. 
 
 
 
 
 'If lli 
 
 w j f ir? t f i ! < ' ' 
 
 IBB 
 
 \\ "~ -.r-i-'tli*]',' 
 
 111 
 
 > HGK
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE
 
 . : IDLPHIA. 
 AND EDINBURGH. 
 
 
 '

 
 PREPACK 
 
 A SERIES of Hand-books intended to give a concise account of 
 modern literature, must be incomplete without some brief review 
 of books published in the United States. Many of the lighter 
 productions of American writers have been lately reprinted, and 
 rather widely circulated, in England ; but we have no fair, general 
 view of a literature, comparatively fertile when we consider its short 
 time of cultivation, and already including such names as Edwards, 
 Franklin, Hamilton, Irving, Bryant, Channing, Sparks, Bancroft, 
 i'rescott, and Ticknor. In the present manual, an attempt has 
 been made to describe faithfully the various features of American 
 Literature. In justice to many able writers, whose works could 
 not be adequately noticed in a review designed for the use of the 
 general reader, it must be observed, that the American Library is 
 comparatively rich in its special departments, including works on 
 the several sciences, and on law, politics, and divinity. 
 
 Among the writings found serviceable in the preparation of this 
 manual, we must name a series of notices of American authors 
 inserted in a reprint of the History of English Literature (Chambers'! 
 Educational Course) ; also, the biographical and critical notices 
 accompanying Mr Griswold's selections from poets and prose- 
 writers. In several instances, critical opinions have been borrowed 
 of course, with acknowledgment from the North American 
 Review. 

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 INTKODUCTION, 
 
 FIRST PERIOD. 
 1620-1800. 
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY 1631-1728, ... 1 
 
 ROGER WILLIAMS AND HIS TIMES, ... 6 
 
 COTTON MATHER AND HIS TIMES, . . . .12 
 
 THEOLOGY 1640-1800, ..... 18 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, . . . . . .24 
 
 GENERAL LITERATURE AND POLITICS 1700-1800, . . 30 
 
 NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS 1690-1800, . . .39 
 
 SECOND PERIOD. 
 18001865. 
 
 POETRY, ........ 45 
 
 PROSE-FICTION, ...... Ill 
 
 BACKWOODS' LITERATURE, ...... 157 
 
 HISTORY, ....... 227 
 
 BIOGRAPHY, ....... 258 
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS NATURAL HISTORY, . . 268 
 
 THEOLOGY AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY, .... 276 
 
 ESSAYS, REVIEWS, AND ORATIONS, .... 293 
 
 NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS, ... . 306 
 
 SPECIAL LITERATURE AND MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS, . 311 
 
 INDEX, . .... 317
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE present volume belongs to a series of Hand-books of 
 Literature, and contains a brief review of American contributions 
 to history, biography, poetry, prose -fiction, and other depart 
 ments, during the period 1640-1854. American literature 
 belongs almost entirely to our own times. Several works pos 
 sessing, at least, an historical interest were produced during the 
 colonial period, and about the time of the Revolution and 
 these, with the early records and biographies of the States of 
 New England, have seemed worthy of notice in our review ; but 
 the writings of the eighteenth century were mostly theological 
 and political, and few books of the class commonly included in 
 reviews of general literature were produced before the year 1820. 
 The North American Review (commenced in 1815) complained, 
 during its early years, that it could scarcely find American books 
 to be noticed. After the lapse of about twenty-five years, the 
 same Review found a difficulty in keeping pace with the produc 
 tiveness of the press. During this time, the departments of 
 history and biography had been enriched by the writings of 
 Prescott, Sparks, Bancroft, Wheaton, and other authors ; Irving, 
 Cooper, Ware, Kennedy, and many other writers, had appeared 
 in the field of prose-fiction ; poetry had been represented by 
 Bryant, Sprague, Halleck, and Longfellow ; in mathematics, Dr 
 Bowditch had produced his commentary on the Mecamque Celeste; 
 the works of Audubon, Silliman, Bigelow, Morton, and other 
 special authors, had extended the literature of science ; Webster, 
 Duponceau, and Pickering, had published the results of their 
 studies in philology ; theology and Biblical criticism had been 
 cultivated by Channing, Norton, Stuart, Robinson, and others 
 too numerous to be mentioned here ; while a very large pro 
 portion of educational works had made America, in this depart 
 ment, almost independent of the old country.
 
 X AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 America, however, has few professional authors, excepting 
 editors of newspapers. The best writers have wisely avoided 
 dependence on booksellers, and have been engaged in commercial 
 pursuits. Their poems, essays, and reviews, have been written 
 as recreations, after the cares of banking and bookkeeping. 
 ' Authorship,' says a reviewer, 1 ' is the least lucrative profession 
 in the United States. Every prudent man avoids it as he does a 
 pestilence. A writer who attempts to live on the manufactures 
 of his imagination, is continually coquetting with starvation.' 
 That this should be the case to a greater extent in America than 
 in England, is mainly owing to the want of international copy 
 right law between the two countries. It is an unavoidable 
 difficulty that American authors must write under the shade of 
 the greatest names in English literature ; but in the present 
 system, they must also be discouraged by a competition altogether 
 unfair. The stripling, if we may so speak, has to carry weight 
 in his contest with a giant. In plainer words, the American author, 
 or his publisher, must demand dollars as the price of a new 
 book, while the best English works on the same topic may be 
 offered at the cost of a few cents, because they have been seized 
 and reprinted, without any payment made either to the writer or 
 the original publisher. The injury thus inflicted on British 
 authors, and other proprietors of copyrights, is indeed serious, 
 yet can hardly be compared with its moral consequences on the 
 other side of the Atlantic. It is a melancholy fact, that so 
 many thousands of persons are found, after repeated remon 
 strance, willing to derive profit, instruction, and entertainment 
 from the labour, enterprise, and commercial risk of neighbours to 
 whom they will yield no remuneration. It is sad that a law as 
 old as the world itself should be evaded or laughed at, simply 
 because an expanse of water lies between the debtor and his 
 creditor, and the latter, unhappily, has no power to enforce his 
 claims. These remarks fairly represent the views of at least 
 a majority of the best writers in the United States. With 
 reference to the fatal labours of Sir Walter Scott whose works 
 have afforded delight to many thousands of American readers 
 a reviewer has well expressed the sentiments of many of his more 
 generous countrymen. The passage may be quoted, as a proof 
 that the strongest and most earnest arguments have been urged 
 in the States, as on this side of the water, in opposition to the 
 system commonly styled piracy. 
 
 'We have no notion of human nature of just and generous 
 human nature, at least, which we hold the American to be if the 
 
 1 E. P. Whipple, one of the writers in The Korlh American lieview.
 
 INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 reader, who, bending over the instructive or affecting page, holds 
 friendly and useful communion with its author's mind, finds his 
 pleasure enhanced by the reflection of its being obtained in fraud 
 and defiance of the author's right. Not many of our countrymen 
 would bring a good relish to the stalled ox served up gratis from 
 their helpless neighbour's herd : we do not know them, if they 
 prefer that the intellectual food they so relish should be seasoned 
 with the thought of making no return to the producer. We insist 
 that it is a mere unfounded and offensive libel to say, that of the 
 hundreds of thousands, the millions, who on this side of the water 
 have found so much of the charm of their lives in the writings of 
 Scott, there is any number deserving to be counted who have 
 satisfaction in the remembrance of having contributed nothing to 
 keep that great heart from breaking. Had American laws been but 
 as honest as American feelings had very much less than what was 
 there due from us been rendered one of the most melancholy 
 chapters in literary history would not have been written. One of 
 the sublimest spirits that the inspiration of the Almighty ever 
 endowed would have conquered in the tremendous, and, as it was 
 doomed to be, fatal endeavour to render to others the dues which 
 this proud and pretending people, profuse of every other tribute to 
 his genius but justice, so cruelly withheld from him. The wizard 
 harp of the North might still who knows ? have been charming 
 mankind with its else inexhaustible enchantments. 1 As it was, the 
 creator of those worlds of delight struggled with desperate and 
 agonised bravery, and died. We Americans helped ourselves to the 
 fruit of his mighty toils, and extolled it largely, and, being mindful 
 to have it at the cheapest, we let him have his struggle to himself, 
 and we let him die.' 2 
 
 With regard to the effects of the piratical system on the 
 integrity of literature, numerous details might be mentioned to 
 prove that the ' glory,' which Lord Camden declared to be the 
 sole proper reward of science, is quite as insecure as the more 
 substantial boon. We might notice if any doubt existed 
 respecting such facts examples of mutilated editions, false 
 reprints, books abridged and revised by the simple process of 
 tearing out many leaves, and various other bibliographical 
 curiosities, including ' a complete edition of Lord Bacon's works ' 
 without the De Augmentis and Novum Organum. ' If the thing 
 is suffered to go on,' says the Review already quoted, ' different 
 books under the same name will presently be in the hands of 
 English and American scholars. References will be no guides in 
 reading. The best fruits of the mind of each country will be 
 ludicrously travestied in the other's view. The identity of the 
 great monuments of genius and study will be confounded and lost.' 
 
 1 This was written in 1842. North American Review, No. 55.
 
 Zli AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 On the moral effects of the system, several grave statements 
 by American writers might be quoted. We give the following 
 passage, because it cannot be fairly regarded as the complaint of 
 an unsuccessful author. The writer has been chiefly engaged in 
 reviewing and editing the works of his countrymen, and has been 
 comparatively well rewarded for his labour. Speaking of the 
 refusal of Congress to protect the copyrights of foreigners, he 
 observes that ' it effectually deprives us of most of the really 
 great works with which the presses of Europe are teeming, while 
 it gives us nearly all they produce that is frivolous and vicious. 
 It costs a great deal of money, as well as labour, to prepare the 
 market for large works ; there must be much advertising, a large 
 distribution of copies, elaborate abstracts in reviews and journals, 
 and many other means to create a demand ; and the expenses of 
 these means must be added to those of the mechanical manu 
 facture. Yet now, as has been shewn by numerous instances, as 
 soon as a house with enterprise and capital has issued a readable 
 impression of a work, and secured for it such a circulation as 
 promises a fair remuneration, some base fellow is sure to bring 
 out, on dingy brown paper and small type, a deluge of cheap 
 copies, with which he reaps all the advantages of the first 
 publisher's efforts, and leaves him with his stock unsold, and his 
 investment unreturned. It is true, that notwithstanding these 
 dangers, a few of the more indispensable histories and other fruits 
 of true cultivation are reprinted here; but they are generally 
 issued in the most compact and cheap style, sometimes much 
 abridged, and nearly always without those charts and plates 
 which add so much to the value of many foreign editions. A 
 recognition of the foreign author's right of property would at 
 once remedy this part of the evil entirely.' l 
 
 1 ' On the other hand, there is extraordinary activity in the republication of the 
 light and licentious literature of the time. It is sickening to lean over the counters 
 of the shops where cheap books are sold, and survey the trash with which the 
 criminal folly of the government is deluging the country- Every new issue 
 deepens the wide-spread depravity, and extends the demand for its successor. 
 As but little capital is required for the business, and the returns are quick, these 
 leprous spots are constantly springing up hi the cities ; and to gratify the prurient 
 tastes which they create, the literary sewers of Paris and London are dragged for 
 the filthiest stuif which floats or sinks in their turbid waters. The demoralisation 
 increases, and the novels of Paul de Kock, disgusting as they are in the original (in 
 which a racy style and sparkling wit render them attractive, despite their moral 
 deformity), are made worse by the addition of gross obscenity by the translator; 
 and from those of Eugene Sue the reflective portions, which serve to neutralise the 
 effects of the narrative, are left out. All private morals, all domestic peace, fly 
 before this withering curse, which the Congress persists in sustaining, by its refusal 
 to recognise the rights of the foreign author. For, if the respectable publishers 
 could be protected in their business, they would furnish good editions of good 
 books, that would give a healthy tone to the common sentiment, and drive this 
 profligate literature into oblivion ; if the foreign author were protected in his rights, 
 he would be but a competitor of the native author, and would have an inducement 
 to support those liberal principles of society which are here established, thus
 
 INTRODUCTION. xiii 
 
 These statements may be received as substitutes for several 
 theories intended to explain the defects of American literature, 
 especially its want of a distinct national tone. 
 
 It is fair to observe, in connection with this notice of their 
 difficulties, that writers on the other side of the water enjoy 
 certain facilities in the acquirement of reputations. Their field 
 of enterprise is qot crowded like that of literature in the old 
 country. Of many names included in the following review, it may 
 be truly said, that they owe their prominence partly to their 
 early appearance. In the beginning of the next century, literary 
 distinction will not be so easily gained as it has been during the 
 last thirty-five years. Every reader knows that in England we 
 have a legion of authors who either have written or could write 
 such verses as would have been famous a hundred years ago. 
 The poetry contributed by Americans during recent years has 
 been received in the old country with a degree of favour hardly 
 granted to home productions of the same class. Our reviews have 
 been carried over the water, and have seemed to gain importance 
 by the voyage. The young American author who has been 
 noticed in the English journals, suddenly finds himself famous, 
 while he hardly knows on which side of the Atlantic his reputa 
 tion had its origin. In short, the fame of several minor poets has 
 been spread by echoes, rather than by the power of any original 
 voice. There are certain localities where the shout of a child 
 sounds like the voice of a congregation. 
 
 While we trust that the present work may be regarded as a fair 
 general survey of American Literature, it is necessary to observe, 
 that it does not pretend to define strictly the proportionate merits 
 of many living writers, or to anticipate the verdicts of future time 
 on the works of the present age. It is obviously a difficult task 
 to notice, with a view to just proportions, the writings of many 
 contemporaries, and it will be easy to criticise ' the distribution 
 of materials and the relative degrees of attention ' paid to several 
 names included in our pages ; while it is more than probable that 
 some few names worthy of notice have been omitted. Such 
 defects, in details implying questions of opinion and taste, can 
 have little importance, when compared with the general fairness 
 of a review. It should be remembered that a survey of recent 
 literature must be written without the aid derived from opinions 
 matured by time. The true and permanent fame of good books 
 
 strengthening them here, and diffusing them in his own country, and if the 
 American were thus admitted to a competition in his own market with the 
 European, our best intellects would be busy with the instruction of the people, 
 which is now in so large a degree surrendered to the supporters of aristocracies.' 
 Grineold.
 
 XIV AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 arises, in the first place, from the fact that they are read and 
 esteemed by men of superior intelligence. These readers have 
 the power of extending their own opinions, which are infinitely 
 more durable than the tastes and fashions of the multitude. It 
 is not by the votes of majorities that the rulers of literature 
 maintain their sway. In every period, the readers who fairly 
 appreciate the best writers are comparatively few ; but their 
 thoughts remain steadfast from one age to another, and ever 
 extend their influence, until the decision once pronounced by two 
 or three voices becomes the recognised judgment of the world. 
 Verdicts which now appear as the results of individual judgment, 
 have, in truth, required centuries for their consideration. As an 
 example, the relative degrees of merit in the dramatists of the 
 sixteenth century, have been fully estimated, for the first time, 
 in the present age. The contrast between Shakspeare and his 
 contemporaries may now seem obvious to every reader, but was 
 probably never seen by the admirers of Marston and Webster. 
 These remarks may suffice to shew the difficulty to say nothing 
 of the presumption of any attempt to arrange strictly in the 
 order of merit the names of many living writers. 
 
 n
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 FIRST PERIOD. 
 
 1620-1800. 
 
 HISTORY AND BIOGBAPHY.-1G31-1728. 
 
 A GLANCE at the early history of the colonial times will be 
 sufficient to shew, that we must not expect to find here any writings 
 to be classed with elegant literature. The Pilgrims who arrived 
 at Plymouth in 1620, and their followers who settled the states of 
 New England, had generally a respect for learning in its relation 
 to theology ; but of imaginative works, or any other form of 
 literature written for amusement, they knew little or nothing. 
 The cares of planting, building, and defending their property 
 ' the wilderness-work ' of the new colonies, as an old writer 
 quaintly says gave full employment to the majority ; while the 
 few superior men such as Cotton and Hooker who enjoyed 
 leisure, devoted it to the study of theology and church-discipline. 
 Even the religious teachers in these times had their share of 
 worldly cares. Roger Williams, who proclaimed, in the year 
 1631, the doctrine of entire liberty of conscience, and afterwards 
 founded the colony of Rhode Island, wrote several small books 
 and pamphlets ; but his life was not passed in quiet studies. ' My 
 time,' he says, ' was not spent altogether in spiritual labours ; but 
 day and night, at home and abroad, on the land and water, at the 
 hoe, at the oar for bread.' 
 
 During the early colonial period, including the latter part of 
 the seventeenth century, the literature most worthy of notice 
 consisted of journals, records, biographies, and various materials 
 of history which have been serviceable to Bancroft, Hildreth, and 
 
 A
 
 2 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 other recent writers. The works of Winthrop, Hubbard, Cotton, 
 Eliot, and other chroniclers and divines of the earliest time, 
 might be left unnoticed, if we regarded an elegant style as the 
 standard of worth in books ; but to pass over such works as 
 Winthrop's Journal, the writings of Roger Williams, or the 
 Magnolia, of Cotton Mather books reflecting the life and 
 progress of a people would imply a narrow and arbitrary defini 
 tion of literature. We would rather regard it as the record of 
 life, work, and thought, than as the plaything of idle minds ; and, 
 consequently, would prefer the diary of the laborious settler to 
 the light tale or essay of more elegant authors who have little 
 or nothing to say. The pamphlets of Williams, the founder of 
 the colony of Rhode Island, have, with regard to style, no claims 
 upon our attention ; yet their uncouth diction gave expression to 
 some of tfie most important ideas connected with the welfare of 
 mankind. 
 
 It would be tedious and useless to enumerate the titles and 
 dates of the scattered materials of history found among early 
 documents ; and to give specimens of the crude diction used by 
 many of the old colonists who wrote diaries of public and private 
 transactions, would serve no good purpose. To indicate the fact, 
 that America possesses a rich store of annals of her early times, it 
 may suffice to mention, besides the Journal of Governor Winthrop, 
 a few other works; such as Winslow's Good News from New 
 England, and Mourt's Relation, both giving ' a detailed and most 
 interesting narrative of the affairs of Plymouth Colony, for the lirst 
 three years after the landing of the Fathers. These and various 
 documents relating to the discovery and colonisation of the New 
 World, it is well known, were collected at the time they were 
 printed, by the indefatigable Samuel Purchas, and published by him 
 in an abridged form, in that invaluable store-house of historical 
 knowledge which he entitles his Pilgrimes. The number of these 
 tracts and pamplilets, however, was so great, that even that 
 immense repository could contain but a small part of them.' 1 
 Bishop Kennett's catalogue, entitled Bibliothecce Americanos Pri- 
 mordia (1713), occupies a quarto volume of 275 pages. For 
 numerous tracts and papers interesting to the special student of 
 American history, we may refer to the publications of the Massa 
 chusetts Historical Society, and to the valuable collection edited 
 by Peter Force. 
 
 1 Colonel Aspinwall's collection of books and manuscripts relating to America 
 contains 771 distinct works, including many curious early documents such as 
 Gosnold's Brief and True Relation of the Discoverie of the North Part of Virginia 
 that is, New England 1602 ; and John Clarke's physician of Rhode Island III 
 Keicsfrom New England. These statements are taken from an article in the Korth 
 American Review, No. 92.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. WIMTHROP HUBBAED. 3 
 
 JOHN WINTHROP (1587-1649) embarked for America in the 
 year 1630, as the leader of those colonists who settled in Massa 
 chusetts. As governor of this colony, he displayed a noble and 
 benevolent character, devoting fortune and health to the public 
 service. Mather, in his Motjnalia, says in his quaint manner : 
 ' Our New England shall tell and boast of her Winthrop, a law 
 giver as patient as Lycurgus, but not admitting any of his criminal 
 disorders; as devout as Numa, but not liable to any of his 
 heathenish madnesses ; a governor in whom the excellences of 
 Christianity made a most approving addition unto the virtues, 
 wherein, even without those, he would have made a parallel for the 
 great men of Greece or of Rome which the pen of a Plutarch has 
 eternised.' Governor Winthrop wrote a diary of events and trans 
 actions in the colony down to the year 1644 : \t remained long in 
 manuscript, but was published about twenty years ago, and again 
 in a new edition by Mr Savage. It is justly regarded as a curious 
 and valuable record of the oldest times in Massachusetts, and has 
 supplied materials for the use of Bancroft and other historians. 
 
 The plan of Winthrop's diary was adopted by WILLIAM 
 HUBBARD (1621-1704), who wrote a History of New England, 
 which long remained in manuscript. It must be regretted that 
 Bancroft, who has so diligently studied these and so many other 
 curious old documents, has not given extracts from them in the 
 form of notes to his history : he gives merely concise references 
 to books and manuscripts which very few readers can possess. 
 There is here and there an unstudied graphic force in the notes 
 of the old chroniclers, which even the accomplished historian can 
 hardly rival. 
 
 The attempts made in versification during early times, hardly 
 deserve any detailed notice. However rude the rhymes, they 
 would be interesting if they had recorded events of real life, or 
 had portrayed the manners of the colonists ; but theology was 
 dominant in verse as well as prose ; or, if other topics were chosen, 
 they were mostly of a common-place description. We find an 
 exception in Tompson's verses ; and a few lines, said to have been 
 copied from the recitation of an old inhabitant who died in 1767, 
 describe the bill of fare enjoyed by the early colonists, who had 
 
 Pumpkin at morning, and pumpkin at noon.' 
 
 ' The place where we live is a wilderness wood, 
 Where grass is much wanted that's fruitful and good; 
 Our mountains and hills and valleys below 
 Are commonly covered with frost and with snow ;
 
 4: AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And when the north-west wind with violence blows, 
 Then every man pulls his cap over his nose ; 
 But if any 's so hardy, and will it withstand, 
 He forfeits a finger, a foot, or a hand. 
 
 Our clothes we brought with us are apt to be torn ; 
 They need to be clouted soon after they're worn ; 
 But clouting our garments this hinders us nothing 
 Clouts double are warmer than single whole clothing.' 
 
 In 1623 or 1624 about three years after the arrival of the 
 Pilgrims William Morell, an episcopal clergyman, wrote, in 
 Latin hexameter verse, a description of New England. It was 
 published in England, with a translation by the author, and has 
 been reprinted in the collections of the Massachusetts Historical 
 Society. 
 
 The next production in verse was an English version of the 
 Psalms of David, done by several of the most eminent divines, 
 including John Eliot usually styled ' the Apostle of the Indians' 
 Thomas TVelde of Roxbury, and Richard Mather of Dorchester. 
 This version the first book printed in the United States was 
 published at Cambridge in 1640. It was dry, literal, and unmusical 
 in the extreme, reducing the songs of Sion to such doggrel as the 
 following : 
 
 ' The rivers on of Babilon 
 
 There when wee did sit downe, 
 Yea even then we mourned when 
 Wee remembered Sion.' 
 
 The translators, with perfect self-complacency, commended their 
 own style, and argued ' that God's altar needs not our polishings ; 
 for wee have respected rather a plain translation, than to smooth 
 our verses with the sweetness of any paraphrase, and so have 
 attended to conscience rather than elegance, fidelity rather than 
 poetry, in translating the Hebrew words into English language, 
 and David's poetry into English meetre.' But an improved 
 version was soon found desirable, and was prepared by the 
 Rev. Henry Dunster, and Mr Richard Lyon. This version, 
 styled the Bay Psalm Book, passed through seventy editions, and 
 was extensively circulated in Scotland. 1 
 
 The best verse-writer in New England, during the lifetime 
 of the Pilgrims, was ANNE BRADSTREET, wife of the governor of 
 the Massachusetts colony. She was born in England (1612), 
 
 1 In England, it passed through eighteen editions, of which the last was issued 
 in 1754.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. TOMPSON WOLCOT. 5 
 
 and came with her husband to America in 1630. Her verses, 
 considering their dates, are by no means contemptible. In her 
 time, the French versifier I)u Bartas was the favourite poet in 
 New England. Puns and conceits of a laborious and uncouth 
 fashion were admired as gems of thought. , The learned divine, 
 John Norton, in his funeral eulogy on Anne Bradstreet, thought 
 it decorous to pun upon her name by saying 
 
 ' Her breast was a brave pallace, a broad street 
 Where all heroic, ample thoughts did meet.' 
 
 In those days, the death of any noted divine called forth several 
 elegies. When John Cotton, the first minister of Boston, died 
 (1652), a versifier wrote a eulogy which might have suggested 
 Franklin's epitaph upon himself. The eulogist regards Cotton as 
 a book, and says 
 
 ' O what a monument of glorious worth, 
 When in a new edition he comes forth, 
 Without erratas may we tliink he'll be, 
 In leaves and covers of eternity !' 
 
 BENJAMIN TOMPSON, who was master of the public school in 
 Boston from 1 667 to 1670, is styled the ' first native American poet.' 
 His poem, entitled New England's Crisis (written in 1670-75), 
 contains lamentations over the decay of the colony through luxu 
 rious habits, at a time when ' the women of Boston were found 
 working to build a fort against the Indians !' Among'other signs 
 of degeneracy, Tompson deplores the curtailing of the grace 
 before dinner, and the introduction of silk dresses, chocolate, 
 tobacco, and French wines ; while he extols the old times when 
 ' Men fared hardly, yet without complaint, 
 On vilest cates ; the dainty Indian maize 
 Was eat with clamp-shells out of wooden trays 
 Under thatched hutts, without the cry of rent ; 
 And the best sauce to every dish content.' 
 
 ROGER WOLCOT born at Windsor, Connecticut, in 1679 
 wrote a long poem on the Charter obtained for his native 
 colony in 1662, and gave a versified account of the warfare with 
 the Pequod Indians. He set a good example in celebrating 
 American scenes and events ; but his descriptions are very dull 
 and prosaic : if he touches a poetic topic, he spoils it by some 
 dry details ; as, in describing mountains, he takes care to tell us 
 ' Twenty-four miles surveyors do account 
 Between the eastern and the western mount' 
 
 And then goes on to say 
 
 ' Hither the eagles fly and lay their eggs.'
 
 6 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH born in 1631 was a verse-writer on 
 religious topics. His principal work, The Day of Doom, was very 
 popular in its time, passed through six editions in America, and 
 was republished in London. In the style of Sternhold and 
 Hopkins, the most solemn matters are here described in rhymes 
 so miserable, that passages intended to be serious read as 
 caricatures. The end of the world is announced by such 
 signs as 
 
 ' They rush from beds with giddy heads, 
 And to their windows run.' 
 
 KOGER WILLIAMS AND HIS TIMES. 
 
 If we regard literature as a record of the progress of culture 
 among a people, we cannot pass over those early writings, however 
 antiquated in their style, which have given expression to new 
 ideas. The founder of Rhode Island would deserve to be 
 remembered, if he had written nothing more than the article on 
 religious liberty inserted in the charter of his colony. He wrote 
 on theology, besides an account of his own controversy against- 
 intolerance, and prepared a key to the Indian languages. These 
 writings, with other contemporary documents, are valuable as 
 they illustrate the life and character of a man who, in his views 
 of society and government, was far in advance of his times. To 
 criticise his works, or give specimens of his quaint and rugged 
 style, would be useless : our purpose is to give the spirit of his 
 life and writings. 
 
 He was born in 1599, or about that time, and it is supposed 
 that Wales was his native land. During youth, it is said that he 
 enjoyed the patronage of Sir Edward Coke, with whose daughter 
 he for some time held a correspondence. Before leaving England, 
 he was admitted to orders in the established church ; but it does 
 not appear that he was appointed as curate of any parish. We 
 are also left in ignorance of the time when his mind first embraced 
 the great principle of perfect liberty of conscience with regard to 
 religious creeds ; but it is certain that he had not only adopted, 
 but had fully developed this doctrine when he sailed for Massa 
 chusetts in 1630. 1 The remainder of his biography shall be 
 
 1 ' The settlements then forming the colony of Massachusetts Bay, had been 
 made two or three years previously. The civil code established by the colonists 
 was founded on the institutes of Moses.' .... The state was secondary to the 
 church. ... It was ordered that ' no man should be admitted to the freedom of 
 the body politic, but such as are members of some of the churches.' North 
 American Review, No. 128. Gammell's Life of Roger Williams.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. ROGER WILLIAMS. 7 
 
 chiefly narrated by his most faithful interpreter, Bancroft, author 
 of the History of the United States. 
 
 The historian's eulogistic style is appropriately employed in 
 describing the character of Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode 
 Island and the apostle of liberty. Enthusiasm, in this instance, 
 has been tempered by research; the facts fully justify the 
 conclusions, and the whole 'sketch might be quoted as one of the 
 best specimens of its kind : 
 
 ' In February of the first year of the colony, but a few months 
 after the arrival of Winthrop, and before either Cotton or Hooker 
 had embarked for New England, there arrived at Nantasket, after a 
 stormy passage of sixty-six days, "a young minister, godly and 
 zealous, having precious" gifts. It was Roger Williams. He was 
 then but a little more than thirty years of age ; but his mind had 
 already matured a doctrine which secures him an immortality of 
 fame, as its application has given religious peace to the American 
 world. He was a Puritan, and a fugitive from English persecution ; 
 but his wrongs had not clouded his accurate understanding ; in the 
 capacious recesses of his mind, he had revolved the nature of intole 
 rance, and he, and he alone, had arrived at the great principle which 
 is its sole effectual remedy. He announced his discovery under the 
 simple proposition of the sanctity of conscience. The civil magistrate 
 should restrain crime, but never control opinion ; should punish 
 guilt, but never violate the freedom of the soul. The doctrine 
 contained within itself an entire reformation of theological juris 
 prudence : it would blot from the statute-book the felony of non 
 conformity ; would quench the fires that persecution had so long 
 kept burning ; would repeal every law compelling attendance on 
 public worship ; would abolish tithes and all forced contributions to 
 the maintenance of religion ; would give an equal protection to every 
 form of religious faith ; and never suffer the authority of the civil 
 government to be enlisted against the mosque of the Mussulman or 
 the altar of the fire-worshipper, against the Jewish synagogue or the 
 Roman cathedral. It is wonderful with what distinctness Roger 
 "Williams deduced these inferences from his great principle, the 
 consistency with which, like Pascal and Edwards, those bold and 
 profound reasoners on other subjects, he accepted every fair inference 
 from his doctrines, and the circumspection with which he repelled 
 every unjust imputation. In the unwavering assertion of his views, 
 he never changed his position ; the sanctity of conscience was the 
 great tenet, which, with all its consequences, he defended, as he first 
 trod the shores of New England ; and in his extreme old age, it was 
 the last pulsation of his heart. But it placed the young emigrant 
 in direct opposition to the whole system on which Massachusetts 
 was founded ; and gentle and forgiving as was his temper, prompt 
 as he was to concede everything which honesty permitted, he 
 always asserted his belief with temperate firmness and unyielding 
 benevolence.
 
 8 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It was objected to him, that his principles subverted all good 
 government. " The commander of the vessel of state," replied 
 Williams, " may maintain order on board the ship, and see that it 
 pursues its course steadily, even though the dissenters of the crew 
 arc not compelled to attend the public prayers of their companions." 
 
 ' But the controversy finally turned on the question of the rights 
 and duty of magistrates to guard the minds of the people against 
 corruption, and to punish what would seem to them error and 
 heresy. Magistrates, Williams protested, are but the agents of the 
 people, or its trustees, on whom no spiritual power in matters of 
 worship can ever be conferred ; since conscience belongs to the 
 individual, and is not the property of the body politic ; and with 
 admirable dialectics clothing the great truth in its boldest and most 
 general forms, he asserted that "the civil magistrate may not 
 intermeddle even to stop a church from apostasy and heresy." ' 
 
 Meanwhile, Williams was elected as their minister by the 
 people of Salem. The assembly of divines now declared every 
 one worthy of banishment who would assert 'that the civil magis 
 trate might not interfere to stop a church from apostasy and 
 heresy ;' and, moreover, they decreed that, as a punishment, a 
 grant of public land should be withheld from the people of 
 Salem. 
 
 ' The breach was therefore widened. To the ministers, Williams 
 frankly but temperately explained his doctrines ; and he was armed 
 at all points for their defence. As his townsmen had lost their lands 
 in consequence of their attachment to him, it would have been 
 cowardice on his part to have abandoned them ; and the instinct 
 of liberty led him again to the suggestion of a proper remedy. la 
 conjunction with the church, he wrote " letters of admonition unto 
 all the churches whereof any of the magistrates were members, 
 that they might admonish the magistrates of their injustice." The 
 church-members alone were freemen. Williams, in moderate 
 language, appealed to the people, and invited them to instruct their 
 representatives to do justice to the citizens of Salem. 
 
 ' This last act seemed flagrant treason ; and at the next general 
 court, Salem was disfranchised till an ample apology for the letter 
 should be made. The town acquiesced in its wrongs, and submitted ; 
 not an individual remained willing to justify the letter of remon 
 strance ; the church of Williams would not avow his great principle 
 of the sanctity of conscience ; even his wife, under a delusive idea 
 of duty, was for a season influenced to disturb the tranquillity of his 
 home by her reproaches. Williams was left alone absolutely 
 alone. Anticipating the censures of the colonial churches, he 
 declared himself no longer subjected to their spiritual jurisdiction. 
 " My own voluntary withdrawing from all these churches, resolved 
 to continue in persecuting the witnesses of the Lord, presenting light 
 unto them, I confess it was mine own voluntary act ; yea, I hope
 
 FIRST PERIOD. ROGER WILLIAMS. 9 
 
 the act of the Lord Jesus, sounding forth in me the blast which 
 shall in his own holy season cast down the strength and confidence 
 of those inventions of men." When summoned to appear before 
 the general court, he avowed his convictions in the presence of the 
 representatives of the state, " maintained the rocky strength of his 
 grounds," and declared himself a ready to bo bound and banished, 
 and even to die in Xew England," rather than renounce the opinions 
 which had dawned upon his mind in the clearness of light. At 
 a time when Germany was the battle-field for all Europe in the 
 implacable wars of religion ; when even Holland was bleeding with 
 the anger of vengeful factions ; when France was still to go through 
 the fearful struggle with bigotry ; when England was gasping .under 
 the despotism of intolerance ; almost half a century before William 
 1'enn became an American proprietary ; and two years before 
 Descartes founded modern philosophy on the method of free reflec 
 tion Roger Williams asserted the great doctrine of intellectual 
 liberty. It became his glory to found a state upon that principle, 
 and to stamp himself upon its rising institutions, in characters so 
 deep that the impress has remained to the present day, and can 
 
 never be erased without the total destruction of the work 
 
 He was the first person in modern Christendom to assert in its 
 plenitude the doctrine of the liberty of conscience the equality 
 of opinions before the law ; and in its defence he was the harbinger 
 of Milton the precursor and the superior of Jeremy Taylor.' ! 
 
 A sentence of exile was pronounced against Williams, and it 
 was subsequently determined that he should be sent back to the 
 old country. A warrant was sent to him, ordering him to come 
 to Boston and embark ; and when lie had refused to obey, officers 
 entered his house to enforce the order ; but Williams had mean 
 while escaped into the wilderness. Through the deep snow and 
 the bitter cold, he wandered from his home, and submitted himself 
 to the privations of savage life ; ' for fourteen weeks, he was 
 sorely tost in a bitter season, not knowing what bread or bed 
 did mean,' and sometimes hiding at night in some hollow tree. 
 Happily, lie could speak the dialect of the Indians, and they had 
 not forgotten his kindness. He found shelter in the cabin of a 
 chief ; and, to use his own words, ' the ravens fed him in the 
 wilderness.' The sympathy of friends had followed him, and 
 even his foes could not hate him : their worst charge against him 
 implied only that his mind, being more expansive than their 
 own, must be ' unsettled.' The excellent Governor Winthrop 
 privately wrote to Williams, advising him to steer his course to 
 
 1 These statements arc fully support?d by tlie writings of Roger Williams ; 
 including his Hirclinii Ministry, and the rare tract entitled Mr Cotton's Letter, 
 lately Printed, Examined and Answered. By Roger Williams, of Providence, in 
 New England. London. Imprinted in the yeere 1644. Small 4to, pp. 47. It is 
 preceded by an address of two pages to the impartial reader.
 
 10 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Narraganset Bay, where he would be free from English claims and 
 patents ; accordingly, the brave man embarked in a frail Indian 
 canoe, and, accompanied by rive friends who had joined him, 
 paddled over to the opposite shore, and landed on a nook of 
 Rhode Island. In gratitude, he named the landing-place 
 1 Providence,' and here he began to plant and build. 
 
 The sequel corresponded with the beginning. Williams, the 
 homeless exile, found friends among the Indians who surrounded 
 his infant colony : through their kindness, he obtained a large 
 tract of land. He was now in a position to make himself a 
 wealthy proprietor ; but he ' reserved to himself not one foot of 
 land, not one tittle of political power more than he granted to 
 servants and strangers.' ' He gave away his lands and other 
 estate to them that he thought were most in want, until he gave 
 away all.' 
 
 He established a simple form of democracy, providing that the 
 will of the majority should rule, but ' only in civil things,' and 
 that God should be the sole ruler of conscience. Quakers, and 
 followers of Anne Hutchinson and Samuel Gorton indeed, men 
 of all shades of religious opinion were admitted into the new 
 colony, which its founder declared to be 'a shelter for persons 
 distressed for conscience.' 1 
 
 But the noblest feature in the character of Williams remains 
 to be told. He forgave his enemies ; he did good to those who 
 had severely treated him. For himself, he had no fear of the 
 Indians : they knew him and loved him. Soon after the settle 
 ment of Providence, its founder discovered that the Pequod tribe 
 had made with other Indians an alliance for the massacre of 
 settlers in New England. Williams embarked again in his canoe, 
 and ' cut through a stormy wind and great seas, every minute 
 in hazard of life,' in order to dissuade two chiefs from joining 
 the alliance ; and while he stayed in the cabins of these chiefs, 
 he was surrounded by the Pequod warriors, and ' nightly looked 
 for then- bloody knives at his own throat.' This noble interposi 
 tion was the main cause of the defeat of the Pequod conspiracy. 
 It displayed the Christian heroism of Williams, and gave to his 
 enemies one more opportunity of exposing their own character. 
 Their conduct, in the sequel, proved that religious bigotry 
 can hardly be compatible with generosity. When Governor 
 Winthrop suggested that Williams might be rewarded and 
 recalled from exile, the majority of the ministers of Massachusetts 
 resolved that he should still abide in disgrace at Providence. 
 
 1 'No person within the said colony shall be molested, punished, disquieted, or 
 called in question for any differences of opinion in matters of religion, who does 
 not actually disturb the civil peace.' Charter of Rhode Island, 1644.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. ROGER WILLIAMS. 11 
 
 No practical Christianity, however heroic, could hide his 
 heterodoxy. 
 
 His services were more justly appreciated by the Red Men, 
 especially by the two chieftains of the Narragansets, in whose 
 cabins he had been sheltered. In one of his letters, he writes : 
 ' God was pleased to give me a painful, patient spirit, to lodge 
 with them [the Indians] in their filthy, smoky holes, even while 
 I lived at Plymouth, to gain their tongue.' In a later part of his 
 life, he journeyed, once in a month, into the Narraganset territory 
 to preach to the natives ; and it is said that, not long before his 
 death, when he heard that King Philip was marching to attack 
 Providence, he seized his staff, and alone went out to meet the 
 hostile force, whom he turned aside by kind words. In his civil 
 dealings with the Indians, he gave an example which, if it had 
 been generally followed, might have prevented the fate of many 
 tribes. He declared that the aborigines had a right to their 
 native soil ; and in purchasing their land, he ' spared no cost 
 towards them in tokens and presents.' When the aged chief 
 Canonicus was about to die, he sent for ' his friend Williams,' 
 and desired to be buried in a piece of cloth given by the good 
 missionary. 
 
 Such was the character of the founder of the colony of Rhode 
 Island, the foremost man in asserting the principles which now 
 form the basis of liberty in America. Religious toleration now 
 appears to be a maxim of common sense ; but it is the result of 
 centuries of miserable experience. The attribute of the great 
 teacher is to look far beyond his own times, and to anticipate 
 the results which, by a slow process, experience must bring to 
 light. Before the year 1630, or more than half a century before 
 Locke wrote his treatise on toleration, Roger Williams, in New 
 England, asserted the principle of entire religious liberty, carried 
 it into practice, and suffered for it. So far was the reformer 
 in advance of his age, that about the time of his death, and when 
 twenty-five years of experience in Rhode Island had confirmed 
 his doctrine, the Puritans of Massachusetts were enacting laws 
 for the imprisonment, whipping, and barbarous mutilation of 
 heterodox religionists ! 
 
 After reading the life of Williams, we find a striking contrast 
 in turning to the name of another prominent character of the old 
 times Cotton Mather, whose voluminous writings reflect the 
 characteristics of his period.
 
 12 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 COTTON MATHER AND HIS TIMES. 
 1663-1728. 
 
 COTTON MATHER may be classed with biographical writers ; 
 for his principal work, the Magnalia, contains memoirs of several 
 worthies of the old Puritan times. From the death of this quaint 
 author, in 1728, to the time when Benjamin Franklin concluded 
 his autobiography (1757), we find hardly any other biographies 
 deserving notice. In this period, men were too much engaged 
 in active life to find time for writing. The contrast suggested 
 by the names of Mather and Franklin shews bow great had been 
 the progress of intelligence and freedom in the course of half a 
 century; or from the time when Mather accused witches and 
 goblins of raising high winds and blowing down meeting-houses, 
 to the day when Franklin drew the lightning from the clouds. 
 In one point of view, Mather and Franklin resembled each other ; 
 for each, in his writings, drew a faithful portrait of his own charac 
 ter, and also gave notices of the characteristics of his own times. 
 Mather, in his diary, like Franklin in his autobiography, wrote his 
 own life and character so faithfully, that the reader may under 
 stand the writer more fully perhaps than he understood himself. 
 His numerous works range over a great diversity of topics, and 
 go beyond the bounds of this visible world into regions where we 
 do not care to follow. With a reference to Mather's strange tales 
 of diablerie, Flint, in his sketch of American literature, 1 has said 
 of the old Puritan writers : ' Their first excursions into the world 
 of imagination were not of a nature to tempt them to go much 
 further.' 
 
 Cotton Mather, regarded as a scholar and a writer, was 
 the representative man of New England in the latter part of the 
 seventeenth and early part of the eighteenth century. This 
 assertion must not be too strictly understood, as implying either 
 that this one quaint writer epitomised all the characteristics of 
 his times, or that his contemporaries may all be judged by his 
 standard. He had his peculiarities, and, while foremost as a 
 scholar and Puritan divine, in some of his opinions he halted 
 behind the age. 
 
 He was the son of Increase Mather, president of Harvard 
 College, and was born in Boston February 12, 16G3. His mother 
 was the daughter of John Cotton, an eminent minister of Boston. 
 His first ancestor, Richard Mather, settled in New England in 
 
 1 Published in the London Athenaum.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. COTTON MATIIEU. 13 
 
 1635, and was pastor of the church in Dorchester. Cotton Mather 
 was born to greatness.' It was expected, as a matter of course, 
 that he must be a great scholar and prominent character. When 
 he took his degree at college, the president, in his oration, 
 exclaimed : ' Cotton Mather ! What a name ! I should have 
 said, what names ! . . . . I trust that in him Cotton and Mather 
 will be united and flourish again.' After his graduation, Mather 
 studied theology, and was ordained, in 1684, as a colleague with 
 his father in the pastorship of the North Church in Boston. 
 In 1690, he received the diploma of Doctor of Divinity from 
 the university of Glasgow; and in 1713, was made a Fellow of 
 the Royal Society. His biographers have stated that he wrote 
 in seven languages ; but this must be understood with allowance 
 for the freedom of style in which such assertions have often been 
 made. A scholar who knows what the labour is of writing or 
 speaking well even one language beside the vernacular, must 
 doubt the philological powers ascribed to Mather. It is, however, 
 true that he published 380 distinct works, of which many were 
 single sermons or mere pamphlets. His chief writings include 
 the Christian Philosopher, the Wonders of the Invisible World, 
 the Remarkables of Divine Providence among the People of New 
 Enyland (one of the most characteristic), and especially the 
 Magnolia Christi Americana, or Ecclesiastical History of New 
 England, written in a very odd, quaint style, with bad punctua 
 tion, and an absurd profusion of words in italics. It contains 
 biographies of several worthies of the old times in New England. 
 
 Superstition, and an inordinate vanity, which might almost be 
 styled a species of self-worship, were combined in Mather's 
 character. The superstition he shared with other minds of that 
 age ; but vanity, or self-esteem, was his peculiar trait, and made 
 him unhappily prominent in one of the darkest passages of 
 American history. The habit of trusting his own impressions or 
 opinions, rather than the evidence of facts, led to lamentable 
 errors ; and so far as these errors were connected with his vanity 
 and selfishness, they seriously affect his moral character. 
 
 Following the example of his father, Cotton Mather kept a 
 diary, in which he recorded even his inmost thoughts and feelings, 
 and fully displayed his eccentricities. The mixture of religious 
 meditations with the most insignificant traits of everyday life, 
 makes this diary, which is still extant, a very singular record. 
 As examples of his mode of finding 'edification' in common 
 incidents he tells us that, while his wife was employed in 
 brewing, he was reminded of the spiritual wants of ' thirsty souls;' 
 while she was baking, he meditated on ' the bread of life ;' and on 
 washing-day he ejaculated, ' wash us thoroughly from sin.' Snuffing
 
 14 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 a candle, winding up his watch, hearing a clock strike, knocking 
 at a door, mending his fire, and other incidents of equal importance, 
 were made occasions of appropriate devout exercises. For a lady 
 carving at his table, he prayed that ' a rich portion of spiritual 
 comforts' might be 'carved.' Seeing a lady 'well stricken in 
 years,' he prayed that she might be adorned with comely virtues. 
 (For obvious reasons, we cannot employ exactly his own words.) 
 For a very beautiful woman, he implored that she might be most 
 concerned for other ornaments than such as are perishable. In 
 short, he had ejaculations prepared for all persons and circum 
 stances, and craved, ' for a tall man,' high attainments ; for a lame 
 man, the power ' to walk uprightly ;' for a negro, ' the washing of 
 the spirit ; ' and for a very little man, ' great blessings.' 
 
 His self-esteem may be sufficiently illustrated by one example 
 taken from his diary ; for though this refers immediately to the ' 
 appointment of his father Increase Mather the father and son 
 were inseparable colleagues during many years, and each shared 
 the other's honour. The father, president of Harvard College, 
 wished to be sent as a deputation to England, and the son hoped 
 to succeed to the president's chair ; but it so happened that the 
 Court of the University found merit in other men besides the two 
 Mathers, and refused to honour the elder in this matter. Of this, 
 the son wrote in his diary as follows : ' I am going to relate one 
 of the most astonishing things that ever befell in all the time of 
 my pilgrimage.' This portent proves to be nothing more than 
 the fact, that Cotton Mather had received a strong impression an 
 afflatus, he calls it to the effect that his father would ' be carried 
 into England.' He concludes a passage in his strange diary by 
 ejaculating : ' What ! shall my father yet appear before Caesar ! 
 Has an angel from heaven told me so ! And must I believe what 
 has been told to me ! Well, then, it shall be so ! It shall be so !' 
 
 However, the court ruled that it should not be so, and Cotton 
 Mather again opened his diary, and wrote : ' What shall I make 
 of this wonderful matter ? Wait ! wait ! ' He waited in vain ; the 
 court finally decided that Increase Mather should remain in 
 Boston ; and both father and son were left in then- astonishment. 
 The fact that then* own ambition could not, in this instance, be 
 gratified, appeared inconceivable. 
 
 Cotton Mather's writings are full of uncouth puns : in his 
 taste for these strange ornaments of style, he was not singular : 
 other Puritan writers loved to torture words and play fantastic 
 tricks with language. In writing of a worthy man, unfortunately 
 named Partridge, who suffered some persecutions, Mather chooses 
 to describe him as 'hunted;' as having 'neither beak nor claws' 
 for defence; as escaping 'by flight' over the sea, and finding
 
 FIRST PERIOD. COTTON MATHER. 15 
 
 ' covert' in Plymouth. Even at the grave, the grim punster will 
 not leave his game, but proposes for an epitaph the word avolavit 
 ' our partridge has flown away ! ' Mather describes his own habit 
 of crowding his pages with many quotations, as ' salting my 
 sentences now and then with short, instructive, and uniorccd 
 intermixtures of something or other I have read of. 1 He seems 
 unable to express his own thoughts without the assistance of 
 other 'judicious writers.' 
 
 These notices of a quaint author and self-complacent character 
 might be regarded as unworthy of record, if they were not 
 connected with something more important in the sequel. But 
 Mather's self-esteem made him prominent in the annals of New 
 England : that trait of his character which appeared merely 
 ludicrous in minor affairs, became exceedingly mischievous in the 
 end. This quaint author and learned divine was virtually one 
 of the chief rulers of New England. Like other men of that time 
 including such divines as Richard Baxter he believed in 
 miraculous signs, omens, haunted places, witchcraft, and other 
 delusions; in fact, demonology formed a very great portion of 
 his religious belief. So far, he fairly represented the lingering 
 popular faith of those times, when ' Indian bows were seen in the 
 sky, and scalps in the moon ; ' when ' northern lights became an 
 object of terror,' and ' phantom-horsemen careered among the 
 clouds,' or were heard galloping invisibly through the air : l but 
 as Mr Upham 2 and other writers have shewn, a mischievous 
 vanity and obstinate self-esteem made Mather's superstition more 
 formidable than it could have been without such allies. 
 
 Four years before the outbreak of the popular delusion (or 
 conspiracy ?) in Salem, Mather ' had studied the nature of witch 
 craft,' and had especially examined a case occurring in the house 
 of a neighbour. In this instance, the girl supposed to be 
 ' troubled by witches ' uttered at least one true prediction ; for, 
 speaking of Mather's book on the subject, she told him that he 
 would ' quickly come to disgrace by that history.' The sequel 
 made this prediction rather remarkable. 
 
 Having formed his theory, he determined to make all facts 
 bend to it, and popular ignorance aided his efforts. In the course 
 of his experiments in the first supposed case of ' possession,' he 
 came to the conclusion that demons ' are well skilled in languages, 
 and understand Latin and Greek, and even Hebrew;' but he 
 found them imperfect ' in one of the Indian dialects I' He was 
 assured that over himself the powers of air had no power ; they 
 'could not enter his study.' 'Sadducees' and the Quakers 
 
 1 nildreth's History of the United States, vol. i. p. 433. 
 * Upham's History of the Delusion in Salem, 1192.
 
 16 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 opposed the delusion, and Mather's reputation became involved 
 in the controversy on witchcraft. In his book on the subject, he 
 treated his opponents as ignorant, uncivil, and impudent persons. 
 This book, printed in 1689, was circulated in New England, and 
 soon reached the mother-country, where it was republished by 
 Richard Baxter. 
 
 When the minds of the people had been sufficiently excited, 
 and were prepared to receive new wonders, Mather found a ready 
 assistant in Samuel Parris, minister of Salem. In February 1692, 
 Tituba, an Indian female-servant in the household of Parris, was 
 accused of having bewitched two of his children. She was not 
 put to death, because her confession was so valuable as a refuta 
 tion of the ' Sadducee ' doctrine. The children supposed to be 
 afflicted gained great notoriety, and new cases were soon dis 
 covered. It was one of the most curious features in the affair, 
 that the confessions of certain parties, and the evidence given by 
 others, so exactly accorded with the statements of Mather's book 
 on witchcraft, that they almost appeared as quotations. This 
 admitted two modes of explanation, but of course Mather 
 received it as a confirmation of his own doctrine. Examinations 
 and commitments for witchcraft became more and more nume 
 rous. In the popular panic thus excited, several poor creatures, 
 hoping to escape the punishment of death, made absurd confes 
 sions of having practised certain witcheries. Of one aged woman, 
 who was hanged as a witch, Cotton Mather states, that ' she gave 
 a look towards the great and spacious meeting-house of Salem, 
 and immediately a demon, invisibly entering the house, tore down 
 a part of it.' To believe all that Mather had said and written of 
 demonology, was the only way of safety: to doubt the reality 
 of witchcraft, was to court suspicion and inquiry ; and the party 
 brought to a trial had scarcely a chance to escape conviction. 
 When confessions, or accounts given by witnesses, were full of 
 self-contradictions, it only suggested the notion that demons had 
 deprived the speakers of memory ! If the accused trembled, his 
 guilt was manifest ; if he stood firmly, the demon supported him. 
 ' At the trial of George Burroughs [a minister], the bewitched 
 persons pretended to be dumb. " Who hinders these witnesses," 
 said Stoughton, " from giving their testimonies ? " " I suppose 
 the devil," answered Burroughs. " How comes the devil," 
 retorted the chief judge, " so loath to have any testimony borne 
 against you?" and the ' question was effective.' 1 Cotton Mather 
 decided that the evidence was ' enough,' and the jury brought in 
 a verdict of guilty. 
 
 i Bancroft's Hittory of the United Slates, vol. ii. chap. 19.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. COTTON MATHER. 17 
 
 To pass over many horrible details of other judicial murders, 
 the case of this unhappy man Burroughs was sufficient to leave 
 a permanent blot on the names of Parris and Cotton Mather. 
 Burroughs had preached in Salem, where, as some of the people 
 wished him to settle, he became the rival of Parris ; but his 
 greatest offence was, that he was a sceptic in witchcraft, and had 
 ventured to say that such a crime was impossible. When brought 
 to the scaffold, he firmly maintained his innocence, and so moved 
 the assembled people, that they were ready to hinder the execu 
 tion ; but Cotton Mather addressed them, argued that a demon 
 ' might be disguised as an angel of light,' and the hanging was 
 allowed to take place. 
 
 Already, in September 1G92, ' twenty persons had been put to 
 death for witchcraft, and fifty-five had been tortured or terrified 
 into penitent confessions.' l A reaction followed. Many doubted 
 the doctrine which had been supported by such terrible means ; but 
 Mather remained firm, and published his Wonders of the Invisible 
 World, which received the approval of the president of Harvard 
 College. In October, the people of Andover, with their minister, 
 protested against the delusion and conspiracy. This, and other 
 circumstances, encouraged many persons to speak as they thought, 
 and dispelled the panic. Accusations of witchcraft were treated 
 with scorn, and Mather's books lost their authority. Did Mather 
 himself doubt ? He endeavoured, as a last resource, to get up a 
 case of witchcraft in his own parish ; but the imposition was fully 
 exposed by one Robert Calef, whom he describes as ' a malignant, 
 calumnious, and reproachful man.' 
 
 The result of the whole is very remarkable. As Bancroft 
 says, 'Cotton Mather never repented;' but he 'had temptations 
 to atheism, and to the abandonment of all religion as a mere 
 delusion,' as he confesses in his diary. He died, February 13, 
 1728, leaving a reputation which has been seriously injured by 
 the researches of historians and biographers. 2 A few American 
 writers 3 on the life and times of Mather, misguided by a desire 
 to speak well of one of the early divines of New England, have 
 endeavoured to mitigate the censure pronounced against him ; 
 but careful investigations of facts have fully supported the 
 charges brought forward by Bancroft and Upham. In literature. 
 Mather might be left in the obscure place assigned to uncouth 
 and conceited pedants ; but he will always hold a prominent place 
 in the records of bigotry and superstition. His character remains 
 
 1 Bancroft. 
 
 2 See, besides the works quoted in this notice of Mather, Peabody's Life of 
 C. Mather, in Sparks's American Biography, vol. vi. ; Robbing's Hittory of the Old 
 North Church in Boston. 
 
 3 See Enoch Pond's Life of Increate Mather. 
 
 B
 
 18 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 as ' an example how far selfishness, under the form of vanity and 
 ambition, can blind the 'higher faculties, stupify the judgment, 
 and dupe consciousness itself.' 1 
 
 THEOLOGY. 
 
 1640-1800. 
 
 It has been already observed, that during the early part of 
 the colonial period, and before political questions assumed the 
 ascendancy, the talents of learned men were chiefly devoted to 
 the service of theology and the discussion of ecclesiastical ques 
 tions. When the early hardships of colonisation had been over 
 come, and a considerable proportion of the population of the 
 States had some share of ease and leisure, it might have been 
 expected that elegant literatxire would be cultivated, and in some 
 degree this was the fact ; but the comparatively few readers who 
 asked for works of general or light literature, could be readily 
 supplied with imports from England, including the essays and 
 poetry of our so-called Augustan age, and the books of preceding 
 times. Meanwhile, the quarrel with the mother-country was 
 beginning, and men who, in quiet times, might have written 
 verses, were called to write political tracts. In the early part 
 of the eighteenth century, controversial or practical divinity, and, 
 in the latter part, political discussion, almost exclusively occupied 
 the attention of writers who, otherwise, might have contributed 
 to the stores of general literature. In both periods, the litera 
 ture of America reflected the progress of the people. The old 
 books of divinity, which now seem so dry and verbose, were once 
 readable, because their doctrine was linked with the strongest 
 affections of the Puritans of New England ; and in the present 
 day, such names as Cotton, Eliot, Hooker, Chauncey, Norton, 
 and Edwards, are still venerated in Massachusetts. 
 
 JOHN COTTON (1584-1652), the first minister of Boston, and 
 one of the most learned men of his times, wrote extensively on 
 divinity and ecclesiastical government. Like Cotton Mather, and 
 many other divines of New England, this celebrated Boston 
 minister sometimes wrote verses ; but for poetry he had no voca 
 tion. Among his verses, we find an elegy on his contemporary 
 and friend, THOMAS HOOKER (1586-1647), first minister of 
 Hartford, and author of A Survey of Church Discipline. 
 
 i Bancroft
 
 FIRST PERIOD. THEOLOGICAL WRITERS. 19 
 
 JOHN ELIOT (1G04-1G90), the Apostle of the Indians, devoted 
 his life to the instruction of the aborigines, lie wrote several 
 treatises in English among them, one on the Christian Common- 
 Avrnlth ; but his more remarkable efforts were made in the acqui 
 sition of a knowledge of the Indian dialects. After preparing an 
 Indian grammar, he made a, translation of the New Testament 
 into the dialect spoken by the natives in Massachusetts. This 
 work of great labour printed at Cambridge, N.E., 1661 was 
 followed by the publication of the whole Bible in the same Indian 
 dialect. Such labours deserved a greater success. The language 
 into which Eliot translated the Scriptures is now dead, in the 
 strongest sense of the word ; for the tribes who understood and 
 spoke it, have long since vanished from the face of the earth. 
 Some few copies of the Indian Bible remain as monuments of 
 Eliot's zeal and benevolence. He lived, during a great part of 
 his life, among the Indians ; taught them to spin and to cultivate 
 the soil ; and such was his faith in their intellectual powers, that 
 he prepared for their use a system of logic. One Indian became 
 a bachelor of arts at Cambridge ; but after taking his degree, he 
 exchanged his gown for a blanket, and went back to the forest. 
 
 Eliot's Bible was followed by NEWMAN'S Concordance of the 
 Scrijifures, which maintained its value until it was superseded by 
 the work of Cruden. Newman's book was compiled in a log-cabin, 
 and by the light of a pine-knot torch. 
 
 JOHN DAVENPORT (1597-1670), founder of the colony of New- 
 haven ; CHARLES CHAUNCEY (1589-1672), second president of 
 Harvard University; and JOHN NORTON (1606-1663), must be 
 named as eminent theological writers of this early time, when 
 missionary rather than literary labour chiefly occupied the atten 
 tion of divines. Many curious tracts, illustrating the state of 
 religious opinions, and the progress of missions among the 
 Indians, may be found in the collections of the Massachusetts 
 Historical Society. 
 
 In the times of the two Mathers, father and son, theology in 
 America assumed a more controversial character, as is seen in the 
 writings of DICKINSON, STODDARD, and WILLARD. The chief 
 points of dispute were the doctrines of Calvin and the ordinances 
 of the church, especially the two forms known as 'open' and 
 ' close communion.' On this question, the controversy was 
 decided by the writings of JONATHAN EDWARDS (1703-1758), one 
 of the most distinguished divines and metaphysical writers in the 
 eighteenth century. He was a native of East Windsor, Connecticut,
 
 20 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and was mainly self-educated. His fervid piety was united 
 with an extraordinary power of logical thinking. The universal 
 benevolence of his heart was restricted by the stern doctrines in 
 which his reason had been trained. He maintained the assertion, 
 that ' true religion in a great measure consists in holy affections, in 
 a love of divine things for the beauty and sweetness of their moral 
 excellency ; ' and that true virtue consists in benevolence having 
 for its objects all intelligent beings ; but he qualified these asser 
 tions by denying that such religion and virtue could co-exist with 
 certain theological doctrines which he regarded as erroneous. In 
 his celebrated treatise on The Freedom of the Will, he displayed 
 his powers as a subtle and conscientious reasoner. As the Edin 
 burgh Review has said: 'There is not a trick, a subterfuge, a 
 verbal sophism in the whole book.' The opinions of Dr Chalmers, 
 Robert Hall, Dugald Stewart, and Sir James Macintosh, might be 
 quoted in favour of the claims of Jonathan Edwards as a meta 
 physical writer, and as ' one of the greatest men who have owned 
 the authority of Calvin.' Besides his Essay on the Freedom of the 
 Will, Edwards wrote a Dissertation on the Nature of True Virtue, 
 and another on Gods Chief End in the Creation, besides a con 
 troversial work on Original Sin, and a more practical Treatise on 
 Religious Affections, which has been highly esteemed by religious 
 readers. It must be added that his style is generally rather 
 prolix ; like another deep thinker Bishop Butler he seems to 
 have taken little care to reduce his thoughts to a concise form of 
 expression. He left at his decease some thousand and upwards 
 of miscellaneous papers. 
 
 Another JONATHAN EDWARDS (1745-1801), the son of the 
 preceding author, was president of Union College, and wrote in a 
 style superior to that of the first Edwards, while in his doctrines, 
 and also in his choice of topics, he resembled his father. Among 
 the principal works of the younger Edwards are included A 
 Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, and a controversial treatise, 
 The Salvation of All Men strictly Examined and Refuted the 
 latter written as a reply to the less exclusive doctrine maintained 
 by Dr CHARLES CHATJNCEY (1705-1787). The last-named theo 
 logian, who differed from the orthodox American divines of the 
 eighteenth century, wrote, besides his work on the Episcopate, a 
 treatise on The Benevolence of the Deity, five Dissertations on the 
 Fall and its Consequences, and a work entitled The Salvation of 
 All Men, which excited controversy. 
 
 JOSEPH BELLAMY (1719-1790), who adhered to the Calvinistic 
 doctrine of Edwards, was the writer of several religious works,
 
 FIRST PERIOD. THEOLOGICAL WRITERS. 21 
 
 including an essay, True Religion Delineated, which gained a con 
 siderable reputation both at home and abroad. A wider view 
 of the scheme of Calvin was defended by SAMUEL HOPKINS 
 (1721-1803), whose chief work, A System of Doctrines contained 
 in Divine Revelation, was published in 1793. 
 
 JOHN WITHERSPOON (1722-1794) was a native of Scotland, 
 and emigrated in 17G9 to America, where he was appointed 
 president of Princeton College. His work, entitled Ecclesiastical 
 Characteristics, is described as displaying ' no small share of 
 refined humour and delicate satire ; ' and his other theological 
 works have been commended for their good sense, simple style, 
 and condensation of thoughts. 
 
 Among the other theological writers whose works, though 
 more or less excellent in their special class, do not demand 
 extended notices in an account of general literature, we must 
 name JAMES BLAIR (died 1743), president of William and Mary 
 College in Virginia, who wrote a series of Discourses on 
 Matthew V.-VII. ; also, NATHANIEL APPLETON, AARON BURR 
 (president of Princeton College), SAMUEL DAVIES (president 
 of New Jersey College), SAMUEL FINLEY, SAMUEL JOHNSON, 
 ANDREW ELIOT, and SAMUEL COOPER. 
 
