enslave America, thoroughly electrified my mind, and fully determined me to take part with my country: And while I was wishing for an opportunity to signalize myself in its behalf, directions were privately sent to me from the then colony (now State) of Connecticut, to raise the Green Moun- tain boys ; (and if possible) with them to surprise and take the fortress Ticonderoga. This enterprise I cheerfully undertook; and, after first guarding all the passes that led thither, to cut off all intelligence between the garrison and the country, made a forced march from Bennington, and arrived at the lake opposite to Ticonderoga, on the evening of the ninth day of May, 1775, with two hundred and thirty valiant Green Mountain Boys; and it was with the utmost difficulty that I procured boats to cross the lake: However, I landed eighty- three men near the garrison, and sent the boats back for the rear guard commanded by Col. Seth Warner; but the day began to dawn, and I found myself under a necessity to attack the fort, before the rear could cross the lake ; and, as it was viewed hazardous, I harangued the officers and soldiers, in the manner following; " Friends and fellow soldiers, you have, for a number of years past, been a scourge and terror to arbitrary power. Your valour has been famed abroad, and acknowledged, as appears by the advice and orders to me (from the General Assembly of Connecticut) to surprize and take the garrison now before us. I now propose to advance before you, and in person ETHAN ALLEN conduct you through the wicket-gate; for we must this morning either quit our pretensions to valour or possess ourselves of this fortress in a few minutes; and, in as much as it is a desperate attempt, (which none but the bravest of men dare undertake) I do not urge it on any contrary to his will. You that will undertake voluntarily, poise your firelocks." The men being (at this time) drawn up in three ranks, each poised his firelock. I ordered them to face to the right; and, at the head of the center-file, marched them immediately to the wicket-gate afore- said, where I found a centry posted, who instantly snapped his fusee at me: I run immediately toward him, and he retreated through the covered way into the parade within the garrison, gave a halloo, and ran under a bomb-proof. My party who followed me into the fort, I formed on the parade in such a manner as to face the two barracks which faced each other. The garrison being asleep, (except the Gentries) we gave three huzzas which greatly surprized them. One of the Gentries made a pass at one of my officers with a charged bayonet, and slightly wounded him: My first thought was to kill him with my sword; but in an instant, altered the design and fury of the blow, to a slight cut on the side of the head; upon which he dropped his gun, and asked quarter, which I readily granted him; and demanded of him the place where the commanding officer kept; he shewed me a pair of stairs in the front of a barrack, on the west part of the garrison, which led up to a second story in said barrack, to which I immediately repaired, and ordered the commander (Capt Delaplace) to come forth instantly, or I would sacrifice the whole garrison; at which the Capt came immediately to the door with his breeches in his hand, when I ordered him to deliver to me the fort instantly, who asked me by what authority I demanded it: I answered him, "In the name of the great Jehovah, and the Conti- nental Congress." (The authority of the Congress being very little known at that time) he began to speak again; but I interrupted him, and with my drawn sword over his head, again demanded an imme- diate surrender of the garrison; to which he then complied, and ordered his men to be forthwith paraded without arms, as he had given up the garrison: In the mean time some of my officers had given orders, and in consequence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors were beat down, and about one third of the garrison imprisoned, which AMERICAN PROSE consisted of the said commander, a Lieut. Feltham, a conducter of artillery, a gunner, two Serjeants, and forty four rank and file; about one hundred pieces of cannon, one 13 inch mortar, and a number of swivels. This surprize was carried into execution in the gray of the morning of the loth day of May, 1775. The sun seemed to rise that morning with a superior lustre; and Ticonderoga and its dependencies smiled on its conquerors, who tossed about the flowing bowl, and wished success to Congress, and the liberty and freedom of America. THOMAS PAINE FROM COMMON SENSE I challenge the warmest advocate for reconciliation, to shew a single advantage that this Continent can reap, by being connected with Great Britain. I repeat the challenge, not a single advantage is derived. Our corn will fetch its price in any market in 'Europe and our imported goods must be paid for buy them where we will. But the injuries and disadvantages which we sustain by that connection, are without number, and our duty to mankind at large, as well as to ourselves, instruct us to renounce the alliance: because any submission to, or dependance on Great Britain, tends directly to involve this Continent in European wars and quarrels. As Europe is our market for trade, we ought to form no political connection with any part of it. 'Tis the true interest of America, to steer clear of European contentions, which she never can do, while by her de- pendance on Britain, she is made the make-weight in the scale of British politics. Europe is too thickly planted with Kingdoms, to be long at peace, and whenever a war breaks out between England and any foreign power, the trade of America goes to ruin, because of her connection with Britain. The next war may not turn out like the last, and should it not, the advocates for reconciliation now, will be wishing for separation then, because neutrality in that case, would be a safer convoy than a man of war. Every thing that is right or reasonable THOMAS PAINE 203 pleads for separation. The blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, Tis TIME TO PART. Even the distance at which the Almighty hath placed England and America, is a strong and natural proof, that the authority of the one over the other, was never the design of Heaven. The time likewise at which the Continent was dis- covered, adds weight to the argument, and the manner in which it was peopled encreases the force of it. The Reformation was preceded by the discovery of America; As if the Almighty graciously meant to open a sanctuary to the persecuted in future years, when home should afford neither friendship nor safety. The authority of Great Britain over this Continent is a form of Government which sooner or later must have an end: And a serious mind can draw no true pleasure by looking forward, under the painful and positive conviction, that what he calls "the present constitution," is merely temporary. As parents, we can have no joy, knowing that government is not sufficiently lasting to ensure any thing which we may bequeath to posterity: And by a plain method of argument, as we are running the next generation into debt, we ought to do the work of it, otherwise we use them meanly and pitifully. In order to dis- cover the line of our duty rightly, we should take our children in our hand, and fix our station a few years farther into life; that eminence will present a prospect, which a few present fears and prejudices conceal from our sight. Though I would carefully avoid giving unnecessary offence, yet I am inclined to believe, that all those who espouse the doctrine of reconciliation, may be included within the following descriptions. Interested men who are not to be trusted, weak men who cannot see, prejudiced men who will not see, and a certain set of moderate men who think better of the European world than it deserves; and this last class, by an ill-judged deliberation, will be the cause of more calamities to this Continent, than all the other three. It is the good fortune of many to live distant from the scene of present sorrow; the evil is not sufficiently brought to their doors to make them feel the precariousness with which all American property is possessed. But let our imaginations transport us for a few moments to Boston; that seat of wretchedness will teach us wisdom, and instruct us for ever to renounce a power in whom we can have no trust. The inhabitants of that unfortunate city who 204 AMERICAN PROSE but a few months ago were in ease and affluence, have now no other alternative than to stay and starve, or turn out to beg. Endangered by the fire of their friends if they continue within the city, and plun- dered by government if they leave it. In their present condition they are prisoners without the hope of redemption, and hi a general attack for their relief, they would be exposed to the fury of both armies. Men of passive tempers look somewhat lightly over the offences of Britain, and still hoping for the best, are apt to call out, Come, come, we shall be friends again for all this. But examine the passions and feelings of mankind : bring the doctrine of reconciliation to the touch- stone of nature, and then tell me, whether you can hereafter love, honour, and faithfully serve the power that hath carried fire and sword into your land ? If you cannot do all these, then are you only deceiv- ing yourselves, and by your delay bringing ruin upon posterity. Your future connection with Britain whom you can neither lovenor honour, will be forced and unnatural, and being formed only on the plan of present convenience, will in a little time, fall into a relapse more wretched than the first. But if you say, you can still pass the viola- tions over, then I ask, hath your house been burnt? Hath your property been destroyed before your face? Are your wife and children destitute of a bed to lie on, or bread to live on? Have you lost a parent or a child by their hands, and yourself the ruined and wretched survivor ? If you have not, then are you not a judge of those who have. But if you have and still can shake hands with the murderers, then are you unworthy the name of husband, father, friend, or lover, and whatever may be your rank or title in life, you have the heart of a coward, and the spirit of a sycophant. This is not inflaming or exaggerating matters, but trying them by those feelings and affections which nature justifies, and without which, we should be incapable of discharging the social duties of life, or enjoying the felicities of it. I mean not to exhibit horror for the purpose of provoking revenge, but to awaken us from fatal and unmanly slumbers, that we may pursue determinately some fixed object. Tis not in the power of England or of Europe to conquer America, if she doth not conquer herself by delay and timidity. The present winter is worth an age if rightly employed, but if lost or THOMAS JEFFERSON 205 neglected, the whole Continent will partake of the misfortune; and there is no punishment which that man doth not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious and useful. Tis repugnant to reason, to the universal order of things, to all examples from former ages, to suppose, that this Continent can long remain subject to any external power. The most sanguine in Britain doth not think so. The utmost stretch of human wisdom cannot at this time compass a plan, short of separation, which can promise the Continent even a year's security. Reconciliation is now a falla- cious dream. Nature hath deserted the connection, and art cannot supply her place. For as Milton wisely expresses, "never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep." Every quiet method for peace hath been ineffectual. Our prayers have been rejected with disdain; and hath tended to convince us that nothing flatters vanity, or confirms obstinacy in Kings more than repeated petitioning and nothing hath contributed more, than that very measure, to make the Kings of Europe absolute. Witness Den- mark and Sweden. Wherfore, since nothing but blows will do, for God's sake let us come to a final separation, and not leave the next generation to be cutting throats under the violated unmeaning names of parent and child. THOMAS JEFFERSON THE UNANIMOUS DECLARATION OF THE THIRTEEN UNITED STATES OF AMERICA WHEN in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of man- kind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty 206 AMERICAN PROSE and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Govern- ments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes ; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abol- ishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world. He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good. He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them. He has refused to pass other Laws for the accom- modation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only. He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures. He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people. He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihila- tion, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State THOMAS JEFFERSON 207 remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within. He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands. He has obstructed the Administra- tion of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judi- ciary powers. He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries. He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people, and eat out their substance. He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures. He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power. He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation: For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us: For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States: For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world: For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent: For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury: For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences: For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary govern- ment, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies: For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments: For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us hi all cases what- soever. He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us: He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people. He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head 208 AMERICAN PROSE of a civilized nation. He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands. He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions. In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably inter- rupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends. WE, THEREFORE, the Representatives of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political con- nection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Inde- pendent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Provi- dence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor. GEORGE WASHINGTON 209 GEORGE WASHINGTON ANSWER TO CONGRESS ON HIS