 The name of TIMOTHY DWIGHT demands a more distinct 
 notice ; for his writings in prose and verse contributed to the 
 improvement of American literature, though his poems have no 
 remarkable merit besides their smooth versification. On the 
 maternal side, Dwight was the grandson of the great Jonathan 
 Edwards, and was born in Northampton, Massachusetts, in 1752. 
 His most important work, entitled Theology Explained and 
 Defended, consists of nearly 200 sermons, preached during his 
 presidency at Yale College. The views of the writer are 
 moderately Calvinistic, and his style is fluent, and by no means 
 concise. This work enjoyed a very extensive popularity in 
 England as well as in America. Many preachers and theolo 
 gical students, endowed with no great originality of thought, 
 have been indebted to Dwight's Theology. Besides this prin 
 cipal work, the author wrote a valuable and interesting account 
 of his Travels in New England and New York, which gives a 
 view of American society and manners in the beginning of 
 the present century. President Dwight died at Newhaven in 
 1817.
 
 22 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In Religious Biography, numerous scattered memoirs may be 
 found besides those of Roger Williams and Cotton Mather, which 
 have been collectively noticed ; but few biographical writings of 
 general interest were produced in the colonial period. 
 
 Among all the memoirs and other writings of the Friends 
 (otherwise called Quakers) in America, one of the most noticeable 
 books, though it has no literary pretensions, is the Journal of 
 JOHN WOOLMAN the book of which Charles Lamb said : ' Get 
 the writings of John Woolman by heart.' 
 
 Woohnan was born in the year 1720, at Northampton, in 
 Burlington County, West Jersey. He was educated according to 
 the principles of George Fox, and at a very early period began 
 to ' bear his testimony,' in a meek and inoffensive manner, against 
 the evils of slavery. In the course of a journey in Virginia (1746), 
 he writes in his diary : ' Two things were remarkable to me in 
 this journey- 1 first, in regard to my entertainment ; when I ate, 
 drank, and lodged, free-cost, with people who lived in ease on the 
 
 hard labour of their slaves, I felt uneasy Where the masters 
 
 bore a good share of the burden, 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 
 burdens on their slaves, my exercise was often great, and I 
 frequently had conversation with them in private concerning it. 
 Secondly, this trade of importing slaves from their native country 
 being much encouraged amongst them [the Virginians], and the 
 white people and their children living much without labour, was 
 frequently the subject of my serious thoughts. 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 will 
 ingly run into it, yet in future the consequence will be grievous to 
 posterity. I express it as it hath appeared to me, not once, nor 
 twice, but as a matter fixed on my mind.' After all that has 
 been written on the subject of slavery, we find nothing better than 
 the sober and charitable Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes. 
 written by John Woolman, and first printed in the year 1762. 
 
 The religious principles held by this benevolent man, have been 
 censured as tending to that ' introversion of thought and feeling,' 
 or self-contemplation, which is certainly unwholesome ; but in his 
 case, as in others, a meditative, and, as it is commonly called, a 
 mystical piety, was accompanied by a constant and active care 
 for the welfare of mankind. Kindness marked every step of his 
 course. We may smile at some of his peculiarities ; but it is 
 with a feeling quite compatible with respect for both the under 
 standing and the heart of the man whose greatest eccentricity was
 
 FIRST PERIOD. rWOOLJIAN. 23 
 
 in wearing ( a hat of undyed fur.' This led to a ludicrous mistake. 
 ' The thoughts of wearing hats and garments dyed with a dye 
 hurtful to them,' had excited some doubts in his mind : he con 
 cluded that it was a custom not founded ' in pure wisdom,' and 
 determined to wear out the garments heretofore made ; but, as 
 soon as he wanted a new covering for his head, to buy ' a hat the 
 natural colour of the fur.' Unluckily, at the time when he adopted 
 this change, white hats became fashionable, and were symbols of 
 dandyism ; so John Woolman, bearing thus his simple testimony 
 against ' dyed hats,' appeared in the height of fashion, and seemed 
 to have been carried away by the vanities of the world. Even 
 among the Friends, many were scandalised by his singularity ; 
 but he was able to defend himself. The fact was, that Woolman, 
 in the middle of the eighteenth century, was a sanitary reformer, 
 and in some respects far in advance of the doctrine^ held by 
 advocates of cleanliness at the present time. He even went so 
 far as to recommend the general use of light- coloured clothes, 
 because ' they would not hide dirt.' In his Journal of a Tour in 
 England, he says : 
 
 ' Having of late travelled in wet weather through narrow streets 
 in towns and villages, where dirtiness underfoot, and the scent arising 
 from that filth which more or less infects the air of all thickly- 
 settled towns, were disagreeable ; and being but weakly, I have felt 
 distress both in body and mind with that which is impure. In these 
 journeys, I have been where much cloth hath been dyed, and have 
 at sundry times walked over ground where much of their dye-stuffs 
 has drained away. This hath produced a longing in my mind that 
 people might come into cleanness of spirit, cleanness of person, and 
 cleanness about their houses and garments. Some of the great carry 
 delicacy to a great height themselves, and yet real cleanliness is not 
 
 generally promoted Hiding that which is not clean, by 
 
 colouring our garments, seems contrary to the sweetness of sincerity. 
 Through some sorts of dyes, cloth is rendered less useful ; and if 
 the value of dye-stuffs, the expense of dyeing, and the damage done 
 to cloth, were all added together, and that cost applied to keeping 
 all sweet and clean, how much more would real cleanliness prevail.' 
 
 Most probably, John Woolman fell a victim to the unsanitary 
 state of his lodgings, against which he had ' borne his testimony ; ' 
 for he died of small-pox, at York, October 5, 1772. 
 
 The journal of this benevolent man deserves notice, because it 
 illustrates the principles of a class of religionists who exercised a 
 considerable influence on the early progress of intellectual freedom 
 in America. They passed through a period of suffering from 
 persecution ; for the Puritans, who ruled in the several colonies, 
 by no means professed toleration of religious differences. But
 
 24 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ultimately the disciples of George Fox established themselves in 
 the New World, and under the guidance of William Penn, opened 
 there an asylum for all who were oppressed in every nation. 
 Emigrants from England, Wales, Scotland, Ireland, and Germany, 
 hastened to their new home ; and Philadelphia a mere cluster of 
 three or four cottages in 1G83 in the course of two years, con 
 tained GOO houses, a school-room, and a printing-office. A 
 new state was founded in the midst of the wild Indians, but 
 without warfare and bloodshed, such as attended the settling of 
 New England, Maryland, and other colonies. Penn, trusting in 
 the power of love, treated the aborigines as brethren ; and his 
 confidence was well repaid, for no Inoian ever pointed an arrow 
 or raised a tomahawk against a Quaker. 
 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 
 170 61 790. 
 
 It seems hardly probable that Cotton Mather and BENJAMIN 
 FRANKLIN could have lived in one century ; but, in fact, Mather 
 was preaching and writing in Boston, while Franklin was there 
 working on his brother's newspaper the New England Courant. 
 The old Puritan divine sometimes saw the active boy Benjamin 
 was then about sixteen years old carrying about the bad, 
 ' free-thinking paper ; ' and painful recollections arose of the 
 good strict times when such a libel would have been put down 
 by the assembled ministers. It is probable that some of the 
 libels which grieved the old man were written by Franklin ; 
 for he was then described ' as a youth that had a turn for 
 libelling and satire ; ' and during his brother's imprisonment, he 
 took charge of the paper, and, as he says, ' made bold to give our 
 rulers some rubs in it.' 
 
 Benjamin Franklin, born at Boston, January 17, 1706, advanced 
 from a humble origin, and through the details of a mechanical 
 business, to a position of great distinction in his native country. 
 He spent a few of his early years in London, but settled as a 
 printer in Philadelphia, where, by means of his natural ingenuity, 
 his industry, and prudence, he quickly rose in the world. In 
 1732, he first published his celebrated popular calendar, com 
 monly known as Poor Richard's Almanac, which he continued 
 during about twenty-five years. As it was designed to spread 
 useful information among the poor, *all the spaces left between 
 the remarkable days in the calendar were filled with homely
 
 FIRST PERIOD. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN". 25 
 
 proverbs, condensing the practical wisdom, the life-lore of many 
 ages and nations. In the almanac for the year 1757, all these 
 proverbs were collectively given as the advice of a wise old man, 
 and in this form they obtained a very wide circulation, were 
 copied in all the American newspapers, reprinted in sheets to be 
 pasted on the Avails of houses throughout Great Britain, and! 
 translated and widely distributed by the clergy and gentry in 
 France. 
 
 Having secured a competency, Franklin retired from business, 
 and hoped to rind leisure for philosophical studies ; but numerous 
 public cares were imposed upon him by his fellow-citizens. He, 
 however, found time to make those experiments in electricity 
 which have made his name as illustrious in the records of science 
 as in the history of his countiy. In his autobiography, he 
 mentions his experiments in a merely cursory style, and seems at 
 all times to have been indifferent with regard to the honour of 
 discovery. As early as the year 1749, he had suggested the 
 theory that lightning was identical with electricity, and conceived 
 the bold idea of testing the theory by raising an iron rod to a 
 considerable elevation, so as to conduct the electric fluid from a 
 passing cloud. At the same time, or soon afterwards, he con 
 cluded that such a rod might be used as a conductor to protect 
 ships and houses from the effects of lightning. The experiment 
 was delayed, because there was no spire in Philadelphia to which 
 the rod might be fixed ; and years passed away before Franklin 
 thought of a common plaything a school-boy's kite as a 
 substitute for the proposed iron rod. In the summer of 1752, he 
 made his kite, using a silk handkerchief stretched over two sticks, 
 and fixing an iron point on the upright stick. A cord of silk was 
 tied at the lower end of the hempen-string, and to this a key was 
 fastened. With this simple apparatus, he proceeded to ask the 
 great question of which he had already guessed the answer. To 
 avoid vulgar ridicule, he went out on the common, while a 
 thunder-storm was gathering, and told his intention only to his 
 son, who accompanied him. The kite was raised : a dark cloud 
 passed over it. Franklin gazed for some moments in anxious 
 suspense until he observed that the loose fibres of the string were 
 moved. He applied his knuckle to the key, and the emitted 
 spark immediately confirmed his theory. That power in nature 
 which had appeared a mystery beyond the reach of man's 
 intelligence, was now identified with a power having properties 
 already partly understood. 
 
 This grand success cast into the shade Franklin's services in 
 other branches of science. His generosity in caring little for 
 his own fame, and imparting freely to others a knowledge of hia
 
 26 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 discoveries, was remarkable. A patent for making a stove which 
 Franklin had invented was taken out by a London ironmonger, 
 who only made some slight changes in its form ; but the inventor, 
 observing that this was not the only instance of the kind, refused 
 to claim any benefit for himself. The same liberality characterised 
 his sanitarian scheme for cleansing the streets of Philadelphia, 
 and made him condescend to write of fireplaces and smoky 
 chimneys. His papers on these topics are remarkably clear, 
 concise, and practical. Other scientific papers treat of a theory 
 of winds and water-spouts in which he seems to have indicated 
 some more recent theories of improvements in navigation the 
 causes of the Gulf-stream in the Atlantic the production of cold 
 by evaporation the causes of earthquakes the structure of 
 musical-instruments and several other topics. 
 
 The latter part of Franklin's lifefrom 1757 to 1790 was 
 devoted to the welfare of his country, and forms a prominent part 
 of American history. In 1757 he went to England, and, as the 
 agent for Pennsylvania, employed every effort to secure the 
 liberties of the colonists, and to prevent the outbreak of war. 
 After a second visit to the mother-country, he again crossed the 
 Atlantic, and in his eightieth year returned to Philadelphia, landing 
 on the spot where, sixty-three years before, he had arrived, as a 
 runaway apprentice, with a single dollar in his pocket. The few 
 remaining years of his life were quiet and happy. He retained 
 his mental faculties unimpaired, fulfilled his duties as president 
 of the state, and found leisure to pursue his favourite study 
 of natural liistory. His last public act was to sign a petition 
 praying the House of Representatives to oppose the traffic in 
 slaves. He died April 17, 1790. 
 
 The writings of Franklin include his Autobiography, Miscella 
 neous Essays, the Way to Wealth, several historical and political 
 tracts, scientific papers, and his official and private correspondence. 
 The Historical Review, a work of considerable influence in the 
 beginning of the Revolution, was generally ascribed to Franklin, 
 and is included in the last edition of his works ; but in a private 
 letter to David Hume, the supposed author states that the greater 
 part of the volume was written by another hand. The political 
 letters of Franklin are marked by a clear and easy style, and give 
 expression to manly and earnest feelings ; while his private 
 correspondence is full of cheerfulness and playful humour, and 
 shews that he was capable of warm affections. The familiar 
 essays supply models of a style of homely exposition and 
 exhortation addressed to the masses of the people. 
 
 Franklin's character, though it may be found defective when 
 tried by higher standards than his own, was in itself consistent
 
 FIRST PERIOD. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 27 
 
 and harmonious. He has been described as a utilitarian, or as a 
 mere practical man striving to rise in the world ; but it should be 
 remembered that he was not contented to bend the world to his 
 own uses and advantage : he endeavoured to leave it better than 
 he found it. If he paid great attention to small gains, and 
 laboured, in the iirst place, to improve his own circumstances, it 
 was because he regarded such means as necessary to attain higher 
 objects. For want of the practical wisdom of Franklin, many men 
 of higher aspirations have wasted their powers and have lived in 
 vain. No impartial reader can fail to admire the traits of self- 
 control, disinterestedness, and quietude of temper in Franklin's 
 autobiography. 
 
 Of his other writings, the most characteristic is the collection 
 of maxims of prudence and economy published under the title of 
 Poai' Richard, or The Way to Wealth. Such a scheme of morality 
 must, of course, be judged with reference to its object, which is 
 not to form perfect characters, nor to prepare men for a higher 
 life than the present, but to make them here more prudent, 
 industrious, and prosperous. The man who would cultivate with 
 success the higher faculties of his nature, must first provide for his 
 common wants, and he will find in Franklin's maxims the 
 beginning though not the end of wisdom. 
 
 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 others. 
 Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I 
 am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse lately where a great 
 number of people were collected at an auction of merchants' goods. 
 The hour of the sale not being come, they were conversing on the 
 badness of the times ; and one of the company called to a plain, 
 clean old man, with white locks : " Pray, Father Abraham, what 
 think you of the times ? Will not these heavy taxes quite ruin the 
 country ? How shall we ever be able to pay them ? What would 
 you advise us to ?" Father Abraham stood up and replied : " If 
 you would have my advice, I will give it you in short ; for ' A word 
 to the wise is enough,' as Poor Richard says." They joined in 
 desiring him to speak his mind, and, gathering round him, he 
 proceeded as follows : 
 
 " Friends," said he, " 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 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 commissioners cannot
 
 28 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ease or deliver us by allowing an abatement. However, let ua 
 hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us ' God 
 helps them that help themselves,' as Poor Richard says." [The old 
 man, after lecturing for some time on the virtues of industry and 
 attention to one's own business, proceeds to shew the folly of careless 
 expenditure] : 
 
 " Here you are all got together at this sale of fineries and knick- 
 knacks. 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 erelong thou 
 shalt 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 : ' It is 
 foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance ;' and yet this 
 folly is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding the 
 Almanac. 
 
 " But what madness must it be to run in debt for these super 
 fluities ! We are offered, by the terms of this sale, 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 ' The second vice is lying, the first is 
 running in debt,' as Poor Richard says ; and again, to the same 
 purpose, ' Lying rides upon Debt's back ;' whereas a free-born 
 Englishman ought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or speak to 
 any man living. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and 
 virtue. ' It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright.' 
 
 u What would you think of that prince or of that government who 
 should issue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or 
 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 such tyranny, when you run in debt for such dress 1 
 Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your 
 liberty, by confining you in jail till you shall be able to pay him. 
 When you have got your bargain, you may perhaps think little of 
 payment ; but, as Poor Richard says, ' Creditors have better memories 
 than debtors : 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,
 
 FIRST PERIOD. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 29 
 
 if you boar your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so 
 long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. Time will seem to 
 have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. 'Those 
 have a short Lent who owe money to be paid at Easter.' At present, 
 perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriving 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.' 
 
 Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while you live, 
 expense is constant and certain ; and ' It is easier to build two 
 chimneys, than to keep one in fuel,' as Poor Richard says ; so, 
 ' Rather go to bed supperless, than rise in debt.' 
 
 ' Got what you can, and what you get ht)ld ; 
 'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold.' 
 
 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, 
 without 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 afterwards prosperous. 
 
 " And now, to conclude, ' Experience keeps a dear school, but fools 
 will learn in no other,' as Poor Richard says, and scarce in that ; 
 for it is true, ' We may give advice, but we cannot give conduct.' 
 However, remember this : ' They that will not be counselled, cannot 
 be helped ;' and, further, that ' If you will not hear Reason, she will 
 surely rap your knuckles,' as Poor Richard says." 
 
 ' 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 auction opened, and 
 they began to buy extravagantly. I found the good man had 
 thoroughly studied my Almanacs, and digested all I had dropped 
 on these topics during the course of twenty-five 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 
 that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he ascribed 
 to me, but rather the gleanings that 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, 
 
 RICHAUD SAUNDERS.'
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 GENERAL LITERATURE AND POLITICS. 
 1700-1800. 
 
 In this place, we may notice, first, the few historical works 
 produced in the eighteenth century. The History of Neio 
 England, by Hubbard, already mentioned, was followed by a 
 more extensive work on the same subject, written by THOMAS 
 PRINCE (1687-1758), who employed a considerable part of his 
 life in collecting materials. The greater portion of his valuable 
 manuscripts was unfortunately lost or destroyed during the war of 
 Independence. Of the succeeding writer, THOMAS HUTCIIINSON, 
 who wrote a History of Massachusetts, a competent critic writes, 
 that ' he was blind except to facts,' and ' without a glimpse of 
 the great truths which were the mighty causes of the revolutions 
 he describes.' 
 
 ' Next in character, if not in time,' says the same critic, ' came 
 The History of Connecticut, by the accurate, painstaking, scru 
 pulous TRUJIBULL. It excels Hutchinson's work in spirit, and 
 equals it, nay, surpasses it in research. Its author lived in the 
 scenes which he describes ; his heart was with the fathers of his 
 commonwealth ; he held with them one faith and one hope ; he 
 revered them as they appeared in the train-bands of the militia, 
 or in the meeting-house ; at their village toils, or in their rural 
 legislature. A true Connecticut feeling tingled in all his veins 
 and animated all his thoughts. He read all sorts of records ; he 
 picked up and tested traditions ; he was wise in the theology of 
 Hooker and Stone ; he knew the hills and the valleys, the towns 
 and the villages of his commonwealth ; and, in fact, he got 
 Connecticut by heart before he began writing its history. Europe 
 he knew but little of; and in reference to it, he makes mistakes, 
 or betrays ignorance ; but Connecticut he knew thoroughly. He 
 could tell the name, birthplace, and career of every minister that 
 had preached a good sermon, and every militiaman that had done 
 a notable thing. Not a savage was overcome, not a backslider 
 censured by the church, but he knew it all. His history is 
 Connecticut put into a book ; and done, not by a philosopher 
 with wise arrogance not by a heretic, scoffing at men who followed 
 somewhat the laws of Moses not by a lawyer, shewing with what 
 indifference to precedent the New-England fathers were perpe 
 tually entering upon untried experiments; but by an honest, 
 true-hearted Connecticut man.'
 
 FIRST PERIOD. LITERATURE AND POLITICS. 31 
 
 In a literary point of view, a work far superior to those 
 already noticed is found in The History of New Hampshire, by 
 Dr BELKNAP, a writer distinguished for his clear style and spirit 
 of research. ' The tone of feeling which pervades his volumes is 
 truly American ; national, yet candid, lie knew how to exhibit 
 the faults of our ancestors without impairing admiration for their 
 virtues. In his writings, the new spirit in literature, which 
 naturally grew out of our revolution, began to appear ; and he 
 united happily the earnestness of old times with the liberal 
 purposes of free inquiry. It would not be easy to name any 
 local history in any European language superior to the history 
 of Belknap.' l The amiable author of the work so justly praised, 
 wrote some miscellaneous essays, and, if we remember truly, a 
 novel, entitled The Foresters, the earliest work of its kind in 
 American literature". He died in early manhood. 
 
 A History of Rhode Island, by JOHN CALLENDER, and an 
 Account of the First Discovery and Settlement of Virginia, by 
 WILLIAM STITH, may be named among the earlier contributions 
 to American local history. PAUL DUDLEY (1675-1751), chief- 
 justice of Massachusetts, must be noticed as the first writer on 
 natural history. The History of the Five Indian Nations, by 
 CADWALLADER GOLDEN (1G88-177G), is described as a work of 
 research and good judgment. The author, who studied the 
 physical sciences, published in 1751 a work on the Principles of 
 Action in Matter, and a treatise on Fluxions. 
 
 WILLIAM GORDON (died 1807) wrote a history of the American 
 llevolution, which has been described as an unadorned narrative 
 of facts. A more elaborate work on the same topic was written 
 by DAVID RAMSAY (1749-1815), and first published in 1790. 
 Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts, already briefly noticed, 
 was continued by GEORGE R. MINOT (1758-1802) ; and about 
 the same time SAMUEL WILLIAMS (17G1-1817), who was esteemed 
 as one of the best historical writers of his age, published A 
 History of Vermont. A few years later, in 1797, ROBERT PROUD 
 published A History of Pennsylvania, which has been characterised 
 as a faithful narrative, and is frequently mentioned in Bancroft's 
 references to authorities. 
 
 In miscellaneous writings including essays and periodical 
 papers the eighteenth century has little to shew besides the 
 popular works of Benjamin Franklin. His contemporary, EZRA 
 
 1 Serth American Review, No. 99.
 
 32 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 STILES (1727-1795), president of Yale College, excelled chiefly 
 in sacred literature, but was a general scholar, and wrote the 
 Lives of the Three Judges of Charles I. The name of DAVID 
 RITTENHOUSE (1732-1796), a great and self-educated genius, who 
 enriched his country by his mechanical inventions, belongs rather 
 to science than to literature. His writings consist of a few 
 memoirs on mathematics and astronomy, and were printed in the 
 first four volumes of Transactions of the Philosophical Society of 
 Philadelphia. We must not forget here that an American, 
 LINDLEY MURRAY, wrote the well-known English Grammar, first 
 published hi 1795. 
 
 The writings in Verse during the latter part of the colonial 
 period, may be very briefly noticed in this place. Passing over 
 several names of versifiers 1 who wrote in the time 1690-1776, we 
 may mention JOHN TRUMBULL (1750-1831), who wrote during the 
 Revolution. His chief work, M'Fingal, is a burlesque in verse 
 of the Hudibrastic style, directed against the enemies of American 
 liberty, British officers, and other Tories. The hero, M'Fingal, 
 is a Scotchman, a violent Tory, and justice of the peace, who 
 makes a virulent speech against liberty, and consequently is 
 ' tarred and feathered.' This is almost the whole plot of the 
 poem, which owed its popularity to its patriotic character. 
 
 Trumbull was the friend and literary associate of TIMOTHY 
 DWIGHT (1752-1817), president of Yale College, already noticed 
 as a theological author. He wrote several poems in a better 
 style than had been previously cultivated. His longest poem, 
 the Conquest of Canaan, is an epic, and was completed in his 
 twenty-third year. The Prospect was written in imitation of 
 Thomson, and The Flourishing Village on the model of Goldsmith's 
 Deserted Village. These poems must be noticed as having 
 exercised a considerable influence on the improvement of style ; 
 although smoothness of versification is their chief merit. 
 
 Another of TrumbulTs friends was JOEL BARLOW (1755-1812), 
 author of a dull epic, The Columbiad, which at one time was 
 unfortunately regarded as a fair specimen of American poetry. 
 Few persons could now be found, either in the Old World or the 
 New, who would have patience to read many pages of this epic, 
 though it was well received on its first appearance in America, 
 
 1 Mr Kettel, in his Specimens of American Poetry, preserves the names of Colman, 
 Jane Turell, Adams, Ralph, Maylem, Godfrey, Evans, Osborn, Byles, Green, 
 Livingston, Church, and Allen all mere versifiers, who have no claims on our 
 notice.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. P. FRENEAU C. B. RROWN. 33 
 
 and was republished in London and Paris. Barlow- estimated 
 his own abilities more correctly when, leaving the ambitious 
 flights of The Columbiad, he condescended to sing in three cantos 
 the praises of Hasty Pudding the title of one of his poems. 
 Here, to say the least, he treated his subject with gusto. The 
 unmerited reputation of the epic may be ascribed to the rank 
 of the author, who was engaged in diplomacy, and resided for 
 some time in Europe. After leaving college, he studied law, 
 served as a chaplain in the army during the war of the revolution, 
 edited a p,aper in Newhaven, and prepared a revised edition of 
 Wattes Version of the Psalms. Forsaking literature, he became 
 the agent of a fraudulent land-selling association, called the Ohio 
 Company ; but it does not appear that he understood the real 
 character of the transactions in which lie was employed. In 
 1795, he was appointed consul for the United States at Algiers, 
 and superintended the redemption of American captives in the 
 States of Barbary. After his return to America, he was engaged 
 in planning a general history of the United States, when he 
 was appointed minister-plenipotentiary to negotiate a treaty of 
 commerce with France. In 1812, being invited to a conference 
 with Napoleon at Wilna, he travelled towards that place in 
 very severe weather, which brought on a violent inflammation 
 of the lungs, of which he died. 
 
 Of all the verse-writers who lived in the era of the Revolu 
 tion, PHILIP FRENEAU, a descendant of French Protestants, was 
 the most poetical. The dates of his birth and death are not 
 found ; but it is known that he graduated at Princeton College, 
 in New Jersey, in 1771, and for some years conducted a news 
 paper in Philadelphia. Two stanzas from his lines on an Indian 
 Bunjing-ground may be quoted : 
 
 ' By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews, 
 In vestments for the chase arrayed, 
 The hunter still the deer pursues 
 The hunter and the deer, a shade ! 
 
 And long shall timorous fancy sec 
 The painted chief and pointed spear, 
 And Reason's self shall bow the knee 
 To shadows and delusions here.' 
 
 In the department of Prose-fiction, we find only one considerable 
 name that of CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN (1771-1810), the 
 first American who chose literature as a profession. Brown was 
 educated under the care of Robert Proud, the historian of 
 
 C
 
 34 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Pennsylvania, and when sixteen years old, commenced the 
 study of law. But he had made little progress before he 
 conceived a violent dislike of his profession, and protested 
 against the whole system of law as a ' tissue of slireds and 
 remnants of a barbarous antiquity.' 
 
 In 1793, without a vocation or any definite intentions, he went 
 to New York, where he wrote visionary papers on politics and 
 society, including a dialogue on the Rights of Women, which 
 seemed to anticipate the doctrines advocated by Margaret Fuller 
 and other American ladies in our own times. An unfinished 
 novel, Memoirs of Cancin, of which we cannot find the date, 
 may be described as an introduction to the romance of Wieland, 
 or the Transformation, published in 1798. This is a strange 
 gloomy tale of seemingly supernatural agencies, which are ulti 
 mately explained by the art of ventriloquism. As we have 
 read only a few pages of Wicland, we must refer to the opinions 
 of American critics. Prescott has said that the character of 
 the hero, Carwin, is demoniacal rather than human; and Dana, 
 writing of Brown, says : ' The energies of his soul were melan 
 choly powers, and their path lay along the dusky dwelling-places 
 of superstition and fear, and death and wo. They manifest 
 themselves in the most striking manner, when he imparts to the 
 dead-level, rectangular streets, and plainly constructed houses of 
 a freshly brick -built city, the gloom, awe, and mystery which 
 hitherto had hung over the damp, dark, intricate passages and 
 dread chambers of inquisitions.' 
 
 Brown's second novel, entitled Ormoncl, is described as an 
 incongruous production ; but it is said that the character of the 
 heroine, Constautia Dudley, is natural and beautiful. A third 
 novel, Arthur Mcrvyn, describes with a painful fidelity scenes in 
 Philadelphia during the pestilence of yellow fever which prevailed 
 there in 1793. This tale was followed by Edgar Huntley, the 
 Memoirs of a Somnambulist. In this story, the interest depends 
 partly on descriptions of scenery, but the adventures of the hero 
 in following a sleep-walker lead to some striking situations. 
 
 Besides three other novels Clara Howard. Memoirs of Stephen 
 Calvert, and Jane Talbot Brown furnished many articles for 
 magazines, edited the American Register, and wrote many political 
 papers. During his short life, he suffered from feeble health, 
 and enjoyed only scanty intervals of recreation. The fact that 
 he wrote with great rapidity, is mentioned apologetically by an 
 editor, Mr Griswold. Of his novels, it is said that ' the author 
 and the printer were engaged at the same time upon nearly every 
 one of them ; and he sometimes had three or four under-way at 
 once. In all of them are indications that he grew weary before
 
 FIRST PERIOD. RARTRAJI CARVER LEDYARD. 35 
 
 they were finished. His style is not good ; in a majority of his 
 works, it lacks simplicity and directness, and has numerous 
 verbal faults.' 
 
 In the department of Voyages and Travels, we may briefly 
 notice the works of Bart ram, Carver, and Ledyard, who wrote in 
 the eighteenth century. JOHN BARTKAM (1701-1777), a native 
 of Pennsylvania, travelled from Canada to Florida in pursuit of 
 his favourite science, botany, and published in London (1751) his 
 Observations on natural history, collected during his tour. This 
 work was followed by his Description of East Florida (1774), 
 which contains a pleasing account of the Seminole Indians. 
 
 JONATHAN CARVER (1732-1780), a native of Connecticut, 
 travelled almost 7000 miles in his attempt to explore the interior 
 of North America, and to penetrate to the Pacific Ocean, between 
 43 and 46 north latitude. He failed to surmount the difficulties 
 of his undertaking, but gathered many notices of the population 
 and natural history of the country. The account of his travels 
 was published in London, 1778, and in Boston, 1797. 
 
 Another native of Connecticut, the enterprising traveller JOHN 
 LEDYARD (1751-1789), sailed with Captain Cook in his second 
 voyage, and afterwards travelled on foot more than GOOO miles 
 east of St Petersburg. This resolute attempt to explore the 
 north of Europe and Asia, was opposed by the Russian govern 
 ment. In his subsequent attempt to trace the source of the 
 Niger, the traveller proceeded no further than Cairo, where he 
 was seized with sickness, and died. Ledyard's journals of travel 
 contain one passage that ought not to be forgotten. His fine 
 eulogium on the kindness of woman, is a summary of his own 
 experience, and therefore is more valuable than a thousand 
 sentimental essays. It is as follows : 
 
 'I have always remarked that women in all countries are civil 
 and obliging, tender and humane ; that they are ever inclined to bo 
 gay and cheerful, timorous and modest ; and that they do not 
 hesitate, like men, to perform a generous action. Not haughty, not 
 arrogant, not supercilious, they are full of courtesy, and fond of 
 society ; more liable in general to err than man, but in general also 
 more virtuous, and performing more good actions than he. To a 
 woman, whether civilised or savage, I never addressed myself in 
 the language of decency and friendship, without receiving a decent 
 and friendly answer. With man, it has often been otherwise. In 
 wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through 
 honest Sweden, and frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland,
 
 36 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wandering 
 Tatar ; if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, the women have ever been 
 friendly to me, and uniformly so. And to add to this virtue, so 
 worthy the appellation of benevolence, their actions have been 
 performed in so free and kind a manner, that if I was dry, I drank 
 the sweetest draught, and if hungry, I ate the coarsest morsel with 
 a double relish.' 
 
 General Literature had made some progress, while theology 
 was losing its exclusive sway, when the circumstances of the 
 impending war gave a new impulse and direction to authors and 
 readers. Politics now gained a prominence almost equal to that 
 enjoyed by theology in the early times of the colonies. Among 
 the writers who acquired reputations by their works published 
 during the revolutionary crisis, we must name JAMES OTIS, 
 author of A Vindication of the Conduct of the House of Represen 
 tatives in Massachusetts; also JOHN DICKINSON, who wrote a 
 series of letters entitled Fabius, advocating the adoption of the 
 federal constitution; EICHARD HENRY LEE, who wrote The 
 Farmer's Letter ; and his brother ARTHUR, who wrote the 
 political papers bearing the signature Junius Americamts. 
 
 ALEXANDER HAMILTON (1757-1804) was the greatest writer, 
 and we might perhaps say statesman, of the revolutionary time. 
 He was born in the island of Nevis. On his father's side, he was 
 descended from a decayed Scotch family, and his mother belonged 
 to the Huguenots of France. At seventeen years of age, 
 Hamilton first appeared as a political speaker at a great meeting 
 held in the open air, when he eloquently protested against the 
 measures of the home government, lie next engaged in a 
 controversy with the clerical Tories of the episcopal church. In 
 1775, he joined a company of military volunteers, and took a part 
 in the first act of armed opposition to the ministry. His services 
 attracted the notice of General Washington, in whose family he 
 resided during several years. After his retirement from the 
 army, Hamilton studied law, came to the bar in 1782, and in the 
 same year was elected member of the congress of the confedera 
 tion. In this capacity, his services were highly important, and 
 subsequently, in the New York assembly (1786), and in the 
 convention for the formation of a federal constitution, 1787. 
 ' There is not,' says Guizot, ' one element of order, strength, 
 or durability in the constitution which he [Hamilton] did not 
 powerfully contribute to introduce into the scheme.' 
 
 Assisted by his friends Madison and Jay, Hamilton commenced 
 the celebrated series of essays known under the name of The
 
 riUST PERIOD. ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 37 
 
 / ' <1< ridifit. When the government was organised, he was 
 appointed secretary of the treasury ; and so faithful and unre 
 mitting were his services in this office, that his successors enjoyed 
 almost a sinecure, for his labours had reduced the work to an 
 easy routine. Yet, so scanty was the payment for these important 
 services, that Hamilton found it .advisable to leave the cabinet, 
 and resume his profession of law, in order to provide for tho 
 wants of his family. He was again called to public duties by the 
 disputes with France, and re-entered the army as rirst officer 
 under Washington. After the death of his commander (1799), he 
 returned to the bar. 
 
 Hamilton, like his contemporary Fisher Ames, had a dread 
 of ultra-democracy, and the expression of his fears gave rise to 
 injurious suspicions of his motives ; but it appears that no charge 
 can be maintained against the consistency of his public life. In 
 the federal convention, he proposed that the offices of the 
 president and the senators should be held ' during good behaviour; 1 
 and argued that incalculable mischief must result from the too 
 frequent elections of a chief-magistrate, attended, as they must be, 
 by the transfer of an immense power of patronage. Addressing 
 another speaker, he said : ' You and I, my friend, may not live 
 to see the day ; but most assuredly it will come, when every vital 
 i/i/ii-inf of the state will be merged in the all-absorbing question of 
 " Who shall be the next president?"' 1 This safe prediction was 
 very soon fulfilled. In the year 1800, at a crisis when, if a 
 president had not been speedily chosen, the government must 
 have perished, the competition of the two parties was so eager, 
 that equal votes appeared for Jefferson and Burr, and the voting 
 was repeated thirty-jive times in the House of Representatives 
 before the former could gain a majority of one state ! 
 
 In 1804, Hamilton fell in a duel with Aaron Burr, vice-president 
 of the United States; or, considering the circumstances of the 
 affair, it would be more correct to say he was assassinated. Burr 
 gave the challenge ; and Hamilton, dreading the stigma of 
 cowardice, went, without any intention of injuring his opponent, 
 to the appointed place of meeting at AVeehawken, near New York, 
 and was slain. 
 
 The, Federalist, the most prominent work of the revolutionary 
 times, was written chiefly by Alexander Hamilton, but included 
 papers contributed by James Madison and John Jay. This 
 work, designed to elucidate and support the principles of the 
 constitution of the United States, is esteemed as a ' political 
 classic.' To quote The Edinburgh Review ' It exhibits an extent 
 and precision of information, a profundity of research, and an 
 acuteness of understanding, which would have done honour to the
 
 38 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 most illustrious statesmen of ancient or modern times.' Hamilton 
 was also the author of Phocion, a series of letters in favour of 
 clemency to loyalists; and wrote, in 1793, the papers signed 
 Pacifists. 
 
 JOHN ADAMS, second president of the United States, com 
 menced, in 1755, a diary which contains valuable contributions to 
 the materials of American history. He also wrote A Defence 
 of the American Constitution, and numerous political papers and 
 letters, which have been collected and edited by his grandson 
 Charles Francis Adams. 
 
 THOMAS JEFFERSON (1743-1826), third president of the 
 United States, desired that it should be engraved on his monu 
 ment that ' he was the author of the Declaration of Independence ;' 
 but the validity of his claim has been disputed. His other 
 writings consist of the Notes on Virginia (1781), autobiography, 
 correspondence, and various state-papers which were edited by 
 Randolph. In his excursions into general literature, he betrayed 
 shallowness and presumption ; and his views of religion, morals. 
 and politics were borrowed from the French revolutionists. 
 He patronised and eulogised the democrat writer THOMAS 
 PAINE (1737-1809), who emigrated to America in 1774, and here 
 published the tract entitled Common Sense, which had a remark 
 able success, because its doctrines fell In with the popular 
 excitement of the times. 
 
 FISHER AMES (1758-1808), a bold writer and speaker, gained 
 a high reputation chiefly by the enthusiasm and lively style of 
 his political papers and orations ; but these were commonly 
 deficient in sobriety and fair argument. That he was a fearless 
 advocate, may be easily proved by his assertions of opinions by 
 no means popular in his day. He described ' the turnpike-road 
 of history' as 'white with the tombstones of republics,' and 
 regarded ' the rabble of great cities as the standing army of 
 ambition.' The following short extract intellect in a democracy 
 is quoted from an Essay on American Literature : 
 
 ' Intellectual superiority is so far from conciliating confidence, 
 that it is the very spirit of a democracy, as in France, to proscribe 
 the aristocracy of talents. To be the favourite of an ignorant 
 multitude, a man must descend to their level ; he must desire what 
 they desire, and detest all they do not approve : lie must yield to 
 their prejudices, and substitute them for principles. Instead of 
 enlightening their errors, he must adopt them ; he must furnish tho 
 sophistry that will propagate and defend them.'
 
 FIRST PERIOD. NEWSPAPERS, ETC. 39 
 
 This is a fair specimen of the one-sided declamation in which 
 Ames indulged. It is obvious that his assertions, mutatis mutandis, 
 might have been as fairly applied to monarchies and aristocracies. 
 Logic has too commonly a slender connection with political 
 discussions. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS AND OTHER PERIODICALS. 
 
 1690-1800.1 
 
 The first newspaper in North America was commenced at 
 Boston in 1690 ; but of this only one copy has been preserved, 2 
 and it seems probable that it was very soon, discontinued. On 
 the 24th of April, in 1704, The Boston News-letter appeared. 
 ' In 1719, it obtained a rival at Boston, and was imitated at 
 Philadelphia. In 1740, the number of newspapers in the English 
 colonies on the continent had increased to eleven, of which one 
 appeared in South Carolina, one in Virginia, three in Pennsylvania 
 one of them being in German one in New York, and the 
 remaining five in Boston. The paper at first used was of the 
 foolscap size ; and only one sheet, or even half a sheet, was issued 
 weekly. The papers sought support rather by modestly relating 
 the news of the day, than by engaging in conflicts ; they had no 
 political theories to enforce, no revolutions to hasten. In Boston, 
 indeed, where the pulpit had sent Quakers and witches to the 
 gallows, one newspaper, The New England Courant, the fourth 
 American periodical, was established in 1721 by James Franklin, 
 as an organ of independent opinion. Its temporary success 
 was advanced by Benjamin, his brother and apprentice, a boy of 
 fifteen, who wrote pieces for its humble columns ; worked in com 
 posing the types, as well as in printing off the sheets ; and carried 
 about the papers to the customers. The little sheet satirised 
 hypocrisy, and spoke of religious knaves as of all knaves the 
 worst. This was described as tending " to abuse the ministers 
 of religion in a manner which was intolerable." "I can well 
 remember," writes Increase Mather, then more than fourscore 
 years of age, " when the civil government would have taken an 
 effectual course to suppress such a cursed libel." In July 1722, 
 a resolve passed the council, appointing a censor for the press 
 of James Franklin ; but the house refused its concurrence. The 
 ministers persevered ; and in January 1723, a committee of 
 
 1 For the details in this section, we are chiefly indebted to the writer of the 
 article, ' Periodical Literature of the United States,' North American Ktvictr, No. 85. 
 
 2 Triihner, Bibliograi>hi?itl (,'niile to American Literature. Bancroft mentions 
 the Jfeu-s-lftter as the first newspaper.
 
 40 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 inquiry was raised by the legislature. Benjamin Franklin being 
 examined, escaped with an admonition ; James, the publisher, 
 refusing to discover the author of the offence, was kept in jail for 
 a month ; his paper was censured as reflecting injuriously on the 
 reverend ministers of the gospel ; and, by vote of the house and 
 council, he was forbidden to print it, " except it be first 
 supervised.'" 1 
 
 After Benjamin Franklin had eloped from Boston, the Courant 
 continued to be published in his name, because an order of the 
 General Court had forbidden the publication on the part of James. 
 In 1734, The Weekly Post-boy was started in Boston, and was 
 followed in 1748 by The Independent Advertiser, also published 
 in the metropolis. Out of Boston, the first newspaper was The 
 American Weekly 'Mercury, commenced in Philadelphia, 1719; 
 followed by The New York Gazette in 1728. Besides these, we 
 find, in 1750, The Rhode Island Gazette, begun in Newport, 1732 ; 
 The Pennsylvania Gazette, started in 1728 ; The Maryland Gazette, 
 dating from 1728 ; The Virginia Gazette, from 1736 : two successive 
 South Carolina Gazettes, 1731 and 1734 ; and five other papers 
 three in New York, and two in Pennsylvania. Of these two, one 
 was a German paper. 
 
 In the times of political excitement, after 1750, newspapers 
 increased rapidly in number ; and in 1790, there were about 
 seventy in the United States. ' The press was introduced into 
 the wilds of Kentucky in 1786, and into Tennessee in 1793. 
 .... In 1795, a newspaper was established at Cincinnati, then 
 an Indian trading-post, on the extreme border of western 
 civilisation.' 2 
 
 The earliest papers were commonly printed on a half-sheet of 
 pot paper ; but now and then, when a pressure of news required 
 a supplement, a whole sheet was given. There was only one 
 advertisement in the first number of The Ncu-s-lettcr. The editor, 
 Campbell, a Scotchman, must have acquired a very respectable 
 position in society, for he was appointed as justice of the peace. 
 In 1718, he announced that, after fourteen years' experience, he 
 found it impossible to crowd ' all the public news of Europe ' 
 into a half-sheet of pot paper ! His greatest trial was the compe 
 tition of Franklin's Courant. That small spitefulness which now 
 forms the sole animating principle of too many provincial papers, 
 was almost coeval with the press in New England. First, The 
 Courant, hi its prospectus, most invidiously described The News 
 letter as ' a dull vehicle ; ' a form of abuse oddly like one of our 
 modern slang phrases. The Scotch editor replied by stating, that 
 
 1 Bancroft. 
 
 2 Trttbner's Bibliographical Guide to American Literature.
 
 FIRST PERIOD. NEWSPAPERS, ETC. 41 
 
 a new paper had appeared, edited by a ' Jack-of-all-trades,' ' good 
 at none, and giving some very, very frothy, fulsome account of 
 himself.' This was a free translation of Franklin's motto homo 
 non uniiis negotii. With such spirit was this gentlemanly argument 
 conducted, that Campbell was stimulated to give a whole sheet 
 every week for two months ; but when the excitement had passed 
 over, he returned to his primitive half-sheet of pot. 
 
 The New England Journal, after an independent life of fifteen 
 years, was united with The Boston Gazette, and so continued until 
 1752. During its separate existence, it took a leading part in 
 religious disputes, and among its contributors we find a waggish 
 minister, the Rev. Mather Byles, who reminds us that the stern 
 old times of Puritanism have passed away. He was a man of 
 considerable learning, and corresponded with Pope, the English 
 poet ; but his inveterate punning made him the Joe Miller of 
 Boston. He was not only humorous, but was the cause of 
 humour in others ; and the good people of Boston seem to have 
 been especially amused by an encounter of wit between Byles 
 and his fellow-townsman Joseph Green. The latter, who wrote 
 rhymes, tells us that ' on one occasion, when Byles was engaged 
 to conduct divine service on board a vessel, finding no collection 
 of psalmody, he wrote for the edification of the crew a metrical 
 psalm.' Green describes how Byles lamented that even David 
 had never written ' a proper psalm to sing at sea,' and to supply 
 the supposed defect, produced from his own poetic resources a 
 psalm of a very dreary character, as a few lines will shew. He 
 
 1 Sat down, took out his book, and said : 
 " Let's sing a psalm of Mather Byles." 
 
 At first, when he began to read, 
 
 Their heads the assembly downward hung ; 
 
 But he with boldness did proceed, 
 
 And thus he read, and thus they sung : 
 
 tt With vast amazement we survey 
 
 The wonders of the deep, 
 Where mackerel swim, and porpoise play, 
 
 And crabs and lobsters creep."' 
 
 Another paper, The Weekly Rehearsal afterwards styled The 
 Boston Evening Post was edited by a humorous and satirical 
 printer named Fleet. He sometimes inserted a joke in the 
 place of an advertisement, if we may accept the following as 
 a joke : 
 
 ' To be sold by the printer of this paper, a negro man, about thirty 
 years old, who can do both town and country business very well, but
 
 42 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 will suit the country best, where they have not so many dram-shops 
 as we have in Boston.' 
 
 Hawthorne, in his pleasant review of old American newspapers, 
 says, ' no advertisements ' are more frequent than those of a 
 " negro fellow, fit for almost any household work ;" a " negro 
 woman, honest, healthy, and capable ;" or " a negro man very fit 
 for a tailor,"' &c. 
 
 We can find no books of the latter part of the seventeenth 
 and early part of the eighteenth century which give concise and 
 lifelike sketches of the people of those times. To collect the 
 traits of popular life, we must search through many old records, 
 pamphlets, and old newspapers. This work has been partly done 
 for us by the graphic writer already quoted, who gives, as the 
 result of his porings over old newspapers, a pleasant sketch, from 
 which we may borrow some paragraphs : 
 
 OLD NEWS. 1719-1744. 
 
 e The first pages of most of these old papers are as soporific as a 
 bed of poppies. Here we have an erudite clergyman, or perhaps 
 a Cambridge professor, occupying several successive weeks with a 
 criticism on Tate and Brady, as compared with the New England 
 version of the Psalms. Of course, the preference is given to the 
 native article 
 
 In vain we endeavour to throw a sunny and joyous air over our 
 picture of this period ; nothing passes before our fancy but a crowd 
 of sad-visaged people, moving duskily through a dull gray atmo 
 sphere. It is certain that winter rushed upon them with fiercer 
 storms than now, blocking up the narrow forest-paths, and over 
 whelming the roads along the sea-coast with mountain snow-drifts, 
 so that weeks elapsed before the newspaper could announce how 
 many travellers had perished, or what wrecks had strewn the shore. 
 The cold was more piercing then, and lingered further into the 
 spring, making the chimney-corner a comfortable seat till long past 
 May-day. By the number of such accidents on record, we might 
 suppose that the thunder-stone, as they termed it, fell oftener and 
 deadlier on steeples, dwellings, and unsheltered wretches. In fine, 
 our fathers bore the brunt of more raging and pitiless elements than 
 we. There were forebodings, also, of a more fearful tempest than 
 those of the elements. At two or three dates, we have stories of 
 drums, trumpets, and all sorts of martial music, passing athwart the 
 midnight sky, accompanied with the roar of cannon and rattle of 
 musketry ; prophetic echoes of the sounds that were soon to shake 
 the land. Besides these airy prognostics, there were rumours of 
 French fleets on the coast, and of the march of French and Indians 
 through the wilderness, along the borders of the settlements. The 
 country was saddened, moreover, with grievous sickness. The 
 small-pox raged in many of the towns, and seems, though so familiar
 
 FIRST PERIOD. NEWSPAPERS, ETC. 43 
 
 a scourge, to have been regarded with as much affright as that 
 which drove the throng from Wall Street and Broadway at the 
 approach of a new pestilence. There were autumnal fevers, too, 
 and a contagious and destructive throat distemper diseases 
 unwritten in medical books. The dark superstition of former days 
 had not yet been so far dispelled as not to heighten the gloom of the 
 present times. There is an advertisement, indeed, by a committee 
 of the legislature, calling for information as to the circumstances of 
 sufferers in the " late calamity of 1692," l witli a view to reparation 
 for their losses and misfortunes. But the tenderness with which, 
 after above forty years, it was thought expedient to allude to the 
 witchcraft delusion, indicates a good deal of lingering error, as well 
 as the advance of more enlightened opinions. The rigid hand of 
 Puritanism might yet be felt upon the reins of government, while 
 some of the ordinances intimate a disorderly spirit on the part of 
 the people.' 
 
 At a later period the time of the old French war we find the 
 papers full of indications of the military spirit that moved the 
 colonies. ' In the letters of the provincial officers, it is amusing 
 to observe how some of them endeavour to catch the careless and 
 jovial turn of old campaigners. One gentleman tells us, that he 
 holds a brimming glass in his hand, intending to drink the health 
 of his correspondent, unless a cannon-ball should dash the liquor 
 from his lips.' We read of ' bears driven from the woods by the 
 uproar of contending armies, and prowling within a mile or two 
 of Boston. In the advertising columns, also, we are continually 
 reminded that the country was in a state of war. Governor 
 Pownall makes proclamation for the enlisting of soldiers, and 
 directs the militia colonels to attend to the discipline of their 
 regiments, and the select men of every town to replenish their 
 stocks of ammunition. The magazine, by the way, was generally 
 kept in the upper loft of the village meeting-house. The 
 provincial captains are drumming up for soldiers in every 
 newspaper. Sir Jeffrey Amherst advertises for bateau-men, 
 to be employed on the lakes ; and gives notice to the officers of 
 seven British regiments, dispersed on the recruiting-service, to 
 rendezvous in Boston. Captain Hallowell, of the province ship of 
 war King George, invites able-bodied seamen to serve his majesty, 
 for fifteen pounds, old tenor, 2 per month. By the rewards offered, 
 there would appear to have been frequent desertions from the 
 New England forces ; we applaud their wisdom, if not their 
 valour or integrity. Cannon of all calibres, gunpowder and 
 
 1 The delusion in Salem, of which some account has been given in the notice of 
 Cotton Mather and his Times. 
 - A New England currency.
 
 44 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 balls, firelocks, pistols, swords, and hangers, were common articles 
 of merchandise. Daniel Jones, at the sign of the Hat and 
 Helmet, offers to supply officers with scarlet broadcloth, gold 
 lace for hats and waistcoats, cockades, and other military foppery, 
 allowing credit until the pay-rolls shall be made up.' l 
 
 Magazines, and other periodicals less ephemeral than news 
 papers, had little success before the Revolution. T/ie Boston 
 Weekly Magazine, begun in 1743, lingered through only four 
 numbers ; and The Christian History, starting witli the religious 
 excitement under Whitefield, came to a close in two years 
 1743-45. The American Magazine and Historical Chronicle was 
 issued monthly for more than three years, beginning in 1743. 
 Passing over other attempts of short duration, we find The 
 General Magazine, commenced by Franklin about the time 1741, 
 and may notice The Pennsylvania Magazine, begun by Robert 
 Aitken in 1775, which owed its celebrity mainly to contributions 
 by the notorious Thomas Paine. His ' necessary apparatus ' for 
 writing a leading article ' included,' as Aitken says, ' a decanter 
 of brandy.' Altogether, about a dozen periodicals of a class 
 above newspapers were commenced before the Revolution ; but 
 as they exerted no considerable influence on life in America, they 
 require no lengthened notice. The first successful magazine was 
 The Portfolio (1801). Charles Brockden Brown, the novelist, tried 
 a Monthly Magazine and American Review in 1794, but it was 
 a failure. The times were more favourable to the excitements 
 of politics than to the quiet pursuits of literature. 
 
 1 Hawthorne's paper on Old _V<iM.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. 
 
 1800-1855. 
 
 PORTAL: 
 
 ALLSTON PAULDIXG PIERPONT DANA SPKAGUE WILDE IIILL- 
 
 HOUSE DRAKE BRYANT NEAT, FERCIVAL HALLECK BHAIXARD 
 DOANE EMERSON. 
 
 IN order to include the names of a few writers who preceded 
 Irving and Bryant, the second period in American literature may 
 be defined as extending from 1 800 to the present time ; but it 
 should be observed that nearly all the best works in poetry, 
 prose-fiction, history, biography, and criticism to say nothing of 
 special writings in the several sciences have been produced 
 within the space of the last thirty-five years ; while American 
 readers have had free access to all the rich stores of modern 
 English literature. 
 
 It seems idle to speculate on all that might have been done by 
 writers in the United States, who have had to contend against 
 circumstances very unfavourable to the development of a national 
 literature. This remark may be especially applied to poetry and 
 prose-fiction. Instead of complaining that poets and novelists 
 have done little to illustrate life on the western side of the 
 Atlantic, we might as reasonably express our surprise that so 
 much has been done within the space of a short lifetime, and in 
 a country where the writings of Scott, Campbell, Wordsworth, 
 Byron, Bulwer, Dickens, Thackeray, and a host of other English 
 authors, have been so cheaply circulated. 
 
 Mr Griswold, whose definition of poetry appears to be 
 exceedingly liberal, has given, in his work on the Poets and 
 Poetry of America, the names of more than one hundred and 
 forty authors who have written verses since the Revolution. 
 This abundance of materials makes our task of selection rather 
 difficult, and it is very probable that we may omit to mention 
 names as worthy of notice as some that may be included in 
 our brief review. To explain our reasons for passing over many
 
 46 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of the inferior names, it may be sufficient to quote the remarks 
 of an intelligent American critic E. P. Whipple. Speaking 
 of the selection by Mr Griswold, he says : ' Some of the authors 
 whom he has included in the list are unworthy of the honour of 
 having their feebleness thrust into notice. From others of more 
 pretensions, he has copied too unsparingly. A few of his critical 
 notices reflect more credit upon his benevolence than his taste. 
 He seems to have fixed the price of admission low, in order, as 
 the show-bills say, that the public might be more generally 
 accommodated. King James I. debased the ancient order 
 of knighthood, by laying his sword on the shoulder of every 
 pander or buffoon who recommended himself by the fulness of his 
 purse, the readiness of his jests, or the pliancy of his conscience. 
 Editors should keep this fact in mind, and extract from it the 
 warning and admonition it is so eminently calculated to suggest.' 
 
 In obedience to this wholesome rule, we may pass over the 
 names of several verse-writers who succeeded Philip Freneau, and 
 wrote before the time of W. C. Bryant. ALLSTON, the painter, 
 included versification among his general accomplishments ; but 
 his poems have no remarkable merit. PAULDING, the novelist, 
 wrote a poem, entitled The BacJacoodsman, of which the design 
 was better than the execution. 
 
 JOHN PIEIIPOXT, author of lyrical poems which gained a consi 
 derable popularity, was a native of Litchfield in Connecticut, and 
 was born April 6, 1785. In 1816, he published his poem, entitled 
 The Airs of Palestine, which passed through several editions, and 
 is chiefly remarkable for its smooth versification in describing the 
 effects of music. We prefer his occasional lyrical poems, of which 
 the following stanzas afford a favourable specimen : 
 
 THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 
 
 ' The pilgrim exile sainted name ! 
 
 The hill, whose icy brow 
 Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, 
 
 In the morning's flame burns now. 
 And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night 
 
 On the hillside and the sea, 
 Still lies where he laid his houseless head ; 
 
 But the pilgrim where is he ? 
 
 The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest : 
 
 When summer 's throned on high, 
 And the world's warm breast is in verdure dressed, 
 
 Go, stand on the hill where they lie.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. H. DANA. 47 
 
 The earliest ray of the golden day 
 
 On that hallowed spot is cast ; 
 And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, 
 
 Looks kindly on that spot last. 
 
 The pilgrim spirit has not fled : 
 
 It walks in noon's broad light ; 
 And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, 
 
 "With the holy stars, by night. 
 It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, 
 
 And shall guard this ice-bound shore, 
 Till the waves of the bay, where the May-flotcer lay, 
 
 Shall foam and freeze no more.' 
 
 RICHARD HENRY DANA, a native of Massachusetts, is well 
 known as a prose-writer, especially as the author of numerous 
 essays and reviews, published in The North American Review, The 
 United States Review and Literary Gazette, The American Quarterly 
 Observer, and other periodicals. His chief poetical works include 
 the tale of The Bucaneer, Tlie Changes of Home, and a didactic 
 essay in verse, entitled Factitious Life. The style of these and 
 other poems by Dana is original, and often graphic. A melancholy 
 tone usually prevails. The Bucaneer is a gloomy narrative of 
 the crimes of a pirate named Matthew Lee, ' a dark, low, brawny 
 man,' who reigned in a solitary island. The opening of the poem, 
 describing the quiet scenery of the pirate's island, forms a pleasing 
 contrast with the sequel : 
 
 ' The island lies nine leagues away. 
 
 Along its solitary shore, 
 
 Of craggy rock and sandy bay, 
 
 No sound but ocean's roar, 
 
 Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home ; 
 Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. 
 
 But when the light winds lie at rest, 
 
 And on the glassy, heaving sea, 
 
 The black duck, with her glossy breast, 
 
 Sits swinging silently ; 
 How beautiful ! no ripples break the reach, 
 And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach. 
 
 And inland rests the green, warm dell ; 
 
 The brook comes tinkling down its side ; 
 
 From out the trees the Sabbath-bell 
 
 Rings cheerful, far and wide, 
 Mingling its sound with bleatings of the flocks, 
 That feed about the vale amongst the rocks.
 
 43 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Nor holy bell, nor pastoral bleat 
 
 In former days within the vale ; 
 
 Flapped in the bay the pirate's sheet ; 
 
 Curses were on the gale ; 
 
 Erch goods lay on the sand, and murdered men ; 
 Pirate and wrecker kept their revels then. 
 
 But calm, low voices, words of grace, 
 
 Now slowly fall upon the ear ; 
 
 A quiet look is in each face, 
 
 Subdued and holy fear : 
 Each motion 's gentle ; all is kindly done. 
 Come, listen, how from crime the isle was won.' 
 
 The taste displayed in many parts of the narrative is question 
 able, and the interest is diminished rather than increased by the 
 use of supernatural agency, which destroys the air of reality 
 given to some of the descriptions. This opinion, derived from 
 a perusal of the poem, differs widely from the judgment of an 
 American reviewer, who says of The Bucaneer : ' The peculiar 
 force of the poem lies, we think, in the mingling of the natural 
 and supernatural, and the air of reality which is thrown over 
 both. A certain mystery shrouds the scenes, the transaction, 
 and its consequences.' 1 Among the minor poems of Dana, the 
 lines on the ' Little Beach-bird ' have a sombre beauty. In 
 other poems, the habitual pensiveness of Dana ' deepens into 
 gloom.' ' His compositions,' says the critic already named, ' have 
 more hearse-like airs than carols.' When he addresses the ocean, 
 be says : 
 
 'Before an ear did hear thee, thou didst mourn, 
 Prophet of sorrows ! o'er a race unborn.' 
 
 CHARLES SPRAGUE, like the greater number of American 
 writers, devoted to literature only the few leisure hours allowed 
 by mercantile pursuits. He was born in Boston (1791), where, for 
 several years, he held the situation of cashier of the Globe Bank. 
 A theatrical prize-prologue first introduced him to the reading 
 public, and was followed by other poems, of which the best are 
 the short unassuming pieces devoted to the domestic affections. 
 The didactic poem entitled Curiosity, contains passages of satire ; 
 but Sprague was deficient in the qualities of mind and temper that 
 make a keen satirist, and was more at home with ' quiet pictures 
 of fireside joys and sorrows,' such as The Brothers and The Family 
 Meeting. He resembles Bryant in the harmony of his diction. 
 
 1 Forth American Review, No. 150, p. 136.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. CHARLES SPRAGUE. 49 
 
 In a style of comparison which is generally injurious to the 
 author whom it would elevate above his true position, Sprague 
 has been called ' the American Pope ; ' this unhappily reminds 
 us of Klopstock, ' the very German Milton.' Sprague has neither 
 the laconic force of expression, nor the pointed wit and malevo 
 lence of the English satirist ; but excels in his quiet little poems, 
 telling of household love and grief, and apparently uttered 
 spontaneously from his own heart. His poetry, which is uni 
 formly pure and elevated in its tone, has enjoyed a considerable 
 popularity in America. We quote one of the shorter pieces : 
 
 THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS. 
 
 Two swallows, having flown into church during divine service, were apostrophised 
 :n the following stanzas : 
 
 ' Gay, guiltless pair, 
 What seek ye from the fields of heaven ? 
 
 Ye have no need of prayer, 
 Ye have no sins to be forgiven. 
 
 Why perch ye here, 
 Where mortals to t their Maker bend ? 
 
 Can your pure spirits fear 
 The God ye never could offend ? 
 
 Ye never knew 
 The crimes for which we come to weep. 
 
 Penance is not for you, 
 Blessed wanderers of the upper deep. 
 
 To you 'tis given 
 To wake sweet nature's untaught lays ; 
 
 Beneath the arch of heaven 
 To chirp away a life of praise. 
 
 Then spread each wing, 
 Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands, 
 
 And join the choirs that sing 
 In yon blue dome not reared with hands. 
 
 Or if ye stay, 
 To note the consecrated hour, 
 
 Teach me the airy way, 
 And let me try your envied power. 
 
 Above the crowd, 
 On xipward wings could I but fly, 
 I 'd bathe in yon bright cloud, 
 And seek the stars that gem the sky.
 
 50 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 'Twere heaven indeed, 
 Through fields of trackless light to soar, 
 
 On nature's charms to feed, 
 And nature's own great God adore.' 
 
 EICHARD WILDE (1789-1847) must be mentioned as the writer 
 of one beautiful song The Lament of the Captive. His other 
 writings in verse consisted mostly of translations from Italian 
 poetry. In prose, he wrote a work entitled Conjectures and 
 Researches concerning the Love, Madness, and Imprisonment of 
 Torquato Tasso (1842), in which he attempted to prove that the 
 friendship between the poet and the Princess Leonora of Este 
 was mutual, and that the madness of Tasso was feigned. 
 
 In the narrative sketch prefixed to the following song, we read 
 that a solitary European was left alive after a battle between 
 his friends and a tribe of Indians, among whom he remained in 
 captivity. In this condition, he refused to be consoled by the 
 kindness of his captors : 
 
 ' Xor other wish or joy the lone one had, 
 Save on the solitary shore to roam, 
 Or sit and gaze for hours upon the deep, 
 That rolled between him and his native home ; 
 And when he thought none marked him, he would weep, 
 Or sing this song of wo, which still our maidens keep.' 
 
 THE LAMENT OF THE CAPTIVE. 1 
 
 ' My life is like the summer- rose 
 That opens to the morning sky, 
 And ere the shades of evening close, 
 Is scattered on the ground to die ! 
 Yet on that rose's humble bed 
 The softest dews of night are shed, 
 As though she wept such waste to see 
 But none shall drop a tear for me ! 
 