APPOINTMENT AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF In Congress, 16 June, 1775. MR. PRESIDENT, Though I am truly sensible of the high honor done me, in this appointment, yet I feel great distress, from a consciousness that my abilities and military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important trust. However, as the Congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty, and exert every power I possess in their service, and for the support of the glorious cause. I beg they will accept my cordial thanks for this distinguished testimony of their approbation. But, lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in the room, that I, this day, declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think myself equal to the command I am honored with. As to pay, Sir, I beg leave to assure the Congress, that, as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employment, at the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses. Those, I doubt not, they will discharge; and that is all I desire. TO MRS. MARTHA WASHINGTON Philadelphia, 18 June, 1775. MY DEAREST, I am now set down to write to you on a subject, which fills me with inexpressible concern, and this concern is greatly aggravated and increased, when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know it will give you. It has been determined in Congress, that the whole army raised for the defence of the American cause shall be put under my care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to Boston to take upon me the command of it. You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far from seeking this appointment, I have used every endeavour in my power to avoid it, not only from my AMERICAN PROSE unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from a conscious- ness of its being a trust too great for my capacity, and that I should enjoy more, real happiness in one month with you at home, than I have the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But as it has been a kind of destiny, that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I suppose did perceive, from the tenor of my letters, that I was apprehensive I could not avoid this appointment, as I did not pretend to intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment, without exposing my character to such censures, as would have reflected dishonor upon myself, and given pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not, and ought not, to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own esteem. I shall rely, therefore, confidently on that Providence, which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubt- ing but that I shall return safe to you in the fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or the danger of the campaign; my unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel from being left alone. I therefore beg, that you will summon your whole fortitude, and pass your time as agreeably as possible. Nothing will give me so much sincere satisfaction as to hear this, and to hear it from your own pen. My earnest and ardent desire is, that you would pursue any plan that is most likely to produce content, and a tolerable degree of tranquillity; as it must add greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear, -that you are dissatisfied or complaining at what I really could not avoid. . As Life is always uncertain, and common prudence dictates to every man the necessity of settling his temporal concerns, while it is in his power, and while the mind is calm and undisturbed, I have, since I came to this place (for I had not time to do it before I left home) got Colonel Pendleton to draft a will for me, by the directions I gave him, which will I now enclose. The provision made for you in case of my death will, I hope, be agreeable. I shall add nothing more, as I have several letters to write, but to desire that you will remember me to your friends, and to assure you that I am, with the most unfeigned regard, my dear Patsy, your affectionate, &c. GEORGE WASHINGTON FROM A LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT OF CONGRESS Valley Forge, 23 December, 1777. SIR, Full as I was in my representation of the matters in the com- missary's department yesterday, fresh and more powerful reasons oblige me to add, that I am now convinced beyond a doubt, that, unless some great and capital change suddenly takes place in that line, this army must inevitably be reduced to one or other of these three things; starve, dissolve, or disperse in order to obtain sub- sistence in the best manner they can. Rest assured, Sir, this is not an exaggerated picture, and that I have abundant reason to suppose what I say. Yesterday afternoon, receiving information that the enemy in force had left the city, and were advancing towards Derby with the apparent design to forage, and draw subsistence from that part of the country, I ordered the troops to be in readiness, that I might give every opposition in my power; when behold, to my great morti- fication, I w^s not only informed, but convinced, that the men were unable to stir on account of provision, and that a dangerous mutiny, begun the night before, and which with difficulty was suppressed by the spirited exertions of some officers, was still much to be appre- hended for want of this article. This brought forth the only com- missary in the purchasing line in this camp; and, with him, this melancholy and alarming truth, that he had not a single hoof of any kind to slaughter, and not more than twenty-five barrels of flour! From hence form an opinion of our situation when I add, that he could not tell when to expect any. All I could do, under these circumstances, was to send out a few light parties to watch and harass the enemy, whilst other parties were instantly detached different ways to collect, if possible, as much provision as would satisfy the present pressing wants of the soldiery. But will this answer? No, Sir; three or four days of bad weather would prove our destruction. What then is to become of the army this winter? And if we are so often without provisions now, what is to become of us in the spring, when our force will be collected, with the aid perhaps of militia to take advantage of an early campaign, before the enemy can be reinforced ? These are considerations of AMERICAN PROSE great magnitude, meriting the closest attention; and they will, when my own reputation is so intimately connected with the event and to be affected by it, justify my saying, that the present commissaries are by no means equal to the execution of the office, or that the disaffection of the people is past all belief. The misfortune, however, does in my opinion proceed from both causes; and, though I have been tender heretofore of giving any opinion, or lodging complaints, as the change in that department took place contrary to my judgment, and the consequences thereof were predicted; yet, finding that the inactivity of the army, whether for want of provisions, clothes, or other essentials, is charged to my account, not only by the common vulgar but by those in power, it is time to speak plain in exculpation of myself. With truth, then, I can declare, that no man in my opinion ever had his measures more impeded than I have, by every department of the army. Since the month of July we have had no assistance from the quartermaster-general, and to want of assistance from this depart- ment the commissary-general charges great part of his deficiency. To this I am to add, that, notwithstanding it is a standing order, and often repeated, that the troops shall always have two days' provisions by them, that they might be ready at any sudden call; yet an oppor- tunity has scarcely ever offered, of taking an advantage of the enemy, that has not been either totally obstructed, or greatly impeded, on this account. And this, the great and crying evil, is not all. The soap, vinegar, and other articles allowed by Congress, we see none of, nor have we seen them, I believe, since the battle of Brandywine. The first, indeed, we have now little occasion for; few men having more than one shirt, many only the moiety of one, and some none at all. In addition to which, as a proof of the little benefit received from a clothier-general, and as a further proof of the inability of an army, under the circumstances of this, to perform the common duties of soldiers, (besides a number of men confined to hospitals for want of shoes, and others in farmers' houses on the same account,) we have, by a field-return this day made, no less than two thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight men now in camp unfit for duty, because they are barefoot and otherwise naked. By the same return it appears, that our whole strength in Continental troops, including the eastern brigades, which have joined us since the surrender of GEORGE WASHINGTON 2 13 General Burgoyne, exclusive of the Maryland troops sent to Wilming- ton, amounts to no more than eight thousand two hundred in camp fit for duty; notwithstanding which, and that since the 4th instant, our numbers fit for duty, from the hardships and exposures they have undergone, particularly on account of blankets (numbers having _been obliged, and still are, to sit up all night by fires, instead of taking comfortable rest in a natural and common way), have decreased near two thousand men. We find gentlemen, without knowing whether the army was really going into winter-quarters or not (for I am sure no resolution of mine would warrant the Remonstrance), reprobating the measure as much as if they thought the soldiers were made of stocks or stones, and equally insensible of frost and snow; and moreover, as if they conceived it easily practicable for an inferior army, under the dis- advantages I have described ours to be, which are by no means exaggerated, to confine a superior one, in all respects well-appointed and provided for a winter's campaign, within the city of Philadelphia, and to cover from depredation and waste the States of Pennsylvania and Jersey. But what makes this matter still more extraordinary in my eye is, that these very gentlemen, who were well apprized of the nakedness of the troops from ocular demonstration, who thought their own soldiers worse clad than others, and who advised me near a month ago to postpone the execution of a plan I was about to adopt, in consequence of a resolve of Congress for seizing clothes, under strong assurances that an ample supply would be collected in ten days agreeably to a decree of the State (not one article of which, by the by, is yet come to hand) , should think a winter's campaign, and the covering of these States from the invasion of an enemy, so easy and practicable a business. I can assure those gentlemen, that it is a much easier and less distressing thing to draw remon- strances in a comfortable room by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold, bleak hill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the naked and distressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly for them, and, from my soul, I pity those miseries, which it is neither in my power to relieve or prevent. It is for these reasons, therefore, that I have dwelt upon the subject ; and it adds not a little to my other difficulties and distress 2 14 AMERICAN PROSE to find, that much more is expected of me than is possible to be per- formed, and that upon the ground of safety and policy I am obliged to conceal the true state of the army from public view, and thereby expose myself to detraction and calumny I have the honor to be, &c. FROM FARE.WELL ADDRESS Towards the preservation of your Government and the per- manency of your present happy state, it is requisite, not only that you steadily discountenance irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, but also that you resist with care the spirit of innovation upon its principles however specious the pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect, in the forms of the Constitution, altera- tions which will impair the energy of the system, and thus to under- mine what cannot be directly overthrown. In all the changes to which you may be invited, remember that time and habit are at least as necessary to fix the true character of Governments, as of other human institutions that experience is the surest standard, by which to test the real tendency of the existing Constitution of a Country that facility in changes upon the credit of mere hypothesis and opinion exposes to perpetual change, from the endless variety of hypothesis and opinion: and remember, especially, that for the efficient manage- ment of your common interests, in a country so extensive as ours, a Government of as much vigour as is consistent with the perfect security of Liberty is indispensable. Liberty itself will find in such a Government, with powers properly distributed and adjusted, its surest Guardian. It is indeed little else than a name, where the Government is too feeble to withstand the enterprises of faction, to confine each member of the Society within the limits prescribed by the laws, and to maintain all hi the secure and tranquil enjoyment of the rights of person and property Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence, I conjure you to believe me, fellow-citizens, the jealousy of a free people ought to be constantly awake, since history and experience prove that foreign influence is one of the most baneful foes of Republican Government. But that jealousy to be useful must be impartial; else it becomes GEORGE WASHINGTON 215 the instrument of the very influence to be avoided, instead of a defence against it. Excessive partiality for one foreign nation and excessive dislike of another, cause those whom they actuate to see danger only on one side, and serve to veil and even second the arts of influence on the other. Real Patriots, who may resist the intrigues of the favourite, are liable to become suspected and odious; while its tools and dupes usurp the applause and confidence of the people, to surrender their interests. The great rule of conduct for us, in regard to foreign Nations is, in extending our commercial relations, to have with them as little Political connection as possible. So far as we have already formed engagements let them be fulfilled with perfect good faith. Here let us stop. Europe has a set of primary interests, which to us have none, or a very remote relation. Hence she must be engaged in frequent controversies, the causes of which are essentially foreign to our con- cerns. Hence therefore it must be unwise in us to implicate our- selves by artificial ties in the ordinary vicissitudes of her politics, or the ordinary combinations and collisions of her friendships, or enmities. Our detached and distant situation invites and enables us to pur- sue a different course. If we remain one People, under an efficient government, the period is not far off, when we may defy material injury from external annoyance; when we may take such an attitude as will cause the neutrality we may at any time resolve upon to be scrupulously respected. When belligerent nations, under the impossibility of making acquisitions upon us, will not lightly hazard the giving us provocation; when we may choose peace or war, as our interest guided by justice shall counsel. Why forego the advantages of so peculiar a situation ? Why quit our own to stand upon foreign ground ? Why, by interweaving our destiny with that of any part of Europe, entangle our peace and prosperity in the toils of European ambition, rivalship, interest, humour or caprice ? Tis our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances, with any portion of the foreign world; so far, I mean, as we are now at liberty to do it for let me not be understood as capable of patroniz- ing infidelity to existing engagements, (I hold the maxim no less 2l6 AMERICAN PROSE applicable to public than to private affairs, that honesty is always the best policy) . I repeat it therefore let those engagements be observed in their genuine sense. But in my opinion it is unnecessary and would be unwise to extend them. ALEXANDER HAMILTON FROM THE FEDERALIST FURTHER DEFECTS OF THE PRESENT CONSTITUTION In addition to the defects already enumerated in the existing federal system, there are others of not less importance, which concur in rendering it altogether unfit for the administration of the affairs of the union. The want of a power to regulate commerce is by all parties allowed to be of the number. The utility of such a power has been antici- pated under the first head of our enquiries; and for this reason as well as from the universal conviction entertained upon the subject, little need be added in this place. It is indeed evident, on the most superficial view, that there is no object, either as it respects the interests of trade or finance that more strongly demands a federal superintendence. The want of it has already operated as a bar to the formation of beneficial treaties with foreign powers; and has given occasions of dissatisfaction between the states. No nation acquainted with the nature of our political association would be unwise enough to enter into stipulations with the United States, conceding on their part privileges of importance, while they were apprised that the engagements on the part of the union, might at any moment be violated by its members; and while they found from experience that they might enjoy every advantage they desired in our markets, without granting us any return, but such as their momentary con- venience might suggest. It is not therefore to be wondered at, that Mr. Jenkinson in ushering into the house of commons a bill for regulating the temporary intercourse between the two countries, should preface its introduction by a declaration that similar provisions in former bills had been found to answer every purpose to the com- merce of Great Britain, and that it would be prudent to persist in the ALEXANDER HAMILTON 217 plan until it should appear whether the American government was likely or not to acquire greater consistency. Several states have endeavoured by separate prohibitions, restrictions and exclusions, to influence the conduct of that kingdom in this particular; but the want of concert, arising from the want of a general authority, and from clashing and dissimilar views in the states, has hitherto frustrated every experiment of the kind; and will continue to do so as long as the same obstacles to an uniformity of measures continue to exist. The interfering and unneighbourly regulations of some states, contrary to the true spirit of the union, have in different instances given just cause of umbrage and complaint to others; and it is to be feared that examples of this nature, if not restrained by a national controul, would be multiplied and extended till they became not less serious sources of animosity and discord, than injurious impediments to the intercourse between the different parts of the confederacy. "The commerce of the German empire, is in continual trammels from the multiplicity of the duties which the several princes and states exact upon the merchandizes passing through their territories; by means of which the fine streams and navigable rivers with which Germany is so happily watered, are rendered almost useless." Though the genius of the people of this country might never permit this description to be strictly applicable to us, yet we may reasonably expect, from the gradual conflicts of state regulations, that the citizens of each, would at length come to be considered and treated by the others in no better light than that of foreigners and aliens. The power of raising armies, by the most obvious construction of the articles of the confederation, is merely a power of making requisitions upon the states for quotas of men. This practice, in the course of the late war, was found replete with obstructions to a vigorous and to an economical system of defence. It gave birth to a competition between the states, which created a kind of auction for men. In order to furnish the quotas required of them, they out- bid each other, till bounties grew to an enormous and insupportable size. The hope of a still further increase afforded an inducement to those who were disposed to serve to procrastinate their inlistment ; and disinclined them to engaging for any considerable periods. Hence slow and scanty levies of men in the most critical emergencies 2i8 AMERICAN PROSE of our affairs short inlistments at an unparalleled expence continual fluctuations in the troops, ruinous to their discipline, and subjecting the public safety frequently to the perilous crisis of a disbanded army. Hence also those oppressive expedients for raising men which were upon several occasions practised, and which nothing but the enthusiasm of liberty would have induced the people to endure. This method of raising troops is not more unfriendly to economy and vigor, than it is to an equal distribution of the burthen. The states near the seat of war, influenced by motives of self preservation made efforts to furnish their quotas, which even exceeded their abilities, while those at a distance from danger were for the most part as remiss as the others were diligent in their exertions. The immediate pressure of this inequality was not in this case, as in that of the contributions of money, alleviated by the hope of a final liquidation. The states which did not pay their proportions of money, might at least be charged with their deficiencies; but no account could be formed of the deficiencies in the supplies of men. We shall not, however, see much reason to regret the want of this hope, when we consider how little prospect there is, that the most delinquent states ever will be able to make compensation for their pecuniary failures. The system of quotas and requisitions, whether it be applied to men or money, is in every view a system of imbecility in the union, and of inequality and injustice among the members. The right of equal suffrage among the states is another exception- able part of the confederation. Every idea of proportion, and every rule of fair representation conspire to condemn a principle, which gives to Rhode-Island an equal weight in the scale of power with Massachusetts, or Connecticut, or New- York; and to Delaware, an equal voice in the national deliberations with Pennsylvania or Virginia, or North-Carolina. Its operation contradicts that funda- mental maxim of republican government, which requires that the sense of the majority should prevail. Sophistry' may reply, that sovereigns are equal, and that a majority of the votes of the states will be a majority of confederated America. But this kind of logical legerdemain will never counteract the plain suggestions of justice and common sense. It may happen that this majority of states is a small minority of the people of America; and two thirds of the ALEXANDER HAMILTON 219 people of America, could not long be persuaded, upon the credit of artificial distinctions and syllogistic subtleties, to submit their inter- ests to the management and disposal of one third. The larger states would after a while revolt from the idea of receiving the law from the smaller. To acquiesce in such a privation of their due importance in the political scale, would be not merely to be insensible to the love of power, but even to sacrifice the desire of equality. It is neither rational to expect the first, nor just to require the last the smaller states considering how peculiarly their safety and welfare depend on union, ought readily to renounce a pretension, which, if not relinquished would prove fatal to its duration. It may be objected to this, that not seven but nine states, or two thirds of the whole number must consent to the most important resolutions; and it may be thence inferred, that rune states would always comprehend a majority of the inhabitants of the union. But this does not obviate the impropriety of an equal vote between states of the most unequal dimensions and populousness; nor is the inference accurate in point of fact; for we can enumerate nine states which contain less than a majority of the people; and it is constitutionally possible, that these nine may give the vote. Besides there are matters of considerable moment de terminable by a bare majority; and there are others, concerning which doubts have been entertained, which if interpreted in favor of the sufficiency of a vote of seven states, would extend its operation to interests of the first magnitude. In addition to this, it is to be observed, that there is a probability of an increase in the number of states, and no provision for a proportional augmentation of the ratio of votes. But this is not all; what at first sight may seem a remedy, is in reality a poison. To give a minority a negative upon the majority (which is always the case where more than a majority is requisite to a decision) is in its tendency to subject the sense of the greater number to that of the lesser number. Congress from the non attendance of a few states have been frequently in the situation of a Polish diet, where a single VETO has been sufficient to put a stop to all their movements. A sixtieth part of the union, which is about the pro- portion of Delaware and Rhode-Island, has several times been able to oppose an entire bar to its operations. This is one of those refine- ments which in practice has an effect, the reverse of what is expected AMERICAN PROSE from it in theory. The necessity of unanimity in public bodies, or of something approaching towards it, has been founded upon a suppo- sition that it would contribute to security. But its real operation is to embarrass the administration, to destroy the energy of govern- ment, and to substitute the pleasure, caprice or artifices of an insignif- icant, turbulent or corrupt junto, to the regular deliberations and decisions of a respectable majority. In those emergencies of a nation, in which the goodness or badness, the weakness or strength of its government, is of the greatest importance, there is commonly a necessity for action. The public business must in some way or other go forward. If a pertinacious minority can controul the opinion of a majority respecting the best mode of conducting it; the ma- jority, in order that something may be done, must conform to the views of the minority; and thus the sense of the smaller number will over rule that of the greater and give a tone to the national proceed- ings. Hence tedious delays continual negotiation and intrigue con- temptible compromises of the public good. And yet in such a system, it is even happy when such compromises can take place: For upon some occasions, things will not admit of accommodation; and then the measures of government must be injuriously suspended or fatally defeated. It is often, by the impracticability of obtaining the con- currence of the necessary number of votes, kept in a state of inaction. Its situation must always savour of weakness sometimes border upon anarchy. It is not difficult to discover that a principle of this kind gives greater scope to foreign corruption as well as to domestic faction, than that which permits the sense of the majority to decide; though the contrary of this has been presumed. The mistake has proceeded from not attending with due care to the mischiefs that may be occasioned by obstructing the progress of government at certain critical seasons. When the concurrence of a large number is required by the constitution to the doing of any national act, we are apt to rest satisfied that all is safe, because nothing improper will be likely to be done; but we forget how much good may be prevented, and how much ill may be produced, by the power of hindering that which is necessary from being done, and of keeping affairs in the same un- favourable posture in which they may happen to stand at particular periods. ALEXANDER HAMILTON Suppose for instance we were engaged in a war, in conjunction with one foreign nation against another. Suppose the necessity of our situation demanded peace, and the interest or ambition of our ally led him to seek the prosecution of the war, with views that might justify us in making separate terms. In such a state of things this ally of ours would evidently find it much easier by his bribes and his intrigues to tie up the hands of government from making peace, where two thirds of all the votes were requisite to that object, than where a simple majority would suffice. In the first case he would have to corrupt a smaller number; in the last a greater number. Upon the same principle it would be much easier for a foreign power with which we were at war, to perplex our councils and embarrass our exertions. And in a commercial view we may be subjected to similar inconveniences. A nation with which we might have a treaty of commerce, could with much greater facility prevent our forming a connection with her competitor in trade; though such a connection should be ever so beneficial to ourselves. Evils of this description ought not to be regarded as imaginary. One of the weak sides of republics, among their numerous advantages, is, that they afford too easy an inlet to foreign corruption. An heredi- tary monarch, though often disposed to sacrifice his subjects to his ambition, has so great a personal interest in the government, and in the external glory of the nation, that it is not easy for a foreign power to give him an equivalent for what he would sacrifice by treachery to the state. The world has accordingly been witness to few examples of this species of royal prostitution, though there have been abundant specimens of every other kind. In republics, persons elevated from the mass of the community, by the suffrages of 'their fellow citizens, to stations of great pre- eminence and power, may find compensations for betraying their trust, which to any but minds actuated by superior virtue may appear to exceed the proportion of interest they have in the common stock, and to over-balance the obligations of duty. Hence it is that history furnishes us with so many mortifying examples of the prevalency of foreign corruption in republican governments. How much this contributed to the ruin of the ancient commonwealths has been already disclosed. It is well known that the deputies of the United Provinces have, in various instances, been purchased by the 222 AMERICAN PROSE emissaries of the