 My life is like the autumn leaf 
 That trembles in the moon's pale ray, 
 Its hold is frail its date is brief, 
 Restless and soon to pass away ! 
 Yet, when that leaf shall fall and fade, 
 The parent tree will mourn its shade, 
 
 1 There has been some dispute respecting the authorship of this song. ' The 
 statement of Captain Basil Hall, that it was written in Germany ; of others, that 
 it was by an Irish poet; and of a third party, that it was from the Greek of 
 Alcseus, gave rise to an amusing controversy, in which, I scarcely need state, its 
 originality and Mr Wilde's authorship of it were established.' GRISWOLD.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. HILLHOUSE DRAKE BRYANT. 51 
 
 The wind bewail the leafless tree, 
 
 But none shall breathe one sigh for me ! 
 
 My life is like the track of feet 
 
 Left upon Tampa's desert strand ; 
 
 Soon as the rising tide shall beat, 
 
 Their marks shall vanish from the sand ; 
 
 Yet, as if grieving to efface 
 
 All vestige of the human race, 
 
 On that lone shore loud moans the sea, 
 
 But none shall thus lament for me !' 
 
 JAMES A. HILLIIOUSE, a native of Connecticut, wrote in a 
 superior style several dramatic poems not intended for the stage. 
 Of these, the best, entitled Hadad (1825), is founded on a 
 Scriptural subject. It has been commended by the American 
 reviewers as ' a chaste and beautiful production, evincing skill 
 and taste in composition, and pure and melodious in its tone.' 
 JOSEPH DRAKE, who died in 1820, wrote a spirited lyric on the 
 American Flag, and a poem entitled The Culprit Fay, which 
 displayed a poetical fancy above mediocrity. Pleasing verses, 
 but without any examples of remarkable originality, might be 
 selected from the specimens given under the names of Ware, 
 Sands, Goodrich, Clason, and Leggett ; but these, with many 
 other versifiers of the same class, must be left unnoticed, in order 
 to allow space for the writers who have made some marked 
 progress in the cultivation of imaginative literature. 
 
 For the correctness and beauty of his diction, the truthfulness 
 of his descriptions of nature, and the noble sentiments blended 
 with his imaginative verses, Bryant claims, perhaps, the most 
 prominent place among the poets of America. 
 
 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, the son of a respectable physician 
 (Dr Peter Bryant), was born, November 3, 1794, at Cummington, 
 Massachusetts. A taste for versification appeared during his 
 boyhood, and in his fourteenth year he published several poems, 
 which were well received. In 1810, he entered Williams College, 
 and after remaining here two years, studied law, and was 
 admitted to the bar at Plymouth, Massachusetts, in 1815. In 
 1821, he published at Cambridge a volume of occasional poems, 
 containing some of his best pieces The Ages, Thanatopsis (a 
 meditation on death), Lines to a Waterfowl, Green River, The 
 Yellow Violet, and the Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood. In 
 1825, Bryant resigned the profession of law, and removed to New 
 York, where he was engaged as one of the editors of The United 
 States Review and Literary Gazette, and subsequently of The
 
 52 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Evening Post, with which he has been long connected. With 
 reference to his writings for the newspaper press, he has described 
 himself as one 
 
 ' Forced to drudge for the dregs of men, 
 And scrawl strange words with the barbarous pen.' 
 
 By this labour, however, he has acquired a competent fortune, 
 while he has sacrificed to it the time required for making progress 
 in his favourite pursuit of elegant literature. Nothing he has 
 written in later years is superior to the poems published in 
 1821. The first edition of his collected poems appeared in 1832, 
 and was generally received by the reviewers and the public as 
 ' the best volume of American poetry.' It was also well received 
 in Great Britain ; and a review, written by Professor Wilson in 
 his enthusiastic style of commendation, served to increase 
 Bryant's popularity. 
 
 Though encouraged by success at home and abroad, he has 
 written little. Having no remarkable variety of thought or 
 invention, he has well understood the range of his own powers of 
 mind, and has judiciously employed his resources, thus avoiding 
 the fault of self- repetition often found in more voluminous writers. 
 His poems chiefly consist of meditations and descriptions, 
 expressed in a style of chaste beauty. Few have any great 
 narrative interest, while of dramatic power we find no trace. 
 This defect is common to several modern poets, who differ widely 
 in other respects. Byron was constantly repeating his own real or 
 imaginary characteristics ; and in Wordsworth of whose poems 
 we should suppose Bryant to be a diligent student we find 
 continually but one character. The pedler in The Excursion is 
 but a thin disguise of garb, and the rector is none other than 
 Wordsworth in priest's orders. Another defect in the poems of 
 Bryant, is their want of novelty in topics. We must complain 
 that a writer, having command of a style so correct and elegant, 
 has directed his attention so much to general themes topics 
 common to all the poets of all nations and that he has not 
 celebrated more frequently the peculiar aspects of life and nature 
 in the Western World the career of the pioneer, the adventure on 
 the prairie and in the forest. In saying this, we remember the 
 peculiar historical circumstances which limit the range of the 
 American poet. We admit that poetry of the highest order 
 cannot be composed of description that it requires human 
 interests, such as are found in nations with long-cherished tradi 
 tions. ' America has no ruined towers, covered and beautified with 
 legends as with ivy-leaves; no old ancestral homes, haunted by 
 memories of ancient times. Its lakes are sublime in their extent ;
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. C. BRYANT. 3 
 
 but there are no points of historical interest on their shores. Its 
 mighty rivers are associated with the industry and commerce of 
 the present day, and also with thoughts of the future ; but not 
 with the old recollections on which imagination loves to dwell.' 
 But, making allowance for these circumstances, we still believe 
 that Bryant might have done more for the poetic illustration of life 
 in America. He has devoted several poems to the memory of the 
 Red Indians among them, The Indian GlrVs Lament, remarkable 
 for its quiet pathos but these poems can scarcely be numbered 
 with his best productions. Perhaps, enough has been said of this 
 defect, though it is a serious one ; for, admitting the abstract 
 correctness of our remarks, the poet and newspaper editor may 
 remind us of his work on the New York Evening Post as claiming 
 the greater part of his attention, and leaving only stray leisure 
 hours for the cultivation of poetry. America, with all her wealth, 
 has not hitherto been able and willing to find places for the few 
 men devoted to the refinements of literature. 
 
 An American critic has well expressed the general estimate of 
 Bryant's poetry : l ' The serene beauty and thoughtful tenderness 
 which characterise his descriptions, or rather interpretations of 
 outward objects, are paralleled only in Wordsworth. His poems 
 are almost perfect of their kind. The fruits of meditation, rather 
 than of passion or imagination ; and rarely startling with an 
 unexpected image or sudden outbreak of feeling, they are admir 
 able specimens of what may be called the philosophy of the soul. 
 They address the finer instincts of our nature with a voice so 
 winning and gentle they search out with such subtle power all 
 in the heart which is true and good that their influence, though 
 quiet, is resistless. They have consecrated to many minds things 
 which before it was painful to contemplate. Who can say that 
 his feelings and fears respecting death have not received an insen 
 sible change since reading the Thanatopsisf Indeed, we think 
 that Bryant's poems are valuable not only for their intrinsic 
 excellence, but for the vast influence their wide circulation is 
 calculated to exercise on national feelings and manners. It is 
 impossible to read them without being morally benefited : they 
 purify as well as please : they develop or encourage all the 
 elevated and thoughtful tendencies of the mind. In the jar and 
 bustle of our American life, more favourable to quickness and 
 acuteness of mind than to meditation, it is well that we have a 
 poet who can bring the hues and odours of nature into the crowded 
 mart, and, by ennobling thoughts of man and his destiny, induce 
 the most worldly to give their eyes an occasional glance upward, 
 
 1 Jfor(h American Bevietc, No. 122.
 
 54 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and the most selfish to feel that the love of God and man is better 
 than the love of Mammon.' 
 
 The style of Bryant is worthy of his thoughts it is pure, chaste, 
 and clear. As his thoughts are free from that mysticism which 
 has been affected by too many modern versifiers, so his language 
 is free from everything bombastic or forced. If we wish to find 
 fault, we must speak of qualities wanting in his poems ; for in 
 their own kind they are, as the reviewer has said, almost perfect. 
 They do not develop human character, nor do they arouse the 
 passions ; they are the characteristic productions of a meditative 
 mind, endowed with imagination and an equal proportion of good 
 taste. A few verses will justify the praise bestowed on Bryant's 
 choice of expressions : 
 
 TO THE EVENING- WIND. 
 
 ' Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou 
 That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day, 
 
 Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow ; 
 Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, 
 
 Biding all day the wild bine waves till now, 
 
 Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray, 
 
 And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee 
 
 To the scorched laud, thou wanderer of the sea. 
 
 Nor I alone a thousand bosoms round 
 
 Inhale thee in the fulness of delight ; 
 And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound 
 
 Livelier, at coming of the wind at night ; 
 And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound, 
 
 Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight. 
 Go forth into the gathering shade ; go forth, 
 God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth ! 
 
 Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest; 
 
 Curl the still waters, bright with stars ; and rouse 
 The wide old wood from his majestic rest, 
 
 Summoning from the innumerable boughs 
 The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast : 
 
 Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows 
 The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass, 
 And 'twixt the o'ershadowing branches and the grass. 
 
 The faint old man shall lean his silver head 
 To feel thee ; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, 
 
 And dry the moistened curls that overspread 
 
 His temples, while his breathing grows more deep ; 
 
 And they who stand about the sick man's bed, 
 Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,
 
 SECOND PEr.IOB. M7. C. BRYANT. 55 
 
 And softly part his curtains to allow 
 Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow. 
 
 Go but the circle of eternal change, 
 
 That is the life of nature, shall restore, 
 With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range, 
 
 Thee to thy birthplace of the deep once more ; 
 Sweet odours in the sea-air, sweet and strange, 
 
 Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore ; 
 And, listening to thy murmur, he shall deem 
 He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.' 
 
 The poem entitled Tlmnatopsis a meditation on death has 
 been quoted in almost all selections from the works of Bryant. 
 It is one of the best and most characteristic of his poems : 
 
 THANATOPSIS. 
 
 *To him who in the love of Nature holds 
 Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
 A various language ; for his gayer hours 
 She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
 And eloquence of beauty, and she glides 
 Into his darker musings, with a mild 
 And healing sympathy, that steals away 
 Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts 
 Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 
 Over thy spirit, and sad images 
 Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 
 And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 
 Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart ; 
 Go forth, under the open sky, and list 
 To Nature's teachings, while from all around 
 Earth and her waters, and the depths of air 
 Comes a still voice : Yet a few days, and thee 
 The all-beholding sun shall see no more 
 In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 
 Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 
 Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 
 Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim 
 Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, 
 And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 
 Thine individual being, shalt thou go 
 To mix for ever with the elements, 
 To be a brother to the insensible rock 
 And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 
 Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 
 Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould.
 
 56 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Yet not to thine eternal resting-place 
 Shalt thou retire alone nor couldst thou wish 
 Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 
 With patriarchs of the infant world with kings, 
 The powerful of the earth the wise, the good, 
 Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, 
 All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills 
 Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun the vales 
 Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 
 The venerable woods rivers that move 
 In majesty, and the complaining brooks 
 That make the meadows green ; and, poured round all,. 
 Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste 
 Are but the solemn decorations all 
 Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 
 The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
 Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 
 Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 
 The globe are but a handful to the tribes 
 That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 
 Of morning and the Barcan desert pierce, 
 Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 
 Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, 
 Save his own dashings yet the dead are there ; 
 And millions in those solitudes, since first 
 The flight of years began, have laid them down 
 In their last sleep the dead reign there alone. 
 So shalt thou rest and what if thou withdraw 
 Unheeded by the living, and no friend 
 Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe 
 Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 
 When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 
 Plod on, and each one as before will chase 
 His favourite phantom ; yet all these shall leave 
 Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, 
 And make their bed with thee. As the long train 
 Of ages glides away, the sons of men 
 The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 
 In the full strength of years, matron and maid, 
 And the sweet babe and the gray-headed man 
 Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, 
 By those who in their turn shall follow them. 
 
 So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
 
 The innumerable caravan that moves 
 
 To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
 
 His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
 
 Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, 
 
 Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
 
 SECOND PERIOD. JOHN NEAL. 57 
 
 By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
 Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.' 
 
 JOHN NEAL, a native of Portland, Maine, afforded a striking 
 example of that rapidity of production which may ezcite a 
 temporary admiration, but can never insure a permanent success 
 in literature. After receiving a common school education, he 
 was apprenticed to a shopkeeper, and remained behind the 
 counter until he was twenty-three years of age. Soon afterwards, 
 the power, or at least the propensity, of writing, both verse and 
 prose, was very suddenly developed. He studied law; practised 
 for a short time at the bar; visited Great Britain (1823-27); wrote 
 many articles for BlackwoocCs Magazine, and other periodicals ; 
 edited The Yankee, a weekly journal ; produced his best novel, 
 Seventy-six, as the work of some few odd hours ; and wrote poetry, 
 prose-fiction, history, biography, newspaper essays and criticism, 
 sufficient to fill fifty duodecimo volumes, all in the space of twelve 
 years ! It is with an obstinate doubt of the value of such rapid 
 writing that we read a statement like the following : ' He is 
 gifted, 1 says Mr Kettel, ' with an almost magical facility of 
 literary composition. What to others is a work of careful study 
 and severe labour, is to him a pastime. His writings have, in 
 most cases, been thrown oft' with a rapidity that almost surpasses 
 belief. 1 Neal says : ' It is no merit in me to compose rapidly. I 
 claim no praise for it. I wish I could move more slowly, less 
 capriciously ; but I cannot. Had I a dozen hands, I could keep 
 them all employed when I am writing poetry. 1 To this a reviewer 
 has appended the note : ' In that case, half-a-dozen hands at 
 least might be advantageously employed in blotting out, of which 
 Mr Neal seems never to have thought. Accordingly, his verses 
 are in a great measure vague, diffuse, overloaded with metaphors, 
 often marked with bad taste, and, in short, destitute of all artistic 
 excellence. Whatever poetic powers he might have, they have 
 never been cultivated. He says of his own writing in verse : 
 " It is -poetry, or it is the most outrageous nonsense ; one or the 
 other it must be." This is dogmatic and illogical ; for it is obvious 
 that it may be a mixture of both, which is indeed the case. 11 
 
 1 The above sketch might be supposed to be highly coloured. We therefore 
 append a short extract from Mr Griswold's memoir of Neal : ' He had energy and 
 a genius for anything or everything ; and he must do something or starve. After 
 a short deliberation, he determined, as has been intimated, to be a lawyer ; but the 
 rules of court, whatever might be his knowledge, required the devotion of years to 
 the study of the books; and how was he to live meanwhile? He would turn 
 author ! He had scarcely any education, was ignorant even of the first principles of 
 English grammar, and had never written a line for the press except his advertise 
 ments; but, nevertheless, he determined to be a scholar and critic, and do what 
 no other person was then able to do in this country gain a living by literature.'
 
 58 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 JAMES GATES PERCIVAL, a poetical writer, of whose powers of 
 mind we cannot entertain that high estimate which some of his 
 countrymen have formed, was born in Kensington parish, Connec 
 ticut, 1795, and was educated in Yale College, where he excelled in 
 the routine of studies and as a writer of verse. His early writings 
 were censured on account of some indications of religious scepticism, 
 which do not appear in his later works. In general literary attain 
 ments, he excelled many American authors; but his poetry is chiefly 
 remarkable for fluency of versification and diffuseness of style. 
 His learning qualified him to act for some time as assistant to 
 Noah Webster hi the preparation of his Dictionary. Poetry, 
 with Dr Percival, has evidently been treated merely as a recrea 
 tion after severer studies, and has been too hastily written to live. 
 He confesses in one of his prefaces that his verses bear ' no marks 
 of the file and burnisher.' Consequently, we find in his poems few 
 instances of that happy selection of words which marks classical 
 works. Words, words flow on, as in an endless stream, while we 
 look in vain for new thoughts and well-chosen imagery. It is 
 said and the remark coincides with impressions derived from 
 his writings that the career of Dr Percival has been marked by 
 traits of great eccentricity, and that delicate health and immode 
 rate devotion to study have been the causes of a morbid mental 
 excitement and despondency which made some portion of his life 
 unhappy. As our estimate of his poetical powers falls below 
 that given by several American critics, it is fair to quote a more 
 favourable judgment. 'Percival,' says a writer in the North 
 American Review, ' writes with a facility but rarely equalled, and 
 when his thoughts are once committed to the page, he shrinks 
 
 from the labour of revising, correcting, and condensing 
 
 His imagination, considered as a shaping faculty, is not so great 
 as Dana's, Longfellow's, and perhaps Bryant's ; but in fancy 
 he excels them all. Indeed, the quickness with which the 
 latter quality works, and the disposition of Percival to hurried 
 composition, have not been favourable to the culture of high 
 imaginative power.' 
 
 As a favourable specimen of the shorter descriptive poems by 
 Percival, the following lines may be quoted : 
 
 MAY. 
 
 ' I feel a newer life in every gale 
 
 The winds that fan the flowers, 
 And with their welcome breathings fill the sail, 
 
 Tell of serener hours 
 Of hours that glide unfelt away 
 Beneath the sky of May.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. FITZ-GREENE KALLECK. 59 
 
 The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls 
 
 From his blue throne of air ; 
 And when his whispering voice in music falls, 
 
 Beauty is budding there ; 
 The bright ones of the valley break 
 Their slumbers, and awake. 
 
 The waving verdure rolls along the plain, 
 
 And tho wide forest weaves, 
 To welcome back its playful mates again, 
 
 A canopy of leaves. 
 And from the darkening shadow floats 
 A gush of trembling notes. 
 
 Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May ; 
 
 The tresses of the woods 
 With the light dallying of the west-wind play ; 
 
 And the full brimming floods, 
 As gladly to the goal they run, 
 Hail the returning sun.' 
 
 FITZ-GREENE HALLECK, born at Gruilford, Connecticut, in 
 1795, was, like Sprague and other poetical writers, engaged 
 during the greater part of his life in mercantile pursuits, and 
 wrote verses as a recreation. His first volume of verse, entitled 
 Fanny, appeared in 1819, and gained a considerable popularity. 
 It was followed by Alnwick Castle and other poems (1827), serious 
 and sentimental, or playfully humorous. In several of his poems 
 as in the Geraldine of Rufus Dawes, and the tale of Lady Jane, 
 by Willis there is a studied oddity in the mixture of serious 
 or even tragic with comic and familiar passages ; as in uncom 
 mon, far-fetched, and uncouth rhymes, and abrupt transitions 
 from grave to gay. This faded imitation of Byron's mocking 
 tone in Beppo and Don Juan, is an unpleasant affectation. ' It 
 introduces a species of scepticism which is destructive to the 
 enjoyment of poetry. The loftiness, purity, and tenderness of 
 feeling which Halleck can so well express when he pleases, 
 and the delicate and graceful fancies with which he can festoon 
 thought and emotion, should never be associated with what is 
 mean or ridiculous, even to gratify wit or whim. There is a 
 kind of merry malevolence in the abasement of ennobling 
 feelings and beautiful images, which is less pardonable than 
 open scoffing, because more injurious.' 1 As a brief example 
 of this style of scoffing a few serious verses on the revolutions 
 
 1 North American Review, vol. 58, p. 22.
 
 60 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of empires are closed with such a stale pun as the follow 
 ing: 
 
 ' Empires to-day are upside down ; 
 The castle kneels before the town ; 
 The monarch fears a printer's frown, 
 A brickbat's range : 
 Give me, in preference to a crown, 
 
 Five shillings' change.' 
 
 That Halleck, when avoiding the affected Byronic and Mephis 
 tophelean vein of humour, could write verse hi a spirited style, 
 may be proved by one quotation : 
 
 MARCO BOZZARIS. 
 
 ' At midnight, in his guarded tent, 
 
 The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
 When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
 
 Should tremble at his power : 
 In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
 The trophies of a conqueror ; 
 
 In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
 Then wore his monarch's signet-ring ; 
 Then pressed that monarch's throne a king : 
 As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 
 
 As Eden's garden bird. 
 
 * * * 
 At midnight, in the forest shades, 
 
 Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
 True as the steel of their tried blades, 
 
 Heroes in heart and hand. 
 There had the Persian's thousands stood, 
 There had the glad earth drunk their blood 
 
 On old Plataea's day : 
 And now they breathed that haunted air, 
 The sons of sires who conquered there, 
 With arm to strike, and soul to dare, 
 
 As quick, as far as they. 
 
 * * * 
 
 An hour past on : the Turk awoke ; 
 
 That bright dream was his last. 
 He woke to hear his sentries shriek : 
 " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
 He woke to die midst flame and smoke, 
 And shot and groan, and sabre stroke, 
 And death-shots falling thick and fast 
 As lightnings from the mountain-cloud, 
 And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 
 
 Bozzaris cheer his band :
 
 SECOND PERIOD. JOHN BRAINARD. Gl 
 
 " Strike ! till the last armed foe expires ; 
 Strike ! for your altars and your fires ; 
 Strike ! for the green graves of your sires, 
 
 God, and your native land !" 
 They fought, like brave men, long and well ; 
 They filled the ground with Moslem slain ; 
 They conquered but Bozzaris foil, 
 
 Bleeding at every vein. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 
 
 Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
 Ilest thee there is no prouder grave, 
 
 Even in her own proud clime. 
 She wore no funeral weeds for thee, 
 
 Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume, 
 Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, 
 In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, 
 
 The heartless luxury of the tomb : 
 But she remembers thee as one 
 Long loved, and for a season gone ; 
 For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, 
 Her marble wrought, her music breathed ; 
 For thee she rings her birthday bells ; 
 Of thee her babes' first lisping tells ; 
 For thine her evening-prayer is said 
 At palace couch and cottage bed ; 
 Her soldier, closing with the foe, 
 Gives for thy sake a deadlier blow ; 
 His plighted maiden, when she fears 
 For him, the joy of her young years, 
 Thinks of thy fate, and checks her tears : 
 
 And she, the mother of thy boys, 
 Though in her eye and faded cheek 
 Is read the grief she will not speak, 
 
 The memory of her buried joys 
 And even she who gave thee birth, 
 Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth, 
 
 Talk of thy doom without a sigh ; 
 For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's 
 One of the few, the immortal names, 
 
 That were not born to die.' 
 
 JOHN BRAINARD, an amiable man, whose writings indicated 
 powers worthy of a better cultivation, was a native of New- 
 London, Connecticut, and died of consumption in September 1828, 
 at the early age of thirty-two. He graduated at Yale College 
 in 1815, and soon afterwards undertook the editorship of The 
 Connecticut Mirror. Of his poems, an American editor says :
 
 62 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ' They were always written in haste usually at the last moment 
 to which he could delay, and while the printer was at his elbow, 
 dunning for copy. They were also written without expectation 
 of fame, and with none of the stimulus derived from a feeling of 
 responsibility to public opinion. They always appeared in the 
 paper as communications, and seem to have been thrown off as 
 freely, and with as little consideration of their value, as the trees 
 resign then* leaves to the autumn winds.' As the editor of a 
 journal, Brainard was remarkable for generosity, and maintained 
 the character of a gentleman. This, in England, we trust, would 
 not claim any especial recognition ; but in America, where the 
 power of the periodical press has been so often abused, it was an 
 example worthy of being noted. 
 
 This is a better tribute to the memory of Brainard, than any 
 that could be founded on his carelessly written poems. The Lines 
 on Niagara have been commended for boldness and originality, 
 but hardly make an exception to the general failure of poets and 
 travellers in their descriptions of the great Falls. 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON DOANE (born 1799), a dignitary in the 
 episcopal church, and professor of belles-lettres and oratory in 
 Washington College, Hartford, published in 1824 a series of 
 devotional and occasional poems, entitled Songs by the Way. 
 These have no remarkable merit, but, like many volumes of 
 American poetry, have exercised a good influence in the diffusion 
 of wholesome and pious sentiments. A similar remark would be 
 ' sufficient to characterise the poems written by WILLIAM B. 0. 
 PEABODY, pastor of a congregation at Springfield, Massachusetts. 
 The names of Grenville and Frederick Mellen, Albert Gr. Greene, 
 Frederick S. Hill, James G. Brooks, and Edward C. Pinkney, 
 may be classed with those of writers of pleasing verses not marked 
 by any striking originality. 
 
 RALPH WALDO EMERSON, the well-known essayist, has pub 
 lished a series of poems, lyrical in their form, but generally cold 
 and metaphysical in their spirit. Of the exceptions, the lines to 
 a ' Humble-bee ' are among the best. We quote a few lines : 
 
 ' When the south wiiid in May-days, 
 With a net of shining haze, 
 (Silvers the horizon wall, 
 And with softness touching all, 
 Tints the human countenance 
 With the colour of romance, 
 And infusing subtle heats, 
 Turns the sod to violets,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. N. P. WILLIS. 63 
 
 Thou in sunny solitudes, 
 Rover of the underwoods, 
 The green silence dost displace 
 With thy mellow, breezy bass. 
 Hot midsummer's petted crone, 
 Sweet to me thy drowsy tone, 
 Tells of countless sunny hours, 
 Long days, and solid banks of flowers, 
 Of gulfs of sweetness without bound 
 In Indian wildernesses found.' 
 
 WILLIS DAWES MORRIS HOFFMAN BENJAMIN SARGENT 
 
 LONGFELLOW WHITTIER. 
 
 NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS, the most versatile of American 
 magazine-writers, was born in Portland in 1807. He studied at 
 Yale College, and after his graduation, was engaged as editor 
 of The, Legendary and The Token, published by Mr Goodrich a 
 gentleman better known by his alias, Peter Parley. Mr Willis 
 liad gained a literary reputation when he first visited Europe, 
 and after a tour in France and Italy, came to England, where he 
 stayed two years. In a light, sketchy, and clever style, he gave 
 his impressions of travel, under the title of Pendllings by the 
 Way. In some parts of this popular book, the writer described 
 rather freely the personal traits of certain celebrated men to 
 whom he had been introduced. For example, he informed his 
 readers that Professor Wilson, in the enthusiasm of his talk 
 about poetry, poured his tea on the outside of his cup ; and that 
 the Earl of Aberdeen crossed his hands behind him, and balanced 
 himself on his heels. The unconscious homage paid to distinctions 
 of rank and title, and the solemnity with which the writer commends 
 the manners of the English nobleman, and ' the beauty of the 
 higher classes,' seem out of place in an American book. England 
 has her own select authors in this style, and their success seems 
 to leave no room for foreign competition. Of our hard-working 
 country, with its striving middle and lower classes ; of the main 
 features of our society such as will be studied by historians in 
 the twentieth century we find very little in the Pendllings of 
 Willis, or the Sketch-book of Irving. 
 
 In style, the Pendllings like all the other sketches and essays 
 by Willis are very lively and conversational. One form of 
 playfulness is too frequently employed, and consists in a rapid 
 transition ' from grave to gay,' or from sentiment to mockery. 
 Thus the description of the scenery of Scott's Lady of Hie Lake 
 is contrasted with the humour of ' a half-intoxicated steersman,'
 
 64 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 who speaks very bad grammar. At Niagara, the sketcher cannot 
 forget that there is a story of a tailor who, when he saw the Falls, 
 thought it a ' very good place for sponging a coat.' This kind of 
 liveliness belongs to the easiest style of humorous writing. 
 
 In 1835, Mr Willis published Inklings of Adventure, a Series 
 of tales and sketches frequently frivolous in their tone, but 
 containing some clever descriptive passages. After his retuni 
 to America, he assisted in editing The Corsair ; and during a 
 second visit to London, published Letterings of Travel, and two 
 dramas. 
 
 In 1843, assisted by his friend G. P. Moms, he re-established 
 Tlie New York Mirror, but soon gave up this employment, and 
 returned to London, where he produced another series of sketches, 
 entitled Dashes at Life icith a Free Pencil. Numerous light 
 essays, criticisms of art, and sketches of manners, have appeared 
 in The Home Journal, a weekly gazette of literature, partly edited 
 and written by Mr Willis ; and these have been, from time to 
 time, collected and reprinted under several odd titles. 
 
 The prose-writings of Willis have been more successful than 
 his several volumes of poetry, and, on the whole, are more 
 characteristic and original. It is evident that his verse-writing 
 has been a recreation rather than a study. The old proverb, that 
 ' good things must have time to grow,' is true in literature, and 
 the few exceptions there are confirm the rule. 
 
 AVillis first attracted notice by a series of poems on sacred 
 subjects, which was followed by Melanin and other Poems (1835), 
 and by two dramas Torlesa tlie Usurer, and Bianca Visconti 
 in 1839. In the poems, the versification is often fluent and 
 graceful, and a love of luxurious imagery is a prominent trait. 
 This sometimes seems out of place in the poems on sacred or 
 scriptural subjects ; for example, the lines on the Healing of the 
 Daughter of Joints, where the subject may be said to be spoiled 
 by rich drapery and luxuries of furniture ; such as ' spice- 
 lamps,' ' alabaster urns, 1 ' tassels,' ' rich curtains,' and ' silken 
 curtains.' 
 
 Melanie is an Italian story of a tragic character, and is 
 supposed to be told during a ramble near Tivoli. This plan 
 admits several pleasing allusions to the scenery and classic 
 localities of Italy. 
 
 Lord Iron and Jiis Daughter, a dramatic sketch in blank- 
 verse, has been commended as one of the writer's best poems ; 
 but we regard it, with all the longer poems by Willis, as inferior 
 to several of his short occasional and lyrical productions. Among 
 these, the lively stanzas entitled The Annoyer, and the poems 
 Thirty-five and Better Moments, are good specimens. The Lady
 
 SECOND PERIOD. N. P. WILLIS. 65 
 
 Jane is one of the numerous bantering stories which have followed 
 Byron's Beppo and Don Juan. 
 
 In the two dramas, Tortesa Hie Usurer, and Blanca Visconfi, 
 marks of hasty and careless construction are apparent. The plots 
 are defective, and the characters but slightly sketched. Lively 
 scenes are interspersed, but in the fashion of so many separate 
 pictures, rather than as constituent parts of the whole. To 
 detail these incongruities, would be tiresome, and a selection of 
 unconnected passages would be unfair. We therefore pass from 
 the dramas to quote one of the most simple and unpretending of 
 the occasional poems. 
 
 TO A CITY PIGEON. 
 
 * Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove ! 
 Thy daily visits have touched my love. 
 I watch thy coming, and list the note 
 That stirs so low in thy mellow throat. 
 
 And my joy is high 
 To catch the glance of thy gentle eye. 
 
 Why dost thou sifc on the heated eaves, 
 
 And forsake the wood with its freshened leaves ? 
 
 Why dost thou haunt the sultry street, 
 
 When the paths of the forest are cool and sweet ? 
 
 How canst thou bear 
 This noise of people this sultry air ? 
 
 Thou alone of the feathered race 
 
 Dost look unscared on the human face ; 
 
 Thou alone, with a wing to flee, 
 
 Dost love with man in his haunts to be ; 
 
 And the " gentle dove " 
 Has become a name for trust and love. 
 
 A holy gift is thine, sweet bird ! 
 Thou 'rt named with childhood's earliest word ; 
 Thou 'rt linked with all that is fresh and wild 
 In the prisoned thoughts of the city child ; 
 
 And thy glossy wings 
 Are its brightest image of moving things. 
 
 It is no light chance. Thou art set apart, 
 Wisely by Him who has tamed thy heart, 
 To stir the love for the bright and fair, 
 That else were sealed in this crowded air : 
 
 I sometimes dream 
 Angelic rays from thy pinions stream.
 
 66 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Come then, ever, -when daylight leaves 
 The page I read, to my humble eaves, 
 And wash thy breast in the hollow spout, 
 And murmur thy low sweet music out ! 
 
 I hear and see 
 Lessons of heaven, sweet bird, in thee ! ' 
 
 RUFUS DAWES, a native of Boston, and graduate of Cambridge, 
 edited during several years The Emerald, a weekly paper 
 published at Baltimore, and wrote occasional poems, which 
 appeared in The Literary Gazette. In Geraldine, one of his 
 longest poems, we find a mixture of tragic with comic passages 
 and uncommon rhymes, besides other odd traits, intended to 
 produce a humorous effect. The whole seems to be little more 
 than a feeble imitation of Byron's burlesque style, which 
 has, unhappily, infected so many young writers. In his short 
 occasional poems, Dawes was more successful. 
 
 Passing over the names of Fairfield, Griffin, Prentice, and 
 Colton, we may notice the songs written by GEORGE P. MORRIS, 
 who was the partner of Willis in the editorship of T/ie Home 
 Journal. Making due allowance for friendship, and for the 
 writer's lively style, we may quote the criticism of Willis on the 
 lyrics of his colleague : it is a fair specimen of the rapid style of 
 reviewing practised in The Home Journal. ' Morris,' says his 
 friend, ' is the best known poet of the country by acclamation, 
 not by criticism. He is just what poets would be if they sang, 
 like birds, without criticism ; and it is a peculiarity of his fame, 
 that it seems as regardless of criticism as a bird in the air. 
 Nothing can stop a song of his. It is very easy to say that they 
 are easy to do. They have a momentum, somehow, that it is 
 difficult for others to give, and that speeds them to the far goal of 
 popularity the best proof consisting in the fact, that he can, at 
 any moment, get fifty dollars for a song unread, when the whole 
 remainder of the American Parnassus could not sell one to the 
 same buyer for a shilling.' 
 
 CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN (born 1806), who has written in 
 prose many tales and sketches of nature and society, published 
 in 1843 a poem entitled The Vigil of Faith, a Legend of the 
 Andirondack Mountains. ' It contains much fine description and 
 sentiment ; the narrative is remarkably well managed, and in no 
 other poem has Indian superstition or tradition been used with 
 more skill or success.' 1 His songs have been very popular, 
 
 1 Griswold.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. 11. W. LONGFELLOW. 67 
 
 and are commended for their lyric flow and hearty sentiment. 
 The sonnets of PARK BENJAMIN have been praised by the best 
 American critics. Of EPES SARGENT, it is said that ' he has 
 written of the sea with more freshness and graphic power, with 
 more true fancy and poetic feeling, than Falconer, or many others 
 of a higher reputation.' l 
 
 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, professor of modern 
 languages and belles-lettres in Harvard University, was born in 
 Portland in 1807. At the age of eighteen, he graduated with 
 high honours at Bowdoin College, and about the same time 
 published several occasional poems in The United States Literary 
 Gazette. After a short interval devoted to the study of law, he 
 accepted the newly founded professorship of modern languages 
 in Bowdoin College, and to prepare himself for its duties, left 
 America, and passed three years and a half in travelling and 
 residing in France, Italy, Spain, Germany, Holland, and England. 
 
 His residence in Germany, and the study of the poetical 
 literature of this country, had a lasting influence on his taste and 
 imagination ; and it has been asserted by some, that his love of the 
 romantic and mystical old legends of Central Europe has led him 
 away too far from the range of topics proper for an American 
 poet. He has, however, defended his own choice of subjects, and 
 has protested against every narrow notion of a national literature. 
 ' All that is best,' he says, ' in the great poets of all countries, is 
 not what is national in them, but what is universal. Their roots 
 are in their native soil, but their branches wave in the unpatriotic 
 air, that speaks the same language unto all men, and their leaves 
 shine with the illimitable light that pervades all lands.' This is 
 true ; yet it may be said, that some national division of labour 
 is advantageous in literature. Why should an American poet 
 reproduce German legends of the middle ages ? 
 
 In 1835, when Mr George Ticknor resigned the chair of modern 
 languages and belles-lettres at Harvard University, Longfellow 
 was invited to take it, and since then he has resided at Cambridge, 
 in the house formerly occupied by Washington. His life has 
 been fortunate and happy, as his duties have corresponded well 
 with his tastes and qualifications. In 1840, he published his first 
 collection of poems, under the title Voices of the Night. The 
 success of the volume was partly due to the melody and finish of 
 the versification, but the chief characteristic of the several short 
 poems consisted in giving an imaginative form of expression to 
 moral sentiments. The direct didactic purport of the poem, 
 
 ' E. P. Wiiipple.
 
 C8 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 entitled A Psalm of Life, might be censured by art-criticism ; 
 for it may be asked, why should the poet take the chair of the 
 moralist, or, inviting us to hear a song, lapse into a sermon? 
 But this ethical purport, though commonplace, was partly the 
 cause of the wide popularity of the verses, which have been very 
 frequently quoted. The two best stanzas shew how new imagery 
 may give life and freshness to old and common maxims : 
 
 ' Lives of great men all remind us 
 
 Wu can make our lives sublime, 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 Footprints on the sands of time ; 
 
 Footprints, that perhaps another, 
 
 Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
 A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 
 
 Seeing, shall take heart again.' 
 
 The Ballads and other Poems, published in 1841, included 
 several translations from the German and the Swedish. The 
 Skeleton in Armour, one of the best of the original ballads, 
 happily seizes the spirit of old Scandinavian legends. It is' 
 founded on the circumstance, that a skeleton, with some pieces of 
 old armour, had been dug up near the Round Tower at Newport, 
 which, as Danish antiquaries have imagined, was built by the 
 old vikings, or Scandinavian adventurers, who, it is supposed, 
 landed in North America long before the time of Columbus. 
 This shadowy legend suggested to the poet the following story of 
 a viking, or northern pirate of the old times : 
 
 THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. 
 
 * " Speak ! speak ! thou fearful guest ! 
 Who, with thy hollow breast 
 Still in rude armour drest, 
 
 Comest to daunt me ! 
 "Wrapt not in Eastern balms, 
 But with thy fleshless palms 
 Stretched, as if asking alms, 
 
 Why dost thou haunt me ? " 
 
 Then, from those cavernous eyes, 
 Pale flashes seem to rise, 
 As when the northern skies 
 
 Gleam in December ; 
 And, like the water's flow 
 Under December's snow, 
 Came a dull voice of wo 
 
 From the heart's chamber :
 
 SECOND PERIOD. II. W. LONGFELLOW. 69 
 
 " I was a viking old ! 
 
 My deeds, though manifold, 
 
 No skald in song has told, 
 
 No saga taught thec ! 
 Take heed, that in thy verse 
 Thou dost the tale rehearse, 
 Else dread a dead man's curse ! 
 
 For this I sought thee. 
 
 " Far in the Northern Land, 
 By the wild Baltic's strand, 
 I, with my childish hand, 
 
 Tamed the ger-falcon ; 
 And, with my skates fast bound, 
 Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, 
 That the poor whimpering hound 
 
 Trembled to walk on. 
 
 " Oft to his frozen lair 
 Tracked I the grizzly bear, 
 While from my path the hare 
 
 Fled like a shadow ; 
 Oft through the forest dark 
 Followed the wlihr-wolf's bark, 
 Until the soaring lark 
 
 Sang from the meadow. 
 
 " But when I older grew, 
 Joining a corsair's crew, 
 O'er the dark sea I flew 
 
 With the marauders. 
 Wild was the life we led ; 
 Many the souls that sped, 
 Many the hearts that bled, 
 
 By our stern orders. 
 
 " Many a wassail-bout 
 Wore the long winter out ; 
 Often our midnight shout 
 
 Set the cocks crowing, 
 As we the Berserk's tale 
 Measured in cups of ale, 
 Draining the oaken pail, 
 
 Filled to o'erflowing. 
 
 " Once, as I told in glee 
 Tales of the stormy sea, 
 Soft eyes did gaze on me, 
 
 Burning, yet tender ;
 
 70 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And as the white stars shine 
 On the dark Norway pine, 
 On that dark heart of mine 
 
 Fell their soft splendour. 
 
 " I wooed the blue-eyed maid, 
 Yielding, yet half afraid, 
 And in the forest's shade 
 
 Our vows were plighted. 
 Under its loosened vest 
 Fluttered her little breast, 
 Like birds within their nest 
 
 By the hawk frighted. 
 
 " Bright in her father's hall 
 Shields gleamed upon the wall, 
 Loud sang the minstrels all, 
 
 Chanting his glory ; 
 When of old Hildebrand 
 I asked his daughter's hand, 
 Mute did the minstrels stand 
 
 To hear my story. 
 
 " While the brown ale he quaffed, 
 Loud then the champion laughed, 
 And as the wind-gusts waft 
 
 The sea-foam brightly, 
 So the loud laugh of scorn, 
 Out of those lips unshorn, 
 From the deep drinking-horn 
 
 Blew the foam lightly. 
 
 " She was a prince's child, 
 
 I but a viking wild, 
 
 And though she blushed and smiled, 
 
 I was discarded ! 
 Should not the dove so white 
 Follow the sea-mew's flight, 
 Why did they leave that night 
 
 Her nest unguarded ? 
 
 " Scarce had I put to sea, 
 Bearing the maid with me 
 Fairest of all was she 
 
 Among the Xorsemen ! 
 When on the white sea-strand, 
 Waving his armed hand, 
 Saw we old Hildebrand, 
 
 With twenty horsemen.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. H. W. LONGFELLOW. 71 
 
 " Then launched they to the blast, 
 Bent like a reed each mast, 
 Yet we were gaining fast, 
 
 When the wind failed us ; 
 And with a sudden flaw 
 Came round the gusty Skaw, 
 So that our foe we saw 
 
 Laugh as he hailed as. 
 
 " And as to catch the gale, 
 Round veered the flapping sail, 
 Death ! was the helmsman's hail, 
 
 Death without quarter ! 
 Mid-ships with iron keel 
 Struck we her ribs of steel ; 
 Down her black hulk did reel 
 
 Through the black water ! 
 
 " As with his wings aslant, 
 Sails the fierce cormorant, 
 Seeking some rocky haunt, 
 
 With his prey laden, 
 So toward the open main, 
 Beating to sea again, 
 Through the wild hurricane, 
 
 Bore I the maiden. 
 
 " Three weeks we westward bore, 
 And when the storm was o'er, 
 Cloud-like we saw the shore 
 
 Stretching to leeward ; 
 There for my lady's bower 
 Built I the lofty tower, 
 Which, to this very hour, 
 
 Stands looking seaward. 
 
 " There lived we many years ; 
 Time dried the maiden's tears ; 
 She had forgot her fears 
 
 She was a mother ; 
 Death closed her mild blue eyes 
 Under that tower she lies j 
 Ne'er shall the sun arise 
 
 On such another ! 
 
 " Still grew my bosom then, 
 Still as a stagnant feu ! 
 Hateful to me were men, 
 
 The sunlight hateful !
 
 72 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In the vast forest here, 
 Clad in my warlike gear, 
 Fell I upon my spear 
 
 Oh, death was grateful ! 
 
 " Thus, seamed with many scars, 
 Bursting these prison bars, 
 Up to its native stars, 
 
 My soul ascended ; 
 There from the flowing bowl 
 Deep drinks the warrior's soul, 
 Skoal! to the Northland ! Skoal!" 
 
 Thus the tale ended.' 
 
 Excelsior is a purely ideal poem, and one of the best of its 
 kind. It is absurd to regard it as an allegory intended to 
 represent the career of a poet ; for a poet should not forsake the 
 real world and the scenes of human life. It should be read as an 
 imaginative expression of one sentiment or impulse that of 
 aspiration. Several attempts to set this poem to music have 
 only proved that it would be well if the natural relations of music 
 with poetry were more carefully studied. Good reading supplies 
 all the music required by this fine poem. 
 
 EXCELSIOR. 
 
 ' The shades of night were falling fast, 
 As through an Alpine village passed 
 A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, 
 A banner with the strange device 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 His brow was sad ; his eye beneath 
 Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, 
 And like a silver clarion rung 
 The accents of that unknown tongue 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 In happy homes he saw the light 
 Of household fires gleam warm and bright ; 
 Above, the spectral glaciers shone, 
 And from his lips escaped a groan 
 Excelsior! 
 
 " Try not the Pass ! " the old man said ; 
 " Dark lowers the tempest overhead ; 
 The roaring torrent is deep and wide ! " 
 And loud that clarion voice replied : 
 "Excelsior !"
 
 SECOND PERIOD. II. W. LONGFELLOW. 73 
 
 " stay," the maiden said, " and rest 
 Thy weary head upon this breast ! " 
 A tear stood in his bright blue eye, 
 But still he answered, with a sigh : 
 " Excelsior ! " 
 
 " Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! 
 Beware the awful avalanche ! " 
 This was the peasant's last good-night ; 
 A voice replied, far up the height : 
 "Excelsior!" 
 
 At break of day, as heavenward 
 The pious monks of Saint Bernard 
 Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, 
 A voice cried through the startled air : 
 "Excelsior!" 
 
 A traveller, by the faithful hound, 
 Half-buried in the snow was found, 
 Still grasping in his hand of ice 
 That banner, with the strange device 
 Excelsior ! 
 
 There, in the twilight cold and gray, 
 Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, 
 And from the sky, serene and far, 
 A voice fell, like a falling star : 
 " Excelsior ! " 
 
 In his translation of The Children of the Lord's Supper, from 
 the Swedish of Tegner, Longfellow endeavoured to overcome the 
 difficulty of English hexameter verse (so called), and certainly 
 succeeded as well as any other writer in the same metre ; but it 
 was unfortunate that he adopted the same form in his tale of 
 Ecangeline. In other respects, this is a superior poem. It has 
 the merit of American interest in its scenery and incidents, and 
 its pervading sentiment is beautiful. 
 
 The story is founded on an event in the colonial history of 
 America. When Nova Scotia formerly known by the name 
 Acadia was ceded to England by the French in 1713, the French 
 inhabitants were required to take the oaths of allegiance to the 
 British crown. They refused to take these oaths without certain 
 conditions, to the effect that they, the people of Acadia, should 
 not be called upon to take up arms against their former sovereign. 
 For some time they were allowed to hold their neutral position ; 
 but when the English had extended their territory, and had 
 captured the French fort of Beau Sejour, the Acadians, or people 
 of Nova Scotia, were accused of having forfeited their neutrality
 
 74 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 by giving assistance to the French and their Indian allies. It 
 appears that this accusation was founded on the fact, that 300 
 Acadians had been taken in arms at the siege of Beau Sejour; 
 but the majority were a quiet agricultural people. As they 
 had refused to take unconditional oaths of allegiance, they were 
 regarded as dangerous neighbours; and it was determined, in a 
 council held by General Braddock with the British admirals 
 Boscawen and Mostwyn, that the whole population of Acadia 
 should be expatriated and dispersed among the colonies on the 
 sea-board. A fleet of transports was hired to convey the exiles. 
 In the haste of removal, families and friends were separated; 
 husbands lost their wives, parents their children. Some escaped, 
 and sought shelter in the woods ; but the country was laid waste 
 to prevent their subsistence. The greater number were trans 
 ported to Massachusetts ; other companies were sent to New 
 York, Maryland, Carolina some as far as Georgia. The more 
 hardy and adventurous became hunters, trappers, or coureurs de-s 
 bois in the West. At the peace of 1763, most of the survivors 
 returned to Nova Scotia, or settled in Canada. 
 
 At the time of this compulsory emigration, Evangeline, the 
 heroine of the poem, lived with her father, an Acadian farmer, at 
 Grand-Pre*, and was betrothed to Gabriel, the son of Basil the 
 smith. 
 
 ' In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas, 
 Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre 
 Lay in the fruitful valley. Yast meadows stretched to the 
 
 ' eastward, 
 
 Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number. 
 Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labour 
 
 incessant, 
 
 Shut out the turbulent tides ; but at stated seasons the flood-gates 
 Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows. 
 West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and 
 
 corn-fields 
 Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain ; and away to the 
 
 northward 
 
 Blomidon 1 rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains 
 Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic 
 Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended. 
 There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village. 
 Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and chestnut, 
 Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.' 
 
 The marriage of Evangeline and Gabriel was prevented by 
 the burning of the village Grand-Pre", and the banishment of its 
 
 1 A cape in Nova Scotia.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. H. W. LONGFELLOW. 75 
 
 inhabitants. Overcome by the calamity, the father of Evangeline 
 died on the sea-shore, while Gabriel and his father were carried 
 away into exile. Thus the lovers were separated, and the 
 remainder of the poem describes the long wanderings of the 
 maiden hi search of her betrothed : 
 
 ' Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed ; 
 Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the 
 
 north-east 
 Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the banks of 
 
 Newfoundland. 
 
 Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city, 
 From the cold lakes of the north to sultry southern savannas.' 
 
 The places visited by Evangeline, and the incidents of her 
 journeys, are described in the second part of the poem, often 
 with striking elegance and beauty, though the metre chosen by 
 Mr Longfellow has an almost inevitable tendency to verboseness. 
 , A few lines may be quoted from the account of a voyage on the 
 Mississippi : 
 
 ' Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon 
 Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape ; 
 Twinkling vapours arose ; and sky, and water, and forest 
 Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together. 
 Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver, 
 Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water. 
 Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness. 
 Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling 
 Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around her. 
 Then from a neighbouring thicket, the mocking-bird, wildest of 
 
 singers, 
 
 Swinging aloft on a willow-spray that hung over the water, 
 Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, 
 That the whole air, and the woods, and the waves, seemed silent 
 
 to listen.' 
 
 Led onward by various rumours, the maiden follows every 
 direction, however vague and shadowy, that seems to point 
 towards her beloved Gabriel. 
 
 ' Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within 
 
 her, 
 
 Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit, 
 She would commence again her endless search and endeavour ; 
 Sometimes in church-yards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and 
 
 tombstones, 
 Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its 
 
 bosom 
 He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him.
 
 76 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Sometimes a rumour, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper, 
 Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward. 
 Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved, and 
 
 known him ; 
 
 But it was long ago, in some far-off place, or forgotten. 
 " Gabriel Lajeunesse !" say they ; " yes, we have seen him. 
 He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to the 
 
 prairies ; 
 Coureurs des boi-s are they, and famous hunters and trappers." ' 
 
 At last, in Louisiana, Evangeline seems to have ended, her 
 long wanderings, for she finds the home of Basil the smith, who 
 has become a prosperous herdsman ; but, alas ! his son Gabriel, 
 restless in the absence of his betrothed, had, only some few 
 hours before her arrival, left the homestead, and in the night 
 his boat had passed by the journeying maiden. 
 
 Far away into the Indian territory, near the Ozark Mountains, 
 Evangeline, guided by Basil, follows the steps of her lover ; but 
 it is all in vain. Though they hear tidings of the young man, 
 he is always ' gone further into the wilderness.' When they reach 
 the Jesuits' mission-station, they learn that Gabriel has been 
 there, but has departed. The maiden stays here, hoping that 
 ' in the autumn, when the chase is over, her betrothed will 
 return ; ' but there comes only a rumour 
 
 '" Far to the north and east," it said, " in the Michigan forests, 
 Gabriel had his lodge, by the banks of the Saginaw river.'" 
 
 In company with returning guides, going to the lakes of St 
 Lawrence, Evangeline leaves the mission-station, and travels on 
 to encounter another disappointment : 
 
 4 When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches, 
 She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests, 
 Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruins.' 
 
 Thus year after year passes away in the fruitless search 
 ' Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and places 
 Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden : 
 Now in the tents of grace of the meek Moravian missions ; 
 Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the army ; 
 Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities. 
 Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. 
 Fair was she, and young, when in hope began the long journey ; 
 Faded was she, and old, when in disappointment it ended. 
 Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty, 
 Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the shadow. 
 Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray on her forehead, 
 Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly horizon, 
 As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning.'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. II. W. LONGFELLOW. 77 
 
 In the city of Philadelphia, the long pilgrimage finds a close. 
 Here Evangeline, now advanced in years, joins the order of the 
 Sisters of Mercy, and, while pestilence prevails, she devotes herself 
 to attendance on the afflicted poor. It is a Sabbath-morning, when, 
 in the alms-house, Evangeline is called to wait upon an aged 
 man, who has been brought there to die. The closing scene is 
 touchingly described : 
 
 'Across the meadows were wafted 
 Sounds of psalms that were sung by the Swedes in their church 
 
 at Wicaco. 
 
 Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her spirit ; 
 Something within her said : " At length thy trials are ended ! " 
 And with light in her looks, she entered the chamber of sickness. 
 Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attendants, 
 Moistening the feverish lip and the aching brow, and in silence 
 Closing the sightless eyes of the dead and concealing their faces. 
 
 * * * - 
 Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, 
 
 Turned on its pillow of pain, to gaze while she passed ; for her 
 
 presence 
 Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a prison. 
 
 * * * * 
 Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, 
 
 Still she stood, with her colourless lips apart, while a shudder 
 Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets dropped from 
 
 her fingers, 
 
 And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morning. 
 Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish, 
 That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows. 
 On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man. 
 Long, and thin, and gray, were the locks that shaded his temples ; 
 But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment 
 Seemed to assume once more the form of its earlier manhood 
 (So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying). 
 Motionless, senseless, dying he lay, and his spirit, exhausted, 
 Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the 
 
 darkness 
 
 Darkness of slumber and death for ever sinking and sinking. 
 Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverberations, 
 Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that succeeded 
 Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like : 
 " Gabriel ! O my beloved !" and died away into silence. 
 Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood ; 
 Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them, 
 Village, and mountain, and woodlands ; and walking under their 
 
 shadow, 
 As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision.
 
 78 AMEEICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Tears came into his eyes ; and, as slowly he lifted his eyelids, 
 Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline kneeled by his bedside. 
 Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents, unuttered, 
 Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what the tongue would 
 
 have spoken. 
 
 Vainly he strove to rise ; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him, 
 Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. 
 Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it suddenly sank into darkness, 
 As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement.' 
 
 Beside the poems already noticed, Longfellow has written The 
 Spanish Student, a play (1842) ; Poems on Slavery (1843) ; and the 
 series entitled The Seaside and the Fireside. In his short occa 
 sional poems, he frequently inculcates some moral truth, as in 
 The Ladder of St Augustine, which may be regarded as a concise 
 sermon in verse. Like the Psalm of Life, it clothes in fine 
 imagery common proverbs as old as the hills. For example, 
 nothing can be more trite than the doctrine of the following 
 verses ; but the poetical illustration has a noble character : 
 
 ' We have not wings we cannot soar ; 
 
 But we have feet to scale and climb, 
 By slow degrees, by more and more, 
 The cloudy summits of our time. 
 
 The mighty pyramids of stone 
 
 That wedge-like cleave the desert airs, 
 
 When nearer seen, and better known, 
 Are but gigantic flights of stairs. 
 
 The distant mountains that uprear 
 Their frowning foreheads to the skies, 
 
 Are crossed by pathways that appear 
 As we to higher levels rise. 
 
 The heights by great men reached and kept, 
 
 Were not attained by sudden flight ; 
 But they, while their companions slept, 
 
 Were toiling upward in the night.' 
 
 One more example of homely doctrine in a pleasing poetical 
 dress must be quoted, for it is a general favourite among young 
 readers. Carlyle, .Emerson, and we must add Longfellow, 
 make truth tiresome by their frequent iteration of the doctrine, 
 that to work for self-culture, and the world's general culture, 
 is man's true destiny and happiness; but the trite sermon 
 seems fresh when Longfellow's sturdy blacksmith is the 
 preacher.
 
 SECOJJD PERIOD. II. W. LONGFELLOW. 79 
 
 TUB VILLAGE BLACKS M ITU. 
 
 Under a spreading chestnut-treo 
 
 The village smithy stands ; 
 The smith, a mighty man is he, 
 
 With large and sinewy hands ; 
 And the muscles of his brawny arms 
 
 Are strong as iron bands. 
 
 His hair is crisp, and black and long, 
 
 His face is like the tan ; 
 His brow is wet with honest sweat, 
 
 He earns whate'er he can, 
 And looks the whole world in the face, 
 
 For he owes not any man. 
 
 Week in, week out, from morn till night, 
 You can hear his bellows blow ; 
 
 You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 
 With measured beat, and slow, 
 
 Like a sexton ringing the village-bell, 
 When the evening sun is low. 
 
 And children coming home from school 
 
 Look in at the open door ; 
 They love to see the flaming forge, 
 
 And hear the bellows roar, 
 And catch the burning sparks that fly 
 
 Like chaff' from a thrashing-floor. 
 
 He goes on Sunday to the church, 
 
 And sits among his boys ; 
 He hears the parson pray and preach, 
 
 He hears his daughter's voice 
 Singing in the village choir, 
 
 And it makes his heart rejoice. 
 
 It sounds to him like her mother's voice, 
 
 Singing in Paradise ! 
 He needs must think of her once more, 
 
 How in the grave she lies ; 
 And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 
 
 A tear out of Ms eyes. 
 
 Toiling rejoicing sorrowing, 
 Onward through life he goes ; 
 
 Each morning sees some task begin, 
 Each evening sees it close ; 
 
 Something attempted, something done, 
 Has earned a night's repose.
 
 80 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
 
 For the lesson thou hast taught : 
 Thus at the flaming forge of life 
 
 Our fortunes must be wrought ; 
 Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
 
 Each burning deed and thought ! ' 
 
 The Golden Legend is a dramatic and mystical version of an 
 old German story, versified by a minnesinger named Hartmann 
 von der Aue, who lived, it is said, in the twelfth century. Wo 
 do not admire the supernatural machinery introduced by Long 
 fellow in his treatment of the legend. It was in itself sufficiently 
 improbable. We read that, in old times, there lived in Swabia a 
 wealthy young nobleman, whom we may style Prince Henry. 
 The plague of leprosy was prevalent in central Europe, and the 
 prince was suddenly seized by this dreadful disease, and became 
 an outcast from society. In vain he travelled far, and sought the 
 aid of various celebrated physicians : they could not give him a 
 ray of hope. At last he went to a physician at Salerno, who, 
 according to the superstition of the times, told him that he might 
 be cured, but only on the condition that a young maiden must 
 freely offer her life as a sacrifice. As he regarded this as impos 
 sible, he returned home to Swabia in despair, left his castle, 
 disposed of his riches and furniture, and retired to a little farm 
 house occupied by one of his vassals. Here he lived for some 
 time, bitterly lamenting his fate, and refusing to submit patiently 
 to the evil which had fallen upon him. His misery touched the 
 heart of a peasant-girl, the daughter of his vassal. She learned 
 from her parents what the doctor of Salerno had said of the only 
 means by which Prince Henry might be cured. It rested on her 
 mind ; and, after meditations by day and night, she resolved to 
 offer her own life. This supernatural self-devotion is contrasted 
 with the selfishness of the prince, who at first consents to buy 
 health at this high price ; but subsequently he relents ; the life 
 of the intended victim is spared, and the disease is cured. 
 
 In his treatment of the legend, Longfellow has freely introduced 
 Lucifer and good angels, with other dramatis personce of the old 
 mysteries. 
 
 We have still to notice the writer's extensive work on The 
 Poets and Poetry of Europe a series of translations, with intro 
 ductions and biographical notices, published in 1845. The 
 translations are partly original and partly selected from other 
 works. In the difficult and commonly thankless task of translating 
 poetry from the German and other modern languages, Longfellow 
 has apparently obeyed the orders of certain critics who have 
 insisted on verbal fidelity.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. G. WIHTTIER. 81 
 
 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, a member of the Society of 
 Friends, is one of the most earnest and impetuous of the writers 
 who have attacked the evil of slavery. His sincerity and warm 
 benevolence cannot be doubted ; but the same fervour that gives 
 spirit to his lyrics, makes him too impatient of the pains of finished 
 composition. He regards a song as a sword to be used hi battle ; 
 and if it has a sharp point, he cares nothing about its polish. A 
 friendly reviewer says of "\Vhittier : ' There is a rush of passion 
 in his verse which sweeps everything along with it. His fancy 
 and imagination can hardly keep pace with their fiery companion. 
 His vehement sensibility will not allow the inventive faculties 
 fully to complete what they may have commenced.' These 
 remarks may be applied to the anti-slavery verses, and several 
 other poems by Whittier ; but he rises, sometimes, far above 
 the declamatory style, and gives indications of a truly poetical 
 imagination. When free from polemical excitement, he can find 
 suitable expressions for refined and elevated sentiments. For 
 example, there is found not only a gentle tolerant spirit, but also 
 sound philosophy, in the following lines on the death of an amiable 
 and accomplished woman, who, in creed, belonged to the episcopal 
 church : 
 
 IN MEMORY OF LUCY HOOPER. 
 
 ' They've laid thee midst the household graves, 
 
 Where father, brother, sister lie ; 
 Below thee sweep the dark blue waves, 
 
 Above thee bends the summer sky. 
 Thy own loved church in sadness read 
 Her solemn ritual o'er thy head, 
 And blessed and hallowed with her prayer 
 The turf laid lightly o'er thee there. 
 That church, whose rites and liturgy, 
 Sublime and old, were truth to thee, 
 Undoubted to thy bosom taken, 
 As symbols of a faith unshaken. 
 Even I, of simpler views, could feel 
 The beauty of thy trust and zeal ; 
 And, owning not thy creed, could see 
 How deep a truth it seemed to thee, 
 And how thy fervent heart had thrown 
 O'er all, a colouring of its own, 
 And kindled up, intense and warm, 
 A life in every rite and form, 
 As, when on Chebar's banks of old, 
 The Hebrew's gorgeous vision rolled, 
 A spirit filled the vast machine 
 A life " within the wheels " was sen. 
 F
 
 82 AMEEICAX LITERATURE. 
 
 Farewell ! A little time, and we 
 
 Who knew thee well, and loved thee here, 
 One after one shall follow thee 
 
 As pilgrims through the gate of fear, 
 Which opens on eternity. 
 Yet shall we cherish not the less 
 
 All that is left our hearts meanwhile ; 
 The memory of thy loveliness 
 
 Shall round our weary pathway smile, 
 Like moonlight when the sun has set 
 A sweet and tender radiance yet. 
 Thoughts of thy clear-eyed sense of duty, 
 
 Thy generous scorn of all things wrong 
 The truth, the strength, the graceful beauty 
 
 Which blended in thy song, 
 All lovely things by thee beloved, 
 
 Shall whisper to our hearts of thee ; 
 These green hills, where thy childhood roved, 
 
 Yon river winding to the sea 
 The sunset light of autumn eves 
 
 Reflecting on the deep, still floods, 
 Cloud, crimson sky, and trembling leaves 
 
 Of rainbow-tinted woods 
 These, in our view, shall henceforth take 
 A tenderer meaning for thy sake ; 
 And all thou lov'dst of earth and sky, 
 Seem sacred to thy memory.' 
 
 HOLMES TUCKERMAX POE LOWELL STREET TAYLOR SAXE 
 
 BORER STODDAKT READ. 
 
 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, a physician in Boston, is the 
 writer of a series of occasional poems didactic, satirical, lyrical, 
 and humorous. He was born in 1809 at Cambridge, Massa 
 chusetts ; studied at Harvard University, and after taking his 
 degree, commenced the study of law, but soon relinquished it 
 and adopted the medical profession, in which he has gained a 
 high position as professor of anatomy and physiology in the 
 university of Cambridge. Holmes is the most cheerful of the 
 American poets ; indeed, his lighter pieces in verse may be 
 described as little more than effusions of a playful good-humour. 
 This quality has made him popular in America, where there is 
 some reason to complain of a want of mirth in the higher or more 
 educated classes, if we may accept the testimony of Emerson. 
 He says : ' We must pay for being too intellectual, as they call it. 
 People are not as light-hearted for it. I think men never loved
 
 SECOND PERIOD. O. W. HOLMES. 83 
 
 life less. I question if care and doubt ever wrote their names so 
 legibly on the faces of any population. This ennui, for which we 
 Saxons had no name this word of France, has got a terrible 
 significance. It shortens life, and bereaves the day of its light. 
 Old age begins in the nursery ; and before the young American is 
 put into jacket and trousers, he says : " I want something which 
 I never saw before." I have seen the same gloom on the brow 
 even of those adventurers from the intellectual class, who have 
 dived deepest, and with most success, into active life. I have 
 seen the authentic sign of anxiety and perplexity on the greatest 
 forehead of the state.' 1 
 
 In the lighter poems of Holmes, humour is generally blended 
 with good taste. His versification is easy and fluent, and rises to 
 dignity and chastened elegance in his serious and didactic poems ; 
 which suggest that the writer devoting his life to literature 
 might have achieved greater works. As a specimen of descriptive 
 verse, we may quote the following lines on Spring : 
 
 THE RETURN OF SPRING. 
 