neighbouring kingdoms. The earl of Chesterfield (if my memory serves me right) in a letter to his court, intimates that his success in an important negotiation, must depend on his obtaining a major's commission for one of those deputies. And in Sweden, the parties were alternately bought by France and England, in so bare- faced and notorious a manner that it excited universal disgust in the nation; and was a principal cause that the most limited monarch in Europe, in a single day, without tumult, violence, or opposition, became one of the most absolute and uncontrouled. A circumstance, which crowns the defects of the confederation, remains yet to be mentioned the want of a judiciary power. Laws are a dead letter without courts to expound and define their true meaning and operation. The treaties of the United States, to have any force at all, must be considered as part of the law of the land. Their true import, as far as respects individuals, must, like all other laws, be ascertained by judicial determinations. To produce uni- formity in these determinations, they ought to be submitted in the last resort, to one SUPREME TRIBUNAL. And this tribunal ought to be instituted under the same authority which forms the treaties them- selves. These ingredients are both indispensible. If there is in each state a court of final jurisdiction, there may be as many different final determinations on the same point, as there are courts. There are endless diversities in the opinions of men. We often see not only different courts, but the judges of the same court differing from each other. To avoid the confusion which would unavoidably result from the contradictory decisions of a number of independent judica- tories, all nations have found it necessary to establish one court paramount to the rest, possessing a general superintendance, and authorised to settle and declare in the last resort an uniform rule of civil justice. This is the more necessary where the frame of the government is so compounded, that the laws of the whole are hi danger of being contravened by the laws of the parts. In this case, it the particular tribunals are invested with a right of ultimate jurisdiction, besides the contradictions to be expected from difference of opinion, there will be much to fear from the bias of local views and prejudices, and from the interference of local regulations. As often as such an inter- ference was to happen, there would be reason to apprehend, that the ALEXANDER HAMILTON 223 provisions of the particular laws might be preferred to those of the general laws; from the deference with which men in office naturally look up to that authority to which they owe their official existence. The treaties of the United States, under the present constitution, are liable to the infractions of thirteen different legislatures, and as many different courts of final jurisdiction, acting under the authority of those legislatures. The faith, the reputation, the peace of the whole union, are thus continually at the mercy of the prejudices, the passions, and the interests of every member of which it is composed. Is it possible that foreign nations can either respect or confide in such a government ? Is it possible that the people of America will longer consent to trust their honor, their happiness, their safety, on so pre- carious a foundation ? In this review of the confederation, I have confined myself to the exhibition of its most material defects; passing over those imperfec- tions in its details, by which even a considerable part of the power intended to be conferred upon it, has been in a great measure rendered abortive. It must be by this time evident to all men of reflection, who are either free from erronious prepossessions or can divest them- selves of them, that it is a system so radically vicious and unsound, as to admit not of amendment but by an entire change in its leading features and characters. The organization of congress, is itself utterly improper for the exercise of those powers which are necessary to be deposited in the union. A single assembly may be a proper receptacle of those slender, or rather fettered authorities, which have been heretofore delegated to the federal head; but it would be inconsistent with all the principles of good government, to intrust it with those additional powers which even the moderate and more rational adversaries of the proposed constitution admit, ought to reside in the United States. If that plan should not be adopted; and if the necessity of union should be able to withstand the ambitious aims of those men, who may indulge magnificent schemes of personal aggrandizement from its dissolution; the probability would be, that we should run into the project of con- fering supplementary powers upon congress as they are now consti- tuted. And either the machine, from the intrinsic feebleness of its structure, will moulder into pieces in spite of our ill-judged efforts to prop it; or by successive augmentations of its force and energy, 224 AMERICAN PROSE as necessity might prompt, we shall finally accumulate in a single body, all the most important prerogatives of sovereignty; and thus entail upon our posterity, one of the most execrable forms of govern- ment that human infatuation ever contrived. Thus we should create in reality that very tyranny, which the adversaries of the new constitution either are, or affect to be solicitous to avert. It has not a little contributed to the infirmities of the existing federal system, that it never had a ratification by the PEOPLE. Rest- ing on no better foundation than the consent of the several legislatures, it has been exposed to frequent and intricate questions concerning the validity of its powers; and has in some instances given birth to the enormous doctrine of a right of legislative repeal. Owing its rati- fication to the law of a state, it has been contended, that the same authority might repeal the law by which it was ratified. However gross a heresy it may be to maintain that a party to a compact has a right to revoke that compact, the doctrine itself has had respectable advocates. The possibility of a question of this nature, proves the necessity of laying the foundations of our national government deeper than hi the mere sanction of delegated authority. The fabric of American empire ought to rest on the solid basis of THE CONSENT OF THE PEOPLE. The streams of national power ought to flow immediately from that pure original fountain of all legitimate authority. PUBLIUS. WASHINGTON IRVING FROM A HISTORY OF NEW YORK It was in the year of our Lord 1629 that Mynheer Wouter Van Twiller was appointed governor of the province of Nieuw Nederlandts, under the commission and control of their High Mightinesses the Lords States General of the United Netherlands, and the privileged West India Company. This renowned old* gentleman arrived at New Amsterdam in the merry month of June, the sweetest month in all the year; when dan Apollo seems to dance up the transparent firmament, when the WASHINGTON IRVING 225 robin, the thrush, and a thousand other wanton songsters, make the woods to resound with amorous ditties, and the luxurious little boblin- con revels among the clover-blossoms of the meadows, all which happy coincidence persuaded the old dames of New Amsterdam, who were skilled in the art of foretelling events, that this was to be a happy and prosperous administration. The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was descended from a long line of Dutch burgomasters, who had successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam; and who had comported themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety, that they were never either heard or talked of which, next to being universally applauded, should be the object of ambition of all magistrates and rulers. There are two opposite ways by which some men make a figure in the world : one, by talking faster than they think, and the other, by holding their tongues and not thinking at all. By the first, many a smatterer acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts; by the other, many a dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be considered the very type of wisdom. This, by the way, is a casual remark, which I would not, for the universe, have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller. It is true he was a man shut up within himself, like an oyster, and rarely spoke, except in monosyllables; but then it was allowed he seldom said a foolish thing. So invincible was his gravity that he was never known to laugh or even to smile through the whole course of a long and prosperous life. Nay, if a joke were uttered in his presence, that set light-minded hearers in a roar, it was observed to throw him into a state of perplexity. Sometimes he would deign to inquire into the matter, and when, after much explanation, the joke was made as plain as a pikestaff, he would continue to smoke his pipe in silence, and at length, knocking out the ashes, would exclaim, "Well! I see nothing in all that to laugh about." With all his reflective habits, he never made up his mind on a subject. His adherents accounted for this by the astonishing magni- tude of his ideas. He conceived every subject on so grand a scale that he had not room in his head to turn it over and examine both sides of it. Certain it is, that, if any matter were propounded to him on which ordinary mortals would rashly determine at first glance, he would put on a vague, mysterious look, shake his capacious head, 226 AMERICAN PROSE smoke some time in profound silence, and at length observe, that "he had his doubts about the matter"; which gained him the repu- tation of a man slow of belief and not easily imposed upon. What is more, it gained him a lasting name; for to this habit of the mind has been attributed his surname of Twiller; which is said to be a corrup- tion of the original Twijfler, or, in plain English, Doubter. The person of this illustrious old gentleman was formed and proportioned, as though it had been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches in circumference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of such stu- pendous dimensions, that dame Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to construct a neck capable of supporting it ; wherefore she wisely declined the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his backbone, just between the shoulders. His body was oblong and particularly capacious at bottom; which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labor of walking. His legs were short, but sturdy in proportion to the weight they had to sustain; so that when erect he had not a little the appearance of a beer-barrel on skids. His face, that infallible index of the mind, presented a vast expanse, unfurrowed by any of those lines and angles which disfigure the human countenance with what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magni- tude in a hazy firmament; and his full-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of everything that went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked with dusky red, like a spitzenberg apple. His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each; he smoked and doubted eight hours, and he slept the remaining twelve of the four- and-twenty. Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller, a true philosopher, for his mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and perplexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, without feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved round it, or it round the sun; and he had watched, for at least half a century, the smoke curling from bis pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling his head with any of those numerous WASHINGTON IRVING 227 theories by which a philosopher would have perplexed his brain, in accounting for its rising above the surrounding atmosphere. In his council he presided with great state and solemnity. He sat in a huge chair of solid oak, hewn in the celebrated forest of the Hague, fabricated by an experienced timmerman of Amsterdam, and curiously carved about the arms and feet, into exact imitations of gigantic eagle's claws. Instead of a sceptre, he swayed a long Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin and amber, which had been presented to a stadtholder of Holland at the conclusion of a treaty with one of the petty Barbary powers. In this stately chair would he sit, and this magnificent pipe would he smoke, shaking his right knee with a con- stant motion, and fixing his eye for hours together upon a little print of Amsterdam, which hung in a black frame against the opposite wall of the council-chamber. Nay, it has even been said, that when any deliberation of extraordinary length and intricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Wouter would shut his eyes for full two hours at a time, that he might not be disturbed by external objects; and at such times the internal commotion of his mind was evinced by certain regular guttural sounds, which his admirers declared were merely the noise of conflict, made by his contending doubts and opinions. It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled to collect these biographical anecdotes of the great man under consideration. The facts respecting him were so scattered and vague, and divers of them so questionable in point of authenticity, that I have had to give up the search after many, and decline the admission of still more, which would have tended to heighten the coloring of his portrait. I have been the more anxious to delineate fully the person and habits of Wouter Van Twiller, from the consideration that he was not only the first, but also the best governor that ever presided over this ancient and respectable province; and so tranquil and benevolent was his reign, that I do not find throughout the whole of it a single instance of any offender being brought to punishment, a most indubitable sign of a merciful governor, and a case unparalleled, excepting in the reign of the illustrious King Log, from whom, it is hinted, the renowned Van Twiller was a lineal descendant. The very outset of the career of this excellent magistrate was distinguished by an example of legal acumen, that gave flattering presage of a wise and equitable administration. The morning after 228 AMERICAN PROSE he had been installed in office, and at the moment that he was making his breakfast from a prodigious earthen dish, filled with milk and Indian pudding, he was interrupted by the appearance of Wandle Schoonhoven, a very important old burgher of New Amsterdam, who complained bitterly of one Barent Bleecker, inasmuch as be refused to come to a settlement of accounts, seeing that there was a heavy balance in favor of the said Wandle. Governor Van Twiller, as I have already observed, was a man of few words; he was like- wise a mortal enemy to multiplying writings or being disturbed at his breakfast. Having listened attentively to the statement of Wandle Schoonhoven, giving an occasional grunt, as he shovelled a spoonful of Indian pudding into his mouth, either as a sign that he relished the dish, or comprehended the story, he called unto him his constable, and pulling out of his breeches-pocket a huge jack-knife, dispatched it after the defendant as a summons, accom- panied by his tobacco-box as a warrant. This summary process was as effectual in those simple days as was the seal-ring of the great Haroun Alraschid among the true believers. The two parties being confronted before him, each pro- duced a book of accounts, written in a language and character that would have puzzled any but a High-Dutch commentator, or a learned decipherer of Egyptian obelisks. The sage Wouter took them one after the other, and having poised them in his hands, and attentively counted over the number of leaves, fell straightway into a very great doubt, and smoked for half an hour without saying a word; at length, laying his finger beside his nose, and shutting his eyes for a moment, with the air of a man who has just caught a subtle idea by the tail, he slowly took his pipe from his mouth, puffed forth a column of tobacco-smoke, and with marvellous gravity and solemnity pro- nounced, that, having carefully counted over the leaves and weighed the books, it was found, that one was just as thick and as heavy as the other: therefore, it was the final opinion of the court that the accounts were equally balanced: therefore, Wandle should give Bar- ent a receipt, and Barent should give Wandle a receipt, and the constable should pay the costs. This decision, being straightway made known, diffused general joy throughout New Amsterdam, for the people immediately per- ceived that they had a very wise and equitable magistrate to rule WASHINGTON IRVING 229 over them. But its happiest effect was, that not another lawsuit took place throughout he whole of his administration; and the office of constable fell into such decay, that there was not one of those losel scouts known in the province for many years. I am the more particular in dwelling on this transaction, not only because I deem it one of the most sage and righteous judgments on record, and well worthy the attention of modern magistrates, but because it was a miraculous event in the history of the renowned Wouter, being the only time he was ever known to come to a decision in the whole course of his life. FROM THE SKETCH BOOK RIP VAN WINKLE Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swell- ing up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky; but sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory. At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village, of great antiquity, having been founded by some of the Dutch colo- nists in the early times of the province, just about the beginning of the government of the good Peter Stuyvesant, (may he rest in peace!) and there were some of the houses of the original settlers standing within a few years, built of small yellow bricks brought from Hol- land, having latticed windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weather-cocks. 230 AMERICAN PROSE In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple good-natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant and accom- panied him to the siege of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple good-natured man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient hen-pecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstance might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal popularity; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad, who are under the dis- cipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation; and a curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects, be considered a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles; and never failed, whenever they talked those matters over in their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood. The great error hi Rip's composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece on his shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to WASHINGTON IRVING 231 shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone-fences; the women of the village, too, used to employ him to run their errands, and to do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for them. In a word Rip was ready to attend to any body's business but his own; but as to doing family duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country; every thing about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were continually falling to pieces; his cow would either go astray, or get among the cabbages; weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields than any where else; the rain always made a point of setting in just as he had some out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his manage- ment, acre by acre, until there was little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst conditioned farm in the neighborhood. His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with the old clothes of his father. He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of his father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather. Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment; but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family. Morn- ing, noon, and night, her tongue was incessantly going, and every thing he said or did was sure to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always provoked a fresh volley from his 232 AMERICAN PROSE wife; so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the house the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen-pecked husband. Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much hen-pecked as his master; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often astray. True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods but what courage can withstand the ever-during and all-besetting terrors of a woman's tongue ? The moment Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground or curled between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle, he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation. Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on; a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with con- stant use. For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village; which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long lazy summer's day, talking listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman's money to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands from some passing traveler. How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some months after they had taken place. The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade of a large tree; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements as accu- WASHINGTON IRVING 233 rately as by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adherents, however (for every great man has his adherents), perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When any thing that was read or related displeased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short, frequent and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. From even this strong-hold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tran- quility of the assemblage and call the members all to naught; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness. Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair; and his only alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm and clamor of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. "Poor Wolf," he would say, "thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friend to stand by thee!" Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart. In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Rip had unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the trees he could overlook all the lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands. 234 AMERICAN PROSE On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually advancing; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the village, and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing, "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" He looked round, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and turned again to descend when he heard the same cry ring through the still evening air: "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, and giving a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place; but sup- posing it to be some one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to yield it. On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to approach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity; and mutually relieving each other, they clambered up a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain tprrent. As they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an instant but supposing it to WASHINGTON IRVING 235 be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers which often take place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small amphitheatre, sur- rounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and his companion had labored on in silence; for though the former marveled greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange and incomprehensible about the unknown, that inspired awe and checked familiarity. On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was a company of odd- looking personages playing at nine-pins. They were dressed in a quaint outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches, of similar style with that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were peculiar: one had a large head, broad face, and small piggish eyes: the face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weather-beaten countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, high crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting, in the parlor of Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson, and which had been brought over from Holland at the time of the settlement. What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such fixed statue- like gaze, and such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that 236 > AMERICAN PROSE his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game. By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even ven- tured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the draught. One taste provoked another; and he reiterated his visits to the flagon so often that at length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep. On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes it was a bright sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain breeze. "Surely," thought Rip, "I have not slept here all night." He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor the mountain ravine the wild retreat among the rocks the wobegone party at nine-pins the flagon "Oh! that flagon! that wicked flagon!" thought Rip "what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle ?" He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel in- crusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roysters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or- partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen. He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought Rip, "and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle." WASHINGTON IRVING 237 With some difficulty he got down into the glen: he found the gully up which he and his companion had ascended the preceding evening; but to his astonishment a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch- hazel, and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the wild grapevines that twisted their coils or tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of network in his path. At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through the cliffs to the amphitheatre; but no traces of such opening remained. The rocks presented a high impenetrable wall, over which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to be done? the morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward. As he approached the village he met a number of people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had thought himself acquainted with every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to which he was accustomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long! He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very village was altered; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of 238 AMERICAN PROSE houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors strange faces at the windows every thing was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains there ran the silver Hudson at a distance there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been Rip was sorely perplexed "That flagon last night," thought he, "has addled my poor head sadly!" It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog that looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten me!" He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and appar- ently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his connubial fears he called loudly for his wife and children the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all again was silence. He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village inn but it too was gone. A large rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red night-cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes all this was strange and incomprehensible. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, under which he had smoked so many a peace- ful pipe; but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, GENERAL WASHINGTON. WASHINGTON IRVING 239 There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco-smoke instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens elections members of congress liberty Bunker's Hill heroes of seventy-six and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle. The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and children at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern politicians. They crowded round him, eyeing him from head to foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly aside, inquired "on which side he voted?" Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, "Whether he was Federal or Democrat ?" Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded in an austere tone, "what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village?" "Alas! gentle- men," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, "I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the king, God bless him!" Here a general shout burst from the bystanders "A tory! a tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! away with him!" It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking ? The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no 240 AMERICAN PROSE harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. "Well who are they? name them." Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's Nicholas Vedder ?" There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin piping voice, "Nicholas Vedder! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the church- yard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too." "Where's Brom Butcher ?" "Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony Point others say he was drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know he never came back again." "Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" "He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and is now in Congress." Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand: war congress Stony Point; he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" "Oh, Rip Van Winkle ["exclaimed two or three, "Oh, to be sure! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree." Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself, as he went up the mountain: apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name ? "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself I'm somebody else that's me yonder no that's somebody else got into my shoes I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they've changed my gun, and every thing's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or who I am!" The by-standers began now to look at each other, nod, winK significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There WASHINGTON IRVING 241 was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self- important man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical moment a fresh comely woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip," cried she, "hush, you little fool; the old man won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind. "What is your name, my good woman ?" asked he. "Judith Gardenier." . "And your father's name ?" "Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl." Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a faltering voice: "Where's your mother ?" "Oh, she too had died but a short time since; she broke a blood- vessel in a fit of passion at a New-England pedler." There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. "I am your father!" cried he "Young Rip Van Winkle once old Rip Van Winkle now! Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle ?" All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, "Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle it is himself! Welcome home again, old neighbor Why, where have you been these twenty long years?" Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared when they heard it; some were seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues in their cheeks: and the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and shook his head upon 242 AMERICAN PROSE which there was a general shaking of the head throughout the assemblage. It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He was a descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient inhabit- ant of the village, and well versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the Half -moon; being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river, and the great city called by his name. That his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing at nine-pins in a hollow of the mountain; and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder. To make a long story short, the company broke up, and returned to the more important concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with her; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back. As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on the farm; but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to any thing else but his business. Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of time; and preferred making friends among the rising genera- tion, with whom he soon grew into great favor. Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when a man can be idle with impunity, he took his place once more on the bench at the inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the village, and a chronicle of the old times "before the war." It was some tune before he could get into the regular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the strange events WASHINGTON IRVING 243 that had taken place during his torpor. How that there had been a revolutionary war that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England and that, instead of being a subject of his Majesty George the Third, he was now a free citizen of the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician; the changes of states and empires made but little impression on him; but there was one species of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that was petticoat government. Happily that was at an end; he had got his neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out whenever he pleased, without dreading the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. When- ever her name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast up his eyes; which might pass either for an expression of resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance. He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points every time he told it, which was, doubtless, owing to his having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood, but knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point on which he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost ( universally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of nine-pins; and it is a common wish of all hen- pecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon. THE MUTABILITY OF LITERATURE A Colloquy in Westminster Abbey I know that all beneath the moon decays, And what by mortals in this world is brought, In time's great period shall return to nought. I know that all the muse's heavenly lays, With toil of sprite which are so dearly bought, As idle sounds, of few or none are sought; That there is nothing lighter than mere praise. DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN. 244 AMERICAN PROSE There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind, in which we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek some quiet haunt, where we may indulge our reveries and build our air castles undisturbed. In such a mood I was loitering about -the old gray cloisters of Westminster Abbey, enjoying that luxury of wandering thought which one is apt to dignify with the name of reflection; when suddenly an interruption of madcap boys from Westminster School, playing at foot-ball, broke in upon the monastic stillness of the place, making the vaulted passages and mouldering tombs echo with their merriment. I sought to take refuge from their noise by penetrating still deeper into the solitudes of the pile, and applied to one of the vergers for admission to the library. He conducted me through a portal rich with the crumbling sculpture of former ages, which opened upon a gloomy passage leading to the chapter-house and the chamber in which Doomsday book is deposited. Just within the passage is a small door on the left. To this the verger applied a key; it was double locked, and opened with some difficulty, as if seldom used. We now ascended a dark narrow staircase, and, passing through a second door, entered the library. I found myself in a lofty antique hall, the roof supported by massive joists of old English oak. It was soberly lighted by a row of gothic windows at a considerable height from the floor, and which apparently opened upon the roofs of the cloisters. An ancient picture of some reverend dignitary of the church in his robes hung over the fireplace. Around the hall and in a small gallery were the books, arranged in carved oaken cases. They consisted principally of old polemical writers, and were much more worn by time than use. In the centre of the library was a solitary table with two or three books on it, an inkstand without ink, and a few pens parched by long disuse. The place seemed fitted for quiet study and profound medi- tation. It was buried deep among the massive walls of the abbey, and shut up from the tumult of the world. I could only hear now and then the shouts of the school-boys faintly swelling from the cloisters, and the sound of a bell tolling for prayers, echoing soberly along the roofs of the abbey. By degrees the shouts of merri- ment grew fainter and fainter, and at length died away; the bell ceased to toll, and a profound silence reigned through the dusky hall. WASHINGTON IRVING 245 I had taken down a little thick quarto, curiously bound in parchment, with brass clasps, and seated myself at the table in a venerable elbow-chair. Instead of reading, however, I was be- guiled by the solemn monastic air, and lifeless quiet of the place, into a train of musing. As I looked around upon the old volumes in their mouldering covers, thus ranged on the shelves, and appar- ently never disturbed in their repose, I could not but consider the library a kind of literary catacomb, where authors, like mummies, are piously entombed, and left to blacken and moulder in dusty oblivion. How much, thought I, has each of these volumes, now thrust aside with such indifference, cost some aching head! how many weary days! how many sleepless nights! How have their authors buried themselves in the solitude of cells and cloisters; shut themselves up from the face of man, and the still more blessed face of nature; and devoted themselves to painful research and intense reflection! And all for what ? to occupy an inch of dusty shelf to have the title of their works read now and then in a future age, by some drowsy churchman or casual straggler like myself; and in another age to be lost, even to remembrance. Such is the amount of this boasted immortality. A mere temporary rumor, a local sound; like the tone of that bell which has just tolled among these towers, filling the ear for a moment lingering transiently in echo and then passing away like a thing that was not! While I sat half murmuring, half meditating these unprofitable speculations with my head resting on my hand, I was thrumming with the other hand upon the quarto, until I accidentally loosened the clasps; when, to my utter astonishment, the little book gave two or three yawns, like one awaking from a deep sleep; then a husky hem; and at length began to talk. At first its voice was very hoarse and broken, being much troubled by a cobweb which some studious spider had woven across it; and having probably contracted a cold from long exposure to the chills and damps of the abbey. In a short time, however, it became more distinct, and I soon found ifan exceed- ingly fluent conversable little tome. Its language, to be sure, was rather quaint and obsolete, and its pronunciation, what, in the present day, would be deemed barbarous; but I shall endeavor, as far as I am able, to render it in modern parlance. 246 AMERICAN PROSE It began with railings about the neglect of the world about merit being suffered to languish in obscurity, and other such com- monplace topics of literary repining, and complained bitterly that it had not been opened for more than two centuries. That the dean only looked now and then into the library, sometimes took down a volume or two, trifled with them for a few moments, and then re- turned them to their shelves. "What a plague do they mean," said the little quarto, which I began to perceive was somewhat chol- eric, "what a plague do they mean by keeping several thousand vol- umes of us shut up here, and watched by a set of old vergers, like so many beauties in a harem, merely to be looked at now and then by the dean? Books were written to give pleasure and to be enjoyed; and I would have a rule passed that the dean should pay each of us a visit at least once a year; or if he is not equal to the task, let them once in a while turn loose the whole school of Westminster among us, that at any rate we may now and then have an airing." "Softly, my worthy friend," replied I, "you are not aware how much better you are off than most books of your generation. By being stored away in this ancient library, you are like the treasured remains of those saints and monarchs, which lie enshrined in the adjoining chapels; while the remains of your contemporary mortals, left to the ordinary course of nature, have long since returned to dust." "Sir," said the little tome, ruffling his leaves and looking big, "I was written for all the world, not for the bookworms of a abbey. I was intended to circulate from hand to hand, like other great contemporary works; but here have I been clasped up for more than two centuries, and might have silently fallen a prey to these worms that are playing the very vengeance with my intestines, if you had not by chance given me an opportunity of uttering a few last words before I go to pieces." "My good friend," rejoined I, "had you been left to the circula- tion of which you speak, you would long ere this have been no more. To judge from your physiognomy, you are now well stricken in years: very few of your contemporaries can be at present in existence; and those few owe their longevity to being immured like yourself in old libraries; which, suffer me to add, instead of likening to harems, you might more properly and gratefully have compared to those infirmaries attached to religious establishments for the benefit of the WASHINGTON IRVING 247 old and decrepit, and where, by quiet fostering and no employment, they often endure to an amazingly good-for-nothing old age. You talk of your contemporaries as if in circulation where do we meet with their works ? what do we hear of Robert Groteste, of Lincoln ? No one could have toiled harder than he for immortality. He is said to have written nearly two hundred volumes. He built, as it were, a pyramid of books to perpetuate his name: but, alas! the pyramid has long since fallen, and only a few fragments are scattered in various libraries, where they are scarcely disturbed even by the antiquarian. What do we hear of Giraldus Cambrensis, the historian, antiquary, philosopher, theologian, and poet? He declined two bishoprics, that he might shut himself up and write for posterity; but posterity never inquires after his labors. What of Henry of Huntingdon, who, besides a learned history of England, wrote a treatise on the contempt of the world, which the world has revenged by forgetting him ? What is quoted of Joseph of Exeter, styled the miracle of his age in classical composition? Of his three great heroic poems one is lost for ever, excepting a mere fragment; the others are known only to a few of the curious in literature; and as to his love verses and epigrams, they have entirely disappeared. What is in current use of John Wallis, the Franciscan, who acquired the name of the tree of life? Of William of Malmsbury; of Simeon of Durham; of Benedict of Peterborough; of John Hanvill of St. Albans ; of " "Prithee, friend," cried the quarto, in a testy tone, "how old do you think me ? You are talking of authors that lived long before my time, and wrote either in Latin or French, so that they in a manner expatriated themselves, and deserved to be forgotten; but I, sir, was ushered into the world from the press of the renowned Wynkyn de Worde. I was written in my own native tongue at a time when the