 ' Winter is past ; the heart of Nature warms 
 Beneath the wrecks of unresisted storms ; 
 Doubtful at first, suspected more than seen, 
 The southern slopes are fringed with tender green ; 
 On sheltered banks, beneath the dripping eaves, 
 Spring's earliest nurslings spread their glowing leaves, 
 Bright with the hues from wider pictures won, 
 White, azure, golden drift, or sky, or sun ; 
 The snow-drop, bearing on her patient breast 
 The frozen trophy torn from winter's crest ; 
 The violet, gazing on the arch of blue 
 Till her own iris wears its deepened hue ; 
 The spendthrift crocus, bursting through the mould, 
 Naked and shivering with his cup of gold. 
 Swelled with new life, the darkening elm on high 
 Prints her thick buds against the spotted sky ; 
 On all her boughs the stately chestnut cleaves 
 The gummy shroud that wraps her embryo leaves. 
 
 * * os- 
 
 Then bursts the song from every leafy glade, 
 The yielding season's bridal serenade ; 
 Then flash the wings returning summer calls 
 Through the deep arches of her forest halls ; 
 The blue-bird breathing from his azure plumes 
 The fragrance borrowed where the myrtle blooms ; 
 
 1 The writer, we presume, alludes to Daniel Webster.
 
 84 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The thrush, poor wanderer, dropping meekly down, 
 
 Clad in his remnant of autumnal brown ; 
 
 The oriole, drifting like a flake of fire 
 
 Rent by the whirlwind from a blazing spire. 
 
 The robin, jerking his spasmodic throat, 
 
 Repeats, staccato, his peremptory note ; 
 
 The crack-brained boblink courts his crazy mate, 
 
 Poised on a bulrush tipsy with his weight ; 
 
 Nay, in his cage the lone canary sings, 
 
 Feels the soft air and spreads his idle wings. 
 
 Thus to my heart its wonted tides return, 
 
 When sullen Winter breaks his crystal urn, 
 
 And o'er the turf in wild profusion showers 
 
 Its dewy leaflets and ambrosial flowers. 
 
 In vacant rapture for a while I range 
 
 Through the wide scene of universal change, 
 
 Till, as the statue in its nerves of stone 
 
 Felt the new senses wakening one by one, 
 
 Each long-closed inlet finds its destined ray 
 
 Through the dark curtain Spring has rent away. 
 
 I crush the buds the clustering lilacs bear 
 
 The same sweet fragrance that I loved is there 
 
 The same fresh hues each opening disk reveals 
 
 Soft as of old each silken petal feels ; 
 
 The birch's rind its flavour still retains, 
 
 Its boughs still ringing with the self-same strains ; 
 
 Above, around, rekindling nature claims 
 
 Her glorious altars wreathed in living flames ; 
 
 Undimmed, unshadowed, far as morning shines, 
 
 Feeds with fresh incense her eternal shrines. 
 
 Lost in her arms, her burning life I share, 
 
 Breathe the wild freedom of her perfumed air, 
 
 From heaven's fair face the long-drawn shadows roll, 
 
 And all its sunshine floods my opening soul ! ' 
 
 The satire of Holmes is partly local, but many passages may be 
 as readily understood in England as in America. He does not 
 spare the foibles of his countrymen, but ventures to laugh at their 
 sensitiveness to the adulation or censure of travellers and critics ; 
 while, in serious mood, he reprobates the tyranny exercised in 
 some matters of opinion, and reproves that extreme devotion to 
 ' progress,' which can scarcely be described without using the 
 Americanism ' go-ahead.' 
 
 We must here pass over the names of several verse-writers 
 Cranch, Palmer, Pike, Gallagher, Lunt, and others who seem to 
 belong to the second class of American poets. In the Spirit of 
 Poetry, and other writings, by HENRY T. TUCKERMAN, we rind 
 proofs of a refined and imaginative mind ; but his prose works
 
 SECOND PERIOD. E. A. POE. 85 
 
 Thoughts on the Poets, and Characteristics of Literature arc more 
 interesting than his poems. Several specimens of poetry are 
 given under the name of William Crosswell, a clergyman who, for 
 some time, was associate editor of The Episcopal Watchman, a 
 religious paper published at Hartford. Among these specimens 
 we find one of the sonnets of Wordsworth, which was probably 
 inserted by an error of the editor. 1 
 
 To explain our omissions of many names in this part of our 
 review, it may be well to quote a few remarks by a candid critic. 2 
 With reference to numerous minor poets, or writers of verses, he 
 observes : ' Their compositions may not deserve much eulogium; 
 they may merely remodel old images, and repeat old forms of 
 expression ; they may rather reproduce than create ; but their 
 poetry often displays smooth versification, pure sentiment, and 
 occasionally a happy thought. ... In the United States, there is 
 a great number of such persons as we have indicated. ... If 
 iheir good-natured friends would only let them alone, they would 
 never discover that they were more gifted than their neighbours. 
 The danger is, that they will be too much elated by flattery, and 
 at last seriously entertain the conceit that they are great poets, 
 who reflect honour upon the literature of their country. As every 
 man has some friend connected with a newspaper or a magazine, 
 this danger is not so groundless as one may at first imagine.' It 
 is hardly necessary to add, that this warning is partly applicable 
 to England as well as to America ; but in the latter country, the 
 condition of the newspaper-press facilitates the growth of false 
 reputations. 
 
 Several writers have described EDGAR ALLAN POE as the most 
 original of all the American poets, and as a melancholy example 
 of artistic genius united with moral depravity. We are willing 
 to believe that, in the sketches of his biography, there may be 
 found some exaggeration of the darker traits. He was born at 
 Baltimore in January 1811. The early death of his parents 
 who belonged to the theatrical profession left him, with two 
 other children, in a destitute condition. When about six years 
 old, he was adopted by Mr Allan, a merchant, who brought him 
 over to England, and placed him in a school at Stoke-Newington. 
 After staying here some four or five years, he returned with 
 
 1 Kettel's Specimens of American Poetry, vol. iii. p. 357. The sonnet begins with 
 the lines : 
 
 ' Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room ; 
 And hermits are contented with their cells.' 
 
 2 E. P. Whipple, art. Poets and Poetry of America,- in No. 122 of the North 
 American Review.
 
 86 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Mr Allan to America, and entered the university at Charlottesville, 
 where, it is said, he shared in the dissolute habits then too 
 prevalent among the students. One of his biographers states, 
 that Poe was expelled from Charlottesville ; while another says, 
 that he took the first honours of the college. 
 
 However this might be, it appears that very soon after the 
 completion of his studies, Poe quarrelled with his benefactor, 
 Mr Allan, who refused to pay the debts his proteV^'s dissipated 
 habits had contracted. After writing an abusive letter to his 
 patron, Poe left America, and sailed for Greece, professedly going 
 to take part with the Greeks in their war against the Turks. He 
 never reached his destination ; and of his wild rambles and adven 
 tures in Europe we know nothing more, than that he was found 
 in some difficulty in St Petersburg, where the American consul 
 rescued him, and enabled him to return to his native land. Here 
 he entered the military academy at West Point, but was soon 
 cashiered for disobedience. We are assured by one biographer, 
 that the origin of all Poe's subsequent misfortunes was the death 
 of his benefactress, Mrs Allan, and the second marriage of 
 Mr Allan, which deprived the adopted son of all hope of 
 inheriting a considerable property. Other writers say, that Poe 
 ridiculed and insulted the second Mrs Allan, and accordingly was 
 turned out of doors. However the case might be, the young 
 man, without resources, was cast upon the world, and, after some 
 further thoughts of adopting a military life, he applied himself to 
 literature, and appeared as a competitor for two prizes offered by 
 the editors of the Baltimore Visitor. He gained both prizes 
 the first, by his poem on the Coliseum ; the second, by his tale of 
 a MS. found in a Bottle; but, subsequently, the adjudicators 
 decided that, having gained the first, he must forego the second 
 prize. When he came forward to receive the sum awarded, he 
 was thin and pale, and his costume indicated extreme destitution. 
 A threadbare coat was closely buttoned to hide the want of a 
 shirt, while worn-out boots failed to conceal the want of hose. His 
 success introduced him to new friends, by whose aid he obtained 
 the editorship of The Southern Literary Messenger, published in 
 Richmond. Having now a salary of about L.100 a year, he was 
 bold enough to marry his cousin, a poor but beautiful and 
 amiable girl, named Virginia Clemm the Annabel Lee of his 
 poetry. 
 
 The cause of his failure in Richmond, as in other places, is 
 mildly stated in a letter written by the editor of The Home Journal, 
 who appears to have been well acquainted with Poe ; and as this 
 statement seems to be both probable and charitable, we give it 
 as a counterpoise against more serious charges made against his
 
 SECOND PERIOD. E. A. POE. 87 
 
 moral character. The editor says : ' Some four or five years 
 since, when editing a daily paper in this city, Mr Poe was 
 employed by us for several months as critic and sub-editor. This 
 was our first personal acquaintance with him. He resided with his 
 wife and mother at Fordham, a few miles out of town, but was 
 at his desk in the office from nine in the morning till the evening 
 paper went to press. With the highest admiration for his 
 genius, and a willingness to let it atone for more than ordinary 
 irregularity, we were led by common report to expect a very 
 capricious attention to his duties, and occasionally a scene of 
 violence and difficulty. Time went on, however, and he was 
 
 invariably punctual and industrious With the prospect 
 
 of taking the lead in another periodical, he at last voluntarily 
 gave up his employment with us ; and through all this considerable 
 period, we had seen but one presentment of the man a quiet, 
 patient, industrious, and most gentlemanly person, commanding 
 the utmost respect and good feeling by his unvarying deportment 
 and ability. Residing as he did in the country, we never met 
 Mr Poe in hours of leisure ; but he frequently called on us after 
 wards at our place of business, and we met him often in the street 
 invariably the same sad-mannered, whining, and refined gentle 
 man, such as we had always known him. It was by rumour only, 
 up to the day of his death, that we knew of any other develop 
 ment of manner or character. We heard, from one who knew 
 him well what should be stated in all mention of his lamentable 
 irregularities that, with a sinyle glass of wine his whole nature 
 was reversed ; the demon became uppermost, and, though none of 
 the usual signs of intoxication were visible, his will was palpably 
 insane.' 
 
 After leaving Richmond, Poe wandered to Baltimore and New 
 York, hi search of the precarious gains of periodical literature ; 
 and about the close of the year 1838, he was engaged as editor of 
 a magazine established by Mr Burton in Philadelphia. In this 
 post, he was at first steady hi the performance of his duties ; 
 abstained from the fatal bottle ; and, in a letter to a friend, 
 described himself as ' a model of temperance.' But he offended 
 his employer not only by a lapse into irregularities, but also by 
 the severe and intemperate tone of his criticisms. 
 
 Having left Mr Burton's office, Poe endeavoured to start a 
 rival magazine, and soon afterwards was appointed editor of 
 Graham's Magazine, to which he contributed several ingenious 
 papers on cryptology, or cipher-writing. During his residence 
 in Philadelphia, his manners, when not disguised by intoxication, 
 were quiet and gentlemanly ; but his irregularities were so 
 frequent, that he lost his engagement, and in 1844 removed to
 
 88 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 New York, where he gained a reputation by several magazine- 
 papers, and especially by his poem of The Raven. Here, as 
 elsewhere, if we must believe the statements of the biographer, 
 Mr Griswold, Poe ruined himself by habits which seem to prove 
 a case of moral insanity. In a state of destitution, he lived with 
 his wife and his mother-in-law. Maria Clemm, at Fordham, near 
 New York. In the midst of his misery, his mother-in-law 
 (who must have been a brave and good soul) remained faithful, 
 devoted to the unhappy man. She wandered in the streets of 
 New York, selling odd poems written by her son, to provide a 
 dinner for him ; and when she had no poems, she begged for him. 
 This might tempt a charitable mind to believe that Poe could not 
 have been the hopeless moral outcast described by his biographer : 
 he was still beloved by this faithful woman ; but on this heroic 
 devotion we fear no argument can be weh 1 founded in favour of 
 the man. His wife died during this dark time, and he deplored 
 her fate in the beautiful lyric of Annabel Lee, which must be 
 quoted, as, next to The Raven, the most striking example of that 
 harmony of feeling with rhythmical expression for which Poe's 
 verses are remarkable : 
 
 ANNABEL LEE. 
 
 ' It was many and many a year ago, 
 
 In a kingdom by the sea, 
 That a maiden there lived, whom you may know 
 
 By the name of Annabel Lee ; 
 And this maiden she lived with no other thought 
 
 Than to love and be loved by me. 
 
 I was a child and she was a child, 
 
 In this kingdom by the sea ; 
 But we loved with a love that was more than love 
 
 I and my Annabel Lee 
 With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven 
 
 Coveted her and me. 
 
 And this was the reason that, long ago, 
 
 In this kingdom by the sea, 
 A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 
 
 My beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
 So that her high-born kinsmen * came, 
 
 And bore her away from me. 
 To shut her up in a sepulchre, 
 
 In this kingdom by the sea. 
 
 1 The angels.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. E. A. POE. 89 
 
 The angels, not half so happy in heaven, 
 
 Went envying her and me 
 Yes ! that was the reason (as all men know, 
 
 In this kingdom by the sea) 
 That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 
 
 Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 
 
 But our love it was stronger by far than the love 
 
 Of those who were older than we 
 
 Of many far wiser than we 
 And neither the angels in heaven above, 
 
 Nor the demons down under the sea, 
 Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 
 
 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 
 
 For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 
 
 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
 And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes 
 
 Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 
 And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side 
 Of my darling my darling my life and my bride, 
 
 In the sepulchre there by the sea 
 
 In her tomb by the sounding sea.' 
 
 After the death of his wife, Poe's necessities were relieved 
 by the contributions of friends, and the faithful services of 
 his mother-in-law. If there is anything in the sad tale of his 
 life worthy of lasting remembrance, it is the conduct of this 
 devoted woman, of whom Mr Willis has given the following 
 account : 
 
 ' Our first knowledge of Mr Foe's removal to this city, was by a 
 call which we received from a lady, who introduced herself to us 
 as the mother of his wife. She was in search of employment for 
 him ; and she excused her errand by mentioning that he was ill, that 
 her daughter was a confirmed invalid, and that their circumstances 
 were such as compelled her taking it upon herself. The countenance 
 of this lady, made beautiful and saintly with an evidently complete 
 giving up of her life to privation and sorrowful tenderness, her gentle 
 and mournful voice urging its plea, her long-forgotten but habitually 
 and unconsciously refined manners, and her appealing and yet appre 
 ciative mention of the claims and abilities of her son, disclosed at 
 once the presence of one of those angels upon earth that women in 
 adversity can be. It was a hard fate that she was watching over. 
 Mr Poc wrote with fastidious difficulty, and in a style too much 
 above the popular level to be well paid. He was always in pecu 
 niary difficulty, and, with his sick wife, frequently in want of the 
 merest necessaries of life. Winter after winter, for years, the most
 
 90 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 touching sight to us, in this whole city, has been that tireless minister 
 to genius, thinly and insufficiently clad, going from office to office with 
 a poem, or an article on some literary subject, to sell sometimes 
 simply pleading in a broken voice that he was ill, and begging for 
 him mentioning nothing but that " he was ill" whatever might be 
 the reason for his writing nothing and never, amid all her tears 
 and recitals of distress, suffering one syllable to escape her lips that 
 could convey a doubt of him, or a complaint, or a lessening of pride 
 in his genius and good intentions. Her daughter died, a year and a 
 half since, but she did not desert him. She continued his minister 
 ing angel living with him caring for him guarding him against 
 exposure ; and, when he was carried away by temptation, amid grief 
 and the loneliness of feelings unreplied to, and awoke from his self- 
 abandonment prostrated in destitution and suffering, begging for him 
 still. If woman's devotion, born with a first love, and fed with 
 human passion, hallow its object, as it is allowed to do, what does 
 not a devotion like this pure, disinterested, and holy as the watch 
 of an invisible spirit say for him who inspired it ?' 
 
 In 1848, Poe advertised his intention of delivering a course of 
 lectures, in order to raise funds for the establishment of a monthly 
 magazine. The first of these lectures was upon cosmogony, and 
 embraced a new theory of the universe. It was read by the 
 author at the Society Library in New York, and afterwards was 
 published under the title of Eureka, a Prose Poem. Of this 
 singular production, we can say nothing more than that it was 
 professedly based upon intuitions or ' dreams,' as Poe says in 
 the preface and had no connection with the sober inductive 
 method of research. 
 
 The next paragraph in this sad biography seems so improbable, 
 that we write it without a full belief in its reality, though it is 
 indorsed by Mr Griswold. It is said that, soon after the delivery 
 of his first lecture, Poe accidentally became acquainted with one 
 of the most beautiful and accomplished women in New England, 
 and that arrangements were made for their marriage. A friend 
 congratulated Poe on his prospect of happiness ; but the sequel 
 seems as strange as the fact, that a virtuous and intelligent lady 
 should have consented to a union with a hopeless drunkard. Poe, 
 in reply to the congratulation, said : ' Mark me ! I shall not marry 
 her ;' and his mode of breaking the engagement is described as 
 brutal in the extreme. It is said that he deliberately left New 
 York, and, on the evening of the day before that appointed for the 
 wedding, was seen drunken in the streets of the city where the 
 lady resided ; that in this condition he went to her house, and 
 there exhibited such brutal conduct, that he was turned out by the 
 police. All this is represented as having been done in a manner 
 perfectly prepense, and without any provocation. A biographer
 
 SECOND PERIOD. E. A. POE. 91 
 
 says : ' Here was no insanity. Poe went from New York with a 
 determination thus to induce an ending of the engagement, and he 
 succeeded.' Of such a tale we can say only, that it appears very 
 improbable, and that common charity suggests that some points 
 may have been added by the writer for the sake of effect ; for if 
 true in its description of ,the prepense nature of the outrage, it 
 places Edgar Allan Poe, the man, whatever we may think of the 
 poet, beyond the bounds of our sympathies. 
 
 After this, we are told that Poe joined the temperance society 
 in Richmond; that his conduct shewed the earnestness of his 
 endeavour to reform lu's life ; and that he commenced a series of 
 lectures, which he intended to deliver in several towns. This 
 sudden, but, alas! short reformation, effected by the simple pledge 
 of abstinence from alcoholic stimulus, may accord with that theory 
 of Poe's irregularities which has been given in the letter of a 
 friend ; but we cannot see how it accords with the character of 
 deliberate baseness above described. However, he lectured in 
 the principal towns of Virginia in 1849 ; and in this year renewed 
 his acquaintance with a lady whom he had known in his youth, 
 and engaged to marry her. He wrote to friends letters describing 
 liis new hopes, and speaking of a future residence among scenes 
 endeared by pleasant recollections. In October of the same year, 
 when on his way to Philadelphia and New York, he arrived at 
 Baltimore, and while his luggage was being carried to the train, 
 he went into a tavern to take refreshment. Here he found some 
 old companions, who invited him to drink. He drained the fatal 
 cup. It does not appear that he stayed long in the tavern, or 
 with his drinking-companions. In a few hours, he was found 
 in the street; and, in a state of insanity, was carried to the 
 hospital. A violent fever followed ; and on the evening of 
 Sunday, October 7, 1849, Edgar Allan Poe died, at the early age 
 of thirty-eight. 
 
 The poetry written by Poe is almost destitute of moral 
 characteristics, either good or bad ; certainly, it is free from all 
 objectionable features. A love of beauty and melody is the 
 most remarkable trait in his verses ; and his singular and well- 
 known poem entitled The Raven, is generally allowed to be one 
 of the most remarkable examples of a harmony of sentiment 
 with rhythmical expression to be found in any language. While 
 the poet sits musing in his study, and endeavours to win from 
 books ' surcease of sorrow for the lost Lenore,' a raven the 
 symbol of despair enters the room, and perches upon a bust 
 of Pallas. A colloquy follows between the poet and the bird 
 of ill-omen with its haunting croak of 'never more.' Though 
 the poem is so well known, it must be once more quoted,
 
 92 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 as it is, without doubt, the best specimen of Poe's lyrical 
 power : 
 
 THE RAVEN. 
 
 ' Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,. 
 Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore 
 While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
 As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber-door ; 
 " 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, " tapping at my chamber-door 
 Only this, and nothing more." 
 
 Ah ! distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
 And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
 Eagerly I wished the morrow ; vainly I had soiight to borrow 
 From iny books surcease of sorrow sorrow for the lost Lenore 
 For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Leuore 
 Nameless here for evermore. 
 
 And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
 Thrilled me filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before j 
 So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating : 
 " 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door 
 Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber-door : 
 This it is, and nothing more." 
 
 Presently my soul grew stronger ; hesitating then no longer, 
 " Sir," said I, " or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ; 
 But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 
 And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber-door, 
 That I scarce was sure I heard you " here I opened wide the 
 
 door 
 
 Darkness there, and nothing more. 
 
 Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, 
 
 fearing, 
 Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream 
 
 before ; 
 
 But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 
 And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 
 
 " Lenore ! " 
 This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, 
 
 " Lenore ! " 
 
 Merely this, and nothing more. 
 
 Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 
 Soon again I heard a tapping something louder than before. 
 " Surely," said I " surely that is something at my window lattice ; 
 Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore 
 Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore. 
 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."
 
 SECOND PERIOD. E. A. POE. 93 
 
 Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and 
 
 flutter, 
 
 In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. 
 Not the least obeisance made he ; not a minute stopped or 
 
 stayed he ; 
 
 But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber-door 
 Perched upon a bust of Pallas, jnst above my chamber-door 
 Perched and sat, and nothing more. 
 
 Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, 
 
 By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, 
 
 " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure 
 
 no craven, 
 Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, wandering from the nightly 
 
 shore 
 
 Tell mo what thy lordly name is on the night's Plutonian shore ! " 
 Ouoth the Raven, " Nevermore." 
 
 Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so 
 
 plainly, 
 
 Though its answer little meaning little relevancy bore ; 
 For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
 Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber-door 
 Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber-door, 
 With such name as " Nevermore." 
 
 But the Raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only 
 That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. 
 Nothing further then he uttered ; not a feather then he fluttered 
 Till I scarcely more than muttered : " Other friends have flown 
 
 before 
 
 On the morrow lie will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." 
 Then the bird said : " Never more." 
 
 Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
 " Doubtless," said I, " what it utters is its only stock and store, 
 Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster 
 Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore 
 Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore, 
 Of ' Never never more.' " 
 
 But the Raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, 
 Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and 
 
 door ; 
 
 Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
 Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore 
 What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of 
 
 yore 
 
 Meant in croaking (i Never more."
 
 94 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 I 
 
 This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 
 To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core ; 
 This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 
 On, the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, 
 But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er 
 She shall press, ah, never more ! 
 
 Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen 
 
 censer 
 
 Swung by seraphim, whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. 
 "Wretch !" I cried, " thy god hath lent thee by these angels he 
 
 hath sent thee 
 
 Kespite respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! 
 Quaff, O quaff, this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore ! " 
 Quoth the Raven : " Never more ! " 
 
 "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil ! prophet still, if bird or 
 
 devil ! 
 Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here 
 
 ashore, 
 
 Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted 
 On this home by horror haunted tell me truly, I implore 
 Is there is there balm in Gilead ? tell me tell me, I implore ! " 
 Quoth the Raven : "Never more." 
 
 " Prophet ! " said I, " thing of evil prophet still, if bird or 
 
 devil ! 
 
 By that heaven that bends above us by that God we both adore, 
 Tell this soul, with sorrow laden, if within the distant Aiden, 
 It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore 
 Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore 2" 
 Quoth the Raven : " Never more." 
 
 K Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend !" I shrieked, 
 
 upstarting 
 
 " Get thee back into the tempest and the night's Plutonian shore ! 
 Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! 
 Leave my loneliness unbroken ! quit the bust above my door ! 
 Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my 
 
 door !" 
 
 Quoth the Raven : " Never more." 
 
 And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, 
 On the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber-door ; 
 And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, 
 And the lamp-light o'er him streaming, throws his shadow on the 
 
 floor; 
 
 And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, 
 Shall be lifted never more !'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. R. LOWELL. 95 
 
 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, one of the most versatile of the 
 younger poets of America, is the son of a clergyman of Boston, 
 and was born in 1819. After leaving Harvard College, where he 
 graduated in 1839, he commenced the study of law, but was soon 
 led aside by the attractions of imaginative literature. 
 
 In early life, he joined the anti-slavery movement, and his 
 poems have always been characterised, more or less, by a didactic 
 and philanthropic purport. This, in many instances, becomes a 
 fault. The doctrine which might be suitably given in an essay, 
 is out of place, as we conceive, in a poem that seems intended 
 to be lyrical. Poetry, though united with the interests of real 
 life and the progress of society, should maintain its own character, 
 and ever remain distinct from dry argument and mere declamation. 
 
 In his Fable for the Critics, the author seems to be fully 
 conscious of his errors, for he says of himself 
 
 ' There is Lowell, who's striving Parnassus to climb 
 With a whole bale of isms tied together with rhyme : 
 
 * * * 
 
 The top of the hill he will ne'er come nigh reaching 
 Till he learns the distinction 'twixt singing and preaching.' 
 
 The 'preaching' is indeed very tiresome in numerous examples; 
 especially when both text and sermon are equally vague and 
 mystical. 
 
 After contributing both prose and verse to periodicals, Lowell 
 published, in 1841, a volume of poems entitled A Year's Life, 
 which contained evidence that the writer had studied the diction 
 of our old English poets, and had, perhaps unconsciously, imitated 
 Tennyson, as may be clearly seen in the lines entitled The Syrens 
 compared with the Lotos- eaters. It is the tone, rather than the 
 imagery of the poem, that betrays imitation. Redundancy of 
 words, and uncouth combinations, such as ' rapture-quivered,' 
 are the chief faults in the volume, which contains, however, some 
 specimens of genuine poetry, and gives proofs that the writer 
 possesses warm feelings and power of imagination. 
 
 In 1844, another volume of poems proved that the writer had 
 made considerable progress in energy of thought and command of 
 language ; but the didactic tendency was made too prominent, 
 and, in his lines entitled L'Envoi, the author attempted to justify 
 his use of poetry for the advocacy of various reforms in society 
 and government. He alludes to the common-place argument of 
 certain critics who have supposed that America must produce a 
 great poet because Niagara is a great water-fall : 
 
 ' They tell us that our land was made for song.' 
 But he maintains that the true purpose of modern poetry should
 
 96 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 be, not to celebrate the grandeur and beauty of lakes, rivers, 
 cataracts, forests, and prairies, but to assert 
 
 ' The freedom and divinity of man, 
 The glorious claims of human brotherhood. 
 
 * * * 
 
 These are realities which make the shows 
 Of outward Nature, be they ne'er so grand, 
 Seem small and worthless and contemptible.' 
 
 It is very true that the imaginative writer should do something 
 more than describe woods and rivers ; it is also true that he 
 should, in his own proper style, inculcate truth and good senti 
 ments ; but a great mistake is often found very near the truth. 
 It must be a confused notion of the mission of poetry that has led 
 Lowell to write such lines as these 
 
 ' He who settles Freedom's principles, 
 "Writes the death-warrant of all tyranny ; 
 Who speaks the truth, stabs falsehood to the heart, 
 And his mere word makes despots tremble more 
 Than ever Brutus with his dagger could.' 
 
 This reads like a versified extract from a third-rate speech in 
 Congress. However great the evils of society may be, it still 
 remains true, that every department of literature should have its 
 own distinct character, and verse should not be used for work that 
 may be better done in prose. 
 
 These remarks must be applied to the so-called reform-poetry, 
 but by no means to all the verses of Lowell. As we have said, 
 lie is a versatile writer, and his poems include descriptive, narra 
 tive, lyrical, humorous, and satirical, as well as didactic specimens. 
 In the descriptive poems such as an Indian Summer's Reverie 
 there is a considerable wealth of imagery ; but it is not always 
 distinctly arranged. The finest images are often spoiled by false 
 .associations. 
 
 In the tale of Rhcecus, founded on Greek mythology, the 
 poetical part is injured by its connection with a long moral appli 
 cation. Prometheus, another of the more important poems, has a 
 noble design, but suffers under a load of prolixity. The warmest 
 admirers of Lowell's poems must admit, that even the best want 
 that conciseness which finished study might have attained. 
 
 Lowell has read and admired the best sonnets and other short 
 poems of "Wordsworth, and must have noticed the examples of 
 rich thoughtfulness compressed in single lines ; or of long 
 descriptions superseded by a few golden words. How were such 
 effects produced ? Not by rapid writing ; but during many long 
 meditations in the little garden which served as the poet's study,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. R. LOWELL. 97 
 
 where he finished the composition of his verses before committing 
 them to writing. His dislike of this last process, increased by 
 his pens, which were ' always bad,' and his penmanship ' vile 
 at best' as he said was probably the cause of many happy 
 thoughts ascribed to sudden inspiration. Of his own ' work 
 manship ' in poetry that was his term he said : 'It is rarely 
 that I can at all please myself without much more retouching 
 than I could recommend to a young author.' 
 
 The following quotation is an example of Lowell's quiet and 
 pathetic mood : 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 
 
 ' How peacefully they rest, 
 Crossfolded there 
 Upon his little breast, 
 
 Those small, white hands, that ne'er were still before, 
 But ever sported with his mother's hair, 
 Or the plain cross that on her breast she wore ! 
 Her heart no more will beat 
 To feel the touch of that soft palm, 
 That ever seemed a new surprise, 
 Sending glad thoughts up to her eyes 
 To bless him with their holy calm 
 Sweet thoughts ! they made her eyes as sweet. 
 
 How quiet are the hands 
 
 That wove those pleasant bands ! 
 But that they do not rise and sink 
 With his calm breathing, I should think 
 That he were dropped asleep : 
 Alas ! too deep, too deep 
 
 Is this his slumber ! 
 
 Time scarce can number 
 The years ere he will wake agen 
 O may we see his eyelids open then ! 
 
 O stern word nevermore ! 
 
 * * * 
 
 He did but float a little way 
 
 Adown the stream of time, 
 With dreamy eyes watching the ripples' play, 
 
 Or listening to their fairy chime ; 
 His slender sail 
 Ne'er felt the gale ; 
 He did but float a little way, 
 And putting to the-shore, 
 While yet 'twas early day, 
 Went calmly on his way, 
 To dwell with us no more !
 
 98 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Full short his journey was ; no dust 
 
 Of earth unto his sandals clave ; 
 The weary weight that old men must, 
 
 He bore not to the grave. 
 He seemed a cherub who had lost his way, 
 And wandered hither ; so his stay 
 "With us was short, and 'twas most meet 
 That he should be no delver in earth's clod, 
 Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet 
 To stand before his God : 
 O blest word evermore ! ' 
 
 The Fable for the Critics is a clever satire, and contains several 
 lively sketches (in some instances, caricatures) of American 
 authors of the present day Emerson, Neal, Willis, Bryant, 
 Hawthorne, and others. Generally, the sketches are given in 
 good-humour ; but the full-length portrait of a pedant, well 
 known at Cambridge, and the caricature entitled ' Miranda,' 
 intended for an American authoress, have sufficient bitterness. 
 In the latter example, \ve dissent from the writer's opinion, that 
 such severity was justified by the want of good taste in the lady. 
 It is said by a critic, ' that if a woman chooses to enter the arena, 
 and join in the athletic sports of men, she should not object to 
 being roughly handled.' This misrepresents the case by a rather 
 coarse comparison. A women may enter the 'arena' of litera 
 ture, and may there advocate some objectionable opinions ; but 
 these may be corrected without extreme severity. 
 
 The satire on ' the heavy reviewer ' is fair enough. We trust 
 that the author has a due respect for the hard and thankless toil 
 of sincere and careful criticism ; but he knows well that criticism 
 and reviewing are not always identical. 
 
 SKETCH OF A HEAVY REVIEWER. 
 
 * 'Twould be endless to tell you the things that he knew, 
 All separate facts, undeniably true, 
 But with him, or each other, they 'd nothing to do : 
 No power of combining, arranging, discerning, 
 Digested the masses he learned into learning. 
 There was one thing in life he had practical knowledge for 
 (And this, you will think, he need scarce go to college for), 
 Not a deed would he do, nor a word woiild he utter, 
 Till he 'd weighed its relations to plain bread and butter. 
 "When he left Alma Mater, he practised his wits 
 In compiling the journals' historical bits 
 Of shops broken open, men falling in fits, 
 Great fortunes in England bequeathed to poor printers, 
 And cold spells, the coldest for many past winters
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. E. LOWELL. 99 
 
 Then, rising by industry, knack, and address, 
 
 Got notices up for an unbiassed press, 
 
 With a mind so well poised, it seemed equally made for 
 
 Applause or abuse, just which chanced to be paid for ; 
 
 From this point his progress was rapid and sure, 
 
 To the post of a regular heavy reviewer. 
 
 And here I must say, he wrote excellent articles 
 On the Hebraic points, or the force of Greek particles ; 
 They filled up the space nothing else was prepared for, 
 And nobody read that which nobody cared for. 
 If any old book reached a fiftieth edition, 
 He could fill forty pages with safe erudition ; 
 He could gauge the old books by the old set of rules, 
 And his very old nothings pleased very old fools ; 
 But give him a new book, fresh out of the heart, 
 And you put him at sea without compass or chart 
 His blunders aspired to the rank of an art ; 
 For his lore was ingraft, something foreign that grew in him, 
 Exhausting the sap of the native and true in him, 
 So that when a man came with a soul that was new in 
 
 him, 
 
 Carving new forms of truth out of Nature's old granite 
 New and old at their birth, like Le Terrier's planet 
 
 * * 
 
 Our reviewer would crawl all about it and round it, 
 And, reporting each circumstance just as he found it, 
 Without the least malice his record would be 
 Profoundly aesthetic as that of a flea, 
 
 Which, supping on Wordsworth, should print, for our sakes, 
 Recollections of nights with the Bard of the Lakes, 
 Or, borne by an Arab guide, ventured to render a 
 General view of the ruins at Denderah.' 
 
 The versatility of Lowell has already beguiled us into a rather 
 lengthy notice of his poems; but we have still another phase 
 of his literary character to notice. He can descend from the 
 style of his serious reformatory poetry to popular satire in the 
 Yankee dialect. Of his merits in this department, we are not 
 competent to pronounce an opinion, and must therefore quote 
 from an American review. 1 Speaking of the Biglow Papers, a 
 critic says: 'This is an unmistakably American performance. 
 "Whether the foreign reader could fully enjoy it, we know not ; 
 but whoever knows anything of New England rustic-life, will find 
 in it food for laughter on every page. The book is also a valuable 
 
 1 In Putnam's Monthly, No. 5.
 
 100 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 repository of the dialectic peculiarities of New England, and 
 worth resorting to, to discover its tone of thought and mode 
 of viewing political affairs, such as the Mexican war and 
 
 slavery Lowell's Yankee humour is genuine, and does 
 
 not depend for its success upon mere slang and misspelling, 
 which is all that there is to recommend the works of some 
 adventurers in this department. It is at times broad, almost 
 farcical and again delicate and penetrating, and in either case 
 irresistible.' 
 
 We suppose this to be an impartial judgment, and, as our object 
 is not to reduce American literature within the limits of our own 
 taste, but to exhibit fairly its various features, we offer no apology 
 for our notice of the Biylow Papers. 
 
 They consist chiefly of a series of satirical pieces in verse, 
 written in the Yankee dialect, and commenting on political 
 topics, especially the Mexican war and slavery. These poems, 
 supposed to be written by a rustic Yankee named Hosea Biglow, 
 ' a cross between Apollo and Sam Slick,' are edited, with annota 
 tions and a tedious commentary, by the llev. Homer Wilbur a 
 fictitious character of the Dryasdust school. He appends a 
 useful Yankee glossary, and gives a few rules for reading the 
 rustic dialect of New England. We read, that 'the genuine 
 Yankee' avoids, as far as possible, the rough sound of r, and 
 seldom sounds a final y ; omits the aspirate in while and when, 
 prefixes e to the diphthong ou, and reduces au in daughter to 
 ah. In regard to the first vowel, he sometimes gives it a close 
 obscure sound as hev for have ; and, in other instances, uses the 
 broad sound it has in father as in saying hansome for handsome. 
 A drawl, ad libitum, must be added to these peculiarities. By 
 attention to these rules, we are enabled to read, with proper 
 effect, the effusions of the earnest Hosea Biglow. The first is a 
 rhymed protest against the Mexican war and a dissuasion against 
 enlisting. Next comes a letter from a raw youth, named 
 ' Birdofredum Sawin,' who describes the miseries of the first 
 campaign. After other political satires, not well understood out 
 of America, we find a debate in the senate put into ' nursery 
 rhymes.' Calhoun is the chief speaker : 
 
 ' " Gen'nle Cass, sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar ; 
 
 Your merit 's quite clear by the dut on your knees ; 
 At the North, we don't make no distinctions o' colour ; 
 You can all take a lick at our shoes wen you please," 
 Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ; 
 Sez Mister Jarnagin, 
 " They wunt hev to larn agin, 
 They all on 'em know the old toou," sez he.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. R. LOWELL. 101 
 
 " The slavery question aint no ways bewilderin'. 
 
 North an' South hev one int'rest, it's plain to a glance ; 
 No'thern men, like us patriarchs, don't sell their children, 
 But they du sell themselves, ef they git a good chance," 
 Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ; 
 Sez Atherton here, 
 " This is gittin' severe ; 
 I wish I could dive like a loon," sez he.' 
 
 The ' Pious Editor's Creed ' embraces several odd articles, 
 such as 
 
 ' I don't believe in princerple, 
 But, 0, 1 du in interest. 
 
 * * * 
 
 I du believe the people want 
 
 A tax on teas an' coffees, 
 Thet nothin' aint extravygunt 
 
 Purvidin' I'm in office ; 
 Fer I hev loved my country sonce 
 
 My eye-teeth filled their sockets, 
 An' Uncle Sam I reverence, 
 
 Fartic'larly his pockets. 
 
 I du believe with all my soul 
 
 In the gret Press's freedom, 
 To pint the people to the goal 
 
 An' in the traces lead 'em ; 
 Palsied the arm thet forges yokes 
 
 At my fat contracts squintin', 
 An' withered be the nose thet pokes 
 
 Inter the gov'ment printin' ! 
 
 I du believe thet I should give 
 
 Wut's his'n unto Ctesar, 
 Fer it's by him I move an' live, 
 
 Frum him my bread an' cheese air ; 
 I du believe thet all o' me 
 
 Doth bear his souperscription 
 Will, conscience, honour, honesty, 
 
 An' things o' thet description.' 
 
 The candidate for the presidency is as unceremoniously treated 
 as the editor. When required ' to define his position,' he makes 
 a profession of eclecticism, vulgarly styled trimming, and other 
 wise described as ' sitting on the fence.' The satire here may be
 
 102 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 more freely quoted ; for while the topics are American, the 
 treatment has a general interest 
 
 ' Ez fer the war, I go agin it 
 
 I mean to say I kind o' du 
 Thet is, I mean thet, bein' in it, 
 
 The best way wuz to fight it thru ; 
 Not but wut abstract war is horrid, 
 
 I sign to thet with all my heart 
 But civlyzation doos git forrid 
 
 Sometimes upon a powder-cart. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Ez to the slaves, there 's no confusion 
 
 In my idees consarnin' them 
 / think they air an Institution, 
 
 A sort of yes, jest so ahem : 
 Do / own any ? Of my merit 
 
 On thet pint you yourself may jedge ; 
 All is, I never drink no sperit, 
 
 Nor I haint never signed no pledge.' 
 
 Two letters from the volunteer, Birdofredum Sawin, whose 
 morals have not been improved by the campaign, conclude the 
 series of political verses. The appended burlesque 'notices of 
 the press,' or fictitious extracts from reviews, are as amusing as 
 the verses, and fairly satirise the off-hand, careless style of many 
 newspapers. 
 
 Several names of recent writers have been omitted in our 
 review. To describe fairly the relative merits of young authors 
 who are still at the bar of public opinion, would be a difficult 
 and unpleasant task. We cannot make our own opinions a basis 
 of criticism, and we should vainly seek assistance in the pages 
 of many reviews. After all that has been written as criticism on 
 recent poetry, there is a want of definition and clearness. The 
 simple dictum of Edgar Poe that every poem should be short 
 enough to be read in ' a single sitting ' seems as valuable as 
 many of the rules laid down by the critics. "With this apology 
 for brevity, we may introduce the names of the younger American 
 poets Street, Taylor, Saxe, Boker, Stoddart, and Buchanan 
 Bead reminding the reader that we leave the respective merits 
 of these writers among the numerous open questions of literature. 
 
 ALFRED B. STREET, a lawyer, lately residing at Albany, has 
 published descriptive poems which have passed through several 
 editions, and have been highly commended for their graphic 
 power. With reference to the selection of epithets, one American
 
 SECOND PERIOD. STREET TAYLOR, ETC. READ. 103 
 
 critic compares Street with Bryant ; while another says : ' In a 
 foreign land, his poems would transport us at once to home.' 
 In Frontenac, a tale of the Iroquois, the author has added a 
 narrative interest to his descriptive passages, of which several 
 are clearly written with picturesque effect. The frequent recur 
 rence of favourite epithets is justly censured by a reviewer ; and 
 the criticism may be quoted here, for this iteration is too common 
 among young poets, and sometimes prevails as an epidemic among 
 magazine-writers. For example, the reviewer who first happily 
 applied the epithet ' weird ' to Hawthorne's tales, must be tired of 
 it when he finds it copied in almost every review of this author. 
 In Street's poems, says the critic, ' it is amazing how many 
 things slant. Light slants, spears slant, trees slant, brinks are 
 " tree-slanted," banks slant, squirrels slant all nature slants. A 
 great many more things " shimmer " than ought to do so.' 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR, who has written in prose lively sketches 
 of travel in the East, is the author of Poems of the Orient, and 
 various lyrical pieces. Of these, and the several poetical works 
 by SAXE, BOKER, and STODDART, a friendly critic remarks gene 
 rally, that then: faults are the results of excess, not of deficiency 
 of poetical fancy. 
 
 A short notice of the poems of THOMAS BUCHANAN READ 
 may serve to explain our remark on the uncertainty of recent 
 reputations. In several reviews American and English these 
 poems rather slight in texture, and consisting mostly of senti 
 ments and descriptions given in a lyrical fonn have been highly 
 praised. It has been asserted that Read, as a poet, is superior 
 to Bryant and Longfellow, and that one of his poems The 
 Closing Scene is ' equal to Gray's Elegy in a Country Church 
 yard.' We have not found these eulogies warranted by a perusal 
 of the poems ; though we agree with a critic who describes the 
 author as one ' endowed with poetic sensibility and an instinctive 
 elegance of expression.' The Closing Scene, so highly commended, 
 consists chiefly of a delineation of late autumnal scenery, and has 
 a well- sustained tone of pensiveness.
 
 104 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 LYBIA II. SIGOURNEY MARIA BROOKS HANNAH F. GOULD SARAH J. HALE 
 
 LUCRETIA AND MARGARET DAVIDSON FRANCES S. OSGOOD, AND 
 
 OTHER WRITERS. 
 
 The poetry -written by Mrs Sigourney may be noticed, not 
 only on account of its own merits, but as representative of the 
 general characteristics of many other productions of the same 
 class. A reference to the number of names included in the 
 several collections of poems by American ladies, will be sufficient 
 to prove that our only way of treating such a profusion of 
 materials, is to select a few fair specimens. 
 
 LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY a native of Norwich, in Con 
 necticut, appeared in early life as a writer of verse characterised 
 by feminine delicacy and religious sentiment. Her first volume 
 of poems, published in 1815, was followed in 1822 by Traits of 
 tJie Aborigines of America ; and other poems have appeared from 
 time to time, of which the best have been collected in a recent 
 edition. With regard to the prevalent qualities of the poems by 
 Mrs Sigourney their didactic purport, tender feeling, and pious 
 tone they may be described as fairly representing the productions 
 of several other American ladies, who have written poems which 
 we cannot here notice in detail. In pathos, the authoress of 
 The Dying Infant, The Emigrant Mother, To-morrow, and other 
 poems of the same character, has few rivals among her sister- 
 poets. Her verses are evidently the unfeigned expressions of an 
 amiable and pious character; and it is an unwelcome task to 
 examine strictly their value as proofs of inventive genius. An 
 American Keviewer has fairly pointed out their defects ; and we 
 may quote his remarks, because they are applicable to so many 
 poems of the same class. 1 
 
 Having noticed several narrative pieces, the critic says : 
 ' Though names are used, and persons indicated, there is really 
 nothing there but qualities. The purest types of the affections 
 are grasped in all their firmness and delicacy ; but there is no 
 combination of them with those other human elements which, in 
 their union, produce character. The consequence is, that we 
 have no representations of the affections as modified by sex, age, 
 nation, position, or character. With remarkable distinctness of 
 conception, and decision of expression, we have presented to us 
 the type, but it is given in its simple unity, abstracted from all 
 individuality. We assert confidently, that in this volume there is 
 
 i North American Kfvietc, No. 143.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 105 
 
 not displayed one trait of character but that of the author herself. 
 The little poems of Ha fold and Tosti, and Bernardino du Born, 
 fine as they are in sentiment, have nothing but the incidents on 
 
 which they are founded to 'entitle them to their names 
 
 But this peculiarity of bringing out a quality at the expense 
 of all character, which we have indicated as a limitation of 
 Mrs Sigoumey's genius, is probably a chief source of her influence 
 over the hearts of her readers. She is thus enabled to stamp a 
 deep impression of one affection, at least, on the mind ; and 
 by detaching it from the other elements of character, by making 
 a person stand simply for an emotion, she has completely 
 mastered one prominent source of the pathetic. As an illustration 
 of her power in this respect, and of her excellences in many 
 respects, we will quote the following striking poem : 
 
 THE EMIGRANT MOTHER. 
 
 ' From my own native clime, I took my way 
 Across the foaming deep. My husband slept 
 In his new grave, and poverty had stripped 
 Our lonely cottage. Letters o'er the wave, 
 From brother and from sister, bade me come 
 To this New World, where there is bread for all. 
 So, with my heavy, widowed heart I went, 
 My only babe and I. 
 
 Coarse, curious eyes 
 Looked searchingly upon me, as I sat 
 In the thronged steerage, with my sick, sick soul. 
 Hut at each jeering word, I bowed my head 
 Down o'er my helpless child, and was content, 
 For he was all my world. 
 
 Storms rocked the bark, 
 
 And haggard fear sprang up, with oaths and cries, 
 Yet wondrous courage nerved me ; for to die 
 With that fair, loving creature in my arms, 
 Seemed more than life without him. If a shade 
 Of weariness or trouble marked my brow, 
 He looked upon me with his father's eyes, 
 And I was comforted. 
 
 But sickness came, 
 
 Close air, and scanty food. Darkly they pressed 
 On feeble infancy, and oft I heard, 
 As mournful twilight settled o'er the sen, 
 The frequent plunge, and the wild mother's shriek, 
 When her lost darling to the depths went down. 
 Then came the terror. To my heaving breast 
 I closer clasped the child, and all my strength 
 Went forth in one continued sigh to God.
 
 106 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Scarcely I slept, lest the dire pestilence 
 Should smite him unawares. E'en when he lay 
 In peaceful dreams, the smile upon his cheek, 
 I trembled, lest the dark-winged angel breathed 
 Insidious whispers, luring him away. 
 
 It came at last. That dreadful sickness came, 
 The fever short and mortal. Midnight's pall 
 Spread o'er the waters, when his last faint breath 
 Moistened my cheek. Deep in my breaking heart 
 I shut the mother's cry. 
 
 One mighty fear 
 
 Absorbed me lest his cherished form should feed 
 The dire sea-monsters, nor beneath the sods 
 Of the green, quiet, blessed earth, await 
 The resurrection. 
 
 So, I shuddering pressed 
 The body closer, though its deadly cold 
 Froze tlirough my soul. 
 
 To those around, I said : 
 
 ft Disturb him not he sleepeth." Then I sang 
 And rocked him tenderly, as though he woke 
 In fretfulness, or felt the sting of pain. 
 My poor, dead baby ! Terrible to me 
 Such falsehood seemed. But yet the appalling dread 
 Lest the fierce, scaly monsters of the sea 
 Should wind around him with their gorging jaws, 
 O'ermastered me. 
 
 Nights fled, and mornings dawned ; 
 And still my chill arms clasped immovably 
 The shrivelling form. They told me he was dead, 
 And bade me give my beautiful to them, 
 For burial in the deep. With outstretched hands, 
 They stood demanding him, until the light 
 Fled from my swimming eyes. 
 
 But when I woke 
 
 From the long trance, that icy burden lay 
 No longer on my bosom. Pitying words 
 The captain spake : " Look at yon little boat 
 Lashed to our stern. There, in his coffin, rests 
 The body of thy son. If in three days 
 We reach the land, he shall be buried there 
 As thou desirest." 
 
 There, from breaking morn, 
 
 My eyes were fixed ; and when the darkness came, 
 By the red binnacle's uncertain light 
 I watched that floating speck amid the waves, 
 And prayed for land.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 107 
 
 As thus I kept my watch, 
 Like desolate Rizpah, mournful visions came 
 Of my forsaken cottage ; while the spring 
 Of gushing crystal, where 'neath bowering trees 
 We drew our water, gurgled in my ear 
 To mock me with its memories of joy. 
 My throat was dry with anguish, and when voice 
 Failed me to pray for land, I lifted up 
 That silent, naked thought, which finds the Throne 
 Sooner than pomp of words. 
 
 With fiery face 
 
 And eager foot, the third dread morning rose 
 Out of the misty deep, and coldly rang 
 The death-knell of my hope. 
 
 As o'er the stern 
 
 I gazed with dim eye on the flashing brine, 
 Methought its depths were opened, and I saw 
 Creatures most vile, that o'er the bottom crept, 
 Lizards and slimy serpents, hideous forms 
 And shapes, for which man's language hath no name ; 
 While to the surface rose the monster shark, 
 Intent to seize his prey. 
 
 Convulsive shrieks, 
 
 Long pent within my bleeding heart, burst forth ; 
 But from the watcher at the mast there came 
 A shout of " Land!" and on the horizon's edge 
 Gleamed a faint streak, like the white seraph's wing. 
 Oh, blessed land ! We neared it, and my breath 
 Was one continued gasp" Oh, blessed land!" 
 
 A boat was launched. With flashing oar it reached 
 A lonely isle. Bent o'er the vessel's side, 
 I saw them dig a narrow grave, and lay 
 In the cool bosom of the quiet earth 
 The little body that was mine no more. 
 Nor wept I ; for an angel said to me : 
 " God's will ! God's will ! and thy requited prayer 
 Eemember !" 
 
 To my hand a scroll they brought, 
 Bearing the name of that deserted strand, 
 And record of the day in which they laid 
 My treasure there. They might have spared that toil : 
 A mother's unforgetful love needs not 
 Eecord or date. 
 
 The ship held on her course 
 To greener shores. There came an exile's pain, 
 Beneath a foreign sky. 
 
 Yet 'twere a sin 
 To mourn with bitterness the boy whose smile
 
 108 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Cheers me no more, since the sea had him not, 
 Nor the sea-monsters. 
 
 Endless praise to Him, 
 
 Who did not scorn the poor, weak woman's si;h 
 Of desolate wo. 
 
 No monument is thine, 
 
 O babe ! that 'neath yon sterile sands dost sleep, 
 Save the strong sculpture in a mother's heart ; 
 And by those traces will she know thee well 
 When the graves open, and before God's throne 
 Both small and great are gathered.' 
 
 The poetry written by MARIA BROOKS must be noticed on 
 account of the very high commendation bestowed upon one of her 
 works by Dr Southey. The title of this poem is ZopJifel, or the 
 Bride of Seven. It was published in London in 1833, and in the 
 following year was reprinted in Boston, United States, where it failed 
 to attract notice. The story of the love of an angel for a mortal 
 maiden resembles that of Byron's well-known poem; but the 
 treatment is original. We find in Zophwl nothing to warrant 
 the eulogium by Southey, who described it as the most original 
 poem of its time, and spoke of Mrs Brooks as ' the most original 
 and impassioned of all poetesses.' Her style is sometimes terse 
 and expressive, but frequently harsh and disfigured by inversions 
 of the natural order of words. 
 
 HANNAH F. GOULD is the author of numerous occasional 
 poems which have enjoyed a considerable popularity. A lively 
 treatment of familiar topics has recommended many of her short 
 pieces of playful verse such as The Pebble and the Acorn, and 
 Jack Frost. Mrs HALE, who has writ-tea several works in prose, 
 is the author of didactic poems of good purport and more than 
 ordinary merit. Mrs GILMAN, chiefly known by her prose- 
 writings, has written several lyrical poems, recommended for their 
 grace and sprightliness, and sometimes illustrating passages in the 
 early history of America. 
 
 Our limited space compels us to pass briefly over the names of 
 several writers Amelia Welby, the Misses Fuller, Alice and 
 Phoebe Carey, the sisters Mrs "\Yarfield and Mrs Lee and Miss 
 Sara J. Clarke all resident in the western states. The poetry 
 of these ladies displays refined sentiment and cultivated taste, 
 though it may be deficient in the power requisite to command a 
 permanent success in the crowded field of modern literature. 
 
 The fact that so many volumes of verse, such as would have 
 made a reputation in former tunes, have been produced in a few
 
 SECOND PERIOD. L. M. AND M. II. DAVIDSON. 109 
 
 recent years, is very creditable to the state of culture among the 
 women of America ; but we may question the wisdom of the 
 attempt to give a permanent character to effusions of fancy and 
 sentiment which, like many other lovely things, must have their 
 day and pass away. We refer to the several collections of 
 specimens of The Female Poets of America, respectively edited by 
 Caroline May, Buchanan Read, and Rufus W. Griswold. Poets, 
 like other writers, must yield to the circumstances of their times ; 
 and the fame of any individual must ultimately depend on the 
 rarity of his talent or genius. As the power of writing pleasing 
 verses becomes more and more a common accomplishment, the 
 standard of criticism must be raised proportionately ; and writers 
 who, in other days, might have gained comparatively lasting 
 reputations, must now be content with an occasional notice in the 
 corner of a newspaper. However kind the disposition of the 
 critic, he must adopt a Malthusian doctrine as the literary world 
 becomes densely populated. These remarks must serve as an 
 apology for our omission or brief notice of many names included 
 in the host of poetesses enumerated by Mr Griswold. 1 
 
 The poems by the two sisters LUCRETIA MAMA and MARGARET 
 M. DAVIDSON have a peculiar interest, partly owing to the 
 melancholy charm of their biographies, written by Miss Sedgwick 
 and Washington Irving. In these two lives, we read the same 
 story of a precocious development of mind, especially of the 
 imaginative powers, followed by consumption and an early death. 
 Lucretia, the elder sister, wrote, in her childhood, poems charac 
 terised by depth of feeling, with strong impulse and aspiration, 
 and died at the age of seventeen. After her death, when Irving 
 called at the home of the bereaved mother, he found that the 
 same poetic genius and the same fatal tendencies of physical 
 constitution, were rapidly developed in the younger sister Margaret. 
 She had written poems when she was only eight years old, and, 
 before her fourteenth year, had acquired a power in lyrical 
 effusions resembling that displayed by her sister. Of his last 
 interview with Margaret Davidson, her biographer writes : ' The 
 interval that had elapsed had rapidly developed the powers of her 
 mind, and heightened the loveliness of her person, but my 
 apprehensions had been verified. The soul was wearing out the 
 body. Preparations were making to take her on a tour for the 
 benefit of her health, and her mother appeared to flatter herself 
 that it might prove efficacious ; but when I noticed the fragile 
 delicacy of her form, the hectic bloom of her cheek, and the 
 
 J The Female Poett of America. By Kufus \VUmot Griswold. 1849.
 
 110 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 almost unearthly lustre of her eye, I felt convinced that she was 
 not long for this world; in truth, she already appeared more 
 spiritual than mortal.' Margaret died in 1838, before she had 
 reached the age of sixteen. Her biography leaves a warning 
 against the stimulant mode of early education. Mental powers 
 too highly cultivated in childhood, exhaust the resources of the 
 physical system. The perfect flower is developed at the expense 
 of a loss of vitality and hardihood in the plant ; and so the wild- 
 flower, with its scanty petals, lives and blooms by the waysides from 
 one century to another, while the highly-cultivated variety has a 
 delicacy as remarkable as its beauty. Scott had a good reason 
 for his prayer, that none of his children might be endowed with 
 poetic genius. 
 
 The Sinless Child and other poems, by Mrs ORES SMITH, have 
 been described as possessing more than ordinary merit ; and 
 several pleasing specimens might be culled from the writings of 
 Elizabeth Hall, Emma C. Embury, Mrs Ellett, Anna P. Dinnies, 
 and Lucy Hooper. Some traits of individuality appear in the 
 flowing versification of Mrs FRANCES S. OSGOOD, who, like other 
 poetesses, endeavours to blend instruction with song. Here is a 
 stanza from the poem entitled Labour : 
 
 '"Labour is worship !" the robin is singing ; 
 " Labour is worship ! " the wild-bee is ringjng ; 
 Listen ! that eloquent whisper, upspringing, 
 
 Speaks to thy soul from out nature's great heart. 
 From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower ; 
 From the rough sod blows the soft breathing flower ; 
 From the small insect, the rich coral bower ; 
 
 Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.' 
 
 The fact that elegant literature has been so widely cultivated 
 by the women of America, must be regarded as a good feature in 
 the progress of society. ' So far as their poetry has exercised any 
 influence on practical life, it has had a tendency to refine taste 
 and cultivate good sentiments.'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. PROSE-FICTION. Ill 
 
 PROSE-FICTION. 
 
 ALLSTON PAULDING FLINT DANA. 
 
 The wide circulation of English novels and romances whether 
 good or bad in moral tendency has had an important influence 
 on the literary taste, minor morals, and general culture of readers 
 in the United States. The splendours of our fashionable novels 
 have been more attractive than tales of true life in the backwoods ; 
 and too many young republicans have confessed their preference 
 for aristocratic fictions, especially when some fraction of a dollar 
 has sufficed as an introduction to all the solemnities described by 
 Bulwer, Disraeli, Warren, Mrs Gore, and other novelists. While 
 the rich and varied stores of fiction provided by the labour of 
 British authors may be bought at a trifling outlay, the American 
 writer of fiction comes before the public in a very disadvantageous 
 position. He demands for his new and untried work some 
 considerable remuneration, while his bookseller is offering the 
 best of Scott's romances at the cost of a few cents. We have 
 Washington Irving's own authority for the fact that, when he 
 recommended to certain publishers the work of a young American 
 writer, ' they even declined to publish it at the author's cost ; 
 alleging that it was not worth their while to trouble themselves 
 about native works of doubtful success, while they could pick 
 and choose among the successful works daily poured out by the 
 British press, for the copyright of which they had nothing to 
 pay.' On the moral effects of this unfair competition, an 
 American writer offers the following remarks : ' 
 
 ' Novels are the class of books which as yet we provide least for 
 ourselves, and depend for most on the mother-country. They 
 constitute a stock of reading of the utmost importance in its 
 influence on the moral tastes and principles, and so on the political 
 security of a nation. They are read very extensively ; they are 
 especial favourites of that period of life when the character is 
 forming ; and in the formation of character, their exciting addresses 
 to the imagination and feelings give them an exceeding power. The 
 hero or heroine of the fictitious tale is, to the young man or woman, 
 for the time being, the perfection of humanity ; and the condition 
 of society, in which its gorgeous scenes are laid, presents itself as 
 the bf.an-iiUal of human life. 
 
 But the hero or heroine of the English tales we read, is an idea 
 different from what can be realised in a republican state ; and the 
 
 1 Korlh American Itevictc, No. 116.
 
 112 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 condition of society which, under such attractive representations, 
 they depict, is one different from what we are to move in, and one, 
 which for our patriotism's sake, as well as for the credit of our good 
 judgment, we ought not to learn to love. It is unfortunate that the 
 imaginations of our young people should be excited by it, even 
 if the effect should be no worse than to make them look upon our 
 far preferable institutions of republican equality and freedom, 
 as comparatively a homely thing, and divert and abate in any 
 degree the enthusiasm with which we ought to be trained to regard 
 them. It is unfortunate that the merchant's daughter and tho 
 farmer's boy should get their heads too full of the Young Duke 
 and May Dacre : there is real danger that, when such dreams are 
 dreamed in every fifth or tenth house throughout the country, the 
 affection with which our more venerable frame of society ought 
 to be regarded, will be in some degree distracted and unsettled ; 
 and this would be a serious evil in a country where everything rests 
 on the basis of opinion where that patriotism, which is the life of our 
 national being, looks to this only for its food. In our opinion, there is 
 scarcely a better service of patriotism than is to be rendered by the 
 multiplication of works in this department, in the tone of some of 
 those in which the upright genius of Miss Sedgwick has kindled the 
 sympathy of readers in the virtues that befit the American citizen, 
 and awakened their veneration and love for that essential dignity 
 and charm which every man and woman in this nation may aspire 
 to wear. We do think, that whoever has been reading Woodstock, 
 with a genuine surrender of himself to the artist's power, is in such 
 peril of finding himself inoculated with the subtle virus of that 
 man-worship, named loyalty, that he will do well presently to apply 
 Live and Let Live, or some such generous febrifuge, to restore a 
 republican sanity to his distempered blood. Works in this tone 
 the more abundant and more highly wrought the better instructing 
 the common mind of this nation to appreciate its privileges 
 forming it to discharge, and winning it to love, the duties of its 
 position will go further than any parchment Bill of Eights to 
 perpetuate our political blessings. They must be written in 
 America ; they can be produced nowhere else. And when rulers 
 come a little to a sense of their own duty, they will take care to 
 provide some encouragement for the production of such works. If 
 on every shelf in the American States, where now lies a copy of 
 Pelharn^ we could substitute one of Home, or of The Poor Rich Man 
 and Rich Poor Man, we hesitate not at all to say, that there would 
 forthwith be a most substantial effect produced on the respectability 
 of the national character, and the stability of the national institutions. 
 Works of similar character, in much greater number and for aught 
 we know, of much higher order there will be, when the grave 
 and reverend guardians of the nation's welfare in Congress assembled, 
 shall be disposed to attend to their duty in the premises. Readers 
 cordially greet such works, but authors must live while they write 
 them ; and this they will have no security for doing, till legislatures
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. ALLSTON J. K. PAULDING. 113 
 
 shtill have made tliat easy provision, which depends on them, for the 
 encouragement of a literature instinct with the spirit of republican 
 virtue.' 
 
 A clergyman, Dr Belknap, as we have remarked in our account 
 of literature before the year 1800, made the first inroad on that 
 prejudice against prose-fiction which had been cherished by the 
 Puritans of New England and other colonies in early times. He 
 was followed by Charles Brockden Brown (1771-1810), whose 
 novels have been noticed. The increasing taste for fiction was 
 gratified by the works, now almost forgotten, of Mrs Foster of 
 Massachusetts, author of The Boarding-school and The Coquette 
 Mrs Kowson, who wrote, besides other tales, Charlotte Temple, a 
 very popular novel in its day ; and Royal Tyler (died in 1825), 
 who wrote, besides some dramas, a successful romance, entitled 
 The Algcrine Captive. 
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON, the celebrated painter (1779-1843), 
 must be numbered among the early writers of prose-fiction. He 
 produced the tale of Monaldi in 1820, though it was not 
 published until 1841. It was written for Mr Dana's periodical, 
 The Idle Man, and was laid aside when that publication was 
 discontinued. The style of the romance is good ; but the interest 
 depends rather on the metaphysical analysis of passion than 
 on a well-developed story. It is too commonly supposed, that 
 the great artist in music or painting must be deficient in general 
 intellectual power and wide culture. 
 