language had become fixed; and indeed I was considered a model of pure and elegant English." (I should observe that these remarks were couched in such intolerably antiquated terms, that I have had infinite difficulty in rendering them into modern phraseology.) "I cry your mercy," said I, "for mistaking your age; but it matters little: almost all the writers of your time have likewise passed into forgetfulness; and De Worde's publications are mere literary 248 AMERICAN PROSE rarities among book-collectors. The purity and stability of language, too, on which you found your claims to perpetuity, have been the fallacious dependence of authors of every age, even back to the times of the worthy Robert of Gloucester, who wrote his history in rhymes of mongrel Saxon. Even now many talk of Spenser's ' Well of pure English undefiled' as if the language ever sprang from a well or fountain-head, and was not rather a mere confluence of various tongues, perpetually subject to changes and intermixtures. It is this which has made English literature so extremely mutable, and the reputation built upon it so fleeting. Unless thought can be committed to something more permanent and unchangeable than such a medium, even thought must share the fate of every thing else, and fall into decay. This should serve as a check upon the vanity- and exultation of the most popular writer. He finds the language in which he has embarked his fame gradually altering, and subject to the dilapidations of tune and the caprice of fashion. He looks back and beholds the early authors of his country, once the favorites of their day, supplanted by modern writers. A few short ages have covered them with obscurity, and their merits can only be relished by the quaint taste of the bookworm. And such, he anticipates, will be the fate of his own work, which, however it may be admired in its day, and held up as a model of purity, will in the course of years grow antiquated and obsolete; until it shall become almost as unintelligible in its native land as an Egyptian obelisk, or one of those Runic inscriptions said to exist in the deserts of Tartary. I declare," added I, with some emotion, " when I contemplate a modern library , filled with new works, in all the bravery of rich gilding and binding, I feel disposed to sit down and weep; like the good Xerxes, when he surveyed his army, pranked out in all the splendor of military array, and reflected that in one hundred years not one of them would be in existence!" "Ah," said the little quarto, with a heavy sigh, "I see how it is; these modern scribblers have superseded all the good old authors. I suppose nothing is read now-a-days but Sir Philip Sydney's Arcadia, Sackville's stately plays, and Mhror for Magistrates, or the fine-spun euphuisms of the 'unparalleled John Lyly.'" "There you are again mistaken," said I; "the writers whom you suppose in vogue, because they happened to be so when you were WASHINGTON IRVING 249 last in circulation, have long since had their day. Sir Philip Sydney's Arcadia, the immortality of which was so fondly predicted by his admirers, and which, in truth, is full of noble thoughts, delicate images, and graceful turns of language, is now scarcely ever men- tioned. Sackville has strutted into obscurity; and even Lyly, though his writings were once the delight of a court, and apparently perpetuated by a proverb, is now scarcely known even by name. A whole crowd of authors who wrote and wrangled at the time, have likewise gone down, with all their writings and their controversies. Wave after wave of succeeding literature has rolled over them, until they are buried so deep, that it is only now and then that some indus- trious diver after fragments of antiquity brings up a specimen for the gratification of the curious. "For my part," I continued, "I consider this mutability of language a wise precaution of Providence for the benefit of the world at large, and of authors in particular. To reason from analogy, we daily behold the varied and beautiful tribes of vegetables spring- ing up, flourishing, adorning the fields for a short time, and then fad- ing into dust, to make way for their successors. Were not this the case, the fecundity of nature would be a grievance instead of a blessing. The earth would groan with rank and excessive vegetation, and its surface become a tangled wilderness. In like manner the works of genius and learning decline, and make way for. subsequent pro- ductions. Language gradually varies, and with it fade away the writings of authors who have flourished their allotted time; other- wise, the creative powers of genius would overstock the world, and the mind would be completely bewildered in the endless mazes of literature. Formerly there were some restraints on this excessive multiplication. Works had to be transcribed by hand, which was a slow and laborious operation; they were written either on parch- ment, which was expensive, so that one work was often erased to make way for another ; or on papyrus, which was fragile and extremely perishable. Authorship was a limited and unprofitable craft, pur- sued chiefly by monks in the leisure and solitude of their cloisters. The accumulation of manuscripts was slow and costly, and confined almost entirely to monasteries. To these circumstances it may, in some measure, be owing that we have not been inundated by the intellect of antiquity; that the fountains of thought have not been AMERICAN PROSE broken up, and modern genius drowned in the deluge. But the inventions of paper and the press have put an end to all these re- straints. They have made every one a writer, and enabled every mind to pour itself into print, and diffuse itself over the whole intel- lectual world. The consequences are alarming. The stream of literature has swollen into a torrent augmented into a river expanded into a sea. A few centuries since, five or six hundred manuscripts constituted a great library; but what would you say to libraries such as actually exist containing three or four hundred thousand volumes; legions of authors at the same tune busy; and the press going on with fearfully increasing activity, to double and quadruple the number? Unless some unforeseen mortality should break out among the progeny of the muse, now that she has become so prolific, I tremble for posterity. I fear the mere fluctuation of language will not be sufficient. Criticism may do much. It increases with the increase of literature, and resembles one of those salutary checks on population spoken of by economists. All possible en- couragement, therefore, should be given to the growth of critics, good or bad. But I fear all will be in vain; let criticism do what it may, writers wiU write, printers will print, and the world will inevitably be overstocked with good books. It will soon be the employment of a lifetime merely to learn their names. Many a man of passable information, at the present day, reads scarcely any thing but reviews; and before long a man of erudition will be little better than a mere walking catalogue." "My very good sir," said the little quarto, yawning most drearily in my face, "excuse my interrupting you, but I perceive you are rather given to prose. I would ask the fate of an author who was making some noise just as I left the world. His reputation, however, was considered quite temporary. The learned shook their heads at him, for he was a poor half-educated varlet, that knew little of Latin, and nothing of Greek, and had been obliged to run the country for deer-stealing. I think his name was Shakspeare. I presume he soon sunk into oblivion." "On the contrary," said I, "it is owing to that very man that the literature of his period has experienced a duration beyond the ordinary term of English literature. There rise authors now and then, who seem proof against the mutability of language, because they have WASHINGTON IRVING 251 rooted themselves in the unchanging principles of human nature. They are like gigantic trees that we sometimes see on the banks of a stream; which, by their vast and deep roots, penetrating through the mere surface, and laying hold on the very foundations of the earth, preserve the soil around them from being swept away by the ever- flowing current, and hold up many a neighboring plant, and, perhaps, worthless weed, to perpetuity. Such is the case with Shakspeare, whom we behold defying the encroachments of time, retaining in modern use the language and literature of his day, and giving duration to many an indifferent author, merely from having flourished in his vicinity. But even he, I grieve to say, is gradually assuming the tint of age, and his whole form is overrun by a profusion of commentators, who, like clambering vines and creepers, almost bury the noble plant that upholds them." Here the little quarto began to heave his sides and chuckle, until at length he broke out in a plethoric fit of laughter that had well nigh choked him, by reason of his excessive corpulency. "Mighty well! " cried he, as soon as he could recover breath, "mighty well! and so you would persuade me that the literature of an age is to be perpetuated by a vagabond deer-stealer! by a man without learning; by a poet, for- sooth a poet!" And here he wheezed forth another fit of laughter. I confess that I felt somewhat nettled at this rudeness, which, however, I pardoned on account of his having flourished in a less polished age. I determined, nevertheless, not to give up my point. "Yes," resumed I, positively, "a poet; for of all writers he has the best chance for immortality. Others may write from the head, but he writes from the heart, and the heart will always understand him. He is the faithful portrayer of nature, whose features are always the same, and always interesting. Prose writers are volumi- nous and unwieldy; their pages are crowded with commonplaces, and then- thoughts expanded into tediousness. But with the true poet every thing is terse, touching, or brilliant. He gives the choicest thoughts in the choicest language. He illustrates them by every thing that he sees most striking in nature and art. He enriches them by pictures of human life, such as it is passing before him. His writings, therefore, contain the spirit, the aroma, if I may use the phrase, of the age in which he lives. They are caskets which inclose within a small compass the wealth of the language its family jewels, 252 AMERICAN PROSE which are thus transmitted in a portable form to posterity. The setting may occasionally be antiquated, and require now and then to be renewed, as in the case of Chaucer; but the brilliancy and intrinsic value of the gems continue unaltered. Cast a look back over the long reach of literary history. What vast valleys of dullness, filled with monkish legends and academical controversies! what bogs of theological speculations! what dreary wastes of metaphysics! Here and there only do we behold the heaven-illumined bards, elevated like beacons on their widely-separate heights, to transmit the pure light of poetical intelligence from age to age." I was just about to launch forth into eulogiums upon the poets of the day, when the sudden opening of the door caused me to turn my head. It was the verger, who came to inform me that it was time to close the library. I sought to have a parting word with the quarto, but the worthy little tome was silent; the clasps were closed: and it looked perfectly unconscious of all that had passed. I have been to the library two or three times since, and have endeavored to draw it into further conversation, but in vain; and whether all this rambling colloquy actually took place, or whether it was another of those odd day-dreams to which I am subject, I have never to this moment been able to discover. FROM TALES OF A TRAVELLER THE STROLLING MANAGER As I was walking one morning with Buckthorne near one of the principal theatres, he directed my attention to a group of those equivocal beings that may often be seen hovering about the stage- doors of theatres. They were marvellously ill-favored in their attire, their coats buttoned up to their chins; yet they wore their hats smartly on one side, and had a certain knowing, dirty-gentlemanlike air, which is common to the subalterns of the drama. Buckthorne knew them well by early experience. "These," said he, "are the ghosts of departed kings and heroes; fellows who sway sceptres and truncheons; command kingdoms and armies; and after giving away realms and treasures over night, have scarce a shilling to pay for a breakfast in the morning. Yet they WASHINGTON IRVING 253 have the true vagabond abhorrence of all useful and industrious employment; and they have their pleasures too; one of which is to lounge in this way in the sunshine, at the stage-door, during rehearsals, and make hackneyed theatrical jokes on all passers-by. Nothing is more traditional and legitimate than the stage. Old scenery, old clothes, old sentiments, old ranting, and old jokes, are handed down from generation to generation; and will probably continue to be so until time shall be no more. Every hanger-on of a theatre becomes a wag by inheritance, and flourishes about at tap-rooms and sixpenny clubs with the property jokes of the green-room." While amusing ourselves with reconnoitring this group, we noticed one in particular who appeared to be the oracle. He was a -weather- beaten veteran, a little bronzed by time and beer, who had no doubt grown gray in the parts of robbers, cardinals, Roman senators, and walking noblemen. "There is something in the set of that hat, and the turn of that physiognomy, extremely familiar to me," said Buckthorne. He looked a little closer, "I cannot be mistaken, that must be my old brother of the truncheon, Flimsey, the tragic hero of the Strolling Company." It was he in fact. The poor fellow showed evident signs that times went hard with him, he was so finely and shabbily dressed. His coat was somewhat threadbare, and of the Lord Townly cut; single breasted, and scarcely capable of meeting in front of his body, which, from long intimacy, had acquired the symmetry and robustness of a beer-barrel. . He wore a pair of dingy-white stockinet pantaloons, which had much ado to reach his waistcoat, a great quantity of dirty cravat; and a pair of old russet-colored tragedy boots. When his companions had dispersed, Buckthorne drew him aside, and made himself known to him. The tragic veteran could scarcely recognize him, or believe that he was really his quondam associate, "little gentleman Jack." Buckthorne invited him to a neighboring coffee-house to talk over old times; and in the course of a little while we were put in possession of his history in brief. He had continued to act the heroes in the strolling company for some time after Buckthorne had left it or rather had been driven from it so abruptly. At length the manager died, and the troop was thrown into confusion. Every one aspired to the crown, every one was for 254 AMERICAN PROSE taking the lead; and the manager's widow, although a tragedy queen, and a brimstone to boot, pronounced it utterly impossible for a woman to keep any control over such a set of tempestuous rascallions. "Upon this hint, I spoke," said Flimsey. I stepped forward, and offered my services in the most effectual way. They were accepted. In a week's time I married the widow, and succeeded to the throne. "The funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage table," as Hamlet says. But the ghost of my predeces- sor never haunted me; and I inherited crowns, sceptres, bowls, daggers, and all the stage trappings and trumpery, not omitting the widow, without the least molestation. I now led a flourishing life of it; for our company was pretty strong and attractive, and as my wife and I took the heavy parts of tragedy, it was a great saving to the treasury. We carried off the palm from all the rival shows at country fairs; and I assure you we have even drawn full houses, and been applauded by the critics at Bartlemy Fair itself, though we had Astley's troop, the Irish giant, and "the death of Nelson" in wax work, to contend against. I soon began to experience, however, the cares of command. I discovered that there were cabals breaking out in the company, headed by the clown, who you may recollect was a terribly peevish, fractious fellow, and always in ill-humor. I had a great mind to turn him off at once, but I could not do without him, for there was not a droller scoundrel on the stage. His very shape was comic, for he had but to turn his back upon the audience, and all the ladies were ready to die with laughing. He felt his importance, and took advantage of it. He would keep the audience in a continual roar, and then come behind the scenes, and fret and fume, and play the very devil. I excused a great deal in him, however, knowing that comic actors are a little prone to this infirmity of temper. I had another trouble of a nearer and dearer nature to struggle with, which was the affection of my wife. As ill luck would have it, she took it into her head to be very fond of me, and became intolerably jealous. I could not keep a pretty girl in the company, and hardly dared embrace an ugly one, even when my part required it. I have known her to reduce a fine lady to tatters, "to very rags," as Hamlet says, in an instant, and destroy one of the very best dresses in the wardrobe, merely because she saw me kiss her at the side WASHINGTON IRVING 255 scenes; though I give you my honor it was done merely by way of rehearsal. This was doubly annoying, because I have a natural liking to pretty faces, and wish to have them about me;' and because they are indispensable to the success of a company at a fair, where one has to vie with so many rival theatres. But when once a jealous wife gets a freak in her head, there's no use in talking of interest or anything else. Egad, sir, I have more than once trembled when, during a fit of her tantrums, she was playing high tragedy, and flourishing her tin dagger on the stage, lest she should give way to her humor, and stab some fancied rival in good earnest. I went on better, however, than could be expected, considering the weakness of my flesh, and the violence of my rib. I had not a much worse time of it than old Jupiter, whose spouse was continually ferreting out some new intrigue, and making the heavens almost too hot to hold him. At length, as luck would have it, we were performing at a country fair, when I understood the theatre of a neighboring town to be vacant. I had always been desirous to be enrolled in a settled com- pany, and the height of my desire was to get on a par with a brother- in-law, who was manager of a regular theatre, and who had looked down upon me. Here was an opportunity not to be neglected. I concluded an agreement with the proprietors, and in a few days opened the theatre with great eclat. Behold me now at the summit of my ambition, "the high top- gallant of my joy," as Romeo says. No longer a chieftain of a wandering tribe, but a monarch of a legitimate throne, and entitled to call even the great potentates of Covent Garden and Drury Lane cousins. You, no doubt, think my happiness complete. Alas, sir! I was one of the most uncomfortable dogs living. No one knows, who has not tried, the miseries of a manager; but above all of a country manager. No one can conceive the contentions and quarrels within doors, the oppressions and vexations from without. I was pestered with the bloods and loungers of a country town, who infested my green-room, and played the mischief among my actresses. But there was no shaking them off. It would have been ruin to affront them; for though troublesome friends, they would have been dangerous enemies. Then there were the village critics and village amateurs, 256 AMERICAN PROSE who were continually tormenting me with advice, and getting into a passion if I would not take it; especially the village doctor and the village attorney, who had both been to London occasionally, and knew what acting should be. I had also to manage as arrant a crew of scapegraces as ever were collected together within the walls of a theatre. .1 had been obliged to combine my original troop with some of the former troop of the theatre, who were favorites with the public. Here was a mixture that produced perpetual ferment. They were all the time either fighting or frolicking with each other, and I scarcely know which mood was least troublesome. If they quarrelled, every thing went wrong; and if they were friends, they were continually playing off some prank upon each other, or upon me; for I had unhappily ac- quired among them the character of an easy, good-natured fellow, the worst character that a manager can possess. Their waggery at times drove me almost crazy; for there is nothing so vexatious as the hackneyed tricks and hoaxes and pleas- antries of a veteran band of theatrical vagabonds. I relished them well enough, it is true, while I was merely one of the company, but as a manager I found them detestable. They were incessantly bring- ing some disgrace upon the theatre by their tavern frolics and their pranks about the country town. All my lectures about the impor- tance of keeping up the dignity of the profession and the respectability of the company were in vain. The villains could not sympathize with the delicate feelings of a man in station. They even trifled with the seriousness of stage business. I have had the whole piece interrupted, and a crowded audience of at least twenty-five pounds kept waiting, because the actors had hid away the breeches of Rosa- lind; and have known Hamlet to stalk solemnly on to deliver his soliloquy, with a dish-clout pinned to his skirts. Such are the bale- ful consequences of a manager's getting a character for good-nature. I was intolerably annoyed, too, by the great actors who came down starring, as it is called, from- London. Of all baneful influences, keep me from that of a London star. A first-rate actress going the rounds of the country theatres is as bad as a blazing comet whisking about the heavens, and shaking fire and plagues and discords from its tail. The moment one of these "heavenly bodies" appeared in my horizon, I was sure to be in hot water. My theatre was overrun by WASHINGTON IRVING 257 provincial dandies, copper-washed counterfeits of Bond Street loungers, who are always proud to be in the train of an actress from town, and anxious to be thought on exceeding good terms with her. It was really a relief to me when some random young nobleman would come in pursuit of the bait, and awe all this small fry at a distance. I have always felt myself more at ease with a nobleman than with the dandy of a country town. And then the injuries I suffered in my personal dignity and my managerial authority from the visits of these great London actors! 'Sblood, sir, I was no longer master of myself on my throne. I was hectored and lectured in my own green-room, and made an absolute nincompoop on my own stage. There is no tyrant so absolute and capricious as a London star at a country theatre. I dreaded the sight of all of them, and yet if I did not engage them, I was sure of having the public clamorous against me. They drew full houses, and appeared to be making my fortune; but they swallowed up all the profits by their insatiable demands. They were absolute tape- worms to my little theatre; the more it took in the poorer it grew. They were sure to leave me with an exhausted public, empty benches, and a score or two of affronts to settle among the townsfolk, in conse- quence of misunderstandings about the taking of places. But the worst thing I had to undergo in my managerial career was patronage. Oh, sir! of all things deliver me from the patronage of the great people of a country town. It was my ruin. You must know that this town, though small, was filled with feuds, and parties, and great folks; being a busy little trading and manufacturing town. The mischief was that their greatness was of a kind not to be settled by reference to the court calendar, or college of heraldry; it was there- fore the most quarrelsome kind of greatness in existence. You smile, sir, but let me tell you there are no feuds more furious than the frontier feuds which take place in these "debatable lands "of gentility. The most violent dispute that I ever knew in high life was one which occurred at a country town, on a question of precedence between the ladies of a manufacturer of pins and a manufacturer of needles. At the town where I was situated there were perpetual alterca- tions of the kind. The head manufacturer's lady, for instance, was at daggers-drawings with the head shopkeeper's, and both were too rich and had too many friends to be treated lightly. The doctor's 258 AMERICAN PROSE and lawyer's ladies held their heads still higher; but they in turn were kept in check by the wife of a country banker, who kept her own carriage; while a masculine widow of cracked character and second-handed fashion, who lived in a large house and claimed to be in some way related to nobility, looked down upon them all. To be sure, her manners were not over-elegant, nor her fortune over-large; but then, sir, her blood oh, her blood carried it all hollow; there was no withstanding a woman with such blood in her veins. After all, her claims to high connection were questioned, and she had frequent battles for precedence at balls and assemblies with some of the sturdy dames of the neighborhood, who stood upon their wealth and their virtue; but then she had two dashing daughters, who dressed as fine as dragoons, and had as high blood as their mother, and seconded her in everything; so they carried their point with high heads, and everybody hated, abused, and stood in awe of the Fantadlins. Such was the state of the fashionable world in this self-important little town. Unluckily, I was not as well acquainted with its politics as I should have been. I had found myself a stranger and in great perplexities during my first season; I determined, therefore, to put myself under the patronage of some powerful name, and thus to take the field with the prejudices of the public in my favor. I cast around my thoughts for that purpose, and in an evil hour they fell upon Mrs. Fantadlin. No one seemed to me to have a more absolute sway in the world of fashion. I had always noticed that her party slammed the box-door the loudest at the theatre; and had most beaux attending on them, and talked and laughed loudest during the performance; and then the Miss Fantadlins wore always more feathers and flowers than any other ladies ; and used quizzing-glasses incessantly. The first evening of my theatre's reopening, therefore, was announced in staring capitals on the playbills, as under the patronage of "The Honorable Mrs. Fantadlin." Sir, the whole community flew to arms! The banker's wife felt her dignity grievously insulted at not having the preference; her husband being high bailiff and the richest man in the place. She immediately issued invitations for a large party, for the night of the performance, and asked many a lady to it whom she never had noticed before. Presume to patronize the theatre! insufferable! And WASHINGTON IRVING 259 then for me to dare to term her "The Honorable!" What claim had she to the title forsooth ? The fashionable world had long groaned under the tyranny of the Fantadlins, and were glad to make a com- mon cause against this new instance of assumption. Those, too, who had never before been noticed by the banker's lady were ready to enlist in any quarrel for the honor of her acquaintance. All minor feuds were forgotten. The doctor's lady and the lawyer's lady met together; and the manufacturer's lady and the shopkeeper's lady kissed each other; and all, headed by the banker's lady, voted the theatre a bore, and determined to encourage nothing but the Indian Jugglers and Mr. Walker's Eidouranion. Alas for poor Pillgarlick! I knew little the mischief that was brewing against me. My box-book remained blank; the evening arrived; but no audience. The music struck up to a tolerable pit and gallery, but no fashionables ! I peeped anxiously from behind the curtain, but the time passed away; the play was retarded until pit and gallery became furious; and I had to raise the curtain, and play my greatest part in tragedy to "a beggarly account of empty boxes." It is true the Fantadlins came late, as was their custom, and entered like a tempest, with a nutter of feathers and'red shawls; but they were evidently disconcerted at finding they had no one to admire and envy them, and were enraged at this glaring defection of their fashionable followers. All the beau-monde were engaged at the banker's lady's rout. They remained for some time in solitary and uncomfortable state; and though they had the theatre almost to themselves, yet, for the first time, they talked in whispers. They left the house at the end of the first piece, and I never saw them afterwards. Such was the rock on which I split. I never got over the patron- age of the Fantadlin family. My house was deserted; my actors grew discontented because they were ill paid; my door became a hammering place for every bailiff in the country; and my wife became more and more shrewish and tormenting the more I wanted comfort. I tried for a time the usual consolation of a harassed and hen- pecked man; I took to the bottle, and tried to tipple away my cares, but in vain. I don't mean to decry the bottle; it is no doubt an excellent remedy in many cases, but it did not answer in mine. It cracked my voice, coppered my nose, but neither unproved my 2 6o AMERICAN PROSE wife nor my affairs. My establishment became a scene of confusion and peculation. I was considered a ruined man, and of course fair game for every one to pluck at, as every one plunders a sinking ship. Day after day some of the troop deserted, and, like deserting soldiers, carried off their arms and accoutrements with them. In this manner my wardrobe took legs and walked away, my finery strolled all over the country, my swords and daggers glittered in every barn, until, at last, my tailor made "one fell swoop," and carried off three dress- coats, half a dozen doublets, and nineteen pair of flesh-colored pantaloons. This was the "be all and the end all" of my fortune. I no longer hesitated what to do. Egad, thought I, since stealing is the order of the day, I'll steal too. So I secretly gathered together the jewels of my wardrobe, packed up a hero's dress in