 JAMES KIRKE PAULDING (born 1779) first appeared as an author 
 in concert with Washington Irving, and wrote several of the papers 
 in Salmagundi a humorous and satirical miscellany, noticeable 
 because its success had probably some influence in leading 
 Irving away from law and commerce to a life devoted to literature. 
 This periodical was brought to a close because the publisher, who 
 found it very profitable, refused to give any share of his gains 
 to the writers. Paulding, however, persevered in writing ; and 
 after giving to the public several minor pieces, produced in 
 1816 his Diverting History of John Bull and Brother Jonathan 
 nn allegorical account of the quarrel between Great Britain and 
 America. This was followed by Letters from the South, containing 
 sketches of scenery and manners ; and in the course of a few 
 years, the industrious writer produced several other works, 
 including a second series of Salmagundi : & poem entitled The 
 Backu-oodsman ; Koningsmarke, a novel ; The Book of St Nicholas, 
 & series of tales said to be translated from the Dutch ; and 
 
 H
 
 114 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The New Pilgrim's Progress, a humorous and satirical work. 
 In 1831, The Dutchman's Fireside, commonly esteemed as the 
 best of Paulding's novels, was published. Its scenes are laid 
 in the district of New York, and its portraitures of the early 
 settlers have been praised for their fidelity ; but the humour 
 of this and other tales by the same author, has not been so 
 well appreciated in England as in America. 
 
 Westward Ho! the next novel by Paulding, has its scenery 
 in Kentucky, and introduces several rather formidable humorists 
 of the backwoods, especially an extravagant planter, who 
 retreats into the forests, to escape from law and civilisation, 
 or, as he says, ' to live independent, where there 's no law but 
 gentlemen's law, and no niggers but black ones.' There are 
 some pleasant traits and lively descriptions in these, as in other 
 tales by Paulding ; but the humour often descends to coarseness, 
 and the treatment of the story is commonly rambling and without 
 unity. 
 
 It cannot be denied that the numerous writings of this author 
 have national characteristics and contain many graphic sketches ; 
 but their value is lessened by a want of good taste and artistic 
 treatment. In The Dutchman's Fireside, the story of a night- 
 adventure among the Indians is as lifelike as anything of the 
 kind in Cooper's best romances. Several of the characters in 
 Westward Ho! are original, and strongly though perhaps 
 rather coarsely drawn ; and Koningsmarlee has its lively scenes of 
 new-year's revelling and other incidents of the old settlements 
 on the Delaware. To introduce the following extract from 
 Westward Ho ! it must be observed that the speaker is a settler 
 in the backwoods, who finds civilisation pressing too close upon 
 him when a gentleman with a white servant calls at his house. 
 
 KENTUCKY HOSPITALITY. 
 
 ' " Yon must know, colonel, not long after you went away, there 
 came a man riding along here that I calculate had just thrown off 
 his moccasins, with another feller behind him in a laced hat, and for 
 all the world dressed like a militia officer. Well, I hailed him in 
 here, for you know I like to do as you would in your own house ; 
 and he came to like a good feller. But the captain, as I took him 
 to be, hung fire, and stayed out with the horses. So I went and took 
 hold of him like a snapping-turtle, and says I : ' Captain, one would 
 think you had never been inside of a gentleman's house before.' 
 But he held back like all wrath, and wouldn't take anything. So 
 says I: 'Stranger, I'm a peaceable man anyhow, but maybe you 
 don't know what it is to insult a feller by sneaking away from his 
 hospitality here in Old Kentuck.' I held on to him all the while, or
 
 SECOND PERIOD. TIMOTHY FLINT. 115 
 
 he'd have gone off like one of these plaguy percussion-locks that 
 have just come into fashion. 'Captain,' says I, 'here's your health, 
 and may you live to be a general.' ' Captain !' says the other ; 'lie's 
 no captain ; he's my servant.' 'What !' says I, 'one white man bo 
 a servant to another! make a nigger of himself! come, that's too 
 bad ! ' and I began to feel a little savage. I asked one if he wasn't 
 ashamed to make a slave of a feller-cretur, and the other if he 
 wasn't ashamed to make a nigger of himself ; and they got rather 
 obstropolous. I don't know exactly how it came about, but we got 
 into a fight, and I licked them both, but not till they got outside 
 the door, for I wouldn't be uncivil anyhow. Well, what do you 
 think ? instead of settling the thing like a gentleman, the feller that 
 had a white man for his nigger, instead of coming out fine ...... 
 
 if ho didn't send a constable after me ! Well, I made short work 
 of it, and licked him too, anyhow. But I can't stand it here any 
 longer. Poor old Snowball 1 slipped her bridle the other day, and 
 went out like a flash in the pan ; so I'm my own master again, with 
 nobody to stand in my way at all. I must look out for some place 
 where a man can live independent ; where there 's no law but 
 gentlemen's law, and no niggers but black ones. I sha'u't see you 
 again, colonel, it's most likely, so good-by all. I expect you'll be 
 after me soon, for I look upon it to be impossible for a man in his 
 senses to live here much longer, to be hoppled like a horse, and not 
 go where he pleases." And away he marched, with a heart as light 
 us a feather, in search of a place where he might live according to 
 his conscience.' 
 
 TIMOTHY FLINT (1780-1840), a native of Massachusetts, 
 was educated for the Christian ministry, and for ten years 
 laboured as a missionary in the Valley of the Mississippi. His 
 iirst book, giving recollections of his mission, was published 
 and well received in 1826, and subsequently the failure of his 
 health made him dependent on literature. His next work was a 
 novel, Francis Berrian, or the Mexican Patriot; and was followed 
 in 1828 by Arthur Cleaning, a very hazardous attempt to write 
 one more Robinson Crusoe. The last of his novels, The Shoshonee 
 Valky (1830), has little merit in its portraiture of character or 
 development of a story, but its landscapes have the freshness of 
 the writer's recollections. It is curious that Flint, who must 
 have been well acquainted with the realities of Indian life, should 
 choose to give a mere visionary account of it in his Shoshonee 
 Valley. 
 
 His powers of description were more happily employed in his 
 work on The Geography and History of the Mississippi Valley 
 (1827) an important contribution to American geography. It 
 
 1 A servant who had died.
 
 116 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 was reprinted with a condensed survey of the whole continent. 
 During the later years of his life, Flint was engaged as editor of 
 the Western Monthly Magazine, and wrote numerous magazine 
 tales and essays, besides an historical and critical account of 
 American Literature, published in the London Athenaeum. Iu 
 1840, while passing through Natchez, on his way from Louisiana 
 to New England, he was overtaken by the tornado which desolated 
 that city, and for some hours remained buried under the ruins of 
 a house. This accident seriously affected his feeble health ; and 
 after a lingering illness, he died in his native place, Reading, 
 in his sixtieth year. His literary career, often interrupted by 
 indisposition, was commenced when he was forty-five years old, 
 and when failing health had disqualified him for other duties. 
 An extract from his last novel may afford a specimen of his 
 descriptive passages : 
 
 COUNTRY OF THE SEWASSERXA. 
 
 'Their free domain comprised an extent of 500 leagues. The 
 country of their compact and actual settlement is a vale, than which 
 the earth can shew none more beautiful or more secluded the vale 
 of the Sewasserna. This stream, in which the poets would have 
 placed the crystal caves of the Naiads of the ancient days, comes 
 winding down in a clear, full, strong-, and yet equable and gentle 
 tide, from the mountains. Up its pure and ice-formed waters ascend, 
 in their season, countless numbers of the finest salmon ; and in its 
 deep and circling eddies play trout, pike, carp, tencli, and all the 
 varieties of fish of cold mountain-rivers. The Indian, as he glides 
 down the stream, sees the shining rocks at the bottom, covered with 
 tresses of green waving moss, at the depth of twenty feet. This 
 circumstance, along with its transparency, furnishes the etymology 
 of its name, which imports the sea-green river. Streaked bass, 
 shiners, gold-fishes, and beautiful and undescribed finny tribes, dart 
 from their coverts along the white sand, flit from the shadow of the 
 descending canoe, or turn their green and gold to the light, as 
 they fan, as it were, with their purple wings, or repose in the sun 
 beams that find their way through the branches that overhang the 
 banks 
 
 The glossy gray mallard, the beautiful blue-winged teal, the 
 green-crested widgeon, the little active dipper, the brilliant white 
 diver ; the solitary loon, raising Ins lugubrious and ill-omened note 
 in unsocial seclusion ; the stately swan, sailing in his pride and milky 
 lustre slowly along the stream ; the tall sand-hill crane, looking at a 
 distance like a miniature camel ; the white pelican, with his immense 
 pouch in front ; innumerable flocks of various species of geese 
 in short, an unknown variety of water-fowls with their brilliant, 
 variegated, and oiled vestments, their singular languages and cries,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. H. DANA. 117 
 
 were seen gliding among the trees, pattering their broad bills amidst 
 
 the grasses and weeds on the shores 
 
 The mountains on either side of the valley tower into a 
 countless variety of peaks, cones, and inaccessible elevations, from 
 6000 to 10,000 feet high. More than half of them are covered with 
 the accumulated snows and ices of centuries, which, glittering in 
 mid-air, shew in the sunbeams in awful contrast with the black and 
 
 nigged precipices that arrest the clouds The rocks, cliffs, and 
 
 boulders, partly of granite and partly of volcanic character, black 
 and nigged in some places, in others porphyritic, needle, or spire 
 shaped, shoot up into pinnacles, domes, and towers, and in other 
 places lie heaped in huge masses, as though shook by earthquakes 
 
 from the summits where they had originally defied the storms 
 
 Yet between these savage and terrific peaks, unvisited except by 
 the screaming eagle, are seen the most secluded and sweet valleys 
 in the world. Here and there appear circular clumps of hemlocks, 
 mountain cedars, silver firs, and above all, the glorious ^Norwegian 
 
 pines The breeze that is borne down from the mountains 
 
 always sighs through these evergreen thickets, playing, as it were, 
 
 the deep and incessant voluntary of nature to the Divinity 
 
 In numerous little lakes and ponds, where the trout spring up and 
 dart upon the fly and grasshopper, the verdure of the shores is 
 charmingly repainted in contrast with the threatening and savage 
 sublimity of the mountains, whose summits shoot down as deep in 
 the abyss as they stand high in the air. As you turn your eyes 
 from the landscape so faithfully pencilled on the sleeping waters, to 
 see the substance of these shadows, the eye, dazzled with the 
 radiance of the sunbeams playing on the perpetual snows in the 
 regions of mid-air, reposes with solace and delight on the deep blue 
 of the sky that is seen between, undimmed except by the occasional 
 passing of the bald eagle or falcon-hawks, sailing slowly from the 
 summit of one mountain to another.' 
 
 RICHARD HENRY DANA, already noticed in our account of 
 poetical literature, is more prominent as a reviewer and essayist 
 than as a writer of fiction. In 1821, he commenced the publica 
 tion of a periodical entitled The Idle 3/f/, in which he gave his 
 stories of Tom Thornton, Edward and Mary, and Paul Fclton. 
 Of 'these, the last is the most remarkable; but it is a very 
 gloomy description of morbid thoughts and feelings. We perhaps 
 differ widely from several American critics in our preference of 
 the essays and reviews to the tales and poems of Dana. An 
 earnest, meditative vein of thought, not without a shade of 
 melancholy, may be observed in the prose-fictions, as in the other 
 works of this writer. Since the death of his friends Channing 
 and Allston, he has lived in almost entire seclusion, and all his 
 writings bear the impress of a man who dwells chiefly in the world
 
 118 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of his own thoughts. His literary powers -which, in happier 
 circumstances, might have produced some considerable work of 
 permanent value, have been discouraged by failing to find general 
 appreciation ; and the career of Dana is perhaps the most striking 
 of many examples of the bad influence of the present copyright- 
 law in America. While the most worthless and ephemeral 
 productions of the press find all the encouragement they require, 
 every work of time and thought must have to strive against a 
 most unfair competition, and, indeed, can hardly be produced by 
 any writer who has not the resources of an independent fortune. 
 As an example of this general fact, The Idle Man commenced 
 by Dana with the assistance of Bryant the poet, Allston the 
 painter, and other friends gave promise of an American periodical 
 worthy of success, and must have succeeded in a fair competition ; 
 but when a few numbers had appeared, the publisher explained 
 that all the genius and talents of the contributors could have no 
 chance in a contest against a host of cheap reprints of English 
 books. Accordingly, the publication ceased ; Washington AUston's 
 tale of Monaldi, intended for a second volume, was laid aside 
 for more than twenty years ; and Dana, finding that America 
 rejected his aid in building up a national literature, turned 
 to review the books of English authors. His writings have 
 always been highly appreciated by a select number of readers ; 
 and the following account of their characteristics appears in an 
 American Review : ' That is the true idea of literature and art 
 which regards them not as factitious, but as the necessary 
 expression of the intellectual life of man. This is exhibited in 
 the works before us, and constitutes, if we mistake not, the secret 
 source of their attractiveness. We cannot help, if we would, 
 seeing the writer in the writings. There is a sincerity and con 
 scientiousness, an unaffected and honest utterance of unborrowed 
 thoughts and feelings, which enters into our hearts, and seems to 
 make us stronger and better. Hence their educational influence 
 on siisceptive minds cannot be slight, nor anything but good. 
 It does us no harm when reflection is forced upon us, when we 
 are compelled to inspect the operations of our own minds, to 
 dwell at home. " Proneness to melancholy is not the evil of our 
 times : we live too much abroad for that ; daytime and evening, 
 1 we are running at large with the common herd, or are gathered 
 into smaller flocks and folds, called societies. No one is seen 
 ruminating alone in the still shade of his own oak or willow." 
 To lead us to a wise meditation will be one tendency of these 
 works.' 
 
 Our remarks on the discouragement of thoughtful literature 
 have been suggested by a perusal of several of the essays of
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IKYING. 119 
 
 Dana. It might seem likely that these, and other writings of 
 the same class, would be welcome to qualify the effects of a flood 
 of shallow newspapers and cheap noxious fictions ; but it would 
 be useless to argue on this point. It has been decided, that the 
 republic can advance without the aid of its most reflecting minds. 
 Meanwhile, the field of literary competition, from which they are 
 expelled, is occupied by other teachers of the people : the only 
 diploma required is, that the author's book shall be sold for a few 
 cents. Consequently, the lowest productions of the presses of 
 London and Paris are spread over the counters of the cheap 
 booksellers, and attract the masses of the people. The novels of 
 French writers whom we need not name are very widely circu 
 lated ; and it is asserted by those who ought to know the facts, 
 that the reprints and translations are, by a wanton superfluity 
 of mischief, made even worse than the originals which seems 
 scarcely possible. 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 DIOGBAPHY SA1MAGUXDI KNICKEBBOCKEB SKETCH-BOOK BBACEBBIDGE HALL 
 TALES OP A TRAVELLER TALES OF THE ALIJAMBBA ABBOTSFOBD AND NEWSTK.Vl) 
 ABBEY CUROXICLE3 OP WOLFERT's EOO3T STTLE VABIETT DESCBIPTIVE 
 PASSAGES EXTBACTS'FBOM THE SKETCH-BOOK. 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING, the author of classic tales, sketches, 
 and essays which have given delight to many thousands of 
 readers in England and America, may be placed Among the 
 writers of prose-fiction, though his works in a great measure 
 belong to other departments of literature. A critic, taking the 
 higher and more comprehensive sense of the word ' poetry,' 
 without regard to the accident of rhyme, would probably name 
 Irving as the first of the poets of America. In imaginative 
 power and variety, he finds no rival among the writers of verse 
 in his own country ; while, with regard to melody and beauty, 
 his prose style can hardly be excelled. He is the descendant of 
 a Scotch family, and was born in the city of New York in the 
 year 1783. A few years afterwards, his father, who was a 
 respectable merchant, died, leaving the care of young Wash 
 ington's education to his elder brother William, who, like other 
 members of the Irving family, had a taste for literature. 
 
 After a tour in Europe (1803-1806), Washington Irving 
 returned to New York, and, in concert with his brother William 
 and the two young authors Verplanck and Paulding, wrote in 
 1807 the humorous miscellany entitled Salmagundi. It consisted 
 of light sketches of character and burlesques of manners, and
 
 120 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 was very successful; but the publisher refused to pay the 
 writers, and consequently their association was broken up. A 
 miscellany, published under the same title in 1819, was entirely 
 written by Paulding. 
 
 In his next work, a History of New York, supposed to be 
 written by a Dutch antiquary named Knickerbocker, Irving 
 displayed a peculiar style of humorous writing we might almost 
 say he invented a new kind of humour. At first, the work was 
 intended to be nothing more than a burlesque of a publication 
 styled A Picture of New York ; but as the writer proceeded, and 
 became more conversant with the history of the early Dutch 
 colonists of New Amsterdam, he seems to have been charmed by 
 the somnolent humour of the old times. The quietude of rural life 
 in the valleys lying near the Hudson and the Tappan Zee ; the 
 gravity of old fashions, and the dreamy character of old traditions 
 these were all blended in Irving's sketches of his favourite 
 Dutch settlers the creatures of his own imagination, though 
 suggested by historical realities. This ideal treatment of Dutch 
 characteristics is unique in literature. Irving must have found 
 delight in his own creations, for he carried their history too far, 
 and made a considerable book of the materials which might have 
 been, with better effect, condensed in a few chapters. 
 
 The incidents related in Knickerbocker's history are not 
 wholly imaginary. Wouter van Twiller, ' the Doubter,' and other 
 Dutch governors, had their prototypes in the early annals of New 
 Amsterdam, though it is hardly necessary to say that the real 
 characters differed widely from their ideal portraitures. 
 
 After the publication of Knickerbocker, Irving entered into 
 partnership with his brothers, who were engaged in foreign 
 commerce, and in 1815 came to England, to carry on the business 
 of the firm in Liverpool. Soon after his arrival in this country, 
 he experienced a reverse of fortune. The house of Irving and 
 Brothers was ruined by the commercial crisis which followed the 
 peace. In literature, which hitherto he had regarded chiefly as 
 a recreation, he now hoped to find a means of support. While 
 American journalists probably misled by the cheerful tone of 
 the sketcher and essayist imagined that he was passing a 
 very idle and pleasant time among the ' aristocracy of the Old 
 World,' Irving was, in fact, an obscure toiling author ; having 
 determined to write until success crowned his labour, and never to 
 return to his friends in America until, by his literary exertions, 
 he had placed himself ' above their pity or assistance.' He knew 
 well the fate of Goldsmith, to say nothing of inferior writers 
 he understood how precarious were the rewards of literature 
 yet he ventured on the dangerous path, and achieved a well-
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 121 
 
 deserved success. Supposing that his elegant sketches and 
 essays would be more interesting in his native land than in 
 England, he sent them occasionally to the United States, where 
 they were published from time to time in a serial form. They 
 found many admiring readers, but not the hearty welcome 
 which greeted them when Walter Scott had pronounced them 
 4 beautiful,' and had persuaded Murray to publish them. Mean 
 while, the writer received from America certain anonymous 
 letters, accusing him of having forgotten his native land ; of being 
 seduced by the charms of fashionable society, of living in 
 epicurean indulgence ; and assuring him, that he had lost the 
 good-will of the public in America. The cheerful tone of his 
 writings may perhaps explain such errors. As few readers of 
 The Vicar of Wakefteld would imagine the writer*to be a literary 
 drudge, compiling, translating, revising, and 'touching-up' prefaces 
 and ' head and tail pieces for new works,' or ' modifying travels 
 and voyages ; ' so few readers could think of the refined and 
 humorous sketcher, Geoffrey Crayon, otherwise than as a very 
 comfortable gentleman, travelling at his ease, and for his own 
 pleasure, and often very merry at the table of some hearty old 
 English squire, such as he had portrayed in The Sketch-book. 
 The mistake was like that of a grave London reviewer, who, on 
 the ground of certain sportive papers in BkickicooiVs Magazine, 
 described the Ettrick Shepherd as a gjpurmand revelling in 
 turtle, while, in fact, the poor poet was tending a few sheep, 
 and struggling to pay the rent of a little farm in the Ettrick 
 solitudes. 
 
 Happily, Irving found a friend in one as distinguished for 
 kindness of heart as for wealth of intellect. The Crayon papers 
 afterwards published as The Sketch-book had failed to win the 
 favour of Murray, to whom they had been offered. Though 
 admitting their ' tasteful qualities,' he could not regard them as 
 altogether safe articles of trade-speculation. The refusal almost 
 disheartened the writer, who next thought of Constable of 
 Edinburgh as a publisher ; but first determined to submit the 
 work to the judgment of Sir Walter (then Mr) Scott. This was 
 the turning-point in Irving's early literary career. Scott, with the 
 generosity which was the prevailing trait in his noble character, 
 replied very promptly, saying that it would afford him the greatest 
 pleasure to forward the views of the striving author. These, of 
 course, coming from such a man, were not idle words of compli 
 ment, but sure pledges of deeds of kindness, which were very 
 speedily redeemed. A weekly periodical was at this time projected 
 in Edinburgh, and the editorship, with a salary of L.500 a year, was 
 offered to Mr Irving. In making the offer, Scott, with a delicacy
 
 122 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 which -would seem to solicit rather than confer a favour, says : ' I 
 have glanced over The Sketch-look ; it is positively beautiful, and 
 increases my desire to crimp you, if it be possible. Some difficul 
 ties there always are in managing such a matter, especially at the 
 outset ; but we will obviate them as much as we possibly can.' 
 In the same letter, it was intimated that the political bias of the 
 proposed journal might not suit the views of the American. This 
 was indeed the case ; and partly on this account, partly through 
 distrust of his own qualifications for regular task-work, Irving 
 gratefully declined the offer. By so doing, he lost not his hold 
 upon Scott's kindness, which was next exerted, as he expressed 
 it, ' to open the trenches with Constable ; ' in other words, to 
 persuade this publisher to take up The Sketch-book. Lockhart, 
 at the suggestion of Scott, had written for BlackwoocPs Magazine 
 a favourable review of the Crayon sketches ; and, meanwhile, 
 Irving had determined to risk their publication on his own 
 account. 
 
 This was a dangerous experiment, and might have proved 
 ruinous ; for the book was put into the hands of an obscure 
 London bookseller, who failed soon after its publication. Once 
 more, Scott appeared as a friend and helper. He arrived in 
 London, induced Murray to undeilake the publication of the 
 book, and thus opened for Irving the path to success and fame. 
 After fairly winning ^he praises of the literary world in Great 
 Britain, Irving, in improved circumstances, returned to his native 
 city, New York, where he was gladly welcomed by many friends. 
 His subsequent career has been so prosperous, as to form a bright 
 exception among the biographies of literary men. Resources 
 derived immediately from his writings, or from the position gained 
 by his literary talents, have made his old age, in his retirement at 
 Sunnyside, easy and independent. 
 
 The Sketch-book was followed in 1822 by another series of 
 papers, entitled Bracebridge Hall, consisting partly of sketches of 
 old English manners, but including legends of New Amsterdam, 
 and new portraitures of mythical Dutchmen. In 1824, the Tales 
 of a Traveller appeared, containing the short novel of Buckthorne, 
 intended to portray the miserable life of a poor author. Humorous 
 exaggerations are freely employed in this story. In one example, 
 the writer finds a fair subject for ridicule, and gives a very 
 ludicrous caricature of a depraved taste in literature. Buckthorne. 
 the poor author, has tried without success several styles of 
 writing, and at last has ruined himself by publishing on his own 
 account a sentimental poem, entitled the Pleasures of Melancholy. 
 He now yields to the advice of booksellers of a certain class, who 
 have assured him that the public no longer read for instruction, but
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 123 
 
 require tales of pirates and robbers, highly spiced with burglaries, 
 murders, and suicides. In order to prepare a proper story to 
 add to the literature of horrors, he hires a study in a cottage 
 not far from Chalk Farm, and here begins to muse over his plot 
 and its characters ; but the rural beauty of the neighbourhood 
 seduces his imagination, and hinders the progress of his story. 
 At last, he finds a proper hero, and meets ' a friend' well qualified 
 to give assistance in suggesting scenes and incidents. 
 
 THE AUTHOR'S ADVENTURE. 
 
 c Chance at length befriended me. I had frequently, in my 
 ramblings, loitered about Hampstead Hill, which is a kind of 
 Parnassus of the metropolis. At such times, I occasionally took my 
 dinner at Jack Straw's Castle. It is a country inn so named the 
 very spot where that notorious rebel and his followers held their 
 council of war. It is a favourite resort of citizens when rurally 
 inclined, as it commands fine fresh air, and a good view of the city. 
 I sat one day in the public room of this inn, ruminating over a beef 
 steak and a pint of port, when my imagination kindled np with 
 ancient and heroic images. I had long wanted a theme and a hero ; 
 both suddenly broke upon my mind. I determined to write a poem 
 on the history of Jack Straw. I was so full of my subject, that I 
 was fearful of being anticipated. I wondered that none of the poets 
 of the day, in their search after ruffian heroes, had ever thought of 
 Jack Straw. I went to work pell-mell, blotted several sheets of 
 paper with choice floating-thoughts, and battles and descriptions, to 
 be ready at a moment's warning. In a few days' time, I sketched 
 out the skeleton of my poem, and nothing was wanting but to give it 
 flesh and blood. I used to take my manuscript and stroll about 
 Caen Wood, and read aloud ; and would dine at the castle, by way 
 of keeping up the vein of thought. 
 
 I was there one day, at rather a late hour, in the public room. 
 There was no other company but one man, who sat enjoying his 
 pint of port at a window, and noticing the passers-by. He was 
 dressed in a green shooting-coat. His countenance was strongly 
 marked : he had a hooked nose ; a romantic eye, excepting that it 
 had something of a squint ; and altogether, as I thought, a poetical 
 style of head. I was quite taken with the man for you must know 
 I am a little of a physiognomist I set him down at once for either 
 a poet or a philosopher. 
 
 As I like to make new acquaintances, considering every man a 
 volume of human nature, I soon fell into conversation with the 
 stranger, who, I was pleased to find, was by no means difficult of 
 access. After I had dined, I joined him at the window, and we 
 became so sociable, that I proposed a bottle of wine together, to 
 which he most cheerfully assented. 
 
 I was too full of my poem to keep long quiet on the subject, and
 
 124 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 began to talk about the origin of the tavern, and the history of Jack 
 Straw. I found my new acquaintance to be perfectly at home on 
 the topic, and to jump exactly with my humour in every respect. I 
 became elevated by the wine and the conversation. In the fulness of 
 an author's feelings, I told him of my projected poem, and repeated 
 some passages, and he was in raptures. He was evidently of a 
 strong poetical turn. 
 
 - . s * * 
 
 We were so much pleased with each other, that we sat until a 
 late hour. I insisted on paying the bill, for both my purse and my 
 heart were full, and I agreed that he should pay the score at our next 
 meeting. As the coaches had all gone that run between Hampstead 
 and London, we had to return on foot. He was so delighted with 
 the idea of my poem, that he could talk of nothing else. He had 
 made me repeat such passages as I could remember ; and though I 
 did it in a very mangled manner, having a wretched memory, yet he 
 was in raptures. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Never had I spent a more delightful evening. I did not perceive 
 how the time flew. I could not bear to separate, but continued 
 walking on, arm-in-arm, with him, past my lodgings, through Camden 
 Town, and across Crackskull Common, talking the whole way about 
 my poem. 
 
 AVhen we were half-way across the common, he interrupted me 
 in the midst of a quotation, by telling me that this had been a 
 famous place for footpads, and was still occasionally infested by 
 them ; and that a man had recently been shot there in attempting 
 to defend himself. 
 
 " The more fool he !" cried I : " a man is an idiot to risk life, or 
 even limb, to save a paltry purse of money. It's quite a different 
 case from that of a duel, where one's honour is concerned. For my 
 part," added I, " I should never think of making resistance against 
 one of those desperadoes." 
 
 " Say you so ?" cried my friend in green, turning suddenly upon 
 me, and putting a pistol to my breast : " why, then, have at you, my 
 lad ! Come disburse ! empty ! unsack ! * 
 
 In a word, I found that the Muse had played me another of her 
 tricks, and had betrayed me into the hands of a footpad. There 
 was no time to parley ; he made me turn my pockets inside out ; 
 and hearing the sound of distant footsteps, he made one fell swoop 
 upon purse, watch, and all ; gave me a thwack over my unlucky pate, 
 that laid me sprawling on the ground, and scampered away with 
 his booty. 
 
 I saw no more of my friend in green until a year or two after 
 wards, when I caught a sight of his poetical countenance among a 
 crew of scapegraces heavily ironed, who were on the way for trans 
 portation. He recognised me at once, tipped me an impudent 
 wink, and asked me how I came on with the history of Jack Straw's 
 Castle.'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 125 
 
 The pleasant humour of many sketches in the Tales of a 
 Traveller, is varied by passages of pathos and narratives of 
 romantic adventure. Wolfcrt \\ 'n'i/>< r, a tale of a money-digger, 
 takes us back to the old traditions of New York, and is one of 
 the best of Irving's Dutch legends. 
 
 After his return to America (1832), Irving fixed his residence 
 near the scenes peopled by his own imagination. ' lie purchased 
 the old mansion of the Van Tassels, on the Hudson, close by 
 the margin of the Tappan Zee, and in the vicinity of " Sleepy 
 Hollow" as quiet and sheltered a nook as the heart of man 
 could desire, in which to take refuge from the cares and troubles 
 of the world.' This retreat lie called ' Wolfert's Roost,' and 
 repaired and renovated it ' with religious care, in the genuine 
 Dutch style, with sundry relics of the glorious days of the New 
 Netherlands.' It is pleasant to find an author thus able to 
 indulge his own imagination and taste, and to blend his real with 
 his ideal life. A sketch of his own dwelling and its locality is 
 included in the papers collected under the title of Chronicles of 
 Wolf erf & Roost. We there read that the Roost is ' an old- 
 fashioned stone-mansion, all made up of gable-ends, and as full 
 of angles and corners as an old cocked-hat.' The imaginative 
 sketch of "YYolfert and the quaint historian Knickerbocker, who 
 are supposed to have been residents in the old ' roost,' is so 
 characteristic of the writer, that one passage must be quoted. It 
 describes the quiet time after the Revolutionary war, when the 
 Dutch antiquary took up his abode in the mansion, and began 
 to explore its dreamy and haunted neighbourhood. 
 
 WOLFERT'S ROOST. 
 
 ' Years and years passed over the time-honoured little mansion. 
 The honeysuckle and the sweet-brier crept up its walls ; the wren 
 and the phcebe-bird built under the eaves ; it gradually became 
 almost hidden among trees, through which it looked forth, as with 
 half-shut eyes, upon the Tappan Zee. The Indian spring famous 
 in the days of the wizard sachem still welled up at the bottom of 
 the green bank ; and the wild brook, wild as ever, came babbling 
 down the ravine, and threw itself into the little cove, where, of yore, 
 the water-guard harboured their whale-boats 
 
 Here, then, did old Dicdrich Knickerbocker take up his abode 
 for a time, and set to work with antiquarian zeal to decipher these 
 precious documents, which, like the lost books of Livy, had baffled 
 the research of former historians ; and it is the facts drawn from 
 these sources which give his work the preference, in point of 
 accuracy, over every other history.
 
 126 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And now a word or two about Sleepy Hollow, which many have 
 rashly deemed a fanciful creation, like the Lubberland of mariners. 
 It was probably the mystic and dreamy sound of the name which 
 first tempted the historian of the Manhattoes into its spell-bound 
 mazes. As he entered, all nature seemed for the moment to awake 
 from its slumbers, and break forth in gratulations. The quail 
 whistled a welcome from the corn-field ; the loquacious cat-bird 
 flew from' bush to bush with restless wing, proclaiming his approach, 
 or perked inquisitively into his face, as if to get a knowledge of his 
 physiognomy ; the woodpecker tapped a tattoo on the hollow 
 apple-tree, and then peered round the trunk, as if asking how he 
 relished the salutation; while the squirrel scampered along the 
 fence, whisking his tail over his head by way of a huzza. 
 
 Here reigned the golden mean extolled by poets, in which no 
 gold was to be found, and very little silver. The inhabitants of the 
 Hollow were of the primitive stock, and had intermarried, and bred 
 in and in, from the earliest time of the province never swarming 
 far from the parent hive, but dividing and subdividing their paternal 
 acres as they swarmed. 
 
 Here were small farms, each having its little portion of meadow 
 and corn-field its orchard of gnarled and sprawling apple-trees 
 its garden, in which the rose, the marigold, and hollyhock grew 
 sociably with the cabbage, the pea, and the pumpkin. Each had 
 its low-eaved mansion, redundant with white-headed children, with 
 an old hat nailed against the wall for the housekeeping wren ; the 
 coop on the grassplot, where the motherly hen clucked round with 
 her vagrant brood. Each had its stone-well, with a moss-covered 
 bucket suspended to the long balancing-pole, according to antedi 
 luvian hydraulics; while within doors resounded the eternal hum 
 of the spinning-wheel. 
 
 Many were the great historical facts which the worthy Diedrich 
 collected in these lowly mansions ; and patiently would he sit by 
 the old Dutch housewives, with a child on his knee, or a purring 
 grimalkin on his lap, listening to endless ghost-stories spun forth to 
 the humming accompaniment of the wheel. 
 
 The delighted historian pursued his explorations far into the 
 foldings of the hills, where the Pocantico winds its wizard stream 
 among the mazes of its old Indian haunts sometimes running 
 darkly in pieces of woodland, beneath balancing sprays of beech 
 and chestnut ; sometimes sparkling between grassy borders in fresh, 
 green intervals ; here and there receiving the tributes of silver rills, 
 which came Avhimpering down the hillsides from their parent springs. 
 
 In a remote part of the Hollow, where the Pocantico forced its 
 way down rugged rocks, stood Carl's Mill, the haunted house of the 
 neighbourhood. It was indeed a goblin-looking pile, shattered and 
 timeworn dismal with clanking wheels and rushing streams, and 
 all kinds of uncouth noises. A horseshoe, nailed to the door to 
 keep off witches, seemed to have lost its power; for as Diedrich 
 approached, an old negro thrust his head, all dabbled with flour,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVINCi. 127 
 
 out of a hole above the water-wheel, and grinned and rolled his 
 uyes, and appeared to bo the very hobgoblin of the place. Yet this 
 proved to be the great historic genius of the Hollow, abounding in 
 that valuable information never to be acquired from books. Diedrich 
 Knickerbocker soon discovered his merit. They had long talks 
 together seated on a broken millstone, heedless of the water and the- 
 clatter of the mill; and to his conference with that African sage, 
 many attribute the surprising though true story of Ichabod Crane, 
 and the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.' 
 
 In 1835, after a period of rest from literary toil, Irving 
 published his Tour on the Prairies, which cannot be classed with 
 notions, though its scenes and adventures derive their interest 
 chiefly from the writer's mode of treatment. This work was 
 followed, in the same year, by Abbotsford and Neicstead Abbey ; 
 and in 1836, by Astoria, or Anecdotes of an Enterprise Beyond 
 the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 The historical and biographical works of Irving must be 
 separately noticed. Of the writings consisting more or less of 
 fiction, we have still to mention the Tales of the Alhambra, and 
 a series of sketches'and stories first published in the Knickerbocker 
 Magazine and other periodicals, and partly reprinted under the 
 title, Chronicles of Wolferfs Boost. The author's latest work is a 
 Life of Washington, which will be noticed in its proper place. 
 
 During his first residence in Europe (1815-1832), Irving had 
 travelled in Spain, and stayed some time in Madrid, where he 
 collected the materials of his Life of Columbus, with its sequel, 
 the Voyages and Discoveries of the Companions of Columbus, and 
 other works, including a Life of Mohammed, a history of the 
 Conquest of Granqda, and the Tales of the Alhambra. He had 
 contemplated writing a history of the Conquest of Mexico ; but 
 when he heard that his countryman, Prescott, had already made 
 great preparations for a work on the same subject, he courteously 
 declined competition. In 1841, he again visited Spain, where he 
 was appointed minister-plenipotentiary to the court of Madrid. 
 After a four years' residence in this capital, he returned to New 
 York, and retired to his quiet Wolfert's Roost, where his later 
 years have been "devoted to literature and friendship. He has 
 never been married ; but ' for several years has had about him a 
 household the daughters of his brother, who have been to him 
 as his own children, and who bear to him all the love that a father 
 could engage.' The best portraits of Irving shew a countenance 
 marked by pleasant humour and refined expression, according 
 well with the character suggested by his writings. 
 
 A cursory review of a few of Irving's tales and sketches may be 
 pleasing to young readers, and others may be willing to revive
 
 128 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 their recollections of old favourites. The Sketch-book might be 
 passed over as well known ; but it is our duty to select the best 
 examples of the author's style ; and these will be found in his 
 earlier works. Irving has not been a progressive writer. It has 
 been truly said, that 'his genius reached its maturity' when he 
 published his sketches of scenery and manners in England ; 
 and though he has added many papers on his favourite Dutch- 
 American traditions, he has never excelled the genial humour 
 and polished style of his tales Hip Van Winkle and Sleepy Hollow. 
 
 No reader would thank us for an attempt to criticise minutely 
 the various writings of Washington Irving. To find faults, we 
 must speak of what he has not done ; for all that he has written, 
 excepting perhaps the Life of Mohammed, which has little historical 
 value, is good of its kind. His chief characteristics are elegance 
 of language and versatility in the appropriate treatment of a wide 
 range of topics. Of the former, nothing new can be said. The 
 beauty of his style has been admired wherever his works are read. 
 ' It is sprightly, pointed, easy, correct, and expressive, without 
 being too studiously guarded against the opposite faults. It is 
 without affectation, parade, or labour. If we were to characterise 
 a manner which owes much of its merit to the absence of anv 
 glaring characteristic, we should perhaps say that it is above 
 the style of all other writers of the day, marked with an expressive 
 elegance. Washington Irving never buries the clearness and 
 force of the meaning under a heap of fine words ; nor, on the other 
 hand, does he think it necessary to be coarse, slovenly, or uncouth 
 in order to be emphatic.' J The writer of this criticism goes on to 
 recommend young men who would excel in writing English, to 
 study diligently the writings of Irving. This is an error. No 
 good style can be founded on imitation. To improve our language, 
 we should begin by cultivating clearness of thought first learning 
 to think well, and then it will be easy to write well. Southey, 
 who wrote beautiful prose, says : ' Of what is called style, not a 
 thought enters my head at any time. Look to the matter, and 
 the manner takes care of itself.' 
 
 The variety of his topics is another characteristic of the author. 
 ' From Irving,' says a reviewer, ' we have the humours of contem 
 porary politics and everyday-life in America the traditionary 
 peculiarities of the Dutch founders of New York the nicest 
 shades of the school of English manners of the last century the 
 chivalry of the middle ages in Spain the glittering visions of 
 Moorish romance a large cycle of sentimental creations, founded 
 on the invariable experience, the pathetic sameness of the human 
 
 i Xorth American Jlcvictc, No. 88, Art. I.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 129 
 
 heart and, lastly, the whole unhackneyed freshness of the West 
 life beyond the border a camp outside the frontier a hunt 
 on buffalo-ground, beyond which neither white nor Pawnee man, 
 nor Muse can go. This is Mr Irving' s range, and in every part 
 of it he is equally at home.' 1 
 
 Variety of mood or sentiment is another trait, obviously distinct 
 from a mere change of topics. Irving resembles his favourite 
 author, Goldsmith, not only in melody and simplicity of diction, 
 but also in a healthful diversity of moods. The incessant 
 burlesque of some writers ; the unrelenting satire of others ; 
 the trick of rapid transition ' from grave to gay ; ' the tiresome 
 liveliness prepared by a recipe for bringing together, incongruous 
 ideas : these and other mannerisms are only so many forms of 
 a monotony which is no characteristic of poetic genius. A wide 
 interval separates Goldsmith from Shakspeare. The world of 
 thought explored by the writer of The Traveller and The Vicar 
 of Wakefield, seems little when compared with the wide system 
 peopled by the creations of the greatest of poets. But in the 
 essential qualities of poetic genius, these two writers were alike : 
 each possessed a healthful variety of moods. As Shakspeare 
 could turn away from and utterly forget Falstaff, when he would 
 be sad and thoughtful with Hamlet ; so Goldsmith, after laughing 
 heartily with the pedantic rogue Jenkinson, would rise to 
 earnestness and dignity when he described the good vicar 
 dreaming of a reformation of all criminals. Burns another 
 genius of the same order could banisli all thoughts of Tarn 
 o 1 Shunter, and the Beggars' Cantata, when, with unfeigned piety 
 and tenderness, lie wrote of the Cottar's Saturday Night. Irving, 
 in other points of view, might be contrasted rather than compared 
 with these poets ; but he must be classed with the imaginative 
 writers who have displayed variety, not merely in their choice of 
 topics, but in their moods of thought and sentiment. 
 
 As examples of his clearness and distinct colouring in the 
 scenery of his tales and sketches, we may quote two descriptions 
 -one English, the other Spanish. The latter, we may observe, 
 belongs strictly to the central parts of Old Castile, which are 
 miserably destitute of foliage. The truthfulness of this sketch 
 is quite as remarkable as its sombre and picturesque effect. 
 
 II U UAL SCENERY IN ENGLAND. 
 
 'Nothing can be more imposing than the magnificence of English 
 park scenery. Vast lawns that extend like sheets of vivid green, 
 with here and there clumps of gigantic trees, heaping up rich piles 
 
 1 Forth American Review, No. 88, Art. I. 
 I
 
 130 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of foliage : the solemn pomp of groves and woodland glades, with 
 the deer trooping in silent herds across them ; the hare, bounding 
 away to the covert ; or the pheasant, suddenly bursting upon the 
 wing : the brook, taught to wind in natural meanderings, or expand 
 into a glassy lake : the sequestered pool, reflecting the quivering 
 trees, with the yellow leaf sleeping on its bosom, and the trout 
 roaming fearlessly about its limpid waters ; while some rustic 
 temple or sylvan statue, grown green and dank with age, gives an 
 air of classic sanctity to the seclusion. 
 
 These are but a few of the features of park scenery ; but what 
 most delights me, is the creative talent with which the English 
 decorate the unostentatious abodes of middle-life. The rudest 
 habitation, the most unpromising and scanty portion of land, in 
 the hands of an Englishman of taste, becomes a little paradise. 
 With a nicely discriminating eye, he seizes at once upon its capa 
 bilities, and pictures in his mind the future landscape. The sterile 
 spot grows into loveliness tinder his hand ; and yet the operations 
 of art which produce the effect are scarcely to be perceived. The 
 cherishing and training of some trees ; the cautions priming of 
 others ; the nice distribution of flowers and plants of tender and 
 graceful foliage ; the introduction of a green slope of velvet turf ; 
 the partial opening to a peep of blue distance, or silver gleam of 
 water : all these are managed with a delicate tact, a pervading yet 
 quiet assiduity, like the magic touchings with which a painter 
 finishes up a favourite picture. 
 
 The residence of people of fortune and refinement in the country, 
 has diffused a degree of taste and elegance in rural economy that 
 descends to the lowest class. The very labourer with his thatched 
 cottage and narrow slip of ground, attends to their embellishment. 
 The trim hedge the grassplot before the door the little flower-bed, 
 bordered with snug box the woodbine trained up against the wall, 
 and hanging its blossoms about the lattice the pot of flowers in the 
 window the holly, providentially planted x about the house, to cheat 
 winter of its dreariness, and to throw in a semblance of green 
 summer to cheer the fireside all these bespeak the influence of 
 taste, flowing down from high sources, and pervading the lowest 
 levels of the public mind 
 
 The effect of this devotion of elegant minds to rural occupations, 
 has been wonderful on the face of the country. A great part 
 of the island is rather level, and would be monotonous, were it not 
 for the charms of culture ; but it is studded and gemmed, as it were, 
 with castles and palaces, and embroidered with parks and gardens. 
 It does not abound in grand and sublime prospects, but rather in 
 little home-scenes of rural repose and sheltered quiet. Every 
 antique farmhouse and moss-grown cottage is a picture ; and as the 
 roads are ^continually winding, and the view is shut in by groves 
 and hedges, the eye is delighted by a continual succession of small 
 landscapes of captivating loveliness. 
 
 The great charm, however, of English scenery, is the moral
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 131 
 
 feeling that seems to pervade it. It is associated in the mind with 
 ideas of order, of quiet, of sober well-established principles, of 
 hoary usage and reverend custom. Everything seems to be the 
 growth of ages of regular and peaceful existence. The old church 
 of remote architecture, with its low massive portal, its Gothic tower, 
 its windows rich with tracery and painted glass, in scrupulous 
 preservation ; its stately monuments of warriors and worthies of the 
 olden time, ancestors of the present lords of the soil ; its tomb 
 stones, recording successive generations of sturdy yeomanry, whose 
 progeny still plough the same fields, and kneel at the same altar 
 the parsonage, a quaint irregular pile, partly antiquated, but 
 repaired and altered in the tastes of various ages and occupants 
 the stile and footpath leading from the church-yard, across pleasant 
 fields, and along shady hedgerows, according to air immemorial 
 right of way the neighbouring village, with its venerable cottages, 
 ita public green sheltered by trees, under which the forefathers 
 of the present race have sported the antique family mansion, 
 standing apart in some little rural domain, but looking down with a 
 protecting air on the surrounding scene : all these common features 
 of English landscape evince a calm and settled security, and 
 hereditary transmission of homebred virtues and local attachments, 
 that speak deeply and touchingly for the moral character of the 
 nation.' 
 
 SCENERY IN SPAIN. 
 
 ' Many are apt to picture Spain to their imaginations as a soft 
 southern region, decked out with all the luxurious charms of 
 voluptuous Italy. On the contrary, though there are exceptions 
 in some of the maritime provinces, yet for the greater part it is 
 a stern melancholy country, with rugged mountains and long 
 sweeping plains, destitute of trees, and indescribably silent and 
 lonesome, partaking of the savage and solitary character of Africa. 
 What adds to this silence and loneliness, is the absence of singing- 
 birds a natural consequence of the want of groves and hedges. 
 The vulture and the eagle are seen wheeling about the inountain- 
 cliffs, and soaring over the plains, and groups of shy bustards stalk 
 about the heaths ; but the myriads of smaller birds, which animate 
 the whole face of other countries, are met with in but few provinces 
 in Spain, and in those chiefly among the orchards and gardens which 
 surround the habitations of man. 
 
 In the interior provinces, the traveller occasionally traverses great 
 tracts cultivated with grain as far as the eye can reach, waving 
 at times with verdure, at other times naked and sunburnt ; but he 
 looks round in vain for the hand that has tilled the soil. At length 
 he perceives some village on a steep hill, or rugged crag, with 
 mouldering battlements and ruined watchtower a stronghold, hi 
 old times, against civil war or Moorish inroad ; for the custom 
 among the peasantry of congregating together for mutal protection,
 
 132 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 i 
 
 is still kept up in most parts of Spain, in consequence of the 
 maraudings of roving freebooters. 
 
 But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the garniture of 
 groves and forests, and the softer charms of ornamental cultivation, 
 yet its scenery lias something of a high and lofty character to 
 compensate the want. It partakes something of the attributes of 
 its people ; and I think that I better understand the proud, hardy, 
 frugal and abstemious Spaniard, his manly defiance of hardships 
 and contempt of effeminate indulgences, since I have seen the 
 country he inhabits. 
 
 There is something, too, in the sternly simple features of 
 the Spanish landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeling of 
 (sublimity. The immense plains of the Castiles and of La Mancha, 
 extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from 
 their very nakedness and immensity, and have something of the 
 solemn grandeur of the ocean. In ranging over these boundless 
 wastes, the eye catches sight here and there of a straggling herd 
 of cattle, attended by a lonely herdsman, motionless as a statue, 
 with his long slender pike tapering up like a lance into the air ; or 
 beholds a long train of mules slowly moving along the waste like 
 a train of camels in the desert ; or a single herdsman, armed with 
 blunderbuss and stiletto, and prowling over the plain. Thus the 
 country, the habits, the very looks of the people, have something 
 of the Arabian character. The general insecurity of the country 
 is evinced in the universal use of weapons. The herdsman in the 
 field, the shepherd in the plain, has his musket and his knife. The 
 wealthy villager rarely ventures to the market-town without his 
 trabuco, and perhaps a servant on foot with a blunderbuss on his 
 shoulder ; and the most petty journey is undertaken with the 
 
 preparation of a warlike enterprise. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 It has a most picturesque effect, also, to meet a train of muleteers 
 in some mountain-pass. First you hear the bells of the leading 
 mules, breaking with their simple melody the stillness of the airy 
 height ; or, perhaps, the voice of the muleteer admonishing some 
 tardy or wandering animal, or chanting, at the full stretch of his 
 lungs, some traditionary ballad. At length you see the mules slowly 
 winding along the cragged defile, sometimes descending precipitous 
 cliffs, so as to present themselves in full relief against the sky ; 
 sometimes toiling up the deep arid chasms below you. As they 
 approach, you descry their gay decorations of worsted tufts, tassels, 
 and saddle-cloths ; while, as they pass by, the ever-ready trabuco, 
 slung behind the packs and saddles, gives a hint of the insecurity of 
 the road. 
 
 * * * # 
 
 In the wild passes of these mountains, the sight of walled towns 
 and villages, built like eagles' nests among the cliffs, and surrounded 
 by Moorish battlements, or of ruined watchtowers perched on lofty 
 peaks, carries the inind back to the chivalric days of Christian and
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 133 
 
 Moslem warfare, and to the romantic struggle for the conquest 
 of Granada. In traversing these lofty sierras, the traveller is often 
 obliged to alight and lead his horse up and down the steep and 
 jagged ascents and descents, resembling the broken steps of a 
 stiiircase. Sometimes the road winds along dizzy precipices, 
 without parapet to guard him from the gulfs below, and then will 
 plunge down steep, and dark, and dangerous declivities. Some 
 times it straggles through rugged barrancos, or ravines, worn by 
 winter-torrents, the obscure path of the contrabandista ; while, ever 
 and anon, the ominous cross, the monument of robbery and murder, 
 erected on a mound of stones at some lonely part of the road, 
 admonishes the traveller that he is among the haunts of banditti, 
 perhaps at that very moment under the eye of some lurking 
 bandolero." 
 
 The several papers on ' Christmas in England ' are as racy and 
 pleasant as anything in The Sketch-hook, and probably suggested 
 to American critics the suspicion that Geoffrey Crayon had 
 enjoyed all that warm-hearted hospitality which he so vividly 
 describes. It might well seem unlikely that such a sketch as 
 that of the ' Christmas Dinner ' had been penned in the solitary 
 and cheerless chamber of an author writing for bread ; or that 
 the hearty old squire Bracebriclge, his jocose cousin Simon, 
 the Oxonian, the fair Julia, and her suitor with all the appur 
 tenances of wassail-bowl, boar's-head, ancient sirloin, fat turkey, 
 and pheasant-pie were ' airy nothings,' to which imagination had 
 given 'a local habitation and a name.' 1 Making allowance for 
 poetical hyperbole, the air of reality is admirably well sustained 
 in these sketches. To cull choice passages is a perplexing task ; 
 for what is there that might be omitted ? 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS ANTHEM. 
 
 ' During service, Master Simon stood up in the pew, and repeated 
 the responses very audibly ; evincing that kind of ceremonious 
 devotion punctually observed by a gentleman of the old school, and 
 a man of old family connections. I observed, too, that he turned 
 over the leaves of a folio prayer-book with something of a flourish ; 
 possibly to shew off an enormous seal-ring which enriched one of 
 his fingers, and which had the look of a family relic. But he was 
 evidently most solicitous about the musical part of the service, 
 
 1 ' At the time of the first publication of this paper, the picture of an old- 
 fashioned Christmas in the country was pronounced by some as out of date. The 
 author had afterwards an opportunity of witnessing almost all the customs above 
 described, existing in unexpected vigour in the skirts of Derbyshire and Yorkshire, 
 where he passed the Christinas holidays. The reader will find some notice of 
 them in the author's account of his sojourn at Newstead Abbey.'
 
 134 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 keeping his eye fixed intently on the choir, and beating time with 
 much gesticulation and emphasis. 
 
 The orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a most 
 whimsical grouping of heads, piled one above the other, among 
 which I particularly noticed that of the village-tailor, a pale fellow 
 with a retreating forehead and chin, who played on the clarionet, 
 and seemed to have blown his face to a point ; and there was 
 another, a short pursy man, stooping and labouring at a bass-viol, 
 so as to shew nothing but the top of a round bald head, like the egg 
 of an ostrich. There were two or three pretty faces among the 
 female singers, to which the keen air of a frosty morning had given 
 a bright rosy tint ; but the gentlemen choristers had evidently been 
 chosen, like old Cremona fiddles, more for tone than looks ; and as 
 several had to sing from the same book, there were clusterings of 
 odd physiognomies, not unlike those groups of cherubs we sometimes 
 see on country tombstones. 
 
 The usual services of the choir were managed tolerably well, 
 the vocal parts generally lagging a little behind the instrumental, 
 and some loitering fiddler now and then making up for lost time by 
 travelling over a passage with prodigious celerity, and clearing more 
 bars than the keenest fox-hunter to be in at the death. But the 
 great trial was an anthem that had been prepared and arranged by 
 Master Simon, and on which he had founded great expectation. 
 Unluckily, there was a blunder at the very onset ; the musicians 
 became flurried ; Master Simon was in a fever ; everything went 
 on lamely and irregularly, until they came to a chorus beginning 
 a Now let us sing with one accord," which seemed to be a signal for 
 parting company : all became discord and confusion ; each shifted 
 for himself, and got to the end as well, or rather, as soon as he 
 could, excepting one old chorister in a pair of horn spectacles, 
 bestriding and pinching a long sonorous nose, who happened to 
 stand a little apart, and being wrapped up in his own melody, kept 
 on a quavering course, wriggling his head, ogling his book, and 
 winding all up by a nasal solo of at least three bars' duration.' 
 
 The details of an orthodox old Christmas banquet may be 
 passed over ; yet not without notice of the nice gradation of the 
 mirth after dinner. It goes on with a natural flow to the brink 
 of propriety; and here, just at the right moment, it is checked by 
 the tact of the host, whose jovialty is ' tempered with a proper 
 love of decorum.' This passage may be quoted as a good 
 example of a crescendo in the descriptive style : 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS DICKER. 
 
 ' Much of the conversation during dinner turned upon family 
 topics, to which I was a stranger. There was, however, a great deal 
 of rallying of Master Simon about some gay widow, with whom he
 
 SECOND PEKICD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 135 
 
 \vas accused of having a flirtation. This attack was commenced 
 by the ladies ; but it was continued throughout the dinner by the 
 fat-headed old gentleman next the parson, with the persevering 
 assiduity of a slow hound ; being one of those long-winded jokers, 
 who, though rather dull at starting game, are unrivalled for their 
 talent in hunting it down. At every pause in the general conver 
 sation, he renewed his bantering in pretty much the same terms ; 
 winking hard sit me with both eyes whenever he gave Master Simon 
 what he considered a home-thrust. The latter, indeed, seemed fond 
 of being teased on the subject, as old bachelors are apt to be ; and 
 he took occasion to inform me, in an under-tone, that the lady ia 
 question was a prodigiously fine woman, and drove her own curricle. 
 
 The dinner-time passed away in this flow of innocent hilarity ; 
 and though the old hall may have resounded in its time with many 
 a scene of broader rout and revel, yet I doubt whether it ever 
 witnessed more honest and genuine enjoyment. How easy it is for 
 one benevolent being to diffuse pleasure around him; and how 
 truly is a kind heart a fountain of gladness, making everything in its 
 vicinity to freshen into smiles ! The joyous disposition of the worthy 
 squire was perfectly contagious : he was happy himself, and disposed 
 to make all tho world happy ; and the little eccentricities of his 
 humour did biTt season, in a manner, the sweetness of his 
 philanthropy. 
 
 When the ladies had retired, the conversation, as usual, became 
 still more animated; many good things were broached which had 
 been thought of during dinner, but which would not exactly do for 
 a lady's ear ; and though I cannot positively affirm that there was 
 much wit uttered, yet I have certainly heard many contests of rare 
 wit produce much less laughter. Wit, after all, is a mighty tart, 
 pungent ingredient, and much too acid for some stomachs; but 
 honest good-humour is the oil and wine of a merry-meeting, and 
 there is no jovial companionship equal to that where the jokes are 
 rather small, and the laughter abundant. 
 
 The squire told several long stories of early college pranks and 
 adventures, in some of which the parson had been a sharer ; though, 
 in looking at the latter, it required some effort of imagination to 
 figure such a little dark anatomy of a man into the perpetrator of a 
 madcap gambol. Indeed, the two college-chums presented pictures 
 of what men may be made by their different lots in life. The squire 
 had left the university, to live lustily on his paternal domains, 
 in the vigorous enjoyment of prosperity and sunshine, and had 
 flourished on to a hearty and florid old age ; whilst the poor parson, 
 on the contrary, had dried and withered away, among dusty tomes, 
 in the silence and shadows of his study. Still there seemed to be a 
 spark of almost extinguished fire, feebly glimmering in the bottom 
 of his soul : and as the squire hinted at a sly siory of the parson and 
 a pretty milkmaid, whom they once met on the banks of the Isis, 
 the old gentleman made an "alphabet of faces," which, as far as 
 I could decipher his physiognomy, I verily believe was indicative of
 
 136 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 laughter; indeed, I have rarely met with an old gentleman that 
 took absolute offence at the imputed gallantries of his youth. 
 
 I found the tide of wine and wassail fast gaining on the dry land 
 of sober judgment. The company grew merrier and louder as their 
 jokes grew duller. Master Simon was in as chirping a humour 
 as a grasshopper filled with dew ; his old songs grew of a warmer 
 complexion, and he began to talk maudlin about the widow. He 
 even gave a long song about the wooing of a widow, which he 
 informed me he had gathered from an excellent black-letter work, 
 entitled Cupid's Solicitor for Love, containing store of good advice 
 for bachelors, and which he promised to lend me. The first verso 
 was to this effect : 
 
 " He that will woo a widow must not dally, 
 
 He must make hay while the sun doth shine ; 
 He must not stand with her shall I, shall I '! 
 But boldly say : Widow, thou must be mine." 
 
 This song inspired the fat-headed old gentleman, who made 
 several attempts to tell a rather broad story out of Joe Miller, that 
 was pat to the purpose ; but he always stuck in the middle, every 
 body recollecting the latter part excepting himself. The parson, 
 too, began to shew the effects of good cheer, having gradually 
 settled down into a doze, and his wig sitting most suspiciously on 
 one side. Just at this juncture we were summoned to the drawing- 
 room, and, I suspect, at the private instigation of mine host, 
 whose jovialty seemed always tempered with a proper love of 
 decorum.' 
 
 We must now leave the English sketches, and give some 
 notice of the Dutch- American legends. 
 
 For its quiet humour, graphic skill, and melody of style, the 
 Legend of Sleepy Hollow is more worthy of notice than many 
 fictions of greater pretension. It is said that on one of the wide 
 coves on the eastern shore of the Hudson, there lies a rural 
 port named Tarry-town ; and about two miles inland from this 
 place lies ' a little valley, or rather lap of land, among high hills, 
 
 which is one of the quietest places in the whole world From 
 
 the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its 
 inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, 
 this sequestered glen has long been known by the name of Sleepy 
 Hollow, and its rustic lads are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys 
 throughout all the neighbouring country. A drowsy, dreamy 
 influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very 
 atmosphere. Some say that the place was bewitched by a high 
 German doctor, during the early days of the settlement ; others, 
 that an old Indian chief, the prophet or wizard of his tribe, held 
 his powwows there before the country was discovered by Master 
 Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the place still continues under
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 137 
 
 the sway of some witching power, that holds a spell over the 
 minds of the good people, causing them to walk in a continual 
 reverie. They are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs ; are 
 subject to trances and visions ; and frequently see strange sights, 
 and hear music and voices in the air.' 
 
 In another paper, intended to quell the doubts of all who would 
 regard ' this pleasant land of drowsy-head ' as a mere dream- 
 picture, the writer completes the sketch by adding a notice of the 
 church in the Hollow : ' The congregation, in those days, was of 
 a truly rural character. City fashions had not as yet stolen up to 
 Sleepy Hollow. Dutch sun-bonnets and honest homespun still 
 prevailed. Everything was in primitive style, even to the bucket 
 of water and tin-cup near the door in summer, to assuage the 
 thirst caused by the heat of the weather or the drouth of the 
 
 sermon The drowsy influence of Sleepy Hollow was apt 
 
 to breathe into this sacred edifice; and now and then an elder 
 might be seen with his handkerchief over his face to keep off the 
 flies, and apparently listening to the dominie, but really sunk into 
 a summer slumber, lulled by the sultry notes of the locust from 
 the neighbouring trees.' 
 
 The genius of the Hollow was a schoolmaster an intellectual 
 pioneer, named Ichabod Crane. ' The cognomen of Crane was 
 not inapplicable to his person; He was tall, but exceedingly 
 lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that 
 dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for 
 shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His 
 head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy 
 eyes, and a long snipe-nose, so that it looked like a weather-cock, 
 perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. 
 To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, 
 with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have 
 mistaken him for the genius of Famine descending upon the earth, 
 or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. The school-house 
 stood in a rather lonely but pleasant situation, just at the foot of 
 a woody hill, with a brook running close by, and a formidable 
 l>irch-tree growing at one end of it. From hence the low murmur 
 of his pupils' voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard 
 in a drowsy summer-day, like the hum of a bee-hive ; interrupted 
 now and then by the authoritative voice of the master, in the 
 tone of menace or command ; or, peradventure, by the appalling 
 sound of the birch, as he urged some tardy loiterer along the 
 flowery path of knowledge.' 
 
 The accomplishments of the schoolmaster were various : he 
 was the singing-master of the neighbourhood ; he assisted the 
 farmers occasionally in the lighter labours of their farms ,
 
 138 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and knew how, by pleasing discourse on dreamy and ghostly 
 topics, to make himself welcome at the hearths of the good 
 Dutch housewives, with whom he occasionally tarried. To help 
 out his maintenance, he was, according to country custom in 
 those parts, boarded and lodged at the houses of the farmers 
 whose children he instructed. With these, he lived successively 
 a week at a time, thus going the rounds of the neighbourhood, 
 with all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief. His 
 musical powers were too remarkable to be left unnoticed. ' It 
 was a matter of no little vanity to him, on Sundays, to take his 
 station in front of the church-gallery, with a band of chosen 
 singers, where, in his own mind, he completely carried away the 
 palm from the parson. Certain it is, his voice resounded far 
 above all the rest of the congregation ; and there are peculiar 
 quavers still to be heard in that church, and which may even be 
 heard half a mile off, quite to the opposite side of the mill-pond, 
 on a still Sunday morning, which are said to be legitimately 
 descended from the nose of Ichabod Crane.' 
 
 One of the infirmities in the mental constitution of Ichabod 
 Crane, caused partly by his residence in this haunted valley, was 
 his ' appetite for the marvellous : ' 
 
 1 No tale was too gross or monstrous for his capacious swallow. It 
 was often his delight, after his school was dismissed in the afternoon, 
 to stretch himself on the rich bed of clover, bordering the little 
 brook that whimpered by his school-house, and there con over old 
 Mather's direful tales, until the gathering dusk of the evening made 
 the printed page a mere mist before his eyes. Then, as he wended 
 his way by swamp, and stream, and awful woodland, to the farm 
 house where he happened to be quartered, every sound of nature, 
 at that witching hour, fluttered his excited imagination : the moan 
 of the whip-poor-will 1 from the hillside ; the boding cry of the 
 tree-toad, that harbinger of storm ; the dreary hooting of the 
 screech-owl, or the sudden rustling in the thicket of birds frightened 
 from their roost. The fireflies, too, which sparkled most vividly in 
 the darkest places, now and then startled him, as one of uncommon 
 brightness would stream across his path ; and if by chance a huge 
 blockhead of a beetle came winging his blundering flight against 
 him, the poor varlet was ready to give up the ghost, with the idea 
 that he was struck with a witch's token. His only resource on such 
 occasions, either to drown thought or drive away evil spirits, was to 
 sing psalm-tunes; and the good people of Sleepy Hollow, as they 
 sat by their doors of an evening, were often filled with awe at 
 hearing his nasal melody, "in linked sweetness long drawn out," 
 floating from the distant hill, or along the dusky road.' 
 
 1 The whip-poor-will is a bird which is only heard at night. It receives its 
 name from its note, which is thought to resemble those words.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 139 
 
 Even in such an abode as the Hollow, full repose cannot be 
 enjoyed by mortals who allow ambition to enter their minds. 
 We forebode mischief for Ichabod when we are told that, ' among 
 the musical disciples who assembled one evening in each week to 
 receive his instructions in psalmody, was Katrina Van Tassel, 
 the daughter and only child of a substantial Dutch farmer. She 
 was a blooming lass of fresh eighteen, plump as a partridge, ripe 
 and melting, and rosy-cheeked as one of her father's peaches, 
 and universally famed, not merely for her beauty, but her vast 
 expectations.' The picture of the farmer's homestead might well 
 captivate the 'imagination of the dominie. ' A great elm-tree 
 spread its broad branches over it, at the foot of which bubbled 
 up a spring of the softest and sweetest water in a little well, 
 formed of a barrel, and then stole sparkling away through the 
 grass to a neighbouring brook that bubbled along among alders 
 and dwarf willows.' But all the poetry of the rural mansion and 
 its lively farmyard was lost in Ichabod's visions of substantial 
 benefits : 
 
 ' The pedagogue's mouth watered as he looked upon his sumptuous 
 promise of luxurious winter fare. In his devouring mind's-eye, he 
 pictured to himself every roasting-pig running about with a pudding 
 in his belly, and an apple in his mouth ; the pigeons were snugly 
 put to bed in a comfortable pie, and tucked in with a coverlet of 
 crust ; the geese were swimming in their own gravy ; and the ducks 
 pairing cosily in dishes, like snug married couples, with a decent 
 competency of onion-sauce. In the porkers, lie saw carved out the 
 future sleek side of bacon and juicy relishing ham ; not a turkey but 
 he beheld daintily trussed-np, with its gizzard under its wing, and, 
 peradventure, a necklace of savoury sausages j and even bright 
 chanticleer himself lay sprawling on his back in a side-dish, with 
 uplifted claws, as if craving that quarter which his chivalrous spirit 
 disdained to ask while living. 
 
 As the enraptured Ichabod fancied all this, and as he rolled 
 his great green eyes over the fat meadow-lands, the rich fields 
 of wheat, of rye, of buckwheat, and Indian corn, and the orchards 
 burdened with ruddy fruit, which surrounded the warm tenement 
 of Van Tassel, his heart yearned after the damsel who was to 
 inherit these domains, and his imagination expanded with the 
 idea, how they might be readily turned into cash, and the 
 money invested in immense tracts of wild land and shingle-palaces 
 in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy already realised his hopes, 
 and presented to him the blooming Katrina, with a whole family 
 of children, mounted on the top of a wagon loaded with house 
 hold trumpery, with pots and kettles dangling beneath ; and he 
 beheld himself bestriding a pacing mare, with a colt at her 
 heels, setting out for Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Lord knows 
 where."
 
 140 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Before this delightful dream of Katrina, with her sundry 
 appurtenances, could be realised, a formidable rival must be 
 vanquished. This was ' Brom Bones, a roistering Dutch lad, 
 broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short, curly black 
 hair. % He was always ready for either a fight or a frolic, but had 
 more mischief than ill-will in his composition; and with all his 
 overbearing roughness, there was a strong dash of waggish good- 
 humour at bottom. This rantipole hero had for some time 
 singled out the blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth 
 gallantries.' By the soothing powers of his psalmody, aided 
 by ' a quiet and gently insinuating manner,' the schoolmaster 
 contrived to maintain awhile an apparent advantage over his 
 rival. Their competition arrived at its crisis at a family- 
 gathering in the home of Van Tassel, to which Ichabod Crane 
 was of course invited. As he rode along to the house of 
 feasting, no bad omens of coming disappointment vexed his 
 mind. The scenery of the journey is given in a passage which 
 shews how well Irving can blend the beautiful with the 
 humorous : 
 
 ' It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day ; the sky was clear 
 and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we 
 always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had 
 put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the 
 tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of 
 orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild-ducks began to 
 make their appearance high in the air ; the bark of the squirrel 
 might be heard from the groves of beech and hickory nuts, and 
 the pensive whistle of the quail at intervals from the neighbouring 
 stubble-field. 
 
 The small birds were taking their farewell banquets. In the 
 fulness of their revelry, they fluttered, chirping and frolicking, from 
 bush to bush and tree to tree, capricious from the very profusion 
 and variety around them. There was the honest cock-robin, the 
 favourite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud querulous note ; 
 and the twittering black-birds flying in sable clouds ; and the golden- 
 winged woodpecker, with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget, 
 and splendid plumage ; and the cedar-bird, with its red-tipt wings 
 and yellow-tipt tail, and its little monteiro cap of feathers ; and the 
 blue jay, that noisy coxcomb, in his gay light-blue coat and white 
 under-clothes ; screaming and chattering, nodding and bobbing and 
 bowing, and pretending to be on good terms with every songster of 
 the grove. 
 
 As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, his eye, ever open to every 
 symptom of culinary abundance, ranged with delight over the 
 treasures of jolly autumn. On all sides he beheld vast stores of 
 apples ; some hanging in oppressive opulence on the trees ; some 
 gathered into baskets and barrels for the market ; others heaped up
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IKVINO. 141 
 
 in rich piles for the cider-press. Further on, ho helield great fields 
 of Indian corn, with its golden ears peeping from their leafy coverts, 
 and holding out the promise of cakes and hasty-pudding ; and the 
 yellow pumpkins lying beneath them, turning up their fair round 
 bellies to the sun, and giving ample prospects of the most luxurious 
 of pies ; and anon lie passed the fragrant buckwheat-fields, breathing 
 the odour of the bee-hive ; and as he beheld them, soft anticipations 
 stole over his mind of dainty slapjacks, well buttered and garnished 
 with honey or treacle by the delicate little dimpled band of Katrina 
 Van Tassel. 
 
 Thus feeding his mind with many sweet thoughts and "sugared 
 suppositions," he journeyed along the sides of a range of hills 
 which look out upon some of the goodliest scenes of the mighty 
 Hudson.' 
 
 The interior of the state-parlour of Van Tassel realised all 
 the dominie's anticipations ; for here were spread out, in a 
 bewildering profusion, 'apple-pies and peach-pies and pumpkin- 
 pies; besides slices of ham and smoked beef; and, moreover, 
 delectable dishes of preserved plums and peaches, and pears and 
 quinces ; not to mention broiled shad and roasted chickens.' 
 The hopes of Ichabod Crane were excited to an almost extrava 
 gant degree. ' He was a kind and thankful creature, whose heart 
 dilated in proportion as his skin was filled with good cheer ; and 
 whose spirits rose with eating as some men's do with drink. He 
 could not help, too, rolling his large eyes round him as he ate, 
 and chuckling with the possibility that he might one day be lord 
 of all this scene of almost unimaginable luxury and splendour. 
 Then he thought how soon he'd turn his back upon the old 
 school-house, snap his fingers in the face of Hans Van Ripper, 
 and every other niggardly patron, and kick any itinerant 
 pedagogue out of doors that should dare to call him comrade ! ' 
 
 Meanwhile, filled with substantial good things, he had almost 
 forgotten that Sleepy Hollow was a haunted glen ; and that, after 
 the feast, he must ride homeward by a route including some 
 localities not quite ' canny.' These were recalled to his mind 
 by the talk after supper. Several dreamy ghost-stories were 
 solemnly told as the darkness gathered, and among others, the 
 old and well-known story of the ' headless Hessian trooper,' 
 Avhose body was buried in the church-yard of Sleepy Hollow, and 
 whose ' ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest 
 of his head.' Brom Bones, the rival, took a prominent part in 
 the talk about the headless horseman ; and Ichabod, to maintain 
 his superiority, told of fearful sights which he had seen in his 
 nightly walks about the valley. When the revel broke up, the 
 schoolmaster lingered behind to have a tOte-a-tete with the 
 heiress, which, for some unexplained reason, must have been
 
 142 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 unsatisfactory, as he ' sallied forth, after no very great interval, 
 with an air quite desolate and chop-fallen.' As he pursued his 
 way homeward, ' all the stories of ghosts and goblins that he 
 had heard in the afternoon came crowding upon his recollection. 
 "When he approached the haunted bridge, he was fully prepared 
 to see the phantom of which his rival had given such a graphic 
 account, and, lo ! 'in the dark shadow of the grove, on the 
 margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, 
 black, and towering.' Ichabod quickened his steed, and a lively 
 chase of ghost after schoolmaster ensued. When he reached the 
 vanishing-place of which his rival .had told, he ventured to cast 
 a look behind. ' Just then he saw the goblin rising in his 
 stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod 
 endeavoured to dodge the horrible missile, but too late ! It 
 encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash he was 
 tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, 
 and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind. 
 
 The next morning, the old horse was found without his saddle, 
 and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at 
 his master's gate. Ichabod did not make his appearance at break 
 fast dinner-hour came, but no Ichabod. The boys assembled at 
 the school-house, and strolled idly about the banks of the brook ; 
 but no schoolmaster. Hans Van Ripper now began to feel some 
 uneasiness about the fate of poor Ichabod and his saddle. An 
 inquiry was set on foot, and after diligent investigation, they came 
 upon his traces. In one part of the road leading to the church, 
 was found the saddle trampled in the dirt ; the tracks of horses' 
 hoofs deeply dented in the road, and evidently at furious speed, 
 were traced to the bridge, beyond wlu'ch, on the bank of a broad 
 part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was found 
 the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered 
 pumpkin. 
 
 The brook was searched, but the body of the schoolmaster was 
 not to be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as executor of his 
 estate, examined the bundle which contained all his worldly 
 effects. They consisted of two shirts and a half, two stocks for 
 the neck, a pair or two of worsted stockings, an old paur of 
 corduroy small-clothes, a rusty razor, a book of psalm-tunes, full 
 
 of dog's ears, and a broken pitch-pipe Brom Bones, who 
 
 shortly after his rival's disappearance conducted the blooming 
 Katrina in triumph to the altar, was observed to look exceedingly 
 knowing whenever the story of Ichabod was related, and always 
 burst into a hearty laugh at the mention of the pumpkin ; which 
 led some to suspect that he knew more about the matter than be 
 chose to tell.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. F. COOPER. 143 
 
 The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of 
 these matters, maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited 
 away by supernatural means ; and it is a favourite story often 
 told about the neighbourhood round the winter-evening fire. 
 The bridge became more than ever an object of superstitious awe, 
 and that may be the reason why the road has been altered of 
 late years, so as to approach the church by the border of the 
 millpond. The school-house being deserted, soon fell to decay, 
 and was reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate 
 pedagogue ; and the plough-boy, loitering homeward of a still 
 summer evening, has often fancied his voice at a distance, 
 chanting a melancholy psalm-tune among the tranquil solitudes 
 of Sleepy Hollow.' 
 
 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 
 
 ' No American writer has been so extensively read as JAMES 
 FENIMORE COOPER. His novels have been translated in nearly 
 every European tongue. . . . We have seen some of them, well 
 thumbed and worn, at a little village in a remote mountainous 
 district of Sicily ; and in Naples and Milan, the bookstalls bear 
 witness that L 1 Ultimo dd Mohecanni [The Last of the Mohicans] 
 is still a popular work. In England, these American novels have 
 been eagerly read and transformed into popular dramas ; while 
 cheap and often stupidly mutilated editions of them have been 
 circulated through all her colonies, garrisons, and naval stations, 
 from New Zealand to Canada.' l The review from which the above 
 paragraph is quoted, also states that, ' of all American writers, 
 Cooper is the most original, the most thoroughly national.' 
 
 These opinions, given in a review of Cooper's collected novels, 
 are sufficient to shew that, whatever our own opinion of his merits 
 may be, his name deserves a prominent place in this account of 
 American literature. 
 
 He was born at Burlington, New Jersey, in 1789. His course 
 of studies in Yale College ended in 1805, when he entered the 
 navy. After six years of service, he retired to private life, and 
 resided at Cooperstown, on the border of Otsego Lake, in the 
 midst of the scenes described in one of his fictions. Soon 
 afterwards, he published his first novel, Precaution, which 
 American reviewers absurdly described as a work displaying a 
 considerable knowledge of ' English society.' It was followed 
 by a better fiction, The Spy, which was very successful, though 
 
 1 North American Review, No. 154, Art. VI.
 
 144 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 it was unfavourably reviewed in America. In 1823 appeared 
 The Pioneers, which may be noticed hereafter as one of a series of 
 tales. The Pilot, commonly regarded as the best of the sea- 
 stories, followed, but gained no high reputation until the praise 
 of English critics found echoes in America. In this novel, the 
 fate of a vessel, the Ariel which might almost be described as 
 the heroine is narrated with a singular force and truthfulness ; 
 and Long Tom Coffin is one of the best characters portrayed 
 by the author. Lionel Lincoln, the next publication, has been 
 regarded as a failure. It was followed (1826) by The Last of the 
 Mohicans, one of the most widely circulated of modern fictions. 
 
 The Prairie, The Red Rover, The Wept of Wish-ton- Wish, and 
 The Water-icitch, followed too rapidly all bearing marks of 
 hasty execution. Meanwhile the author had visited Europe, and 
 had published his Notions of the Americans, a vindication of the 
 institutions and manners of his own country. In his next work 
 of fiction, The Bravo, he left the lakes and forests of the West, 
 and selected foreign scenes and characters. It was followed 
 by The Heidenmauer, The Headsman of Berne, and a very dull, 
 satirical novel, The Monildns. 
 
 Cooper next published his Gleanings in Europe, consisting of 
 ten volumes of sketches, and criticisms of scenes, society, and 
 manners in the Old "World. In his American Democrat (1835), 
 he appeared as a didactic writer, and described the virtues and 
 failings of his countrymen. In 1839, the History of the Navy of 
 the United States was published. Of several novels intended to 
 castigate the errors of American society, it would be useless to 
 mention even the titles, for they are commonly regarded as very 
 dull productions. Homeward Bound and The Two Admirals 
 belong to the series of romances of naval life. The Deerslayer and 
 The Pathfinder may be described in our notice of the series to 
 which they belong. It is said that the writer regarded these 
 two as his best fictions. Mercedes of Castile, Wing-and-Wing, 
 Wyandotte, and Ashore and Afloat, displayed the author's power 
 of diffusing a few ideas over a vast surface of paper ; though they 
 contained many passages of lively description. Altogether, in the 
 course of thirty years, or little more, Cooper published about the 
 same number of novels and romances, besides many volumes of 
 history and travels. Thus every year produced, on an average, 
 its two or three volumes. Shortly before his decease (1851), 
 he was engaged in preparing a work, under the title, The 
 Middle States of America ; their Origins, Customs, Conditions, and 
 Prospects. 
 
 With regard to his apparent productiveness, Cooper may be 
 classed with the modern novelists who have written as if they
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. F. COOPER. 145 
 
 expected that their works would be estimated according to their 
 balk, The number of the distinct characters portrayed in the 
 whole series of his novels, bears a very small proportion to the 
 number of pages, or, we might say, volumes. This seems to be 
 commonly admitted ; yet an American writer 1 has hazarded the 
 assertion, that ' very few authors have added more than one original 
 and striking character to the world of imagination ; none has added 
 more than Cooper ; and his are all as distinct and actual as the 
 personages that stalk before us on the stage of history.' It is fair 
 to state that this assertion appears almost as singular in America 
 as in England. The comparison of Cooper with Scott is a mere 
 absurdity. Another American reviewer has said, that Cooper 
 never invented more than ' two probable and interesting characters 
 Long Tom Coffin and the Leather-stocking ; ' and that ' the 
 latter of these, as if to shew how much the writer was delighted 
 with his success, was made to figure in about six different 
 novels.' * 
 
 This series of tales in which the adventures of a simple hunter 
 tire described is commonly regarded as the best ; and the tales 
 intended to have a satirical purport may be described as the 
 worst of Cooper's fictions. The excessive dulness of the latter 
 is explained by the fact, that the writer made them vehicles of 
 controversy with certain neighbours and with newspaper- editors. 
 
 In the better works of Cooper such as have their scenes in 
 the forest, or on the sea the plot is often grossly improbable ; 
 the conversations and the speeches of Red Indians are unreal 
 and tedious ; and the female characters are, with few exceptions, 
 failures or nonentities. This last feature accounts for the little 
 favour which these tales have found among female readers. They 
 have been read chiefly by youths who love stories of adventure, 
 narrow escapes, skirmishes with Indians, and ambuscades. These 
 features are so often repeated, that in The Last of the Mohicans, 
 and other stories, the reader becomes almost careless about heroes 
 and heroines, knowing that, though surrounded by levelled rifles, 
 they will be sure to make their escape. Critics who ought to 
 have good information on the subject, have said that the characters 
 of Cooper's Red Indians are mostly imaginary, and that their 
 propensity to speech-making is caricatured. 
 
 The chief merits of Cooper's tales consist in their descriptions 
 of scenery, and adventures in the forest and on the sea. In their 
 sketches of the lakes and forests of the West, a genuine love of 
 nature, and a tone of feeling, such as is commonly but vaguely 
 styled poetical, redeem passages of great prolixity. A fact may 
 
 1 Griswold's Prose-icriters of America, Fourth Edition. 
 s North American Review, No. 148, Art. V.
 
 146 AMERICAN LITERATUKE. 
 
 indicate at once the merits and the defects of such talcs as the 
 Leather-stocking series. The reader of ripe years, who, for the 
 first time, peruses The Pathfinder or The Pioneers, may very 
 probably be offended by long conversations and other wordy 
 passages, or by some awkward attempts in humorous writing, and 
 may impatiently lay down the half-read book ; but the man who, 
 in his boyhood or youth, followed the career of Hawk-eye, retains 
 memories so strong of lonely lakes and forests, beleaguered 
 travellers, Indian scalping-parties, and thrilling adventures 
 like that of the battle at Glenn's Falls that he is tempted to 
 renew his acquaintance with Cooper's tales. Apart from distinct 
 description, there is in these fictions the pervading influence of 
 solitary forest-life. We might even say that, as Wordsworth's 
 poems rather breathe the spirit than describe the exact features 
 of our English Lake district, so Cooper's best tales have the spirit 
 of the sombre, or tranquil, or majestic scenes in which their 
 adventures take place. So far as they have any moral tone, it is 
 pure and elevated ; and the portraiture of that simple and manly 
 pioneer the Pathfinder, reflects great credit on the author. As 
 this is certainly the most successful of Cooper's creations, some 
 account of the series of tales to which it belongs may be given 
 here. 
 
 The first of the series is The Deerslayer. Its scenery is on and 
 around Lake Otsego, in the district of New York ; which, at the 
 time of the story, was mostly ' a virgin wilderness ' ' one vast 
 expanse of woods, relieved by a comparatively narrow fringe of 
 cultivation along the sea, dotted by the glittering surfaces of 
 lakes, and intersected by the waving lines of rivers.' The scene 
 of adventures is thus more fully described : ' On all sides, 
 wherever the eye turned, nothing met it but the mirror-like 
 surface of the lake, the placid view of heaven, and the dense 
 setting of woods. So rich and fleecy were the outlines of the 
 forest, that scarce an opening could be seen ; the whole visible 
 earth, from the rounded mountain-top to the water's edge, 
 presenting one unvaried line of unbroken verdure. As if 
 vegetation were not satisfied with a triumph so complete, the 
 trees overhung the lake itself, shooting out towards the light ; 
 and there were miles along its eastern shore, where a boat might 
 have pulled beneath the branches of dark Rembrandt-looking 
 hemlocks, "quivering aspens," and melancholy pines. In a word, 
 the hand of man had never yet defaced or deformed any part of 
 this native scene, which lay bathed in the sunlight, a glorious 
 picture of affluent forest-grandeur, softened by the balminess of 
 June, and relieved by the beautiful variety afforded by the 
 presence of so broad an expanse of water.'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. F. COOPER. 147 
 
 Here the lonely young hunter now styled the Deerslayer 
 dwells in solitude and freedom ; living, like his neighbours the 
 Indians, by the chase, but distinguishing himself by higher and 
 better thoughts and feelings. His great characteristic was 
 guileless truth, sincerity of feeling and expression ; and his face 
 had ' an ah* of integrity so simple, as to awaken the suspicion of 
 a want of the usual means [ability ?] to distinguish between truth 
 and artifice ; but few came into serious contact with the man 
 without losing this distrust.' The story of The Deerslayer consists 
 chiefly of a feud with the Indians on the banks of Lake Otsego. 
 The two female characters, Judith and Hetty Ilutter, give some 
 variety to the tale, and the former is allowed to be Cooper's 
 nearest approach to a faithful portraiture of woman. Judith is 
 remarkably handsome and intelligent, but her reputation, previous 
 to her residence in the ark on the lonely lake, had not been 
 unsullied by suspicions. She understands and appreciates the 
 honest, faithful, and manly heart of the Deerslayer ; and, rather 
 than return to dwell among civilised people, would share with 
 him the dangers and the joys of his life in the forest. But the 
 simple hunter admires only, and cannot love ; nor can he under 
 stand, until it is too plainly spoken, the preference bestowed on 
 him. After Judith has made a bold effort to save his life, while 
 he is a prisoner among the Indians, the tale is concluded by a 
 conversation which is very singular, and must expose the writer 
 to the censure of all fair readers who well understand then: own 
 privileges and restrictions. 
 
 In the next tale, the hero now known as the Pathfinder - 
 takes a part in the adventures of the old French war. The 
 descriptions of Lake Ontario, with its surrounding district, are 
 distinct and interesting, but partly borrowed, it is said, from Mrs 
 Grant's Memoirs of an American Lady. The opening of the story 
 includes one of the writer's best descriptions of an Indian 
 ambuscade ; and in several other passages, situations of breathless 
 suspense are vividly represented. 
 
 The Last of the Mohicans is the third, and the most popular, 
 in the series of the Leather-stocking tales. Its plot is very 
 improbable, but serves to introduce many details of perilous 
 adventure. Two sisters^under the guidance of the hero here 
 known as Hawk-eye travel through a forest infested by Indian 
 scalping-parties. Major Heyward, the lover of Alice, with two 
 Indians Chingachgook and Uncas and a ridiculous character 
 styled David Gamut, 'a singing-master,' complete the party of 
 travellers. The object of the journey is to reach a fort near the 
 Hudson, commanded by a veteran officer, the father of Cora and 
 Alice. Though there is a good and safe road connecting the
 
 148 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 two British forts, Major Heyward for some reason not clearly 
 explained prefers to lead his betrothed Alice, and her sister 
 Cora, by a very dangerous route through the forest. At the 
 commencement of the journey, an Indian scout discovers the 
 party, and guesses their intentions. ' The cavalcade had not long 
 passed, before the branches of the bushes that formed the thicket 
 were cautiously moved asunder, and a human visage, as fiercely 
 wild as savage art and unbridled passions could make it, peered 
 out on the retiring footsteps of the travellers. A gleam of 
 exultation shot across the darkly painted lineaments of the 
 inhabitant of the forest, as he traced the route of his intended 
 victims, who rode unconsciously onward, the light and graceful 
 forms of the females waving among the trees in the curvatures of 
 their path, followed at each bend by the manly figure of Heyward. 
 until finally the shapeless person of the singing-master was 
 concealed behind the numberless trunks of trees that rose in dark 
 lines in the intermediate space.' 
 
 From this moment the tale is occupied with the details of 
 ambushments and conflicts of cunning and stratagem between the 
 Mingo Indians on one side, and the travelling-party on the other. 
 The first object of the scout Hawk-eye is to throw the cunning 
 Mingoes ' on a wrong scent.' For this purpose, he enjoins on his 
 companions that they must preserve a strict silence, let what will 
 happen and guides them to a place of shelter on an island at the 
 foot of Glenn's Falls, a romantic cataract. This position gives 
 great advantages in a contest against superior numbers, but the 
 odds against the travelling-party are formidable. A strange cry 
 alarms them, soon after they have concealed themselves in the 
 cavern at the Falls, and it becomes evident that the Mingoes have 
 tracked the white people to their hiding-place. The subsequent 
 adventures cannot be understood without a description of the 
 locality : 
 
 ' The river was confined between high and cragged rocks, one of 
 which impended above the spot where the canoe rested. As these, 
 again, were surmounted by tall trees, which appeared to totter on 
 the brows of the precipice, it gave the stream the appearance of 
 running through a deep and narrow dell. All beneath the fantastic 
 limbs and ragged tree-tops, which were li^'c and there dimly painted 
 against the starry zenith, lay alike in shadowed obscurity. Behind 
 them, the curvature of the banks soon bounded the view, by the 
 same dark and wooded outline ; but in front, and apparently at no 
 great distance, the water seemed piled against the heavens, whence 
 it tumbled into caverns, out of which issued those sullen sounds that 
 had loaded the evening atmosphere. It seemed, in truth, to be a spot 
 devoted to seclusion, and the sisters imbibed a soothing impression 
 of increased security, as they gazed upon its romantic, though not
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. F. COOPER. 149 
 
 unappalling beauties. A general movement among their conductors, 
 however, soon recalled them from a contemplation of the wild 
 charms that night had assisted to lend the place, to a painful sense 
 of their real peril. 
 
 " We are then on an island ? " [said Heyward.] 
 
 " Ay !" [the scout replied] " there are the Falls on two sides of 
 us, and the river above and below. If you had daylight, it would be 
 worth the trouble to step up on the height of this rock, and look at 
 the perversity of the water. It falls by no rule at all : sometimes 
 it leaps, sometimes it tumbles ; there it skips, here it shoots ; in one 
 place 'tis white as snow, and in another 'tis green as grass ; here 
 abouts it pitches into deep hollows, that rumble and quake the 'arth, 
 and thereaway it ripples and sings like a brook, fashioning whirlpools 
 and gullies in the old stone, as if 'twas no harder than trodden clay. 
 The whole design of the river seems disconcerted." ' 
 
 When the party had found shelter in the cavern at the Falls, 
 David Gamut, teacher of psalmody, began to ' offer up evening 
 praise ' after a day of jeopardy, and sang, amid the thunders of 
 the cataract, a slow and solemn psalm-tune. The sisters, Cora 
 and Alice, blended their voices in the pious strain, which was 
 interrupted by a cry that ' seemed neither human nor earthly.' 
 This was followed, after an interval, by a tumult of yells, filling 
 the woods, the caverns of the Falls, the rocks, the bed of the river, 
 and the upper air ; ' as if demons had possessed themselves of 
 the air, and were venting their savage humours in barbarous 
 sounds.' As David, the singing-master, incautiously exposed 
 himself, in looking out for the source of these noises, the reports 
 of rifles were heard. Meanwhile, a party of Indians had made 
 the hazardous experiment of swimming down the rapids, and 
 several had succeeded in reaching the head of the island. ' Four 
 human heads could be seen peering above a few logs of drift 
 wood that had lodged on these naked rocks, and which had 
 probably suggested the idea of the practicability of the hazardous 
 undertaking. At the next moment, a fifth form was seen floating 
 over the green edge of the fall, a little from the true line of the 
 island. The savage struggled powerfully to gain the point of 
 safety, and, favoured by the glancing water, he was already 
 stretching forth an arm to meet the grasp of his companions, 
 when he shot away again with the whirling current, appeared to 
 rise in the air, with uplifted arms and starting eyeballs, and then 
 fell with a sullen plunge into the deep and yawning abyss over 
 which he hovered. A single wild, despairing shriek rose from 
 the cavern above the dull roar of the cataract, and all was hushed 
 again as the grave.'
 
 150 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Four of the adventurous savages had made a landing, and now 
 sprang from the cover of drift-wood, and attacked the travellers. 
 A desperate hand-to-hand contest followed on the brink of the 
 Falls. The rifle of Hawk-eye brought the foremost Indian to the 
 ground ; Uncas, the young Mohican, encountered the second ; 
 and the fate of the other two is thus narrated : 
 
 ' "With ready skill, Hawk-eye and his antagonist each grasped 
 that uplifted arm of the other which held the dangerous knife. For 
 near a minute they stood looking one another in the eye, and 
 gradually exerting the power of their muscles for the mastery. At 
 length the toughened sinews of the white man prevailed over the 
 less-practised limbs of the native. The arm of the latter slowly 
 gave way before the increasing force of the scout, who, suddenly 
 wresting his armed hand from the grasp of his foe, drove the sharp 
 weapon through his naked bosom to the heart. In the meantime, 
 Heyward had been pressed in a more deadly struggle. His slight 
 sword was snapped in the first encounter. As he was destitute of 
 any other means of defence, his safety now depended entirely on 
 bodily strength and resolution. Though deficient in neither of these 
 qualities, he had met an enemy every way his equal. Happily, he 
 soon succeeded in disarming his adversary, whose knife fell on the 
 rock at their feet, and from this moment it became a fierce struggle 
 who should cast the other over the dizzy height into a neighbouring 
 cavern of the Falls. Every successive struggle brought them nearer 
 to the verge, where Duncan perceived the final and conquering 
 effort must be made. Each of the combatants threw all his energies 
 into that effort, and the result was that both tottered on the brink 
 of the precipice. Heyward felt the grasp of the other at his 
 throat, and saw the grim smile the savage gave, under the revenge 
 ful hope that he hurried his enemy to a fate similar to his own, as 
 he felt his body slowly yielding to a resistless power, and the young 
 man experienced the passing agony of such a moment in all its 
 horrors. At that instant of extreme danger, a dark hand and 
 glancing knife appeared before him : the Indian released his hold as 
 the blood flowed freely from around the severed tendons of his 
 wrist ; and while Duncan was drawn backward by the saving arm 
 of Uncas, his charmed eyes were still rivetted on the fierce and 
 disappointed countenance of his foe, who fell sullenly and disappointed 
 down the irrecoverable precipice.' 
 
 The failure of ammunition at last compels the scout and his 
 companions to abandon the hope of defending their position, and 
 there is every prospect that the party must fall into the hands 
 of the Indians ; yet at this crisis the writer again indulges his 
 peculiar notions of humour. David Gamut, the professor of 
 psalmody, now pulls out his pitch-pipe, gives the key-note, and 
 proposes that his friends should refresh their courage by joining 
 in singing a delectable psalm-tune, commonly known as the Isle
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. F. COOPER. 151 
 
 of Wight. This performance is hardly concluded, when it is found 
 that the Ilurons have made themselves masters of the island, and 
 soon afterwards, the sisters Cora and Alice, with Major Heyward 
 and the tuneful Gamut, are made prisoners. A rescue is effected 
 by Hawk-eye, assisted by the friendly Mohicans Chingachgook, 
 surnamed ' the Great Serpent,' and his son Uncas but not with 
 out a terrible struggle, which concludes with a fierce duel between 
 the Indians Magua, or ' the Cunning Fox,' and the Great Serpent. 
 The description of this combat is a fair example of the zest 
 with which Cooper often narrated such adventures, and includes 
 some features which have made his works repulsive to readers 
 of refined taste. 
 
 After all the tragedy, the writer affords some relief to the 
 reader's feelings, and brings upon the stage his solitary humorous 
 character David Gamut who now draws out of his pockets the 
 psalm-book and the pitch-pipe, and, having adjusted upon his 
 nose a pair of iron-rimmed spectacles, lifts up his voice and says : 
 ' I invite you, friends, to join in praise for this signal deliverance 
 from the hands of barbarians and infidels, to the comfortable and 
 solemn tones of the tune called Northampton.' 1 Accordingly, he 
 sings the said Northampton to a psalm of long or common metre, 
 as a song of victory over the Hurons. Such was Cooper's taste 
 in the supposed comic style ! 
 
 In The Pioneers which American critics have described as 
 the best of this series of tales the hero is found in new 
 circumstances, and surrounded by scenes and characters be 
 longing to the times which in America may be styled old, 
 as they are recollected only by the oldest settlers. The 
 primitive hunter formerly 
 
 ' As free as Nature first made man 
 When wild in woods the noble savage ran' 
 
 now finds himself closed in by the restrictions of an advancing 
 civilisation. The unbounded forest, without a proprietor, has 
 been invaded ; other laws than those of the sure rifle are 
 acknowledged ; and though the old hunter conceives that his 
 rights in the forest are as well founded as any that can be secured 
 on parchment, he finds that his antiquated notions must lead him 
 further westward. The once lonely district of Otsego Lake, 
 where first we found him as the Deerslayer is now a settle 
 ment, and is broken into several estates ; game is becoming 
 scarce ; the Indians are departing, or vanishing away under the 
 influence of contact with the white men ; and Leather-stocking 
 has been so long a man accustomed to unrestricted freedom, that 
 he cannot breathe freely near houses, gardens, and enclosures.
 
 152 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Several scenes in this story were derived from the writer's 
 recollections of his boyhood, and are well described. 
 
 The Prairie the last of this series of fictions is, on the whole, 
 an inferior and improbable story. The hero, whose life has been 
 described as a gradual retreat westward from the progress of 
 society, ever spreading more and more from the east, is discovered, 
 at last, as an aged trapper in the Far West, and here, among a 
 tribe of Indians, his adventures come to a close. The story is 
 connected with that of The Last of the Mohicans, as here, in the 
 western prairie, the old trapper formerly known as the scout 
 Hawk-eyerecognises in the young officer, Aliddleton, the grandson 
 of Major Heyward and Alice Munro, whom, half a century before, 
 he had protected in the contest on the island at Glenn's Falls. 
 Several passages of description relieve the general dulness of this 
 story. The humorous character, Dr Obed Battius, the naturalist, 
 is a worse specimen than the singing-master, David Gamut, 
 in The Mohicans. As a favourable example of the writer's 
 descriptive power, we may quote from The Prairie the following 
 scene : 
 
 THE PRAIRIE ON FIRE. 
 
 ' The sleep of the fugitives lasted for several hours. The trapper 
 was the first to shake off its influence, as he had been the last to 
 court its refreshment. Rising, just as the gray light of day began 
 to brighten that portion of the studded vault which rested on the 
 eastern margin of the plain, he summoned his companions from 
 their warm lairs, and pointed out the necessity of their being once 
 more on the alert 
 
 " See, Middleton ! " exclaimed Inez in a sudden burst of youthful 
 pleasure that caused her for a moment to forget her situation. 
 " How lovely is that sky ; surely it contains a promise of happier 
 times ! " 
 
 " It is glorious ! " returned her husband. " Glorious and heavenly 
 is that streak of vivid red, and here is a still brighter crimson 
 rarely have I seen a richer rising of the sun." 
 
 " Rising of the sun!" slowly repeated the old man, lifting his tall 
 person from its seat with a deliberate and abstracted air, while he kept 
 his eye rivetted on the changing and certainly beautiful tints that 
 were garnishing the vault of heaven. u Rising of the sun ! I like not 
 such risings of the sun. Ah's me ! the imps have circumvented us 
 with a vengeance. The prairie is on fire !" 
 
 "God in heaven protect us!" cried Middleton, catching Inez to 
 his bosom under the instant impression of the imminence of their 
 danger. " There is no time to lose, old man ; each instant is a day ; 
 let us fly." 
 
 "Whither ?" demanded the trapper, motioning him with calmness 
 and dignity, to arrest his steps. " In this wilderness of grass and
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. F. COOPER. 153 
 
 reeds, you are like a vessel in the broad lakes without a compass. 
 A single step on the wrong course might prove the destruction of us 
 all. It is seldom danger is so pressing that there is not time enough 
 for reason to do its work, young officer j therefore, let us await its 
 biddings." 
 
 " For my own part," said Paul Hover, looking about him with no 
 unequivocal expression of concern, " I acknowledge, that should this 
 dry bed of weeds get fairly in a flame, a bee would have to make a 
 flight higher than common to prevent his wings from scorching. 
 Therefore, old trapper, I agree with the captain, and say mount and 
 run." 
 
 " Ye are wrong ye are wrong man is not a beast to follow the 
 gift of instinct, and to snuff up his knowledge by a taint in the air, or 
 a rumbling in the sound ; but he must see and reason, and then 
 conclude. So follow me a little to the left, where there is a rise in 
 the ground, whence we may make our reconnoitrings." 
 
 The old man waved his hand with authority, and led the way 
 without further parlance to the spot he had indicated, followed by 
 the whole of his alarmed companions. An eye less practised than 
 that of the trapper might have failed in discovering the gentle 
 elevation to which he alluded, and which looked on the surface of 
 the meadow like a growth a little taller than common. When they 
 reached the place, however, the stinted grass itself announced the 
 absence of that moisture which had fed the rank weeds of most of 
 the plain, and furnished a clue to the evidence by which he had 
 judged of the formation of the ground hidden beneath. Here a few 
 minutes were lost in breaking down the tops of the surrounding 
 herbage, which, notwithstanding the advantage of their position, 
 rose even above the heads of Middleton and Paul, and in obtaining a 
 look-out that might command a view of the surrounding sea of fire. . . . 
 
 The examination wlu'ch his companions so instantly and so 
 intently made, rather served to assure them of .their desperate 
 situation than to appease their fears. Huge columns of smoke were 
 rolling up from the plain, and thickening in gloomy masses around 
 the horizon. The red glow which gleamed upon their enormous 
 folds, now lighting their volumes with the glare of the conflagration, 
 now flashed to another point, as the flame beneath glided ahead, 
 leaving all behind enveloped in awful darkness, and proclaiming 
 louder than words the character of the imminent and rapidly 
 approaching danger. 
 
 " This is terrible ! " exclaimed Middleton, folding the trembling 
 Inez to his heart. " At such a time as this, and in such a manner !" 
 
 "The gates of heaven are open to all who truly believe," 
 murmured the pious devotee in his bosom. 
 
 "This resignation is maddening ! But we are men, and will make 
 a struggle for our lives ! How now, my brave and spirited friend, 
 shall we yet mount and push across the flames, or shall we stand 
 here and see those we most love perish in this frightful manner 
 without an effort ?"
 
 154 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " I am for a swarming-time, and a flight before the hive is too 
 hot to hold us," said the bee-hunter, to whom it will be at once seen 
 that the half-distracted Middleton addressed himself. " Come, old 
 trapper, you must acknowledge this is but a slow way of getting out 
 of danger. If we tarry here much longer, it will be in the fashion 
 that the bees lie around the straw after the hive has been smoked 
 for its honey. You may hear the fire begin to roar already ; and I 
 know by experience, that when the flame once gets fairly into the 
 prairie-grass, it is no sloth that can outrun it." 
 
 "Think you," returned the old man, pointing scornfully at the 
 mazes of the dry and matted grass which environed them, "that 
 mortal feet can outstrip the speed of fire on such a path ?" 
 
 " What say you, friend doctor," cried the bewildered Paul, turning 
 to the naturalist with that sort of helplessness with which the 
 strong are often apt to seek aid of the weak when human power is 
 baffled by the hand of a mightier being " what say you ; have you no 
 advice to give away in a case of life and death ?" 
 
 The naturalist stood, tablets in hand, looking at the awful 
 spectacle with as much composure as though the conflagration had 
 been lighted in order to solve the difficulties of some scientific 
 problem. Aroused by the question of his companion, he turned to 
 his equally calm though differently occupied associate, the trapper, 
 demanding, with the most provoking insensibility to the urgent 
 nature of their situation "Venerable hunter, you have often 
 witnessed similar prismatic experiments" 
 
 He was rudely interrupted by Paul, who struck the tablets from 
 his hands with a violence that betrayed the utter intellectual 
 confusion which had overset the equanimity of his mind. Before 
 time was allowed for remonstrance, the old man, who had continued 
 during the whole scene like one much at a loss how to proceed, 
 though also like one who was rather perplexed than alarmed, 
 suddenly assumed a decided air, as if he no longer doubted on the 
 course it was most advisable to pursue. 
 
 " It is time to be doing," he said, interrupting the controversy that 
 was about to ensue between the naturalist and the bee-hunter ; " it 
 is time to leave off books and meanings, and to be doing." 
 
 "You have come to your recollections too late, miserable old 
 man," cried Middleton ; "the flames are within a quarter of a mile 
 of us, and the wind is bringing them down in this quarter with 
 dreadful rapidity." 
 
 " Anan ! the flames ! I care but little for the flames. If I only 
 knew how to circumvent the cunning of the Tetons, as I know how 
 to cheat the fire of its prey, there would be nothing needed but 
 thanks to the Lord for our deliverance. Do you call this a fire ? If 
 you had seen what I have witnessed in the eastern hills, when 
 mighty mountains were like the furnace of a smith, you would have 
 known what it was to fear the flames, and to be thankful that you 
 were spared ! Come, lads, come : 'tis time to be doing now, and to 
 cease talking ; for yonder curling flame is truly coining on like a
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. F. COOPER. 155 
 
 trotting moose. Put hands upon this short and withered grass 
 where we stand, and lay bare the 'arth." 
 
 ""Would you think to deprive the fire of its victims in this 
 childish manner ? " exclaimed Middleton. 
 
 A faint hut solemn smile passed over the features of the old man 
 as he answered : " Your gran'ther would have said, that when the 
 enemy was nigh, a soldier could do no better than to obey." 
 
 The captain felt the reproof, and instantly began to imitate the 
 industry of Paul, who was tearing the decayed herbage from the 
 ground in a sort of desperate compliance with the trapper's direction. 
 Even Ellen lent her hands to the labour, nor was it long before Inez 
 was seen similarly employed, though none amongst them knew why 
 or wherefore. When life is thought to be the reward of labour, 
 men are wont to be industrious. A very few moments sufficed to 
 lay bare a spot of some twenty feet in diameter. Into one edge of 
 this little area the trapper brought the females, directing Middleton 
 and Paul to cover their light and inflammable dresses with the 
 blankets of the party. So soon as this precaution was observed, the 
 old man approached the opposite margin of the grass, which still 
 environed them in a tall and dangerous circle, and selecting a handful 
 of the driest of the herbage, he placed it over the pan of his rifle. 
 The light combustible kindled at the flash. Then he placed the 
 little flame into a bed of the standing fog, and withdrawing from the 
 spot to the centre of the ring, he patiently awaited the result. 
 
 The subtile element seized with avidity upon its new fuel, and in 
 a moment forked flames were gliding among the grass, as the tongues 
 of ruminating animals are seen rolling among their food apparently 
 in quest of its sweetest portions. 
 
 " Now," said the old man, holding up a finger, and laughing in his 
 peculiarly silent manner, "you shall see fire fight fire ! Ah's me ! 
 many is the tune I have burnt a smooth path from wanton laziness 
 to pick my way across a tangled bottom." 
 
 " But is this not fatal ? " cried the amazed Middleton ; " are you 
 not bringing the enemy nigher to us instead of avoiding it ?" 
 
 " Do you scorch so easily ? your gran'ther had a tougher skin. 
 But we shall live to see ; we shall all live to see." 
 
 The experience of the trapper was in the right. As the fire 
 gained strength and heat, it began to spread on three sides, dying of 
 itself on the fourth for want of aliment. As it increased, and the 
 sullen roaring announced its power, it cleared everything before it, 
 leaving the black and smoking soil far more naked than if the scythe 
 had swept the place. The situation of the fugitives would have still 
 been hazardous had not the area enlarged as the flame encircled 
 them. But by advancing to the spot where the trapper had kindled 
 the grass, they avoided the heat, and in a very few moments the 
 flames began to recede in every quarter, leaving them enveloped in 
 a cloud of smoke, but perfectly safe from the torrent of fire that was 
 still furiously rolling onward. 
 
 The spectators regarded the simple expedient of the trapper with
 
 156 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 that species of wonder with which the courtiers of Ferdinand are 
 said to have viewed the manner in which Columbus made his egg to 
 stand on its end, though with feelings that were filled with gratitude 
 instead of envy. 
 
 " Most wonderful ! " said Middleton, when he saw the complete 
 success of the means by which they had been rescued from a danger 
 that he had conceived to be unavoidable. " The thought was a gift. 
 from Heaven, and the hand that executed it should be immortal !" 
 
 " Old trapper," cried Paul, thrusting his lingers through his shaggy 
 locks, " I have lined many a loaded bee into his hole, and know 
 something of the nature of the woods, but this is robbing a hornet 
 of his sting without touching the insect!" 
 
 " It will do it will do," returned the old man, who, after the first 
 
 moment of his success, seemed to think no more of the exploit 
 
 " Let the flames do their work for a short half-hour, and then we will 
 mount. That time is needed to cool the meadow, for these unshod 
 beasts are tender on the hoof as a barefooted girl." 
 
 The veteran, on whose experience they all so implicitly relied for 
 protection, employed himself in reconnoitring objects in the distance, 
 through the openings which the air occasionally made in the 
 immense bodies of smoke, that by this time lay in enormous piles on 
 every part of the plain.' 
 
 We have not space to review the nautical tales, of which The 
 Pilot is perhaps the best specimen. In this tale, the descriptions 
 of the Ariel among the shoals, and the death of Long Tom 
 Coffin, may be classed with the writer's best passages. The 
 interest of Cooper's fictions depends rather on scenery and 
 situation than on development of characters or construction of 
 plot. ' The women in his novels are utterly characterless and 
 insipid. There is no variety, no grace, no life in them.' Of the 
 Indian characters, it is truly said that ' Cooper has given us Cato 
 and Coriolanus dressed in blankets and moccasons. As mere 
 imaginative creations, these may do ; but they have no more 
 resemblance to the Red Men of our forests, than to the aboriginal 
 Britons.' 1 The reviewer whose opinions are here quoted, says 
 of Cooper's best descriptive passages : ' There is something 
 wanting. They are evidently thrown off in a hurry, drawn 
 with little care from the exuberant stores of a retentive memory, 
 and committed to paper with little effort to make the effect on 
 the reader correspond to the vivid impression existing in the 
 writer's mind. 1 In the five stories which we have briefly 
 reviewed, there are materials from which an artist might have 
 produced a classical American book of permanent value ; but the 
 fatal facility of diffuse writing, which has made these tales 
 
 1 North American Revifu; No. 98, Art. I.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 157 
 
 profitable articles in circulating libraries, must more and more 
 reduce their value, as readers grow wiser in their expenditure 
 of time. 
 
 BACKWOODS' LITERATURE. 
 
 IRVING'S STORI OF BALPH BINGWOOD HALL BIRD HOFFMAN 
 SIMMS THOBFE HOOPER NEVILLE HERBERT HAWES. 
 
 Cooper in his Pioneers gave the first examples of backwoods' 
 romance, in his sketches of the manners of a rising settlement. 
 The scenes of turkey-shooting at Christmas, fish-spearing by 
 moonlight on Otsego Lake, the burning of the woods, and other 
 incidents and features of a life that has passed away within the 
 last eighty years, might have reminded American writers that, 
 while in some respects their country was poor in the materials of 
 national prose-fiction, it contained elements which, if treated with 
 good taste and artistic skill, might have partly supplied the want 
 of old traditions. The tale of the first fifty years of Ohio might 
 have made a good romance ; but it has passed away, leaving only 
 scattered memorials of early exploits. Writers who have endea 
 voured to follow in the track left by The Pioneers, have too often 
 trusted in the freshness and natural interest of their materials, 
 and have forgotten that forest scenes and adventures require taste 
 and skill to secure for them a permanent place in national literature. 
 It must be regretted that Irving never found in the stories of the 
 old backwoodsmen the charm that has attracted him so often to 
 the Dutch colonists of New Amsterdam. His sketch of Ralph 
 Rinywood is the best of its kind. 1 We quote the part which 
 describes forest-life in Kentucky about the close of the last 
 century. 
 
 WOODCRAFT IN KENTUCKY. 
 
 ' In the course of my first day's trudge, I shot a wild-turkey, and 
 slung it on my back for provisions. The forest was open, and clear 
 from underwood. I saw deer in abundance, but always running, 
 running ! It seemed to me as if these animals never stood still. 
 
 As night drew near, I prepared for camping. My first care was to 
 
 1 'Ralph Ringwood, though a fictitious name, is a real personage the late 
 Governor Duval of Florida. 1 have given some anecdotes of his early and eccentric 
 career in, as nearly as I can recollect, the very words in which he related them. 
 They certainly afford strong temptations to the embellishments of fiction ; but I 
 thought them go strikingly characteristic of the individual, and of the scenes and 
 society into which his peculiar humours carried him, that I preferred giving them 
 in their original simplicity.' IRVINU.
 
 158 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 collect dry wood, and make a roaring fire to cook and sleep by, and 
 to frighten off wolves, and bears, and panthers. I then began to 
 pluck my turkey for supper. I had camped out several times in the 
 early part of my expedition, but that was in comparatively more 
 settled and civilised regions, where there were no wild animals of 
 consequence in the forest. This was my first camping out in the 
 real wilderness ; and I was soon made sensible of the loneliness and 
 wildness of my situation. 
 
 In a little while, a concert of wolves commenced j there might 
 have been a dozen or two, but it seemed to me as if there were 
 thousands. m I never heard such howling and whining. Having 
 prepared my turkey, I divided it into two parts, thrust two sticks 
 into one of the halves, and planted them on end before the fire the 
 hunter's mode of roasting. The smell of roast-meat quickened the 
 appetites of the wolves, and their concert became truly infernal. 
 They seemed to be all around me, but I could only now and then get 
 a glimpse of one of them, as he came within the glare of the light. 
 
 I did not much care for the wolves, whom I knew to be a 
 cowardly race; but I had heard terrible stories of panthers, and 
 began to fear their stealthy prowlings in the surrounding darkness. 
 I was thirsty, and heard a brook bubbling and tinkling along at no 
 great distance, but absolutely dared not go there, lest some panther 
 might lie in wait, and spring upon me. By and by a deer whistled. 
 I had never heard one before, and thought it must be a panther. I 
 now felt uneasy lest he might climb the trees, crawl along the 
 branches overhead, and plump down upon me ; so I kept my eyes 
 fixed on the branches until my head ached. I more than once 
 thought I saw fiery eyes glaring down from among the leaves. At 
 length I thought of my supper, and turned to see if my half turkey 
 was cooked. In crowding so near the fire, I had pressed the meat 
 into the flames, and it was consumed. I had nothing to do but toast 
 the other half, and take better care of it. On that half I made my 
 supper, without salt or bread. I was still so possessed with the 
 dread of panthers, that I could not close my eyes all night, but lay 
 watching the trees until daybreak, when all my fears were dispelled 
 with the darkness ; and as I saw the morning sun sparkling down 
 through the branches of the trees, I smiled to think how I suffered 
 myself to be dismayed by sounds and shadows : but I was a young 
 woodsman, and a stranger in Kentucky. 
 
 Having breakfasted on the remainder of my turkey, and slaked 
 my thirst at the bubbling stream without further dread of panthers, 
 I resumed my wayfaring with buoyant feelings. I again saw deer, 
 but, as usual, running, running ! I tried in vain to get a shot at 
 them, and began to fear I never should. I was gazing with vexation 
 after a herd in full scamper, when I was startled by a human voice. 
 Turning round, I saw a man at a short distance from me in a 
 hunting-dress. 
 
 " What are yon after, my lad?" cried he. " Those deer," replied 
 I pettishly ; " but it seems as if they never stand still." Upon that
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 159 
 
 he burst out laughing. "Where are you from?" said he. "From 
 Richmond." "What! in old Virginny!" "The same." "And 
 how on earth did you got here 2" " I landed at Green River from a 
 broad-horn." u And where arc your companions ?" " I have none." 
 "What! all alone ?"" Yes." "Where are you going?" "Any 
 where." " And what have you come here for ? " " To hunt." " Well," 
 said he laughingly, "you'll make a real hunter, there's no mistaking 
 that! Have you killed anything?" "Nothing but a turkey: I can't 
 get within shot of a deer; they are always running." " Oh, I'll tell 
 you the secret of that. You're always pushing forward, and starting 
 the deer at a distance, and gazing at those that are scampering ; but 
 you must step as slow, and silent, and cautious <is a cat, and keep 
 your eyes close around you, and lurk from tree to tree, if you wish 
 to get a chance at deer. But come; go home with me. My name is 
 Bill Smithers; I live not far off; stay with me a little while, and I'll 
 teach you how to hunt." 
 
 I gladly accepted the invitation of honest Bill Smithers. We 
 soon reached his habitation a mere log-hut, with a square hole 
 for a window, and a chimney made of sticks and clay. Here he 
 lived with a wife and child. He had "girdled" the trees for an 
 acre or two around, preparatory to clearing a space for corn and 
 potatoes. In the meantime, he maintained his family entirely 
 by his rifle, and I soon found him to be a first-rate huntsman. 
 Under his tutelage I received my first effective lessons in 
 woodcraft. 
 
 The more I knew of a hunter's life, the more I relished it. The 
 country, too, which had been the promised land of my boyhood, did 
 not, like most promised lands, disappoint me. No wilderness could 
 be more beautiful than this part of Kentucky in those times. The 
 forests were open and spacious, with noble trees, some of which 
 looked as if they had stood for centuries. There were beautiful 
 prairies, too, diversified with groves and clumps of trees, which 
 looked like vast parks, and in which you could see the deer running 
 at a great distance. In the proper season, these prairies would be 
 covered in many places with wild-strawberries, where your horse's 
 hoofs would be dyed to the fetlock. I thought there could not 
 be another place in the world equal to Kentucky and I think 
 so still. 
 
 After I had passed ten or twelve days with Bill Smithers, I 
 thought it time to shift my quarters, for his house was scarce large 
 enough for his own family, and I had no idea of being an encumbrance 
 to any one. I accordingly made up my bundle, shouldered my rifle, 
 took a friendly leave of Smithers and his wife, and set out in quest 
 of a Nimrod of the wilderness, one John Miller, who lived alone, 
 nearly forty miles off, and who, I hoped, would be well pleased to 
 have a hunting-companion. 
 
 I soon found out that one of the most important items in 
 woodcraft, in a new country, was the skill to find one's way in 
 the wilderness. There were no regular roads in the forests, but
 
 160 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 they were cut up and perplexed by paths leading in all directions. 
 Some of these were made by the cattle of the settlers, and were 
 called " stock-tracks ;" but others had been made by the immense 
 droves of buffaloes which roamed about the country, from the 
 Flood until recent times. These were called " buffalo-tracks," and 
 traversed Kentucky from end to end like highways. Traces of 
 them may still be seen in uncultivated parts, or deeply worn in the 
 rocks where they crossed the mountains. I was a young woodsman, 
 and sorely puzzled to distinguish one kind of track from the other, 
 or to make out my course through this tangled labyrinth. While 
 thus perplexed, I heard a distant roaring and rushing sound ; a 
 gloom stole over the forest : on looking up, when I could catch a 
 stray glimpse of the sky, I beheld the clouds rolled up like balls, 
 the lower part as black as ink. There was now and then an 
 explosion, like a burst of cannonry afar off, and the crash of a 
 falling tree. I had heard of hurricanes in the woods, and surmised 
 that one was at hand. It soon came crashing its way ; the forest 
 writhing, and twisting, and groaning before it. The hurricane did 
 not extend far on either side, but in a manner ploughed a furrow 
 through the woodland ; snapping off or uprooting trees that had 
 stood for centuries, and filling the air with whirling branches. I 
 was directly in its course, and took my stand behind an immense 
 poplar, six feet in diameter. It bore for a time the full fury of 
 the blast, but at length began to yield. Seeing it falling, I scrambled 
 nimbly round the trunk like a squirrel. Down it went, bearing 
 down another tree with it. I crept under the trunk as a shelter, 
 and was protected from other trees which fell around me, but was 
 sore all over, from the twigs and branches driven against me by 
 the blast. 
 
 This was the only incident of consequence that occurred on my 
 way to John Miller's, where I arrived on the following day, and was 
 received by the veteran with the rough kindness of a backwoods 
 man. He was a gray-haired man, hardy and weather-beaten, with 
 a blue wart, like a great bead, over one eye, whence he was nick 
 named by the hunters Blue-bead Miller. He had been in these 
 parts from the earliest settlements, and had signalised himself in 
 the hard conflicts with the Indians, which gained Kentucky the 
 appellation of The Bloody Ground. In one of these fights, he 
 had an arm broken ; in another, he had narrowly escaped, when 
 hotly pursued, by jumping from a precipice thirty feet high into a 
 river. 
 
 Miller willingly received me into his house as an inmate, and 
 seemed pleased with the idea of making a hunter of me. His 
 dwelling was a small log-house, with a loft or garret of boards, so 
 that there was ample room for both of us. Under his instruction, 
 I soon made a tolerable proficiency in hunting. My first exploit of 
 any consequence was killing a bear. I was hunting in company 
 with two brothers, when we came upon the track of Bruin, in a 
 wood where there was an undergrowth of canes and grape-pines.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WASHINGTON IRVING. 1G1 
 
 He was scrambling up a tree, when I shot him through the breast : 
 lie fell to the ground, and lay motionless. The brothers sent in 
 their dog, which seized the bear by the throat. Bruin raised one 
 arm, and gave the dog a hug that crushed his ribs. One yell, and 
 all was over. I don't know which was first dead, the dog or 
 the bear. The two brothers sat down and cried like children over 
 their unfortunate dog. Yet they were mere rough huntsmen, almost 
 as wild and untamable as Indians ; but they were fine fellows. 
 
 By degrees I became known, and somewhat of a favourite among 
 the hunters of the neighbourhood ; that is to say, men who lived 
 within a circle of thirty or forty miles, and came occasionally to see 
 John Miller, who was a patriarch among them. They lived widely 
 apart, in log-huts and wigwams, almost with the simplicity of 
 Indians, and well-nigh as destitute of the comforts and inventions 
 of civilised life. They seldom saw each other ; weeks, and even 
 months would elapse without their visiting. When they did meet, 
 it was very much after the manner of Indians ; loitering about all 
 day, without having much to say, but becoming communicative 
 as evening advanced, and sitting np half the night before the 
 fire, telling hunting-stories and terrible tales of the fights of the 
 Bloody Ground. 
 
 Sometimes several would join in a distant hunting-expedition, or 
 rather campaign. Expeditions of this kind lasted from November 
 until April, during which we laid tip our stock of summer provisions. 
 We shifted our hunting-camps from place to place, according as we 
 found the game. They were generally pitched near a run of water, 
 and close by a cancbrake, to screen us from the wind. One side of 
 our lodge was open towards the fire. Our horses were hoppled, 
 and turned loose in the canebrakcs, with bells round their necks. 
 One of the party stayed at home to watch the camp, prepare the 
 meals, and keep oft' the wolves ; the others hunted. When a hunter 
 killed a deer at a distance from the camp, he would open it and 
 take out the entrails ; then climbing a sapling, lie would bend it 
 down, tie the deer to the top, and let it spring up again so as to 
 suspend the carcass out of reach of the wolves. At night, he would 
 return to the camp, and give an account of his luck. The next 
 morning early he would get a horse out of the canebrake, and 
 bring home his game. That day he would stay at home to cut up 
 the carcass, while the others hunted. 
 
 Our days were thus spent in silent and lonely occupations. It 
 was only at night that we would gather together before the fire, and 
 be sociable. I was a novice, and used to listen with open eyes and 
 cars to the strange and wild stories told by the old hunters, and 
 believed everything I heard. Some of their stories bordered upon 
 the supernatural. They believed that their rifles might be spell 
 bound, so as not to be able to kill a buffalo, even at arm's length. 
 This superstition they had derived from the Indians, who often 
 think the white hunters have laid a spell upon their rifles. Miller 
 partook of this superstition, and used to tell of his rifle's having a 
 
 K
 
 1G2 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 spell upon ifc ; but it often seemed to me to be a shuffling way of 
 accounting for a bad shot. If a hunter grossly missed his aim, he 
 would ask : "Who shot last with this rifle ?" and hint that he must 
 have charmed it. The sure mode to disenchant the gun was to 
 shoot a silver bullet out of it. 
 
 By the opening of spring, we would generally have quantities of 
 bear's meat and venison salted, dried, and smoked, and numerous 
 packs of skins. We would then make the best of our way home 
 from our distant hunting-grounds ; transporting our spoils, some 
 times in canoes along the rivers, sometimes on horseback over land, 
 and our return would often be celebrated by feasting and dancing,, 
 in true backwoods' style. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I had now lived some time with old Miller, and had become a 
 tolerably expert hunter. Game, however, began to grow scarce. The 
 buffalo had gathered together, as if by universal understanding, 
 and had crossed the Mississippi never to return. Strangers kept 
 pouring into the country, clearing away the forests, and building in 
 all directions. The hunters began to grow restive. Jemmy Kiel, 
 the same of whom I have already spoken for his skill in racoon- 
 catching, came to me one day ; " I can't stand this any longer," said 
 he ; " we're getting too thick here. Simon Schultz crowds me so, 
 that I have no comfort of my life." 
 
 u Why, how you talk ! " said I : " Simon Schultz lives twelve 
 miles off." 
 
 "No matter; his cattle run with mine, and I've no idea of living 
 where another man's cattle can run with mine. That's too close 
 neighbourhood : I want elbow-room. This country, too, is growing 
 too poor to live in there's no game : so two or three of us have 
 made np our minds to follow the buffalo to the Missouri, and we 
 should like to have you of the party." Other hunters of my 
 acquaintance talked in the same manner. This set me thinking ; 
 but the more I thought, the more I was perplexed. I had no one 
 to advise with. Old Miller and his associates knew of but one mode 
 of life, and I had no experience in any other ; but I had a wider 
 scope of thought. When out hunting alone, I used to forget the 
 sport, and sit for hours together on the trunk of a tree, with rifle in 
 hand, buried in thought, and debating with myself " Shall I go 
 with Jemmy Kiel and his company, or shall I remain here ? If I 
 remain here, there will soon be nothing left to hunt. But am I to 
 be a hunter all my life ? Have not I something more in me, than 
 to be carrying a rifle on my shoulder day after day, and dodging 
 about after bears, and deer, and other brute beasts ?" My vanity 
 told me I had ; and I called to mind my boyish boast to my sister, 
 that I would never return home until I returned a member of 
 Congress for Kentucky.' 
 
 JAMES HALL (born 1793), author of The Wilderness and the 
 War-path, and one of the chief contributors to the illustrated
 
 SECOND PERIOD. JAMES HALL. 163 
 
 Hiitory of the Indian Tribes, is a judge in Illinois. His Letters 
 from the West, Notes on the Western States, and other writings, 
 contain many interesting sketches of scenery, manners, and 
 customs on the frontiers ; and his style is retined and pleasant, 
 except, perhaps, when he has to describe faithfully the extrava 
 gant language in which the Kentuck settler loves to indulge. 
 In the tale of Pete Featherton, he ventures to introduce super 
 natural agency into the backwoods, where a bold hunter follows 
 the trail of a ' stranger ' whose footprints are very odd. The 
 only explanation given is in the fact, that Pete Featherton had 
 tarried too long at a store where strong waters were sold. It 
 would require the tact shewn in Irving's Sleepy Hollow to domes 
 ticate ghosts in Illinois and Kentucky. The difficulty is admitted 
 by Judge Hall in the introduction to the story : 
 
 'We who live on the frontier have little acquaintance with 
 imaginary beingg. These gentry never emigrate ; they seem to 
 have strong local attachments, which not even the charms of a new 
 country can overcome. A few witches, indeed, were imported into 
 New England by the Puritans ; but were so badly used, that the 
 whole race seems to have been disgusted with new settlements. 
 With them the spirit of adventure expired, and the weird-women of 
 the present day wisely cling to the soil of the old countries. That 
 we have but few ghosts, will not be deemed a matter of surprise by 
 those who have observed how miserably destitute we are of accom 
 modations for such inhabitants. We have no baronial castles, nor 
 ruined mansions ; no turrets crowned with ivy, nor ancient abbeys 
 crumbling into decay ; and it would be a paltry spirit who would 
 be content to wander in the forest by silent rivers and solitary 
 swamps.' 
 
 Among the several descriptions of the western prairies, or vast 
 grassy plains, we can hardly find one more distinct and faithful 
 than Judge Hall's ; but we prefer laying before our readers the 
 following portrait of a genuine backwoodsman : 
 
 A BACKWOODSMAN OF KENTUCKY. 
 
 1 The inmates of a small cabin on the margin of the Ohio were 
 commencing with the sun the business of the day. A stout, raw- 
 boned forester plied his keen axe, and lugging log after log, erected 
 a pile on the ample hearth, sufficiently large to have rendered the 
 last honours to the stateliest ox. A female was paying her morning- 
 visit to the cow-yard, where a numerous herd of cattle claimed her 
 attention. The plentiful breakfast followed corn-bread, milk, and 
 venison crowned the oaken-board ; while a tin coffee-pot of ample 
 dimensions supplied the beverage which is seldom wanting at the 
 morning-repast of the substantial American farmer.
 
 164 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The breakfast over, Mr Featherton reached down a long rifle from 
 the rafters, and commenced certain preparations fraught with 
 danger to the brute inhabitants of the forest. The lock was carefully 
 examined, the screws tightened, the pan wiped, the flint renewed, 
 and the springs oiled ; and the keen eye of the backwoodsman 
 glittered with an ominous lustre as its glance rested on the destruc 
 tive engine. His blue-eyed partner, leaning fondly on her husband's 
 shoulder, essayed those coaxing and captivating blandishments which 
 every young wife so well understands, to detain her husband from 
 the contemplated sport. Every pretext was urged with affectionate 
 pertinacity which female ingenuity could supply the wind whistled 
 bleakly over the hills, the snow lay deep in the valleys, the deer 
 would surely not venture abroad in such bitter cold weather, the 
 adventurous hunter might get his toes frost-bitten, and her own 
 hours would be sadly lonesome in his absence. He smiled in 
 silence at the arguments of bis bride, for such she was, and continued 
 his preparations with the cool but good-natured determination of 
 one who is not to be turned from his purpose. 
 
 He was indeed a person with whom such arguments, except the 
 last, would not be very likely to prevail. Mr Peter Featherton, or, 
 as he was familiarly called by all who knew him, Pete Featherton, 
 was a bold rattling Kentuckian of twenty-five, who possessed the 
 characteristic peculiarities of his countrymen good and evil in a 
 striking degree. His red hair and sanguine complexion announced 
 an ardent temperament ; his tall form and bony limbs indicated an 
 active frame inured to hardships ; his piercing eye and high cheek 
 bones evinced the keenness and resolution of his mind. He was 
 adventurous, frank, and social boastful, credulous, illiterate, and at 
 times wonderfully addicted to the marvellous. His imagination 
 was a warm and fruitful soil, in which " tall oaks from little acorns 
 grew," and his vocabulary was overstocked with superlatives. He 
 loved his wife no mistake about that but next to her his affections 
 entwined themselves about his gun, and expanded over his horse ; 
 he was true to his friends, never missed an election-cuiy, turned his 
 back upon a frolic, nor affected to dislike a social glass. 
 
 He believed that the best qualities of all countries were combined 
 in Kentucky; and had the most whimsical manner of expressing his 
 national attachments. He was firmly convinced that the battle of the 
 Thames was the most sanguinary conflict of the age " a raal reg'lar 
 skrimmage" and extolled Colonel Dick Johnson as a "severe old 
 colt." He would admit freely that Napoleon was a great genius 
 Metternich, Castlereagh, " and them fellows " knew " a thing or two," 
 but then they " were no part of a priming to Henry Clay." 
 
 When entirely "at himself" to use his own language that is 
 to say, when duly sober, Pete was friendly and rational, courteous 
 and considerate, and a better-tempered fellow never shouldered a 
 rifle. But he was a social man, who was liable to be " overtaken ;" 
 and let him get a glass too much, and there was no end to his 
 extravagance. Then it was that his genius bloomed, and brought
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. M. BIRD. 165 
 
 forth strange boasts and strong oaths, his loyalty to old Kentuck 
 waxed warm, and his faith in his horse, his gun, and his own 
 manhood grew into idolatry. Always bold and self-satisfied, and 
 habitually energetic in the expression of his predilections, he now 
 became invested with the agreeable properties of the snapping- 
 turtle, the alligator, and the steam-boat, and gifted with the most 
 affable and affectionate spirit of autobiography. It was now that 
 he would dwell upon his own bodily powers and prowess with the 
 enthusiasm of a devotee, and as the climax of this rhetorical display, 
 would slap his hands together, spring perpendicularly into the air, 
 and after uttering a yell worthy of the stoutest Winnebago, swear 
 that he was "the best man in the country," and "could whip his 
 weight in wild cats," "no two ways about it" he was "not afraid 
 of no man, no way you could fix it ;" and finally, after many other 
 extravagances, he would urge, with no gentle asseveration, his 
 ability to " rido through a crab-apple orchard on a streak of 
 lightning." 
 
 In addition to all this, which one would think was enough for 
 any reasonable man, Pete would sometimes brag that he had the 
 best gun, the prettiest wife, the best-looking sister, and the fastest 
 nag in all Kentuck ; and that no man dare say to the contrary. It 
 is but justice to remark, that there was more truth in this last boast 
 than is usually found on such occasions, and that Pete had good 
 reason to be proud of his horse, his gun, and his lady-love.' 
 
 ROBERT MONTGOMERY BIRD, born at Newcastle, in Delaware, 
 about the year 1803, is the author of several historical romances, 
 and other fictions, including tales of border life and adventure. 
 His first work, Calavar, or the Knight of the Conquest, a Romance 
 of Mexico, appeared in 1834, and was commended for its 
 picturesque character and fidelity in descriptions of the costumes, 
 manners, and military usages of the Aztecs. The same traits 
 appeared in a sequel, entitled The Infidel, or tJie Fall of Mexico, 
 which was published in 1835. In the same year appeared TJie 
 1 1 (in:J;s of Hawk Hollow, a tale of Pennsylvania. 'It contains,' 
 says Mr Griswold, ' some vigorous writing, and original and 
 powerful sketches of character, but more of the tumult and 
 brutality of border-life than is worth preserving in literature.' 
 
 After writing, in the course of a few years, several other fictions 
 SJieppard Lee (1836), Nick of tJte Woods (1837), Peter Pil./nm 
 (1838), and The Adventures of Robert Darj (1839) Dr Bird 
 ' suddenly and entirely abandoned the field of letters. His latest 
 work appeared about the time of the commencement of the 
 system of cheap publishing [that is, of British works], since which 
 there have been comparatively few original books issued in 
 America.' ! 
 
 1 Griswold.
 
 166 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Dr Bird's fictions are varied in their style, and contain many 
 passages of graphic power. We notice the tale of Nick of the 
 Woods, not as the best of the series, but because it affords 
 another specimen of backwoods' literature. It is intended to 
 give some account of that fiercely vindictive feeling which existed 
 between the early settlers and the Indians of Kentucky in the 
 days of Boone, Kenton, M'Colloch, and Wetzel. The writer says 
 of the so-called Indian characters portrayed by Chateaubriand 
 and Cooper, who have made of the Red Men ' a chivalry of the 
 forest,' that ' such conceptions as Atala and Uncas are beautiful 
 unrealities and fictions merely, as imaginary and contrary to 
 nature as the shepherd swains of the old pastoral school of rhyme 
 and romance ; at all events, one does not find beings of this 
 class, or anything in the slightest degree resembling them, among 
 the tribes now known to travellers and legislators.' He adds : 
 ' The Indian is doubtless a gentleman, but he is a gentleman who 
 wears a very dirty shirt, and lives a very miserable life, having 
 nothing to employ him or keep him alive except the pleasures 
 of the chase and of the scalp-hunt, which we dignify with the 
 name of war.' It is singular that writers living where means 
 of gaining true information respecting the aborigines of North 
 America were easily available, should have chosen to substitute 
 dreams for realities. The falsification of facts is not the true 
 way of approaching the ideal, though it is the way of too many 
 romancists and novelists. 
 
 Being written in the taste which delights in the narration of 
 horrors, Dr Bird's tale is very objectionable, and, accordingly, we 
 should hardly choose to notice it ; but an American critic has 
 said, doubtless with some truth, that the story may be classed 
 with such legends as the Life of David Crockett, and The Big 
 Sear of Arkansas books which have emanated from, or are 
 adapted to, the unschooled classes of the people, and therefore 
 reflect some national characteristics. On this ground, some notice 
 of this tale of wild adventures may have its place here. 
 
 The chief interest of the story depends on the capture of a 
 young officer, Roland, and his fair kinswoman Edith, who for 
 some time are retained as prisoners among the Indians, and are 
 at last released by the extraordinary daring of the hero, Nick of 
 the "Woods. One of the several strange characters introduced is 
 Ralph Stackpole, an extravagant boaster, often guilty of making 
 inroads on his neighbours' property, and consequently in danger 
 of falling a victim to Lynch-law; yet he is spared from time 
 to time on account of his valour in conflicts with the Indians. 
 A singular example of trial by jury in Kentucky is explained 
 by that vehement hatred of the savages which in early times
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. M. BIRD. 167 
 
 prevailed there. Ralph Stackpole was arraigned not for the 
 first time on a charge of horse-stealing, and matters went hard 
 against him, his many offences in that line having steeled the 
 hearts of all against him, and the proofs of his guilt in this 
 particular instance being both strong and manifold. ' Many an 
 angry and unpitying eye was bent upon the unfortunate fellow, 
 when his counsel rose to attempt a defence, which he did in the 
 following terms : " Gentlemen of the jury," said the man of law, 
 " here is a man, Captain Ralph Stackpole, indicted before you on 
 the charge of stealing a horse ; and the affa'r is pretty considerably 
 proved on him." Here there was a murmur heard throughout 
 the court, evincing much approbation of the counsel's frankness. 
 " Gentlemen of the jury," continued the orator, elevating his 
 voice, " what I have to say in reply is, first, that that man thar, 
 Captain Ralph Stackpole, did, in the year seventeen seventy-nine, 
 when this good state of Kentucky, and particularly those parts 
 adjacent to Bear's Grass, and the mouth thereof, where now 
 stands the town of Louisville, were overrun with yelping Injtm 
 savages did, I say, gentlemen, meet two Injun savages in the 
 woods on Bear's Grass, and take their scalps, single-handed a 
 feat, gentlemen of the jury, that an't to be performed every day, 
 even in Kentucky! .... Secondly, gentlemen of the jury," 
 exclaimed the attorney-at-law, with a still louder voice, " what I 
 have to say, secondly, gentlemen of the jury, is, that this same 
 identical prisoner at the bar, Captain Ralph Stackpole, did, on 
 another occasion, in the year seventeen eighty-two, meet another 
 Injun savage in the woods a savage armed with rifle, knife, and 
 tomahawk and met him with you suppose, gentlemen, with 
 gun, axe, and scalper, in like manner? No, gentlemen of the 
 jury! with hisjfote, and" (with a voice of thunder) "licked him to 
 death in the natural way ! Gentlemen of the jury, pass upon the 
 prisoner guilty or not guilty ? " The attorney resumed his seat : 
 his arguments were irresistible. The jurors started up in their 
 box, and roared out, to a man, " Not guilty!" ' 
 
 Another remarkable character is described as ' a Quaker,' who 
 is often derided by the ' fighting-men ' of Kentucky, because he 
 is a man of peace, and refuses to join in the exterminating warfare 
 carried on against the Indians. At the time when the tale opens, 
 a panic was excited among the savages by the frequent occurrence 
 of the slaying of Indians by some unknown hand; and a tale 
 prevailed that an unearthly being, styled Nick of the Woods 
 among the settlers, and known as Jibbenainosay among the 
 aborigines, walked in the forest, destroying the Red Men, and 
 leaving upon every victim a mark of two knife-cuts in the shape of 
 a cross. The mystery is at last explained. Captain Roland, with
 
 1G8 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 his kinswoman Edith, on their solitary journey through the forest, 
 are surrounded by the savages, and rescued from the danger by 
 the guidance of Nathan the Quaker. For some time Nathan, 
 though proving himself well acquainted with the stratagems of 
 Indian warfare, preserves the garb and mien of ' a man of peace,' 
 and assists only by good counsel and guidance ; but at last, in a 
 desperate struggle for the lives of the travelling-party, he is 
 compelled to throw off the disguise. Edith is carried away as a 
 prisoner by the savages, and when Boland despairingly bewails 
 her fate, Nathan reproves him, and makes a confession of the 
 dreadful circumstances which had changed his own character 
 from that of a man of peace to that of Nick of the Woods, the 
 slayer of the Eed Men. 
 
 The remainder of the tale consists mostly of a series of 
 sanguinary contests with Indians, and ends in the release of the 
 prisoners Koland and Edith. The apparent gross improbability of 
 making Nathan the Quaker identical with the murderous Nick of 
 the Woods, is excused by the author, on the ground that terrible 
 calamity had made the former man of peace insane in his thirst for 
 revenge. 1 Too many passages in this story belong to the literature 
 of horrors ; and the several descriptions of deeds of violence and 
 bloodshed supply, we think, an unwholesome excitement to the 
 imaginations of young readers who may be attracted by the title. 
 
 For obvious reasons, our selections from the backwoods' 
 literature must be rather scanty. The breadth of humour allowed 
 in old Kentucky might not be relished by our readers. One 
 specimen by Dr Bird may perhaps be tolerated, especially as 
 it explains the zoological name of a race formerly existing on the 
 Lower Mississippi. Of the several technical terms used in the 
 sketch, we can give no better explanation than that afforded 
 by the context. They must be regarded as so many expressions 
 of exuberant energies of the pugnacious order. In literal terms, 
 the animal described is one of the early freebooters of Kentucky. 
 His incursions on the property of neighbours have made him 
 liable to the infliction of Lynch-law, and some allusion to this 
 fact has excited his anger. 
 
 SKETCH OF AN ALLIGATOR. 
 
 ' " And whar are you going ? " demanded Bruce. 
 "To St Asaph's" which was a station some twenty or thirty 
 miles off replied Captain Stackpole. 
 
 1 There can be no good excuse for this misrepresentation. It contradicts the 
 important and memorable fact, that while exterminating wars with the Indians 
 were supposed to be necessary for the settling of New England and other colonies, 
 Pennsylvania was settled without bloodshed, and no Quaker was ever molested bj 
 the Indians.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. M. BIRD. 169 
 
 " Too far for the Regulators l to follow, Ralph," said Colonel 
 Bruce ; at which the young men present laughed louder than ever, 
 j'.nd eyed the visitor in a way that seemed both to disconcert and 
 offend him. 
 
 " Gunnel," said he, " you're a man in authority, and my superior 
 officer ; wharfo' thar can be no scalping between us. But my 
 name's Tom Dowdle the ragman ! " he screamed, suddenly skipping 
 into the thickest of the throng, and sounding a note of defiance " my 
 name 's Tom Dowdle the ragman, and I 'm for any man that insults 
 me ! log-leg or leather-breeches, green shirt or blanket-coat, land- 
 trotter or river-roller I'm the man for a massacree !" Then giving 
 himself a twirl upon his foot that would have done credit to a 
 dancing-master, he proceeded to other antic demonstrations of 
 hostility, which, when performed in after-years on the banks of the 
 Lower Mississippi, by himself and his worthy imitators, were, we 
 suspect, the cause of their receiving the name of the mighty Alligator. 
 It is said by naturalists of this monstrous reptile, that he delights, 
 when the returning warmth of spring has brought his fellows from 
 their holes, and placed them basking along the banks of a swampy 
 lagoon, to dart into the centre of the expanse, and challenge the 
 whole field to combat. He roars, he blows the water from his 
 nostrils, he lashes it with his tail, he whirls round and round, 
 churning the water into foam ; until, having worked himself into a 
 proper fury, he darts back again to the shore, to seek an antagonist. 
 Had the gallant captain of horse-thieves boasted the blood, as he 
 afterwards did the name, of an " alligator half-breed," he could 
 have scarce conducted himself in a way more worthy of his 
 parentage. He leaped into the centre of the throng, where, having 
 found elbow-room for his purpose, he performed the gyration, 
 mentioned before, following it up by other feats expressive of his 
 hostile humour. He flapped his wings and crowed, until every 
 chanticleer in the settlement replied to the note of battle ; he- 
 snorted and neighed like a horse ; he bellowed like a bull ; he 
 barked like a dog ; he yelled like an Indian ; he whined like a 
 panther; he howled like a wolf; until one would have thought 
 he was a living menagerie, comprising within his single body the 
 spirit of every animal noted for its love of conflict. Then, not 
 content with such a display of readiness to fight the field, he darted 
 from the centre of the area allowed him for his exercise, and 
 invited the lookers-on individually to battle. " Whar 's your buffalo- 
 bull," he cried, "to cross horns with the roarer of Salt River? 
 AVhar's your full-blood colt that can shake a saddle off? H'yar's 
 an old nag can kick off the top of a buck-eye ! 2 Whar 's your cat 
 of the Knobs ? your wolf of the Rolling Prairies ? H 'yar*s the old 
 brown bar can claw the bark off a gum-tree ! H'yar's a man for 
 you, Tom Bruce ! Same to you, Sim Roberts ! to you, Jimmy 
 Big-nose ! to you, and to you, and to you ! Arn't I a ring-tailed 
 
 1 The amateur executioners of Lynch-law. 
 ' A tall tree : the American horse-chestnut.
 
 170 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 squealer ? Can go down Salt on my back, and swim up the Ohio ! 
 Whar 's the man to fight Roaring Ralph Stackpole ? " 
 
 CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN (born 1806), the writer of several 
 lyrical poems which have been highly praised by American 
 critics, is a well-known contributor to magazines, and has edited 
 The Knickerbocker, The American Monthly, and The New York 
 Mirror. In 1837, after a tour in the western territories, he 
 published in London a volume of sketches and legends, entitled 
 Wild Scenes in the Forest and the Prairie ; which was followed in 
 1840 by the tale of Greyslaer, founded on a remarkable criminal 
 trial, which has also been made the basis of Mr Simms's novel 
 entitled Beauchampe, The incidents of the novel are so extraor 
 dinary, that critics have condemned them as unsuitable in a fiction 
 intended to seem probable ; while others have referred to the 
 proverbial saying, that ' truth is stranger than fiction,' and have 
 shewn that the facts of the trial have been mitigated in the tale of 
 Greyslaer. The description of horrible circumstances and adven 
 tures is, to our taste, a repulsive feature in Hoffman's writings : 
 for example, in Ben Blower's Story, and The Flying Head. One 
 specimen may be enough to justify our objection. Hoffman tells 
 the story of 'a steam-boat race' on one of the great rivers ; and the 
 destruction of human lives is described in the following style : 
 
 * " You have seen the Flame, then, afore, Strannger ? Six year ago, 
 when new upon the river, she was a raal out and outer, I tell ye. 
 I was at that time a hand aboard of her. Yes, I belonged to her at 
 the time of her great race with the ' Go-liar.' You 've heern, mayhap, 
 of the blow-up by which we lost it ? They made a great fuss about 
 it ; but it was nothing but a mere fiz of hot water, after all. Only 
 the springing of a few rivets, which loosened a biler-plate or two, and 
 let out a thin spirting upon some niggers that hadn't sense enough 
 to get out of the way. Well, the 'Go-liar' took off our passengers, 
 and we ran into Smasher's Landing to repair damages, and bury 
 the poor fools that were killed." ' 
 
 After this, the narrator describes his own adventure of falling 
 asleep in the engine-boiler, where he is parboiled, but escapes in 
 time to relish a mint-julep : 
 
 '"I heard the cry of horror the shout to drown the fire the 
 
 first stroke of the cold water-pump. They say, too, that I was conscious 
 when they took me out but I I remember nothing more till they 
 brought a julep to my bedside arterwards. AND that julep!" 
 
 "Cooling! was it?" 
 
 "STRANNGER!!!" 
 
 Ben turned away his head, and wept he could no more.' 
 
 Can anything be said in defence of this species of fiction ?
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. G. SIMMS. 171 
 
 WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS (born 1807) is a planter, residing 
 at Midway, in South Carolina, and one of the most voluminous 
 of American writers of fiction. Having lost his inherited property 
 by an attempt to maintain an unpopular newspaper, The Charles- 
 town City Gazette, he determined to retrieve his fortune by literary 
 industry ; and in the course of about twenty years wrote more than 
 fifty volumes of novels, shorter tales, poems, and miscellanies 
 including Martin Faber, a very gloomy story (1833), Guy Rivers 
 (1834), Beauchampe, or the Kentucky Tragedy (1842) ; and T/ie 
 Wigwam and the Cabin a collection of stories, which is esteemed 
 as one of his best works. An American writer Griswold whose 
 opinions seem free from prejudice, gives the following account of 
 the numerous works of fiction by Mr Simms : ' His novels are 
 interesting, but the interest arises more from situation than from 
 character. Our attention is engrossed by actions, but we feel 
 little sympathy with the actors. He gives us too much of 
 
 ruffianism He delights in action, whether of men or of 
 
 the elements, and is most successful in strife, storm, and tumult. 
 It is worth mentioning, that the German author Sealsfield has 
 borrowed very largely from his works, and that whole pages 
 which he has translated, almost literally, from Guy Rivers, have 
 been praised abroad as superior to anything done by Americans 
 in describing their own country.' The remarks suggested by 
 Sealstield's books may be applied to several similar works having 
 an indefinite character between fiction and true narratives of 
 travel. American readers will understand that we allude to 
 tales of wondrous and romantic adventures in the far west, 
 written by authors who were never exposed to the dangers from 
 grizzly bears and other monsters, so vividly described. These 
 tales, manufactured in London or New York, or even in Berlin, 
 belong, in fact, to the class exemplified in Barnum's mermaid, and 
 woolly horse of the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 Several works of the kind here referred to have been reprinted 
 in England, and widely circulated as books of travel. In some 
 instances, grave reviewers have based certain opinions upon 
 statements made by writers of absurd fictions, under the disguise 
 of travels. These tourists have enjoyed a wonderful facility in 
 acquiring the Indian dialects. One narrates his conversations with 
 the Sioux, the Winnebagoes, and other tribes ; and tells us how 
 he escaped from a herd of wolves, which tore away ' forty-five out 
 of the fifty grouse of the prairies that hung at his saddle-bow ; ' 
 how he rode 120 miles in one day, carrying for a part of the way 
 a load of ' 200 pounds of prairie-hens;' how he caught, and, after 
 a struggle, landed ' a maskinonge [a fish] weighing 57 pounds ; ' 
 and, finally, how he made a voyage up the Mississippi, from Rock
 
 172 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Island in Iowa to the source, and down to Lake Superior, visiting 
 in a leisurely way several other places all in the space of one 
 month a feat which makes the real adventures of such travellers as 
 Emory, Colonel Fremont, and Schoolcraft, seem ludicrously tame. 
 
 We have good authority for saying, that many of the tales of 
 adventures, encounters with Indians, and grizzly bears, and similar 
 spices used to season narrations of tours in the far west, have 
 about the same degree of historical value that may be found in 
 The Big Bear of Arkansas, or Thorpe's account of farming in this 
 colony. ' I once planted,' says the hero, ' a few potatoes and 
 beets. About that time I went off to old Kentuck on business, 
 and stumbled on a fellow who had stopped at my place, with an 
 idea of buying me out. "How did you like things?" said I. 
 " Pretty well," said he : " but that bottom-land is full of cedar- 
 stumps and Indian mounds."' The farmer explained that the 
 cedar-stumps were beets, and the Indian mounds were ' tater-hills,' 
 and added : ' The crop was overgrown and useless : the sile [soil] 
 is too rich, and planting in Arkansaw is dangerous.' 1 So is the 
 fabrication of travels in the far west ; for, unfortunately, prosaic 
 men, like Schoolcraft, Nicollet, and Allen, have visited these 
 regions, and described their true features. 1 
 
 These remarks are enough to suggest that many accounts of 
 travels and adventures in the West, ' having all the breathless 
 interest of romance,' should be regarded with suspicion. We 
 have properly classified them with the novels and romances 
 written by Mr Simms. 
 
 T. B. THORPE, author of Mysteries of the Backwoods, The Big 
 Bear of Arkansas, and other humorous sketches of life and 
 manners on the frontier, was born in Westfield, Massachusetts, 
 in 1815. During his youth, he made some progress in the art of 
 painting ; but circumstances induced him to lay aside the pencil, 
 and try his skill in writing of the scenery and people of Louisiana, 
 where he fixed his residence in 1836. Some years later, he com 
 menced a newspaper styled The Conservator. His tale of TJie 
 Big Bear is included, with other stories, in a volume edited by 
 William T. Porter conductor of the New York Spirit of the 
 Times and published in 1835. In 1846, another volume of 
 humorous tales and sketches appeared, under the same editorship, 
 and included Thorpe's Mysteries of the Backwoods, with the story 
 of Captain Simon Suggs, the Talcing the Census, and other Alabama 
 sketches by Johnson Hooper ; A Quarter Race in Kentucky, and 
 other tales, mostly selected from the Spirit of the Times. 
 
 In connection with these specimens of backwoods' literature, 
 1 See North American Renew, No. 145, Art. 7.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. T. B. THORPE. 173 
 
 we may notice the racy story of Mike Fink, the Last of the 
 Boatmen, by MORGAN NEVILLE ; the tales of the chase of HENRY 
 AY. If HUBERT, better known by his pseudonym Frank Forrester; 
 and the Sporting Scenes of WILLIAM F. HAWKS. 
 
 Thorpe has written, with genial humour, of several grotesque 
 features of frontier-life, but has failed to preserve the tone of good 
 taste which would have made his sketches more attractive. His 
 tale of The Big Bear has been so often mentioned, as a specimen of 
 indigenous literature, that we must give some short account of it. 
 It must be premised that the humour of the story is of the most 
 simple kind, as it consists chiefly of a free use of one figure of 
 speech hyperbole. The use of this mode of speech must be 
 characteristic of the backwoodsman, if we may trust the reports 
 of Thorpe and other writers. 
 
 We enter the cabin of a steamer on the Mississippi. Soon after 
 the boat has left the wharf, an original specimen of an Arkansas 
 settler and bear-hunter comes in. He is a man in rude health, 
 having a face full of good-humour, and eyes of singular brightness. 
 Making himself at home, he takes a chair, puts up his feet on the 
 stove, salutes the ' strangers' in a hearty familiar style, and, with 
 out waiting for a question, informs them that, for the first time in 
 his life, he has been to New Orleans, where the 'perlite chaps' 
 have been inquiring respecting the game in his part of the 
 country. ' Game, indeed !' he says ' that 's what city folks call 
 it. Maybe such trash live in my diggins, but I arn't noticed them 
 yet : a bird anyway is too trifling. I never did shoot at b6t one, 
 and I 'd never forgiven myself for that, had it weighed less than 
 forty pounds. I wouldn't draw a rifle on anything less than that ; 
 and when I meet with another wild-turkey of the same weight, 
 I will drap him. 1 
 
 'A wild-turkey weighing forty pounds!' exclaimed twenty 
 
 voices in the cabin at once ' Where did all that happen ? ' 
 
 asked a cynical-looking Hoosier This expression of a 
 
 doubt excites the hyperbolical man of Arkansas ; he scorns to 
 talk of such poor things as wild-turkeys, and begins his story of 
 the Big Bear of Arkansas. 
 
 '"Happen! happened in Arkansaw. Where else could it have 
 happened but in the creation state, the finishing-up country a state 
 where the sile runs down to the centre of the 'arth, and government 
 gives you a title to every inch of it? Then its airs just breathe 
 them, and they will make you snort like a horse. It's a state 
 without a fault, it is." .... 
 
 " What season of the year do your hunts take place 1" inquired a 
 gentlemanly foreigner, who, from some peculiarities of his baggage, 
 I suspected to be an Englishman, on some hunting-expedition, 
 probably at the foot of the Rocky Mountains.
 
 174 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " The season for bar-hunting, stranger," said the man of Arkansaw, 
 K is generally all the year round, and the hunts take place about as 
 regular. I read in history that varmints have their fat season an<3 
 their lean season. That is not the case in Arkansaw feeding 
 as they do upon the spontenacious productions of the sile, they 
 have one continued fat season the year round : though in winter, 
 things in this way is rather more greasy than in summer, I must 
 admit. For that reason, bar with us run in warm weather, but in 
 
 winter they only waddle Run a bar in this fat condition, and 
 
 the way it improves the critter for eating is amazing ; it sort of 
 mixes the ile up with the meat until you can't tell t'other from 
 which. I've done this often." .... 
 
 A timid little man inquired if the bear in Arkansaw ever attacked 
 the settlers in numbers. 
 
 " No," said our hero, warming with the subject ; " no, stranger, 
 for you see it ain't the natur of bar to go in droves ; but the way 
 they squander about in pairs and single ones is edifying. And then 
 the way I hunt them the old black rascals know the crack of my 
 gun as well as they know a pig's squealing. They grow thin in our 
 parts it frightens them so, and they do take the noise dreadfully, 
 poor things. That gun of mine is a perfect epidemic among bar : 
 if not watched closely, it will go off as quick on a warm scent as my 
 dog Bowie-knife will : and then that dog whew ! why, the fellow 
 thinks that the world is full of bar, he finds them so easy. It's 
 lucky he don't talk as well as think ; for with his natural modesty, 
 if he should suddenly learn how much he is acknowledged to be ahead 
 of all other dogs in the universe, he would be astonished to death in 
 
 two minutes I never could tell whether he was made expressly 
 
 to hunt bar, or whether bar was made expressly for him to hunt." ' 
 
 In the same extravagant style, the narrator goes on in his talk 
 of bears, and makes a digression on the danger of planting in a 
 soil so enormously productive as that of Arkansas. At last, 
 he tells the story of the death of the Big Bear, and so concludes 
 a wild strain of hyperbole. For the amusement of readers who 
 like tales of this kind, we may mention here The Sketches and 
 Eccentricities of Colonel David Crockett, containing many examples 
 of skill in the use of the long-bow. 
 
 It would be hardly fair to conclude our notices of backwoods' 
 literature without a better specimen of Thorpe's sketches. The 
 following portrait of a bee-hunter describes, says the author, 'a 
 fraternity of men of genius,' who have passed away, ' unwept and 
 unsung, 1 in the backwoods : 
 
 TOM OWEN THE BEE-HUNTER. 
 
 ( It was on a beautiful southern October morning, at the hospi 
 table mansion of a friend, where I was staying to drown dull care, 
 that I first had the pleasure of seeing Tom Owen. He was straggling,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. T. B. THORPE. 175 
 
 on this occasion, up the rising-ground that led to the hospitable 
 mansion of mine host, and the dift'erence between him and ordinary 
 men was visible at a glance. 1'erhaps it shewed itself as much in 
 the perfect contempt of fashion he displayed in the adornment of 
 his outward man, as it did in the more elevated qualities of his 
 mind that were visible in his face. His head was adorned with 
 an outlandish pattern of a hat ; and his nether limbs were ensconced 
 in a pair of inexpressibles, beautifully fringed by the brier-bushes 
 through which they were often drawn. Coats and vests he considered 
 as superfluities. Hanging upon his back were a couple of pails ; 
 and he had an axe in lu's right hand. Such were the varieties that 
 characterised the corpus of Tom Owen. As is usual with great 
 men, he had his partisans, and with a courtier-like humility, they 
 depended upon the expression of his face for all their hopes of 
 success. The common salutations of meeting were sufficient to 
 draw me within the circle of his influence, and I at once became one 
 of his most ready followers. " See yonder ! " said Tom, stretching 
 his long arm into the air "see yonder there's a bee." We all 
 looked in the direction he indicated, but that was the extent of our 
 observation. " It was a fine bee," continued Tom, " black body, 
 yellow legs, and into that tree " pointing to a towering oak, blue in 
 the distance. " In a clear day, I can see a bee over a mile easy ! " 
 When did Coleridge " talk " like that ? And yet Tom Owen uttered 
 such a saying with perfect ease. 
 
 After a variety of meanderings through the thick woods, and 
 clambering over fences, we came to our place of destination as pointed 
 out by Tom. .... The felling of a great tree is a sight that calls up 
 a, variety of emotions ; and Tom's game was lodged in one of the 
 finest in the forest. But " the axe was laid at the root of the tree," 
 which, in his mind, was made expressly for bees to build their nests 
 in, that he might cut it down and obtain possession of the honey. 
 The ^harp sound of the axe as it played in the hands of Tom, was 
 replied to by a stout negro from the opposite side ; and by the 
 rapidity of their strokes, they fast gained upon the heart of the 
 lordly sacrifice. There was a little poetry in the thought, that long 
 before this mighty empire of states was formed, Tom Owen's bee 
 hive had stretched its brawny arms to the winter's blast, and grown 
 green in the summer's sun. Yet such was the case ; and how long 
 I might have moralised I know not, had not the enraged buzzing 
 about my ears convinced me that the occupants of the tree were 
 not going to give up their home and treasure without shewing con 
 siderable practical fight. No sooner had the little insects satisfied 
 themselves that they were about to be attacked, than they began 
 one after another to descend from their airy abode, and fiercely 
 pitch into our faces ; anon, a small company, headed by an old 
 veteran, would charge with its entire force upon all parts of our 
 body at once. It need not be said that the better part of valour 
 was displayed by a precipitate retreat from such attacks.
 
 178 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Cut-thwack ! sounded through the confused hum at the foot of 
 the tree, marvellously reminding me of the interruptions that 
 occasionally broke in upon the otherwise monotonous hours of my 
 school-days. A sharp cracking finally told me the chopping was 
 done ; and looking aloft, I saw the mighty tree balancing in the air. 
 Slowly and majestically, it bowed for the first time towards its 
 mother-earth, gaining velocity as it descended, shivering the trees 
 that interrupted its course, and falling with thundering sound, 
 splintering its gigantic limbs, and burying them deeply in the 
 ground. 
 
 The sun, for the first time in at least two centuries, broke uninter 
 ruptedly through the chasm made in the forest, and shone with 
 splendour upon the magnificent Tom, standing a conqueror among 
 his spoils.' 
 
 BRYANT VEBPLANCK. LEGGETT SANDS NEAL KENNEDY WARE 
 
 JUDD LONGFELLOW FOE FAY MITCHELL MELVILLE MAYO 
 
 WISE SANDERSON JOSEPH NEAL MATTHEWS. 
 
 WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, whose poems have been reviewed, 
 lias distinguished himself as a prose-writer chiefly by his 
 numerous articles in the Evening Post newspaper, -which he has 
 edited during more than twenty years. He has written several 
 short works of fiction, including contributions to The Talisman, 
 published in 1827-1829, and some portions of the work entitled 
 Tales of Glauber Spa (1832). In these two miscellanies, Bryant 
 was assisted by his friends VERPLANCK, LEGGETT, and SANDS. 
 His own tales were marked rather by correct style and good 
 taste than by any extraordinary display of invention. Among 
 the contributions of his friends, the tale of Major Ejerton, by 
 Verplanck, is one of the best. It is lively and pleasant in its 
 style of narrative and description, though highly improbable and 
 fantastic in its incidents. Verplanck's most important contribu 
 tion to literature is an edition of Shakspeare, published in 
 1844-46. 
 
 JOHN NEAL, already noticed as a writer of verse, wrote a great 
 number of novels, tales, sketches, reviews, and magazine papers. 
 His first novel, oddly entitled Keep Cool, is described by himself 
 as ' a foolish fiery thing,' and was followed by Logan, which a 
 critic characterises as ' a sort of rhapsody in two thick volumes.' 
 Seventy-six, a better fiction, was written during ' odd hours, in 
 less than a month ; ' and within two or three months after, the 
 author produced another novel in two volumes, Randolph^ which 
 attracted notice by its sketches of living public characters.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. P. KENNEDY. 177 
 
 During a visit to England, Neal wrote several articles in 
 Illackwood's Magazine, and resided for some time with Jeremy 
 Hentham, whose Principles of Legislation he translated from the 
 French of Dumont. After his return to his native country, Neal 
 wrote Rachel Dyer, a story of the days of Cotton Mather (1828) ; 
 Authorship, a tale (1830) ; The Down-easters (1831), and Ruth 
 Elder ; besides numerous papers in his weekly miscellany, The 
 Yn/t/cre. The whole of his writings in prose and verse are 
 strongly marked by the faults of extreme haste and carelessness. 
 In attempting fine writing, he seldom avoids the step from the 
 sublime to the ridiculous. 
 
 JOHN PENDLETON KENNEDY (born 1795), author of Swallow 
 Barn, or a Sojourn in the Old Dominion (1832), and other fictions 
 giving sketches of life and manners in Virginia, Carolina, and 
 Maryland, is a politician, whose leisure has been partly devoted 
 to light literature. His tales, marked by considerable skill in 
 portraiture of characters, and containing many pleasant descriptive 
 passages, have been very successful. The first has been charac 
 terised as resembling in plan Irving's Bracebridge Hall. The 
 scene is laid in Lower Virginia (the ' Old Dominion '), and the 
 object is to describe the state of society in the ancient common- 
 Avealth. The leading character, a wealthy country gentleman, is 
 described with genial humour, and the series of adventures is so 
 arranged as to illustrate the various aspects of life in Virginia. 
 
 A second novel by Mr Kennedy was entitled Horse-shoe 
 Jtobinson (1835), and was even more popular than the first. It 
 narrates the adventures of a yeoman who took a prominent part 
 in the civil war. A more carefully written, yet less successful 
 fiction, Rob of the Bowl, appeared in 1838. Its scene was in 
 Maryland, at the time when the quarrels of Protestants and 
 Catholics disturbed the colony. 
 
 In his first work, Kennedy wrote in the manner of Washington 
 Irving. There may be no proofs of direct imitation in Swallow 
 Barn, but the tone, as well as the plan of the book, reminds us 
 of the Crayon sketches. The portrait drawn in the passage 
 appended as a specimen, bears too close a resemblance to the 
 studies of other country gentlemen in Bracebridge Hall and The 
 Sketch-book: In his later works, Kennedy assumed a more 
 original style. 
 
 A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN. 
 
 ' Frank Meriwether is now in the meridian of life somewhere 
 close upon forty-five. Good cheer and a good temper both tell well 
 upon him. The first has given him a comfortable full figure ; and 
 
 L
 
 178 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the latter certain easy contemplative habits, that incline him to be 
 lazy and philosophical. He has the substantial planter look that 
 belongs to a gentleman who lives on his estate, and is not much 
 vexed with the crosses of life. 
 
 I think he prides himself on his personal appearance, for he has 
 a handsome face, with a dark blue eye, and a high forehead that is 
 scantily embellished with some silver-tipped locks that, I observe, 
 he cherishes for their rarity : besides, he is growing manifestly 
 attentive to his dress, and carries himself erect, with some secret 
 consciousness that his person is not bad. It is pleasant to see him 
 when he has ordered his horse for a ride into the neighbourhood, or 
 acrpss to the court-house. On such occasions, he is apt to make his 
 appearance in a coat of blue broadcloth, astonishingly new and 
 glossy, and with a redundant supply of plaited ruffle strutting 
 through the folds of a Marseilles waistcoat : a worshipful finish is 
 given to this costume by a large straw-hat, lined with green silk. 
 There is a magisterial fulness in his garments that betokens con 
 dition in the world, and a heavy bunch of seals, suspended by a 
 chain of gold, jingles as he moves, pronouncing him a man of 
 superfluities. 
 
 It is considered rather extraordinary that he has never set up 
 for Congress ; but the truth is, he is an unambitious man, and has 
 a great dislike to currying favour as he calls it. And, besides, he 
 is thoroughly convinced that there will always be men enough in 
 Virginia willing to serve the people, and therefore does not see why 
 he should trouble his head about it. Some years ago, however, 
 there' was really an impression that he meant to come out. By 
 some sudden whim, he took it into his head to visit Washington 
 during the session of Congress, and returned, after a fortnight, very 
 seriously distempered with politics. He told curious anecdotes of 
 certain secret intrigues which had been discovered in the affairs of 
 the capital, gave a pretty clear insight into the views of some deep- 
 laid combinations, and became all at once painfully florid in his 
 discourse, and dogmatical to a degree that made his wife stare. 
 Fortunately, this orgasm soon subsided, and Frank relapsed into an 
 indolent gentleman of the opposition ; but it had the effect to give 
 a much more decided cast to his studies, for he forthwith discarded 
 The Whig and took to The Inquirer, like a man who was not to be 
 disturbed by doubts ; and as it was morally impossible to believe 
 what was written on both sides, to prevent his mind from being 
 abused, he, from this time forward, gave an implicit assent to all 
 the facts that set against Mr Adams. The consequence of this 
 straightforward and confiding deportment was an unsolicited and 
 complimentary notice of him by the executive of the state. He 
 was put into the commission of the peace ; and having thus become 
 a public man against his will, his opinions were observed to undergo 
 some essential changes. He now thinks that a good citizen ought 
 neither to solicit nor decline office ; that the magistracy of Virginia 
 is the sturdiest pillar that supports the fabric of the constitution j
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. P. KENNEDY. 179 
 
 and that the people, " though in their opinions they may be mistaken, 
 in their sentiments they are never wrong " with some other such 
 dogmas, that, a few years ago, he did not hold in very good repute. 
 In this temper, he has of late embarked upon the millpond of 
 county affairs, and notwithstanding his amiable and respectful 
 republicanism, I am told he keeps the peace as if he commanded a 
 garrison, and administers justice like a cadi. 
 
 Ho has some claim to supremacy in this last department ; for 
 during three years of his life he smoked cigars in a lawyer's office 
 at Richmond ; sometimes looked into Blackstone and the Revised 
 Code ; was a member of a debating-society that ate oysters once a 
 week during the winter ; and wore six cravats and a pair of yellow- 
 topped boots as a blood of the metropolis. Having in this way 
 qualified himself for the pursuits of agriculture, he came to his 
 estate a very model of landed gentlemen. Since that time, his 
 avocations have had a certain literary tincture ; for having settled 
 himself down as a married man, and got rid of his superfluous 
 foppery, he rambled with wonderful assiduity through a wilderness 
 of romances, poems, and dissertations, which are now collected in 
 his library, and, with their battered blue covers, present a lively 
 type of an army of continentals at the close of the war, or an 
 hospital of veteran invalids. These have all at last given way to 
 the newspapers a miscellaneous study very enticing to gentlemen 
 in the country that have rendered Merhvether a most discomfiting 
 antagonist in the way of dates and names. 
 
 He has great suavity of manners, and a genuine benevolence of 
 disposition that makes him fond of having his friends about him ; 
 and it is particularly gratifying to him to pick up any genteel 
 stranger within the purlieus of Swallow Barn, and put him to the proof 
 of a week's hospitality, if it be only for the pleasure of exercising his 
 rhetoric upon him. He is a kind master, and considerate towards 
 his dependents, for which reason, although he owns many slaves, 
 they hold him in profound reverence, and are very happy under his 
 dominion. All these circumstances make Swallow Barn a very 
 agreeable place, and it is accordingly frequented by an extensive 
 range of his acquaintances. 
 
 There is one quality in Frank that stands above the rest : he is 
 a thoroughbred Virginian, and consequently does not travel much 
 from home, except to make an excursion to Richmond, which he 
 considers emphatically as the centre of civilisation. Now and then, 
 he has gone beyond the mountain, but the upper country is not 
 much to his taste, and, in his estimation, only to be resorted to when 
 the fever makes it imprudent to remain upon the tide. He thinks 
 lightly of the mercantile interest, and, in fact, undervalues the manners 
 of the cities generally ; he believes that their inhabitants are all 
 hollow-hearted and insincere, and altogether wanting in that sub 
 stantial intelligence and honesty that he affirms to be characteristic 
 of the country. He is a great admirer of the genius of Virginia, 
 and is frequent in his commendation of a toast in which the state
 
 180 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 is compared to the mother of the Gracchi : indeed, it is a familiar 
 thing with him to speak of the aristocracy of talent as only 
 inferior to that of the landed interest the idea of a freeholder 
 inferring to his mind a certain constitutional pre-eminence in all 
 the virtues of citizenship, as a matter of course. 
 
 The solitary elevation of a country gentleman, well to do in the 
 world, begets some magnificent notions. He becomes as infallible 
 as the pope ; gradually acquires a habit of making long speeches ; 
 is apt to be impatient of contradiction, and is always very touchy 
 on the point of honour. There is nothing more conclusive than a 
 rich man's logic anywhere ; but in the country, amongst his 
 dependents, it flows with the smooth and nnresisted course of a 
 gentle stream irrigating a verdant meadow, and depositing its mud 
 in fertilising luxuriance. Meriwether's sayings about Swallow 
 Barn import absolute verity ; but I have discovered that they aro 
 not so current out of his jurisdiction. Indeed, every now and then, 
 we have some obstinate discussions when any of the neighbouring 
 potentates, who stand in the same sphere with Frank, come to tlio 
 house ; for these worthies have opinions of their own, and nothing 
 can be more dogged than the conflict between them. They some 
 times fire away at each other with a most amiable and inconvinciblc 
 hardihood for a whole evening, bandying interjections, and making 
 bows, and saying shrewd things with all the courtesy imaginable : 
 but for unextinguishable pertinacity in argument, and utter impreg 
 nability of belief, there is no disputant like your country gentleman 
 who reads the newspapers. When one of these discussions fairly 
 gets under- way, it never comes to an anchor again of its own accord 
 it is either blown out so far to sea as to be given up for lost, or 
 puts into port in distress for want of documents, or is upset by a 
 call for the boot-jack and slippers which is something like the 
 previous question in Congress. 
 
 If my worthy cousin be somewhat over-argumentative as a 
 politician, he restores the equilibrium of his character by a con 
 siderate coolness in religious matters. He piques himself upon 
 being a high-churchman, but he is only a rare frequenter of places 
 of worship, and very seldom permits himself to get into a dispute 
 upon points of faith. If Mr Chub, the Presbyterian tutor in the 
 family, ever succeeds in drawing him into this field, as he occa 
 sionally has the address to do, Meriwether is sure to fly the course : 
 he gets puzzled with Scripture names, and makes some odd 
 mistakes between Peter and Paul, and then generally turns the 
 parson over to his wife, who, he says, has an astonishing memory.' 
 
 WILLIAM WARE, born 1797, a Unitarian clergyman, and a 
 descendant from one of the earliest settlers of Massachusetts, 
 is the author of two well-known romances founded on ancient 
 history The Fall of Palmyra (1836), and Probus, or Some in the 
 Third Century (1838). The first of these works is given in the
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WILLIAM AVARE. 181 
 
 form of letters, addressed by Lucius Manlius Piso to his friend 
 Marcus Curtius. The supposed writer is represented as visiting 
 Palmyra about the close of the third century, beholding the city 
 in its days of grandeur, and witnessing its overthrow by Aurelian. 
 The second romance is written in the form of letters from Piso 
 at Rome, to Fausta, daughter of one of the ministers of Queen 
 Zenobia, and gives an account of Piso's conversion to Christianity. 
 A third work of a similar character is entitled Julian, and 
 narrates the adventures of a Roman citizen of Hebrew descent, 
 who visits Judaja in the early part of the first century. 
 
 The writings of Mr Ware have been generally commended 
 for their graceful style, pleasing descriptions, and pious and 
 benevolent sentiments. Soon after their appearance in America, 
 they were reprinted in England with new titles. We may notice 
 here, as the only other American work resembling the fictions of 
 Ware, the tale of Philothea by Mrs Child. In its scenery, it 
 belongs to Athens in the days of Pericles and Phidias, but the 
 philosophical talk belongs rather to Boston, United States, in the 
 days of Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
 THE JOURNEY TO PALMYRA. 
 
 ' I will not detain you long with our voyage, but will only mark 
 out its course. Leaving the African shore, we struck across to 
 Sicily, and coasting along its eastern border, beheld with pleasure 
 the towering form of JEtna, sending up into the heavens a dull and 
 sluggish cloud of vapours. We then ran between the Peloponnesus 
 and Crete, and so held our course till the Island of Cyprus rose like 
 her own fair goddess from the ocean, and filled our eyes with a 
 beautiful vision of hill and valley, wooded promontory, and glittering 
 towns and villas. A fair wind soon withdrew us from these charming 
 prospects, and after driving us swiftly and roughly over the 
 remainder of our way, rewarded us with a brighter and more 
 welcome vision still the coast of Syria, and our destined port 
 Berytus. 
 
 As far as the eye could reach, both towards the north and the 
 south, we beheld a luxuriant region, crowded with villages, and 
 giving every indication of comfort and wealth. The city itself, 
 which we rapidly approached, was of inferior size, but presented 
 an agreeable prospect of warehouses, public and private edifices, 
 overtopped here and there by the lofty palm, and other trees of a 
 new and peculiar foliage. Four days were consumed here in the 
 purchase of slaves, camels, and horses, and in other preparations for 
 the journey across the desert. Two routes presented themselves 
 one more, the other less direct ; the last, though more circuitous, 
 appeared to me the more desirable, as it would take me within 
 sight of the modern glories and ancient remains of Heliopolis. This,
 
 182 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 therefore, was determined upon ; and on the morning of the fifth 
 day we set forward upon our long march. Four slaves, two camels, 
 and three horses, with an Arab conductor, constituted our little 
 caravan ; but for greater safety, we attached ourselves to a much 
 larger one than our own, in which we were swallowed up and 
 lost consisting of travellers and traders from all parts of the 
 world, and who were also on their way to Palmyra, as a point 
 whence to separate to various parts of the vast east. It would 
 delight me to lay before you, with the distinctness and minuteness 
 of a picture, the whole of this novel and, to me, interesting route ; 
 but I must content myself with a slight sketch, and reserve fuller 
 communications to the time when, once more seated with you upon 
 the Coalian, we enjoy the freedom of social converse. 
 
 Our way through the valleys of Libanus was like one long 
 wandering among the pleasure-grounds of opulent citizens. The 
 land was everywhere richly cultivated, and a happier peasantry, as 
 far as the eye of the traveller could judge, nowhere exists. The 
 most luxuriant valleys of our own Italy are not more crowded with 
 the evidences of plenty and contentment. Upon drawing near 
 to the ancient Baalbec, I found, on inquiry of our guide, that we 
 were not to pass through it, as I had hoped, nor even very near 
 it not nearer than between two and three miles ; so that in this I 
 had been clearly deceived by those of whom I had made the most 
 exact inquiries at Berytus. The event proved, however, that it was 
 not for nothing ; for soon after we had started on our journey, on the 
 morning of the second day, turning suddenly around the projecting 
 rock of a mountain-ridge, we all at once beheld, as if a veil had 
 been lifted up, Heliopolis and its suburbs spread out before us in all 
 their various beauty. The city lay about three miles distant. I 
 could only, therefore, identify its principal structure, the Temple of 
 the Sun, as built by the first Antonine. This towered above the 
 walls and over all the other buildings, and gave vast ideas of the 
 greatness of the place, leading the mind to crowd it with other 
 edifices that should bear some proportion to this noble monument 
 of imperial magnificence. As suddenly as the view of this imposing 
 scene had been revealed, so suddenly was it again eclipsed by 
 another short turn in the road, which took us once more into the 
 mountain valleys. But the overhanging and impenetrable foliage 
 of a Syrian forest shielding me from the fierce rays of a burning 
 sun, soon reconciled me to my loss more especially as I knew that 
 in a short time we were to enter upon the sandy desert which 
 stretches from the Anti-Libanus almost to the very walls of 
 Palmyra. 
 
 Upon this boundless desert we now soon entered. The scene 
 which it presented was more dismal than I can describe. A red 
 moving sand or hard and baked by the heat of a sun such as 
 Home never knows low gray rocks just rising here and there above 
 the level of the plain, with now and then the dead and glittering 
 trunk of a vast cedar whose roots seemed as if they had outlasted
 
 SECOND PERIOD. WILLIAM AVAUE. 183 
 
 centuries tlio bones of camels and elephants, scattered on either 
 hand, dazzling the sight by reason of their excessive whiteness 
 at a distance, occasionally an Arab of the desert, for a moment 
 surveying our long line, and then darting off to his fastnesses 
 these were the objects which, with scarce any variation, met our 
 eyes during the four wearisome days that we dragged ourselves over 
 this wild and inhospitable region. A little after the noon of the 
 fourth day, as we started on our way, having refreshed ourselves 
 and our exhausted animals at a spring which here poured out its 
 warm but still grateful waters to the traveller, my ears received the 
 agreeable news that towards the east there could now be discerned 
 the dark line which indicated our approach to the verdant tract 
 that encompasses the great city. Our own excited spirits were quickly 
 imparted to our beasts ; and a more rapid movement soon revealed 
 into distinctness the high land and waving groves of palm-trees 
 which mark the site of 1'almyra. 
 
 It was several miles before we reached the city, that we suddenly 
 found ourselves landing, as it were, from a sea upon an island 
 or continent in a rich and thickly peopled country. The roads 
 indicated an approach to a great capital in the increasing numbers 
 of those who thronged them, meeting and passing us, overtaking us, or 
 crossing our path. Elephants, camels, and the dromedary, which I had 
 before seen only in the amphitheatres, I here beheld as the native 
 inhabitants of the soil. Frequent villas of the rich and luxurious 
 Palmyrenes, to which they retreat from the greater heats of the city, 
 now threw a lovely charm over the scene. Nothing can exceed the 
 splendour of the sumptuous palaces. Italy itself has nothing which 
 surpasses them. The new and brilliant costumes of the persons 
 whom we met, together with the rich housings of the animals they 
 rode, served greatly to add to all this beauty. I was still entranced, 
 as it were, by the objects around me, and buried in reflection, when 
 I was aroused by the shout of those who led the caravan, and who 
 had attained the summit of a little rising-ground, saying : " Palmyra ! 
 Palmyra !" I urged forward my steed, and in a moment the most 
 wonderful prospect I ever beheld no, I cannot except even Rome 
 burst upon my sight. Flanked by hills of considerable elevation 
 on the east, the city filled the whole plain below as far as the eye 
 could reach, both towards the north and towards the south. This 
 immense plain was all one vast and boundless city. It seemed to 
 me to be larger than Rome ; yet I knew very well that it could not 
 be that it was not. And it was some time before I understood the 
 true character of the scene before me, so as to separate the city from 
 the country, and the country from the city, which here wonderfully 
 interpenetrate each other, and so confound and deceive the observer. 
 For the city proper is so studded with groups of lofty palm-trees, 
 shooting up among its temples and palaces ; and, on the other hand, 
 the plain in its immediate vicinity is so thickly adorned with 
 magnificent structures of the purest marble, that it is not easy, nay, 
 it is impossible, at the distance at which I contemplated the whole,
 
 184 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 to distinguish the line which divided the one from the other. It waa 
 all city and all country all country and all city. Those which lay 
 before me, I was ready to believe were the Elysian Fields. I 
 imagined that I saw under my feet the dwellings of purified men 
 and of gods ; certainly, they were too glorious for the mere earth- 
 born. There was a central point, however, which chiefly fixed my 
 attention, where the vast Temple of the Sun stretched upward its 
 thousand columns of polished marble to the heavens, in its matchless 
 beauty casting into the shade every other work of art of which the 
 world can boast. I have stood before the Parthenon, and have 
 almost worshipped that divine achievement of the immortal Phidias ; 
 but it is a toy by the side of this bright crown of the eastern capital. 
 I have been at Milan, at Ephesus, at Alexandria, at Antioch ; but in 
 neither of these renowned cities have I beheld anything that I can 
 allow to approach in united extent, grandeur, and most consummate 
 beauty, this almost more than work of man. On each side of this, the 
 central point, there rose upward slender pyramids, pointed obelisks, 
 domes of the most graceful proportions, columns, arches, and lofty 
 towers, for number and for form beyond my power to describe. 
 These buildings, as well as the walls of the city, being all either of 
 white marble or of some stone as white, and being everywhere in 
 their whole extent interspersed, as I have already said, with multi 
 tudes of overshadowing palm-trees, perfectly filled and satisfied 
 my sense of beauty, and made me feel for the moment as if in 
 such a scene I should love to dwell, and there end my days. Nor 
 was I alone in these transports of delight. All my fellow-travellers 
 seemed equally affected ; and from the native Pahnyrenes, of whom 
 there were many among us, the most impassioned and boastful 
 exclamations broke forth. "What is Rome to this?" they cried. 
 " Fortune is not constant. Why may not Palmyra be what Rome 
 has been mistress of the world ? Who more fit to rule than the 
 great Zenobia ? A few years may sec great changes. Who can 
 tell what shall come to pass?" These, and many such sayings, 
 were uttered by those around me, accompanied by many significant 
 gestures and glances of the eye. I thought of them afterwards. We 
 now descended the hill, and the long line of our caravan moved on 
 towards the city.' 
 
 Among the numerous fictions written as vehicles of moral and 
 religious sentiments, the tales of Margaret and Richard Edney, by 
 the Rev. SYLVESTER JUDD, a clergyman of Augusta, Maine, may 
 be noticed. In their object, these stories are good ; but the author 
 seems to write with a deliberate eccentricity of style. Many 
 scenes of daily life in New England are vividly described, while 
 in other parts of the story the mixture of sacred with ludicrous 
 matters is very offensive. In a poem entitled Philo, an Evangeliad, 
 the author of Margaret surpasses the oddity of his prose-style, 
 and introduces, in the discussion of the most solemn themes,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. JUDD LONGFELLOW. 185 
 
 such words as mu/zy, soggy, munch, mucker, princock. dowse, 
 and queachy. On the whole, it may be said of Mr Judd's 
 writings, that they are unique in American literature. ' P/tiln,' 
 says a reviewer, ' is strictly an original work,' and we mig'ht 
 extend the same praise to the two novels already named. The 
 phrase ' solitary and alone,' ascribed to egotistic orators who 
 boast of their own exploits, might be an excusable pleonasm if 
 used by Mr Judd in describing his own choice of diction. We 
 will venture to say, that nothing like it can be found in the whole- 
 range of literature. We must give one short specimen of the 
 mode of inserting odd words in passages of a serious character. 
 Speaking of the Sabbath in New England, the author says : ' All 
 days are holy ; this is the cream of the week. ... Its light, it& 
 air, its warmth, its sound, its sun, the shimmer of the dawn on 
 the brass cock of the steeple, the look of the meeting-house itself, 
 all things were not as on other days. And now, when those 
 old Sabbaths are almost gone, some latent, indefinable impression 
 of what they were comes over us, and wrenches us into awe, 
 stillness, and regret.' 
 
 The prose-writings of LONGFELLOW, whose poems have been 
 noticed in our review, can hardly be classed with fictions. The 
 iirst entitled Outre-mer, or a Pilgrimage beyond the Sea, consists 
 of sketches of travel in France, Spain, and Italy, interspersed 
 with meditative passages. Hyperion, published in 1839, is partly 
 written on the same plan, but includes a slight texture of narrative, 
 having a moral purport. Its scenes are laid in Germany and 
 Switzerland ; and the tone of thought and sentiment assures us 
 that the work was written under the influence of the study of Ger 
 man literature, especially its poetry and philosophy. Kavanagh, 
 a Tale, has some degree of narrative interest, but the story is 
 broken by several digressions on literary topics. The appended 
 quotation gives the writer's views of national literature. The 
 stranger, Mr Hathaway, must be supposed to represent the 
 young authors who have a wish to cultivate an intensely American 
 style of writing. 
 
 NATIONAL LITERATURE. 
 
 FROM K A V A X A O II. 
 
 ' He announced himself as Mr Hathaway. Passing through the 
 village, he could not deny himself the pleasure of calling on Mr 
 Churchill, whom he knew by his writings in the periodicals, though 
 not personally. He wished, moreover, to secure the co-operation of 
 one already so favourably known to the literary world, in a new 
 magazine he was abouf to establish, in order to raise the character
 
 186 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of American literature, which, in his opinion, the existing reviews 
 and magazines had entirely failed to accomplish. A daily increasing 
 want of something better was felt by the public ; and the time had 
 come for the establishment of such a periodical as he proposed. 
 After explaining in rather a florid and exuberant manner his plan 
 and prospects, he entered more at large into the subject of American 
 literature, which it was his design to foster and patronise. 
 
 " I think, Mr Churchill," said he, " that we want a national litera 
 ture commensurate with our mountains and rivers ; commensurate 
 with Niagara and the Alleghanies, and the great lakes ! " 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " We want a national epic that shall correspond to the size of the 
 country ; that shall be to all other epics what Banvard's Panorama 
 of the Mississippi is to all other paintings the largest iii the 
 world ! " 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " We want a national drama in which scope enough shall be given 
 to our gigantic ideas, and to the unparalleled activity and progress of 
 our people ! " 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "In a word, we want a national literature altogether shaggy 
 and unshorn, that shall shake the earth like a herd of buffaloes 
 thundering over the prairies ! " 
 
 " Precisely," interrupted Mr Churchill ; " but excuse me ! are 
 you not confounding things that have no analogy ? Great has a very 
 different meaning when applied to a river, and when applied to a 
 literature. Large and shallow may perhaps be applied to both. 
 Literature is rather an image of the spiritual world than of the 
 physical, is it not ? of the internal, rather than the external. 
 Mountains, lakes, and rivers are, after all, only its scenery and 
 decorations not its substance and essence. A man will not neces 
 sarily be a great poet because he lives near a great mountain. Nor, 
 being a poet, will he necessarily write better poems than another, 
 because he lives nearer Niagara." 
 
 " But, Mr Churchill, you do not certainly mean to deny the 
 influence of scenery on the mind ? " 
 
 " No, only to deny that it can create genius. At best, it can only 
 develop it. Switzerland has produced no extraordinary poet ; nor, 
 as far as I know, have the Andes, or the Himalaya Mountains, or the 
 Mountains of the Moon in Africa." 
 
 "But, at all events," urged Mr Hathaway, "let us have our 
 literature national. If it is not national, it is nothing." 
 
 " On the contrary, it may be a great deal. Nationality is a good 
 thing to a certain extent, but universality is better. All that is best 
 in the great poets of all countries, is not what is national in them, 
 but what is universal. Their roots are in their native soil ; but 
 their branches wave in the unpatriotic air, that speaks the same 
 language unto all men, and their leaves shine with the illimitable 
 light that pervades all lands. Let us throw all the windows open ;
 
 SECOND PERIOD. E. A. POE. 187 
 
 let us admit the light and air on all sides ; that we may look 
 towards the four corners of the heavens, and not always in the same 
 direction." 
 
 "But you admit nationality to be a good thing ?" 
 
 " Yes, if not carried too far ; still, I confess, it rather limits one's 
 views of truth. I prefer what is natural. Merc nationality is often 
 ridiculous. Every one smiles when he hears the Icelandic proverb : 
 ' Iceland is the best land the sun shines upon.' Let us be natural, 
 and we shall be national enough. Besides, our literature can bo 
 strictly national only so far as our character and modes of thought 
 differ from those of nations. Now, as we are very like the English 
 are, in fact, English under a different sky I do not see how our 
 literature can be very different from theirs. Westward, from hand 
 to hand, we pass the lighted torch, but it was lighted at the old 
 domestic fireside of England." 
 
 " Then you think our literature is never to be anything but an 
 imitation of the English ?" 
 
 " Not at all. It is not an imitation, but, as some one has said, a 
 continuation." 
 
 "It seems to me that you take a very narrow view of the 
 subject." 
 
 " On the contrary, a very broad one. No literature is complete 
 until the language in which it is written is dead. We may well bo 
 proud of our task and of our position. Let us see if we can build in 
 any way worthy of our forefathers." 
 
 " But I insist upon originality." 
 
 " Yes ; but without spasms and convulsions. Authors must not, 
 like Chinese soldiers, expect to win victories by turning somersets in 
 the air." 
 
 " Well, really, the prospect from your point of view is not very 
 brilliant. Pray, what do you think of our national literature 1" 
 
 " Simply, that a national literature is not the growth of a day. 
 Centuries must contribute their dew and sunshine to it. Our own is 
 growing slowly, but surely, striking its roots downward, and its 
 branches upward, as is natural ; and I do not wish, for the sake of 
 what some people call originality, to invert it, and try to make it 
 grow with its roots in the air. And as for having it so savage and 
 wild as you want it, I have only to say, that all literature, as well as 
 all art, is the result of culture and intellectual refinement."' 
 
 The prose-writings of EDGAR A. POE include a series of short 
 stories. Of these, several consist chiefly of details of circum 
 stantial evidence in criminal trials ; others have, as we think, 
 a very morbid character in their topics and mode of treatment. 
 The command of language, power of description, and analytical 
 skill displayed in Poe's tales, are wasted when expended 
 on revolting subjects. The ingenuity of his plots, and the 
 graphic power shewn in many passages, have been very highly
 
 188 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 commended ; but we have found nothing to modify our opinion 
 of the morbid tone of mind so prevalent in his fictions. 
 
 THEODORE S. FAY, who in 1837 was appointed secretary of 
 legation for the United States at the court of Berlin, is the author 
 of several novels, besides shorter tales and magazine-papers. His 
 most successful work, The Countess Ida, published in 1840, is 
 intended as a protest against the custom of duelling. The hero, 
 Claude Wyndham, resides at Berlin, where he endures for some 
 time the insults offered by a certain Lord Elkington, who at last, 
 when other means of bringing about a duel have failed, strikes 
 Wyndham at a court-ball. Denham, the hero's friend, takes up 
 the quarrel, meets the duellist, and is fatally wounded ; while 
 Wyndham, in solitude, is endeavouring to master his passions 
 and maintain his principle. He is exposed to the bitter reproaches 
 of the widow of Denham, and is branded as a coward, and deserted 
 by his best friends. In the end, he vindicates the courage which 
 has sustained him in the midst of his trials. The tale has the 
 faults commonly found in works of fiction constructed with a 
 view to some moral purport. The same purpose is seen in 
 another work by Mr Fay HoboJten, a Romance of New York, 
 published in 1843. The other fictions by this author include 
 Norman Leslie (1835) and Robert Rueful (1844). 
 
 Under the assumed name of Ik. Marvel, one of the younger 
 American authors, DONALD G. MITCHELL, has acquired a reputa 
 tion by various tales and sketches, published under the titles of 
 Reveries of a Bachelor, Dream-life, and Lorgnette, or Studies of 
 the Town. These are partly sentimental, and have too much 
 sameness in their tone of melancholy. It has been remarked, 
 that the study of Irving's sketches has left traces of imitation too 
 evident in the writings of Mitchell. His style has, in many 
 passages, a certain charm of dreamy quietude and pleasurable 
 pensiveness; but when we have read a few pages, we have a 
 desire to vary the tune, or, indeed, to change the key-note. The 
 author of Dream-life might be compared with a musician who 
 knows little of the resources of modulation, and attempts to 
 write a symphony on a few simple chords in one scale. It seems 
 strange to find in American books by young authors a want of 
 the freshness and variety of life. Pathos has its place in fiction, 
 but should leave room for other moods of mind. For more 
 detailed characteristics of this writer, we may refer to a review, 1 
 from which a passage may be quoted here : ' Mr Mitchell does 
 not bear reading from cover to cover. The want of sustained 
 
 1 In Putnam's Monthly, No. 1.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. MAYO WISE MELVILLE. 189 
 
 interest in his books, and the very fragmentary manner in which 
 he arranges them, are indeed unfavourable to a continuous 
 
 perusal There is a sameness about their very perfections 
 
 that wearies us as we go on. They are the champaign lands of 
 sentiment : beautiful levels, over which an hour's gallop or a day's 
 meditation is charming ; but to stay there for any length of time, 
 induces terrible lassitude and mental depression.' 
 
 The reader who is wearied by sentimental fiction, may find 
 relief in turning to the tales of adventure by Dr MAYO, Lieutenant 
 WISE, and HERMANN MELVILLE. To write a grave critique on 
 these books, would be ridiculous; and to make any protest against 
 the extravagances of the writer last named, would be useless; for 
 it would never be read by those who find delight in the pages 
 of Mardi, Kaloolah, and similar tales. It must not be supposed 
 that we deny the peculiar merits of these romances : we intend 
 only to shew the impossibility of giving any critical account of 
 them. They must be received as reports of the fluent, careless, 
 and often brilliant talk of imaginative travellers, or dreamers of 
 travel, who have written without any care for rules of art, or fear 
 of critics. The passion for reading of the class to which we refer, 
 is a curious feature in recent years. It prevails in England and 
 Germany as in America. As practical life becomes tame and 
 monotonous, the youthful imagination goes back to barbarism 
 and the wildness of nature, to find excitement. Tales of 
 adventure by land and sea, in the forests, or on the prairies of 
 the far west, or highly coloured pictures of sensuous and 
 luxurious life in the islands of the South Seas these supply 
 the intellectual refreshment of numerous young readers, and lure 
 away their minds from the study of realities. The wildness of 
 Melville's stories Typee, Omoo, Mardi, and others seems to be 
 infectious ; for in a review of Mardi, we find a critic writing in 
 the following style : ' Reading this wild book, we can imagine 
 ourselves mounted upon some Tartar steed, golden caparisons 
 clank around our person, ostrich plumes of driven whiteness hang 
 
 over our brow, and cloud our vision with dancing snow 
 
 Away, away, along the sandy plain ! ' &c. This is perhaps our 
 most concise mode of indicating the rhapsodical style of the book 
 itself. Typee, the first of Melville's hooks, tells the story of two 
 sailors who escaped from their ship, and landed on an island of 
 the Pacific, where they were received by the Typee natives, with 
 whom they lived luxuriously, feasting on sucking-pigs and bread 
 fruit, and enjoying all the licence of a primitive state of society. 
 Mardi intermingles with its voluptuous scenery a dreamy 
 philosophy of which we can give no clear account.
 
 190 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Kaloolah, by Dr Mayo, is a comparatively sober tale of 
 adventures, beginning among the Red Indians, and ending with 
 an account of the hero's marriage with the princess of Kiloam, 
 a highly civilised country in the interior of Africa. Los Gringos, 
 by Lieutenant Wise, is a lively series of adventures, including 
 the author's perils while engaged in carrying dispatches during 
 the Mexican war. 
 
 Mr Kimball's St Leger; Harry Franco, by Mr Briggs ; and The 
 Confessions of a Poet, by Laughton Osborn, may be mentioned 
 here as fictions which have gained some reputation. It has been 
 frequently asserted, that America is deficient in humorous, imagi 
 native literature. Among the writers in this department, we 
 find the names of Irving, Paulding, Verplanck, Sanderson, Neal, 
 Matthews, and others who have written light satirical sketches 
 of character and manners. Among recent publications, several 
 books of a light humorous description have been produced in 
 the southern and western states. 
 
 JOHN SANDERSON (1785-1844) commenced writing for the 
 periodical press in the beginning of the present century. In 
 1820, he wrote the first and second of the eight volumes of the 
 Lives of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence. After a 
 tour in Europe, he published his series of letters, entitled The 
 American in Paris (1839), which was reprinted in London ; and 
 commenced a similar work, The American in London, of which 
 some parts appeared in the Knickerbocker Magazine. Sanderson 
 is described by his friends as a quiet and amiable man, whose 
 satirical powers were always restrained by his good-nature. On 
 one occasion, when he had satirised with an unusual freedom an 
 absent person, he went out after midnight, and in a storm, to 
 express his regret for having indulged in such a licence. It may 
 be supposed that a man of this temper could not be a very 
 pungent satirist. 
 
 Our want of knowledge of the originals may perhaps explain 
 the fact, that we cannot appreciate the humour of the burlesque 
 sketches of low characters found in the writings of NEAL and 
 Matthews. The Cliarcoal. Sketches of the former have had a 
 wide circulation in America, and have been partly reprinted in 
 London. But in these times, when a mere apparent cheapness is 
 regarded, by many booksellers, as almost the sole quality wanted 
 in a popular book, a wide circulation proves nothing in favour 
 of the real worth of the American works so profusely reprinted. 
 ' Mr Neal's style,' says Griswold, ' is neat and graceful, and
 
 SECOND PERIOD. CORNELIUS MATTHEWS. 191 
 
 frequently sparkling arid witty. He writes as if he had little or 
 no sympathy Avith his creations, and as if he were a calm spec 
 tator of acts and actors, whimsical or comical an observer rather 
 by accident than from desire. It is not always so, however, 
 since in some of his sketches he exhibits not only a happy 
 faculty for the burlesque, and singular skill in depicting character, 
 but a geniality and heartiness of appreciation which carry the 
 reader's feelings along with his fancy.' 
 
 The Career of Puffer Hopkins, by CORNELIUS MATTHEWS, 
 professes to be ' characteristic and national in its features,' and is 
 intended to represent the progress of ' a vulgar politician.' Its 
 sketches of the lower classes in New York indicate that the 
 author has studied and imitated the manner of Dickens. One 
 specimen may be quoted. It describes the labours of a political 
 canvasser, named Hobbleshank, who is employed to collect votes 
 among the sailors residing in Water Street : 
 
 THE CANVASSER. 
 
 'There was one that toiled in Puffer's behalf more like a spirit 
 than a man a little shrunken figure, that was everywhere for days 
 before the canvass a universal presence, breathing in every ear tho 
 name of Puffer. There was not a taproom that he did not haunt ; 
 no obscure alley into which he did not penetrate, and make its 
 reeking atmosphere votal with his praises. Wherever a group of 
 talkers or citizens were gathered, the little old man glided in and 
 dropped a word that might bear fruit at the ballot-box. At night 
 fall he would mix with crowds of shipwrights, 'prentices, and 
 labourers, and kindle their rugged hearts with the thought of the 
 young candidate. 
 
 He stopped not with grown men and voters, but seizing moments 
 when he could, he whispered the name in children's ears, that, being 
 borne to parents by gentle lips, it might be mixed with kindly 
 recollections, and so be made triumphant. 
 
 It was given out that the Blinkerites had established or discovered 
 in some under-ground tenements that never saw light of day, a 
 great warren of voters. When the toilsome old man learned of this 
 burrow that was to be sprung against his favourite, he looked about 
 for an equal mine, whence voters might bo dug in scores, at a 
 moment's notice, should occasion demand. With this in view, one 
 afternoon he entered Water Street, at Peck Slip, like a skilful 
 miner, as though a great shaft had been sunk just there. 
 * * * * 
 
 Ho passed from house to house, making friends in each. Some 
 times he made his way into the bar-room, where, seated against 
 the wall, on benches all around the sanded floor, with dusty 
 bamboo rods, alligator skins, outlandish eggs, and sea- weeds plucked
 
 192 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 among the CaribLees or the Pacific islands, or some far-off shore, 
 he would linger by the hour, listening with all the wondering 
 patience of a child, to their ocean-talk. And when they were 
 through, he would draw a homely similitude between their story 
 the perils their ship had crossed with the good ship of state ; and 
 then tell them of a young friend of his, who was on trial before the 
 ship's crew for a master's place. Before he left, in nine cases out of 
 ten they gave their hands for Puffer, sometimes even rising and 
 confirming it with a cheer that shook the house, and brought their 
 messmates thronging in from the neighbourhood, when the story 
 would be recited to them by a dozen voices, and new recruits to 
 Puffer's side enrolled. 
 
 The little old man true to the interest he had first shewn bent 
 himself with such hearty good-will to liis task, that when, after 
 many days' labour, he left "Water Street at its other extremity, 
 there was not a ripe old Salt that was not gathered, nor a tall 
 young sailor that was not harvested for the cause. And so he 
 pursued the task he had set to himself without faltering, without a 
 moment's pause. For days before the contest came on, he was out 
 at sunrise, moving about wherever a vote could be found ; nursing 
 and maturing it for the polling-day, as a gardener would a tender 
 plant ; watching and tending many out-of-the-way places, and by a 
 skilful discourse, a chance word, an apt story, ripening it against 
 the time when it was to be gathered.' 
 
 NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS. 
 
 A biographical notice of N. P. WILLIS has already been given, 
 with some account of his poems. His prose-writings include 
 Pencillings by the Way, Inklings of Adventure, Dashes at Life with 
 a Free Pencil, Letterings of Travel, Letters from under a Bridge, 
 and various sketches of scenery, travels, and manners, first 
 published in the Home Journal, and reprinted under the title 
 Hnrrygraplis. It must be noticed, that the same writings by 
 Willis have appeared under several titles. Thus the Pencillings 
 have partly been reprinted under the title, Famous Persons and 
 Famous Places. Life Here and There consists of a collection of 
 ' sketches of society and adventure, at far apart times and places.' 
 People I have Met, is a remarkable specimen of a book with a 
 false title ; for while it professes to give ' pictures of society and 
 people of mark, drawn under a thin veil of fiction,' its sketches 
 are imaginary and extravagant. We have still to mention Fun 
 Jottings, and A Summer Cruise in the Mediterranean.
 
 SECOND PEKIOI). X. P. WILLIS. 193 
 
 It is obvious that it must be difficult to classify strictly 
 these several miscellanies. We notice them in the department of 
 fiction, as they include many tales, though the descriptive and 
 gossipping papers are more characteristic and entertaining than 
 the stories. In all liis writings, Willis sustains the lively, 
 conversational style he represents as 'the present fashion' 
 in literature. In recommending his own fluency, he refers to 
 the examples of other successful writers, and informs us that 
 ' Thackeray's novels are stenographed from his everyday rattle 
 
 with his intimates In writing a book now-a-days, the 
 
 less you "smell of the shop," the better it sells.' The maxim of 
 Horace, too trite to be quoted, suggests itself here. We do not 
 see clearly why, in this world of variety, a writer or a speaker 
 should confine himself to one tone or manner, however lively it 
 may be. Even Bottom could leave ' Ercles' vein,' and take up a 
 ' more condoling' strain. The incessant liveliness of Willis may 
 suit a short story or a single chapter of gossip ; but in the course 
 of a whole volume, it becomes wearisome. It has another defect, 
 as it injures the writer's descriptive powers. He never forgets 
 himself in the object described, but is himself constantly present 
 to the reader. Two of his best descriptive passages are the 
 sketches of Trenton Falls and the promontory of Nahant ; but 
 in these, as in others, the prominent object is the writer himself, 
 as modified by the influence of these localities. At Niagara, his 
 vivacity is so remarkable, that the proper title of x the description 
 would be ' A lively Sketcher, as seen at the Falls.' 
 
 The Pfncilllngs by the Way include some of the best specimens 
 of the writer's descriptive talent. The prose is fluent, and free 
 from the extremes of the ' hurrygraph' style seen in later sketches. 
 With regard to personalities, enough has been said on both sides ; 
 and we will remark only that Willis, in writing sketches of the 
 talk and manners of eminent living men, adopted a style of gossip 
 which, in recent times, has become too common. We have now 
 on our table a sketch of the living editor of a well-known news 
 paper. It seems to have been written as a climax, and for the 
 purpose of exposing to ridicule all similar attempts. With a 
 well-sustained air of seriousness, the writer informs the public 
 that Mr G. looks rather old when seen by a spectator walking 
 behind him ; that he wears occasionally a white coat, whereby 
 hangs, a tale (relative to its purchase) ; that one of his legs is 
 slightly shorter than the other ; that, standing without his shoes, 
 he measures so many feet and inches in height ; and that he 
 weighs so many stones, allowing for each fourteen pounds. 1 This 
 
 1 Life of Horace Greeley, Editor of the New York Tribune. By J. Parton. 
 M
 
 194 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 caricature -will, we hope, have some good effect on the literature 
 of personalities. 
 
 There is some ingenuity in the apology offered by Willis for 
 his own portraitures of living authors and public characters. He 
 observes that the ' Atlantic ' between England and America is 
 equal to a century hi removing contemporaries to a suitable 
 distance. Of course, this argument applies only to American 
 readers, and is made futile by reprints in England. Another 
 mode of defence is very objectionable : 
 
 'For the living portraitures of the hook, I have a word to say. 
 That sketches of the whim of the hour, its manners, fashions, and 
 those ephemeral trifles which, slight as they are, constitute in a 
 great measure its "form and pressure" that these, and familiar 
 traits of persons distinguished in our time, are popular and amusing, 
 I have the most weighty reasons certainly to know. They sell' 
 
 Scenes in ' high life' occupy too much space in these and other 
 sketches. A foreign writer, having the graphic talent of Willis, 
 might have found in England a far greater variety of aspects of 
 life and society ; and, without offence, might have written freely 
 and instructively on many characteristics which can hardly be 
 viewed impartially by Englishmen. But his attention was too- 
 much occupied by the gilded cupola, and sparingly bestowed on 
 the main structure of our society. Many of the lighter traits 
 noticed in the sketcher's diary might be suitable for a newspaper, 
 but appear ridiculous when reprinted and circulated in numerous 
 editions. 
 
 In his contrasts of manners at home and abroad, the sketcher 
 is sometimes too severe with regard to his own countrymen, or at 
 least he seems to imply more than is true. His rather solemn 
 and overdrawn sketch of the ' repose of high life,' would suggest 
 that loud talking and ' overpowering ' demeanour are common in 
 the best circles of American society ; but this, we believe, is not 
 true. Most probably there is a degree of caricature on both 
 sides of the picture ; for, we trust, it would not be easy to find 
 ' the high-bred Englishman' who is 'just as calm' and ' technical' 
 ' in describing the death of his friend ' 'as in discussing the 
 weather.' A want of guarded expressions in writing judgments on 
 whole classes of society, is seen in another passage. No doubt, 
 there is some truth in it : every impartial traveller in America has 
 noticed the hopefulness and consequent activity of numerous sober, 
 industrious, and intelligent workmen who there see an open path 
 to success and comfort ; and he must have contrasted these traits 
 with the sad apathy of all higher feelings too common among the 
 lowest class in England. But the following sketch is exaggerated,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. N. P. WILLIS. 195 
 
 or not properly qualified. We quote it, however, because it is 
 quite as fair as some English sketches of American classes : 
 
 ' During the four or five hours that I was playing the hanger-on 
 to a vulgar and saucy custom-house officer at Liverpool, one or two 
 contrasts crept in at my dull eyes contrasts between what I had 
 left, and what was before me. The most striking was the utter want 
 of hope in the countenances of the working-classes the look of 
 dogged submission and animal endurance of their condition of life. 
 They act like horses and cows. A showy equipage goes by, and they 
 have not the curiosity to look up. Their gait is that of tired 
 donkeys, saving as much trouble at leg-lifting as possible. Their 
 mouths and eyes are wholly sensual, expressing no capability of a 
 want above food. Their dress is without a thought of more than 
 warmth and covering drab covered with dirt. Their voices are a 
 half-note above a grunt. Indeed, comparing their condition with 
 the horse, I would prefer being an English horse to being an 
 English working-man. And you will easily see the very strong 
 contrast there is between this picture and that of the ambitious and 
 lively working-men of our country.' 
 
 'It is extraordinary, 1 says Willis, 'how universal' [in England 
 and Scotland, he means to say] ' the feeling seems to be against 
 America.' This is a fair specimen of many vague and unfounded 
 statements which have a tendency to produce that bad feeling 
 which they presuppose. What inquiry had the sketcher made 
 before he hazarded this broad assertion ? To say nothing of any 
 other class of society, a universal national antipathy must be 
 shared by the working-classes, the vast majority of the people of 
 Great Britain ; but what signs have they ever given of this 
 supposed hatred of America? It is ludicrous to read the trivial 
 anecdote on which so grave a statement is made to hang. The 
 tourist, on his way to Edinburgh, was annoyed by a rude and 
 talkative individual in the cabin of a steamer. ' Opposite me,' he 
 says, ' sat a pale, severe-looking Scotchman, who had addressed 
 one or two remarks to me, and, upon an uncommon burst of 
 uproariousness' [among a party of ladies], ' he laughed with the 
 rest, and remarked "that the ladies were excusable, for they 
 were doubtless Americans, and knew no better." ' 
 
 ' " It strikes me," said I, " that both in manners and accent they arc 
 particularly Scotch." 
 
 " Sir ! " said the pale gentleman. 
 
 " Sir ! " said several of my neighbours on the right and left. 
 
 " Have you ever been in Scotland ?" asked the pale gentleman 
 with rather a ferocious air. 
 
 " No, sir ! Have you ever been in America ?" 
 
 " No, sir ! but I have read Mrs Trollope."
 
 196 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " And I have read Cyril Thornton ; and the manners delineated 
 in Mrs Trollope, I must say, are rather elegant in comparison." 
 
 I particularised the description I alluded to, winch will occur 
 immediately to those who have read the novel I have named ; and 
 then confessing I was an American, and withdrawing my illiberal 
 remark, which I had only made to shew the gentleman the injustice 
 and absurdity of his own, we called for another glass of whisky, and 
 became very good friends. Heaven knows, I have no prejudice 
 against the Scotch, or any other nation but it is extraordinary how 
 universal the feeling seems to be against America. A half-hour 
 incog, in any mixed company in England, I should think would 
 satisfy the most rose-coloured doubter on the subject.' 
 
 In the same style, Willis writes of a supposed English pre 
 judice against books written by American authors ! ' There is 
 little need,' he says, ' of widening the ditch of prejudice over 
 which American books must jump to be read in England.' 
 The success of Irving might have induced the sketcher to 
 reconsider his assertion. Later American writers have surely 
 had no reason to complain. The fact is notorious, that American 
 literature has been more than fairly represented in the English 
 market. On account of the state of copyright-law, the number 
 of cheap reprints of works issued from the presses of New 
 York, Philadelphia, and Boston, has been so great, that we 
 might rather complain of a prejudice in favour of the works of 
 Willis, Longfellow, Hawthorne, and other Americans. In fact, 
 such has been the prominence of their names on our railway-book 
 stalls and the counters of provincial cheap booksellers, that a 
 foreigner, judging by appearances, might conclude that England, 
 for its current literature, depended on America ! It would be 
 useless to say more of a mere absurdity, deserving notice only as 
 a specimen of many random assertions made by travellers. 
 
 In several short papers, originally published in his own news 
 paper, and afterwards collected and reprinted under the odd title 
 Hurrygraphs, Mr Willis undertakes the duties of arbiter elegan- 
 tiarum in American society. Of the faithfulness of his sketches, 
 or the justice of his strictures on fashions and manners, we do 
 not profess to be able to give an opinion. The writer asserts that, 
 after all the criticism called forth by his sketches of English 
 society, not a single incorrectness has ever been proved, or even 
 charged upon them. It is reasonable, therefore, to suppose that 
 his accounts of life in New York must be accurate, at least with 
 regard to certain classes. 
 
 We pass over many criticisms and eulogies on musical artists 
 and lecturers, and can find little to say in commendation of 
 the tales Ernest Clay, Edith Linscy, Lady Rachel, and others
 
 SECOND PERIOD. N. P. WILLIS. 197 
 
 included in the writer's miscellanies. His best qualities are seen 
 in his descriptive passages ; and it appears probable that, if lie 
 had concentrated on a well-selected task the attention which has 
 been engaged upon a wide range of miscellaneous topics, he might 
 have fulfilled the promise made in one of his prefaces. As an 
 example of his quiet and more accurate style of description, we 
 select the following passage from Pendllings by the Way: 
 
 THE CLIMATES OF ENGLAND AND AMERICA COMPARED. 
 
 ' It is almost a matter of course to decry the climate of England. 
 The English writers themselves talk of suicidal montJis; and it is 
 the only country where part of the livery of a mounted groom is his 
 master's great-coat, strapped ahout his waist. It is certainly a damp 
 climate, and the sun shines less in England than in most other 
 countries. But to persons of full habit, this moisture in the air 
 is extremely agreeable ; and the high condition of all animals in 
 England, from man downward, proves its healthfulncss. A stranger 
 who has been accustomed to a brighter sky, will at first find a gloom 
 in the gray light so characteristic of an English atmosphere; but 
 this soon wears off, and he finds a compensation, as far as the eye is 
 concerned, in the exquisite softness of the verdure, and the deep 
 and enduring brightness of the foliage. The effect of this moisture 
 on the skin is singularly grateful. The pores become accustomed 
 to a healthy action, which is unknown in other countries ; and the 
 bloom by which an English complexion is known all over the world, 
 is the index of an activity in this important part of the system, 
 which, when first experienced, is almost like a new sensation. The 
 transition to a dry climate such as ours, deteriorates the condition 
 and quality of the skin, and produces a feeling, if I may so express 
 it, like that of being glazed. It is a common remark in England, 
 that an officer's wife and daughters follow his regiment to Canada 
 at the expense of their complexions ; and it is a well-known fact, 
 that the bloom of female beauty is, in our country, painfully 
 evanescent. 
 
 The climate of America is in many points very different from 
 that of France and Great Britain. In the middle and northern 
 states, it is a dry, invigorating, and bracing climate, in which a strong 
 man may do more work than in almost any other, and which makes 
 continual exercise, or occupation of some sort, absolutely necessary. 
 With the exception of the " Indian summer," and here and there a 
 day scattered through the spring and the hot months, there is no 
 weather tempered so finely, that one would think of passing the day 
 in merely enjoying it, and life is passed by those who have the 
 misfortune to be idle, in continual and active dread of the elements. 
 The cold is so acrid, and the heat so sultry, and the changes from 
 one to the other are so violent, that no enjoyment can be depended 
 upon out of doors, and no system of clothing or protection is good 
 for a day together. He who has full occupation for head and hand
 
 198 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 as by far the greatest majority of our countrymen have may live 
 as long in America as in any portion of the globe ride the bills of 
 mortality. He whose spirits lean upon the temperature of the wind, 
 or whose nerves require a genial and constant atmosphere, may find 
 more favourable climes ; and the habits and delicate constitutions of 
 scholars, and people of sedentary pursuits generally, in the United 
 States, prove the truth of the observation. 
 
 The habit of regular exercise in the open air, which is found to be so 
 salutary in England, is scarcely possible in America. It is said, and 
 said truly, of the first, that there is no day in the year when a lady 
 may not ride comfortably on horseback ; but with us the extremes 
 of heat and cold, and the tempestuous character of our snows and 
 rains, totally forbid to a delicate person anything like regularity in 
 exercise. The consequence is, that the habit rarely exists ; and the 
 high and glowing health so common in England, and consequent, no 
 doubt, upon the equable character of the climate in some measure, 
 is with us sufficiently rare to excite remark. " Very English- 
 looking!" is a common phrase, and means very healthy-looking. 
 Still, our people last; and though I should define the English climate 
 as the one in which the human frame is in the highest condition, I 
 should say of America, that it is the one in which you could get the 
 most work out of it.' 
 
 As specimens of livelier and more fanciful sketches. \ve might 
 select, if our space would permit, the papers on several interesting 
 localities in America. A sketch of the promontory of Nahant is 
 one of the best ; but here, on the shore of the Atlantic, the writer 
 places himself in the foreground, and makes the description serve 
 as an introduction to the tale of a quarrel about a ' hair-brush.' 
 A passage from the account of a visit to Niagara may be quoted, 
 as it is characteristic of the -writer, and will at least explain, if it 
 does not justify, our censures: 
 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 ' As I came nearer the Fall, a feeling of disappointment came 
 over me. I had imagined Niagara a vast body of water descending 
 as if from the clouds. The approach to most falls is from below, 
 and we get an idea of them as of rivers pitching down to the plain 
 from the brow of a hill or mountain. Niagara River, on the contrary, 
 comes out from Lake Erie through a flat plain. The top of 
 the cascade is ten feet, perhaps, below the level of the country 
 around consequently invisible from any considerable distance. 
 You walk to the bank ,of a broad and rapid river, and look over the 
 edge of a rock, where the outlet flood of an inland sea seems to have 
 broken through the crust of the earth, and, by its mere weight, 
 plunged with an awful leap into an immeasurable and resounding 
 abyss. It seems to strike and thunder upon the very centre of the
 
 SECOND PERIOD. N. P. WILLIS. 199 
 
 world, and the ground beneath your feet quivers with the shock 
 till you feel unsafe upon it. 
 
 Other disappointment than this I cannot conceive at Niagara. 
 It is a spectacle so awful, so beyond the scope and power of every 
 other phenomenon in the world, that I think people who are disap 
 pointed there, mistake the incapacity of their own conception for the 
 want of grandeur in the scene. 
 
 The "hell of waters" below needs but a little red ochre to out- 
 Phlegethon Phlegethon. I can imagine the surprise of the gentle 
 element, after sleeping away a se'nnight of moonlight in the peaceful 
 bosom of Lake Erie, at finding itself of a sudden in such a coil ! 
 A Mediterranean sea-gull, which had tossed out the whole of a 
 January in the infernal "yeast" of the Archipelago (was I not 
 all but wrecked every day between Troy and Malta in a score of 
 successive hurricanes ?) I say, the most weather-beaten of sea-birds 
 would look twice before he ventured upon the roaring caldron below 
 Niagara. It is astonishing to see how far the descending mass is 
 driven under the surface of the stream. As far down towards Lake 
 Ontario as the eye can reach, the immense volumes of water rise 
 like huge monsters to the light, boiling and flashing out in rings of 
 foam, with an appearance of rage and anger that I have seen in no 
 other cataract in the world. 
 
 " A nice fall, as an Englishman would say, my dear Job." 
 
 "Awful!" 
 
 Halleck, the American poet a better one never "strung pearls" 
 has written some admirable verses on Niagara, describing its 
 effect on the different individuals of a mixed party, among whom 
 was a tailor. The sea of incident that has broken over me in the 
 years of travel, has washed out of my memory all but the two lines 
 descriptive of its impression upon Snip : 
 
 " The tailor made one single note 
 ' Gods ! what a place to sponge a coat ! ' " 
 
 " Shall we go to breakfast, Job ?" 
 
 " How slowly and solemnly they drop into the abysm ! " 
 
 It was not an original remark of Mr Smith's. Nothing is so 
 surprising to the observer, as the extraordinary deliberateness with 
 which the waters of Niagara take their tremendous plunge. All 
 hurry, and foam, and fret, till they reach the smooth limit of the 
 curve, and then the laws of gravitation seem suspended ; and, like 
 Cscsar, they pause, and determine, since it is inevitable, to take the 
 death-leap with becoming dignity. 
 
 "Shall we go to breakfast, Job?" I was obliged to raise my 
 voice, to be heard, to a pitch rather exhausting to an empty stomach. 
 
 His eyes remained fixed upon the shifting rainbows bending and 
 vanishing in the spray. There was no moving him, and I gave in 
 for another five minutes. 
 
 "Do yon think it probable, Job, that the waters of Niagara strike 
 on the axis of the world ?" 
 
 No answer.
 
 200 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Job ! " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Do you think his majesty's half of the cataract is finer than 
 ours ?" 
 
 K Much." 
 
 " For water, merely, perhaps. But look at the delicious verdure 
 on the American shore, the glorious trees, the massed foliage, the 
 luxuriant growth even to the very rim of the ravine ! By Jove ! it 
 seems to me things grow better in a republic. Did you ever see a 
 more barren and scraggy shore than the one you stand upon ?" 
 
 " How exquisitely," said Job soliloquising, " that small green 
 island divides the Fall ! What a rock it must be founded on, not 
 to have been washed away in the ages that these waters have split 
 against it ! " 
 
 " I'll lay you a bet it is washed away before the year two thousand 
 payable in .any currency with which we may then be conversant." 
 
 " Don't trifle." 
 
 "With time, or geology, do you mean? Isn't it perfectly clear, 
 from the looks of that ravine, that Niagara has backed up all the 
 way from Lake Ontario ? These rocks are not adamant, and the 
 very precipice you stand on has cracked, and looks ready for the 
 plunge. It must gradually wear back to Lake Erie, and then there 
 will be a sweep I should like to live long enough to see. The 
 instantaneous junction of two seas, with a difference of two hundred 
 feet in their levels, will be a spectacle eh, Job ?" 
 
 "Tremendous !" 
 
 " Do you intend to wait and see it, or will you come to breakfast ?" 
 
 He was immovable. I left him on the rock, went up to the hotel, 
 and ordered mutton-chops and coffee ; and when they were on the 
 table, gave two of the waiters a dollar each to bring him up nolens 
 volens. He arrived in a great rage, but with a good appetite ; and 
 
 we finished our breakfast just in time to meet Miss as she 
 
 stepped, like Aurora, from her chamber.' 
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 The author of The House of the Seven Gables, and other tales 
 and romances, is a native of the dull old town of Salem, in 
 Massachusetts, so famous for its witchery in the days of Cotton 
 Mather. Hawthorne, in one of his prefaces, seems to ascribe to 
 the traditions of his birthplace a certain influence on his own 
 imagination. Of the incidents of his life, we have little to record. 
 He graduated in 1825 at Bowdoin College, in Maine, and soon 
 afterwards began to write tales and sketches, which appeared in 
 periodicals, but failed to attract general notice. Several of these 
 early writings are included in the two volumes of Twice-told
 
 SECOND PERIOD. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 201 
 
 Tales, published in 1837 and 1842. The author was at one time 
 a member of the company who endeavoured to establish a 
 co-operative fraternity at Brook Farm, in Roxbury. At another 
 time, we find him musing in the solitude of the Old Manse, by 
 the river at Concord, of which he has given a very pleasant 
 description in the introduction to his work, Mosses from an Old 
 Manse (1846). From his quiet hermitage at Concord, Hawthorne 
 returned to Salem, where he was appointed surveyor of customs. 
 After three years of enjoyment, or suffering, in this place, the 
 Whigs expelled him from office, and he reappeared as a writer 
 of fiction. Since the publication of his BKthedale Romance, he 
 has received another appointment under government, and now 
 resides in England. 
 
 It is not easy to characterise briefly such writings as the Twice- 
 told Tales, Mosses, and The House of the Seven Gables. To say that 
 they consist of tales, sketches, and allegories, tells nothing of 
 Hawthorne's peculiarities. ' There is not unfrequently an incom 
 pleteness in his choicest productions His plots are seldom 
 
 well devised or skilfully developed Indeed, he is often 
 
 most successful where he does not even attempt narration, but 
 selects some single scene, object, or incident, as the nucleus for 
 a cluster of fancies and musings melancholy, grave, humorous, 
 or gay.' These fragments of criticism are true, but fail to make 
 a complete portrait. To apply to Hawthorne the praise bestowed 
 on another writer : ' He seems to enter into the very tone of 
 feeling, the spirit of a landscape, or the atmosphere of a house 
 hold, and reproduce them, not only to our perceptions, but almost 
 to our sensations.' It is easy to notice separate characteristics ; 
 but we are not sure of success in attempting to explain clearly the 
 general purport of Hawthorne, or the peculiar vein of thought 
 which gives individuality to his stories. We have heard of a 
 reflective man who, on all ordinary occasions, conversed ' like a 
 man of this world,' but on certain topics intruded a quasi-German 
 and not very transparent phraseology. It was hinted that his style 
 might be improved with regard to clearness. ' Sir,' he replied, 
 ' for many years my favourite study has been psychology.' This 
 is the best key we can find to the riddles in Hawthorne's tales. 
 He employs fiction, not to illustrate practical life, not to add to 
 the creations of the imaginative world, but to elucidate psycho 
 logical problems. In our reading of several characters drawn 
 in The House of the Seven Gables and The Blithedale Romance, we 
 regard them not as men and women, but as walking and talking 
 psychological problems, wandering in search of a solution. These 
 remarks are not applicable to the strictly allegorical writings of 
 Hawthorne ; for example, his Celestial Railroad. In other tales-,
 
 202 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 more or less allegorical, he partly adopts the manner of Tieck 
 and Fouque. The best critique on his earlier writings is found in 
 one of his own magazine-papers, but is too long to be quoted 
 here. 
 
 The external features of a work of fiction may be fantastic and 
 visionary, while the heart of the story, if so we may speak of its 
 inner meaning, may be sound and true. This rule is exemplified 
 in the best specimens of dreamy tales by German authors for 
 instance, the goblin-story of Red-mantle, by Fouque and may 
 be fairly applied to several of the tales or sketches of Hawthorne. 
 Considered merely as tales, they are often poor, and the poverty 
 of characters and plot-interest suggests that the writer would 
 have succeeded better in allegory. This opinion is supported 
 by the skill displayed in the satirical allegory of The Celestial 
 Railroad, which is nothing less than a sequel to The Pilgrim's 
 Progress of Bunyan. The nature of the subject precludes 
 quotation of the most pointed passages in the satire, but a few 
 incidents of a humorous description may be noticed. 
 
 It must be premised, that the railroad is intended as a vast 
 modern improvement on the old difficult and dangerous route 
 so well described by Bunyan. ' The old enemies of the foot- 
 travellers have been " bought over " by offices on the new road,' 
 and several ancient incumbrances have been set aside. For 
 example, ' the enormous burdens, instead of being carried on our 
 shoulders, as had been the custom of old, were snugly deposited 
 in the baggage-car, and, as I was assured, would be delivered to 
 their respective owners at the journey's end.' Mr Great-Heart's 
 services were set aside. He had grown ' preposterously stiff and 
 narrow hi his old age,' having so often guided pilgrims over the 
 road on foot, that he considered it a sin to travel in any other 
 fashion. A bridge has been made over the Slough of Despond, 
 but in a rather hasty mode of construction, so that it vibrates 
 uncomfortably as the car passes over. However, the travellers, 
 without accident, arrive at the station-house, where a suppositi 
 tious ' Evangelist ' presides at the ticket-office. The satire in the 
 sketch of the Dark Valley is rather too serious to be noticed here, 
 excepting a single portrait of one of the most difficult subjects 
 that ever tried the skill of an artist. Even Theodore Parker and 
 his friends must smile at such a sketch as the following : 
 
 'At the end of the valley, as John Bunyan mentions, is a cavern, 
 where, in his days, dwelt two cruel giants, Pope and Pagan, who 
 had strewn the ground about their residence with the bones of 
 slaughtered pilgrims. These vile old troglodytes are no longer 
 there ; but in their deserted cave another terrible giant has thrust 
 himself, and makes it his business to seize upon honest travellers,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 203 
 
 and fat them for his table with plentiful meals of smoke, mist, 
 moonshine, raw potatoes, and saw-dust. He is a German by birth, 
 and is called Giant Transcendentalist ; but as to his form, his features, 
 his substance, and his nature generally, it is the chief peculiarity of 
 this huge miscreant, that neither he for himself, nor anybody for 
 him, has ever been able to describe them. As we rushed by the 
 cavern's mouth, we caught a hasty glimpse of him, looking some 
 what like an ill-proportioned figure, but considerably more like a 
 heap of fog and duskiness. He shouted after us, but in so strange a 
 phraseology, that we knew not what he meant, nor whether to be 
 encouraged or%ffrighted.' 
 
 Escaping from this 'heap of fog and duskiness,' we arrive 
 safely in Vanity Fair, where we purpose making a long stay, as 
 we learn that there is no longer that ' want of harmony between 
 the towns-people and pilgrims ' of which Banyan complained. 
 We cannot touch the theological improvements in the ancient 
 ' city of Vanity,' but must notice lighter matters, such as the 
 substitutes for study, learning, and so-called heavy literature. This 
 is all superseded by the labours of ' innumerable lecturers, who 
 diffuse such a various profundity in all subjects of human or 
 celestial science, that any man may acquire an omnigenous 
 
 erudition without the trouble of even learning to read 
 
 Thought and study are done to every person's hand, without 
 his putting himself to the slightest inconvenience in the matter.' 
 But the grand attractions of the old city are found in its splendid 
 bazaars : 
 
 ' It was well worth one's while, even if he had no idea of buying 
 or selling, to loiter through the bazaars, and observe the various 
 sorts of traffic that were going forward. 
 
 Some of the purchasers, I thought, made very foolish bargains. 
 For instance, a young man having inherited a splendid fortune, laid 
 out a considerable portion of it in the purchase of diseases, and 
 finally spent all the rest for a heavy lot of repentance and a suit of 
 rags. A very pretty girl bartered a heart as clear as crystal, and 
 which seemed her most valuable possession, for another jewel of the 
 same kind, but so worn and defaced as to be utterly worthless. In 
 one shop, there were a great many crowns of laurel and myrtle, 
 which soldiers, authors, statesmen, and various other people, pressed 
 eagerly to buy ; some purchased these paltry wreaths with their 
 lives ; others by a toilsome servitude of years; and many sacrificed 
 whatever was most valuable, yet finally slunk away without the 
 crown. There was a sort of stock or scrip, called Conscience, which 
 seemed to be in great demand, and would purchase almost anything. 
 Indeed, few rich commodities were to be obtained without paying a 
 heavy sum in this particular stock, and a man's business was seldom 
 very lucrative, unless he knew precisely when and how to throw his 
 hoard of Conscience into the market. Yet as this stock was the
 
 204 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 only thing of permanent value, whoever parted with it was sure to 
 find himself a loser in the long-run. Several of the speculations 
 were of a questionable character. Occasionally, a member of 
 Congress recruited his pocket by the sale of his constituents ; and 
 I was assured that public officers have often sold their country at 
 very moderate prices. Thousands sold their happiness for a whim. 
 Gilded chains were in great demand, and purchased with almost any 
 sacrifice. In truth, those who desired, according to the old adage, 
 to sell anything valuable for a song, might find customers all over 
 the Fair; and there were innumerable messes of pottage, piping hot, 
 for such as chose to buy them with their birthrights. *A few articles, 
 however, could not be found genuine at Vanity Fair. If a customer 
 wished to renew his stock of youth, the dealers offered him a set of 
 false teeth and an auburn wig ; if he demanded peace of mind, they 
 recommended opium or a brandy-bottle.' 
 
 Hawthorne has written nothing more pleasant and characteristic, 
 than the sketch of his own experience in the custom-house at 
 Salem. The dilapidated old wharf, and the custom-house, with 
 its drooping banner of the Republic, and an ' enormous specimen 
 of the American eagle' over the entrance of the great brick 
 building, are graphically treated ; but the writer's skill is more 
 apparent in the portraits of the officials and other persons who 
 haunt the place : ' the sea-flushed shipmaster, just in port, with his 
 vessel's papers under his arm in a tarnished tin-box;' the owner 
 cheerful or sombre, according to the success of his adventure, and 
 ' the germ of the wrinkle-browed, grizzly-bearded, care-worn 
 merchant, the smart young clerk, who gets the taste of traffic 
 as a wolf-cub does of blood, and already sends adventures in his 
 master's ships when he had better be sailing boats upon a mill- 
 pond.' On ascending the steps, we find in the entry ' a row of 
 venerable figures sitting in old-fashioned chairs, which were tipped 
 on their hind-legs back against the wall. Oftentimes they were 
 asleep, but occasionally might be heard talking together in voices 
 between speech and a snore, and with that lack of energy that dis 
 tinguishes the occupants of alms-houses and all other human beings 
 who depend for subsistence on charity, on monopolised labour, 
 or on anything else but their own independent exertions. These 
 old gentlemen, seated, like Matthew, at the receipt of custom, but 
 not very liable to be summoned thence, like him, for apostolic 
 
 errands, were custom-house officers They were ancient 
 
 sea-captairis for the most part, who, after being tossed on every 
 sea, and standing up sturdily against life's tempestuous blast, had 
 finally drifted into this quiet nook.' 
 
 ' Two or three of their number, as I was assured being gouty and 
 rheumatic, or perhaps bedridden, never dreamed of making their
 
 SECOND PERIOD. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 205 
 
 appearance at the custom-house during a large part of the year; 
 but, after a torpid winter, would creep out into the warm sunshine 
 of May or June, go lazily about what they termed duty, and at their 
 own leisure and convenience bt>t;iko themselves to bed again. I 
 must plead guilty to the charge of abbreviating the official breath of 
 more than one of these venerable servants of the Republic. They 
 were allowed, on my representation, to rest from their arduous 
 labours; and soon afterwards as if their sole principle of life had 
 been zeal for their country's service, as I verily believe it was 
 withdrew to a better world. It is a pious consolation to me, that, 
 through my interference, a sufficient space was allowed them for 
 repentance of the evil and corrupt practices into which, as a matter 
 of course, every custom-house officer must be supposed to fall. 
 Xeithor the front nor the back entrance of the custom-house opens 
 on the road to Paradise. 
 
 # # * * 
 
 It pained, and at the same time amused me, to behold the terrors 
 that attended my advent to see a furrowed cheek, weather-beaten 
 by half a century of storm, turn ashy pale at the glance of so harmless 
 an individual as myself to detect, as one or another addressed me, 
 the tremor of a voice which in long-past days had been wont to 
 bellow through a speaking-trumpet, hoarsely enough to frighten 
 Boreas himself to silence. They knew, these excellent old persons, 
 that, by all established rule and, as regarded some of them, weighed 
 by their own lack of efficiency for business they ought to have 
 given place to younger men more orthodox in politics, and altogether 
 fitter than themselves to serve our common Uncle. I knew it too, 
 but could never quite find in my heart to act upon the knowledge. 
 Much and deservedly to my own discredit, therefore, and considerably 
 to the detriment of my official conscience, they continued, during my 
 incumbency, to creep about the wharfs, and loiter up and down the 
 custom-house steps. They spent a good deal of time, also, asleep 
 in their accustomed corners, with their chairs tilted back against 
 the wall awaking, however, once or twice in a forenoon, to bore 
 one another with the several thousandth repetition of old sea- 
 stories and mouldy jokes, that had grown to be pass-words and 
 countersigns among them. 
 
 * # t # 
 
 It was pleasant, in the summer forenoons, when the fervent heat, 
 that almost liquefied the rest of the human family, merely commu 
 nicated a genial warmth to their half-torpid systems it was pleasant 
 to hear them chatting in the back-entry, a row of them all tipped 
 against the wall, as usual ; while the frozen witticisms of past 
 generations were thawed out, and came bubbling with laughter from 
 their lips. Externally, the jollity of aged men has much in common 
 with the mirth of children ; the intellect, any more than a deep sense 
 of humour, has little to do with the matter; it is, with both, a gleam 
 that plays upon the surface, and imparts a sunny and cheery aspect 
 alike to the green branch and gray mouldering trunk. In one case,
 
 206 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 however, it is real sunshine; in the other, it more resembles the 
 phosphorescent glow of decaying wood.' 
 
 As a specimen of quiet humour, this sketch of the old men in 
 Salem custom-house may be compared with the best passages of 
 the same kind in the writings of Washington Irving. A more 
 satirical humour, yet without bitterness, appears in the portrait 
 of the inspector a man of fourscore years, ' one of the most 
 wonderful specimens of winter-green,' with his florid cheek and 
 compact figure, brisk and vigorous step, and smartly arrayed in 
 a bright -buttoned blue coat. ' The careless security of his life in 
 the custom-house, on a regular income, and with but slight and 
 infrequent apprehensions of removal, had no doubt contributed to 
 make tune pass lightly over him. The original and more potent 
 pauses, however, lay in the rare perfection of his animal nature, 
 the moderate proportion of intellect, and the very trifling admixture 
 of moral and spiritual ingredients ; these latter qualities, indeed, 
 being in barely enough measure to keep the old gentleman from 
 walking on all-fours.' 
 
 ' One point, in which he had vastly the advantage over his 
 four-footed brethren, was his ability to recollect the good dinners 
 which it had made no small portion of the happiness of his life to 
 eat. His gourmandism was a highly agreeable trait ; and to hear 
 him talk of roast-meat was as appetising as a pickle or an oyster. 
 As he possessed no higher attribute, and neither sacrificed nor 
 vitiated any spiritual endowment by devoting all his energies and 
 ingenuities to subserve the delight and profit of his maw, it always 
 pleased and satisfied me to hear him expatiate on fish, poultry, and 
 butcher's meat, and the most eligible methods of preparing them for 
 the table. His reminiscences of good cheer, however ancient the 
 date of the actual banquet, seemed to bring the savour of pig or 
 turkey under one's very nostrils. There were flavours on his palate 
 that had Lingered there not less than sixty or seventy years, and 
 were still apparently as fresh as that of the mutton-chop which he 
 had just devoured for his breakfast. I have heard him smack his lips 
 over dinners, every guest at which, except himself, had long been 
 food for worms.' 
 
 These sketches are enough to prove that Hawthorne has a 
 peculiar graphic power, and writes with genial humour. The 
 quiet and easy, yet original style, marked by natural yet unhack 
 neyed combinations, assures us that the writer thinks and speaks 
 for himself, and in his own way a great merit, and quite distinct 
 from mere eccentricity. That such a style should have been so 
 often employed to treat unpleasant, and even revolting subjects, 
 must be regretted. In other cases, where the author has selected 
 homely and familiar themes, his skilful touches remind us of
 
 SECOND PERIOD. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 207 
 
 Ostade's pictures, in which beautiful effects of light are reflected 
 from brass kettles, earthen pots, and other culinary utensils. 
 
 The personal narrative which serves as a preface to Tlie Scarlet 
 Letter^ is, to our taste, more agreeable than the romance, which, 
 while it has all the charms of Hawthorne's style, is in substance 
 a very unpleasant story. In this, as in other works, the writer's 
 powers of mind seem superior to his themes ; and the reader may 
 suppose that, in Hawthorne, a truly poetical genius lias been 
 depressed, and otherwise injured, by poring over the rather gloomy 
 annals of New England in the olden time. The characters in 
 the story may be regarded as so many curious specimens hi 
 morbid psychology, rather than as real men and women. The 
 general effect is gloomy ; but an exception must be made in 
 favour of the visionary little girl Pearl, whose presence in many 
 scenes is like a ray of light in a dark wood. The passions 
 chiefly portrayed are remorse in one character Dimmesdale ; 
 and long-cherished implacable revenge in another Chillingworth. 
 There is something dreamy or perhaps we might say mystical 
 in many passages ; but the mysticism is not in the language, 
 which a reviewer has happily likened to ' a sheet of transparent 
 water, reflecting from its surface' blue skies, nodding woods, and 
 the smallest spray or flower that peeps over its grassy margin ; 
 while in its clear yet mysterious depths we espy rarer and 
 stranger things, which we must dive for, if we would examine.' l 
 Here and there deep thoughts are uttered, as when we read of 
 one ' who wanted what some people want throughout life a 
 grief that should deeply touch her, and thus humanise and make 
 her capable of sympathy.' 
 
 The tale is rich in passages of picturesque beauty, and the 
 writer has a singular power of breathing, if we may so speak, a 
 sentiment through every picture. Thus we read of a forest- 
 walk : 
 
 ' The road, after the two wayfarers had crossed from the penin 
 sula to the mainland, was no other than a footpath. It straggled 
 onward into the mystery of the primeval forest. This hemmed 
 it in so narrowly, and stood so black and dense on either side, and 
 disclosed such imperfect glimpses of the sky above, that to Hester's 
 mind it imaged not amiss the moral wilderness in which she had 
 so long been wandering. The day was chill and sombre. Overhead 
 was a gray expanse of cloud, slightly stirred, however, by a breeze ; 
 so that a gleam of flickering sunshine might now and then be seen 
 at its solitary play along the path. This flitting cheerfulness was 
 always at the further extremity of some long vista through the 
 forest. The sportive sunlight feebly sportive, at best, in the 
 
 i Forth American Rcvittc, >"o. 148, p. 146.
 
 208 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 predominant pensiveness of the day and scene withdrew itself as 
 they came nigh, and left the spots where it had danced the drearier 
 because they had hoped to find them bright.' 
 
 Little Pearl, the child whose infancy is overshadowed by the 
 sorrow and shame of her parents, attends her mother in this walk 
 through the forest ; and by an exquisite art the scenery is made 
 to symbolise the life of the child : 
 
 ' Thus conversing, they entered sufficiently deep into the wood to 
 secure themselves from the observation of any casual passenger 
 along the forest-track. Here they sat down on a luxuriant heap of 
 moss, which, at some epoch of the preceding century, had been a 
 gigantic pine, with its roots and trunk in the darksome shade, and 
 its head aloft in the upper atmosphere. It was a little dell where 
 they had seated themselves, with a leaf-strewn bank rising gently 
 on either side, and a brook flowing through the midst, over a bed of 
 fallen and drowned leaves. The trees impending over it had flung 
 down great branches, from time to time, which choked up the 
 current, and compelled it to form eddies and black depths at some 
 points ; while, in its swifter and livelier passages, there appeared a 
 channel-way of pebbles, and brown sparkling sand. Letting the 
 eyes follow along the course of the stream, they could catcli the 
 reflected light from its water, at some short distance within the 
 forest, but soon lost all traces of it amid the bewilderment of tree- 
 trunks and underbrush, and here and there a huge rock, covered 
 over with gray lichens. All these giant trees and boulders of 
 granite seemed intent on making a mystery of the course of this 
 small brook ; fearing, perhaps, that, with its never-ceasing loquacity, 
 it should whisper tales out of the heart of the old forest whence it 
 flowed, or mirror its revelations on the smooth surface of a pool. 
 Continually, indeed, as it stole onward, the streamlet kept up a 
 babble kind, quiet, soothing, but melancholy like the voice of a 
 young child that was spending its infancy without playfulness, and 
 knew not how to bo merry among sad acquaintance and events of 
 sombre hue. 
 
 " brook ! foolish and tiresome little brook ! " cried Pearl, after 
 listening awhile to its talk. " Why art thou so sad ? Pluck up a 
 spirit, and do not be all the time sighing and murmuring ! " 
 
 But the brook, in the course of its little lifetime among the 
 forest trees, had gone through so solemn an experience, that it could 
 not help talking about it, and seemed to have nothing else to say. 
 Pearl resembled the brook, inasmuch as the current of her life 
 gushed from a well-spring as mysterious, and had flowed through 
 scenes shadowed as heavily with gloom. But, unlike the little 
 stream, she danced and sparkled, and prattled airily along her 
 course 
 
 The child went singing away, following up the current of the 
 brook, and striving to mingle a more lightsome cadence with its 
 melancholy voice. But the little stream would not be comforted,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 209 
 
 and still kept telling its unintelligible secret of some very mournful 
 mystery that had happened or making a prophetic lamentation 
 about something that was yet to happen within the verge of the 
 dismal forest. So Pearl, who had enough of shadow in her own 
 little life, chose to break off all acquaintance with this repining 
 brook. She set herself, therefore, to gathering violets and wood- 
 anemones, and some scarlet columbines that she found growing in 
 the crevices of a high rock.' 
 
 It should be observed, that the passages here quoted are by no 
 means fair specimens of the whole story, for its most powerful 
 scenes are those of a gloomy character. The internal sufferings 
 of the fallen minister Dimmesdale, are described with an ability 
 as remarkable as the author's choice of a subject ; but the 
 malignant and revengeful Chillingworth is so darkly coloured, 
 that the man vanishes, and we see only a dismal goblin. 
 
 Thf. House of the Seven Gables is the most complete and charac 
 teristic of the writer's works. We ha,ve not space to give the 
 incidents of its story, but may point to the photograph portraiture 
 of the old house, with its heir-loom of misery, presented to the 
 imagination with such oppressive fulness of details, that at last 
 we sympathise with one of the inmates who longs to pull down 
 the whole structure. The sufferings of pride and poverty in the 
 person of the old maid, during her commencement of petty 
 shop- keeping, are described with admirable fidelity. 
 
 The Blltliedale Romance will disappoint readers who expect to 
 find in it any fair account of the socialist experiment at Brook 
 Farm ; for the colony serves merely as scenery, the characters 
 are fictitious, and the result is produced by accidents, proving 
 nothing, either good or bad, respecting the theory or working 
 of co-operative societies. Hollingsworth, the leading character, 
 may be described as a professor of abstract benevolence, who 
 does not condescend to ordinary human kindness. Several scenes 
 and detached passages are marked by the writer's usual graphic 
 power ; but the story is forced to lead to a certain moral : the 
 catastrophe is unreal, : and in the concluding misery of the hero 
 we have no sympathy ; we do not see a human being suffering 
 all we observe is a rather curious psychological problem involved 
 in certain difficulties.
 
 210 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 PROSE-FICTION AND MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. 
 
 CATHERINE M. SEDGWICK MRS CHILD SABAH J. HALE CABOLIXE 
 
 M. KIRKLAND ELIZA LESLIE MRS STOWE MISS PLANCHE ' FANXV 
 
 FEBN ' MISS COOPEB MABGABET FULLER. 
 
 It may be well to repeat, in this place, our remark that the 
 relative merits of writers cannot in every instance be fairly 
 represented by the proportions of our notices. While we 
 endeavour, on the whole, to give prominence to the more national 
 and characteristic portions of American belles-lettres, we must 
 decline the task of arranging strictly every work in the order of 
 merit : it would be especially difficult in the department of fiction, 
 where so many questions of taste may occur. 
 
 CATHERINE M. SEDGWICK, born in the village of Stockbridge, 
 first appeared as an authoress in 1822, when her New England Tale 
 was published. Two years later, the tale of Redwood attracted 
 notice, and was followed in 1827 by Hope Leslie; in 1830, by 
 Clarence; in 1832, by Le Bossu and in 1835, by The Linwoods, 
 and a collection of tales gathered from the magazines. In the 
 following year, Miss Sedgwick commenced a series of moral tales 
 under the titles The Poor Rich Man and the Rich Poor Man ; 
 Live and Let Live (1837) ; and Means and Ends. Besides these, 
 the amiable authoress has written several stories for children, 
 magazine-articles, a Life of the Poetess Lucretia M. Davidson, and 
 notices of a tour in Europe. 
 
 In descriptions of the joys and sorrows of domestic life, and in 
 development of the affections belonging to home, Miss Sedgwick 
 has been very successful. Her tales, without injury to then- 
 readable quality, have been made vehicles of sound practical 
 wisdom and healthy sentiment ; while the characters introduced 
 have, in several instances, a marked individuality. The manners 
 of New England are faithfully portrayed, and the relations 
 described as existing between the several classes of society may 
 suggest some useful lessons to English readers. Miss Sedgwick 
 is an American writer, not only in her choice of subjects, but also 
 in her tone of thought and feeling, her warm sympathy with the 
 labouring-classes, her contempt of the tinsel, and her respect for 
 the realities of life. It is well that American literature, in 
 the department of fiction, should begin with such tales as Home, 
 or Live and Let Live; and the legislation, or rather want of 
 legislation, which would discourage this home-bred literature, and
 
 SECOND PERIOD. C. M. SEDGWICK. 211 
 
 would afford unfair facilities for the spread of morbid French 
 stories and fashionable English novels, is a melancholy proof that 
 astute politicians may understand little of the best wealth of 
 nations. It is not easy to select from Miss Sedgwick's tales short 
 specimens of independent interest. We might notice the admir 
 able letter of Mrs Fletcher in Hope Leslie, but it requires to be 
 prefaced by a sketch of character. The following passage may be 
 chosen, because it describes faithfully one of the characteristics of 
 old times in America : 
 
 THE SABBAT1I IN NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 FROM HOPE LESLIE. 
 
 ' The observance of the Sabbath began with the Puritans, as it 
 still does with a great portion of their descendants, on Saturday 
 night. At the going down of the sun on Saturday, all temporal 
 affairs were suspended ; and so zealously did our fathers maintain 
 the letter, as well as the spirit of the law, that, according to a vulgar 
 tradition in Connecticut, no beer was brewed in the latter part of 
 the week, lest it should presume to work on Sunday. 
 
 It must be confessed that the tendency of the age is to laxity ; 
 and so rapidly is the wholesome strictness of primitive times abating, 
 that should some antiquary, fifty years hence, in exploring his 
 garret rubbish, chance to cast his eye on our humble pages, he may 
 be surprised to learn that, even now, the Sabbath is observed, in the 
 interior of New England, with an almost Judaical severity. 
 
 On Saturday afternoon, an uncommon bustle is apparent. The 
 great class of procrastinators are hurrying to and fro to complete 
 the lagging business of the week. The good mothers, like Burns's 
 matron, are plying their needles, making " auld claes look amaist 
 as weel's the new ;" while the domestics, or Jielps (we prefer the 
 national descriptive term), are wielding with might and main their 
 brooms and mops to make all tidy for the Sabbath. 
 
 As the day declines, the hum of labour dies away, and after the 
 sun is set, perfect stillness reigns in every well-ordered household, 
 and not a footfall is heard in the village street. It cannot be 
 denied, that even the most scriptural, missing the excitement of 
 their ordinary occupations, anticipate their usual bedtime. The 
 obvious inference from this fact is skilfully avoided by certain 
 ingenious reasoners, who allege that the constitution was originally 
 so organised as to require an extra quantity of sleep on every 
 seventh night. We recommend it to the curious to inquire how 
 this peculiarity was adjusted when the first day of the week was 
 changed from Saturday to Sunday. 
 
 The Sabbath-morning is as peaceful as the first hallowed day. 
 Not a human sound is heard without the dwellings, and but for the 
 lowing of the herds, the crowing of the cocks, and the gossipping of 
 the birds, animal life would seem to be extinct, till, at the bidding of
 
 212 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the church-going bell, the old and young issue from their habitations, 
 and, with solemn demeanour, bend their measured steps to the 
 meeting-house the families of the minister, the squire, the doctor, 
 the merchant, the modest gentry of the village, and the mechanic 
 and labourer, all arrayed in their best, all meeting on even ground, 
 and all with that consciousness of independence and equality, which 
 breaks down the pride of the rich, and rescues the poor from 
 servility, envy, and discontent. If a morning salutation is recipro 
 cated, it is in a suppressed voice ; and if, perchance, nature, in some 
 reckless urchin, burst forth in laughter u My dear, you forget it's 
 Sunday," is the ever-ready reproof. 
 
 Though every face wears a solemn aspect, yet we once chanced 
 to see even a deacon's muscles relaxed by the wit of a neighbour, 
 and heard him allege, in a half-deprecating, half-laughing voice, " The 
 squire is so droll, that a body must laugh, though it be Sabbath-day." 
 
 The farmer's ample wagon, and the little one-horse vehicle, bring 
 in all who reside at an inconvenient walking-distance that is to 
 say, in our riding community, half a mile from the church. It is a 
 pleasing sight, to those who love to note the happy peculiarities of 
 their own land, to see the farmers' daughters, blooming, intelligent, 
 well-bred, pouring out of these homely coaches, with their nice 
 white gowns, prunel shoes, Leghorn hats, fans and parasols, and the 
 spruce young men, with their plaited ruffles, blue coats, and yellow 
 buttons. The whole community meet as one religious family, to 
 offer their devotions at the common altar. If there is an outlaw 
 from the society a luckless wight, whose vagrant taste lias 
 never been subdued he may be seen stealing along the margin of 
 some little brook, far away from the condemning observation and 
 troublesome admonitions of his fellows. 
 
 Towards the close of the day, or, to borrow a phrase descriptive 
 of his feelings who first used it, " when the Sabbath begins to abate" 
 the children cluster about the windows. Their eyes wander from 
 their Catechism to the western sky, and, though it seems to them as 
 if the sun would never disappear, his broad disc does slowly sink 
 behind the mountain ; and while his last ray still lingers on the 
 eastern summits, merry voices break forth, and the ground resounds 
 with bounding footsteps. The village belle arrays herself for her 
 twilight walk ; the boys gather on "the green ;" the lads and girls 
 throng to the " singing-school ;" while some coy maiden lingers at 
 home, awaiting her expected suitor ; and all enter upon the pleasures 
 of the evening with as keen a relish as if the day had been a 
 preparatory penance.' 
 
 Mrs DAVID LEE CHILD, the author of several moral stories 
 and other works which have been reprinted in England, commenced 
 writing as a novelist in Hobomok, a tale of New England in the 
 times of the Pilgrims. This was followed by The Rebels (1825) ; 
 Philothea, a romance of Athens in the days of Pericles (1835) ; Fact
 
 SECOND PERIOD. CHILD HALE KIRKLAND. 213 
 
 and Fiction; and various other tales, besides numerous contributions 
 to periodicals, chiefly marked by benevolent and sometimes rather 
 mystical tendencies. In other works, Mrs Child has appeared as 
 a practical utilitarian, and has discoursed of the secrets of good 
 housekeeping. In her most ambitious book, Philothea, an 
 attempted modern-antique, she introduces Plato as one of the 
 chief characters, and makes the philosopher talk in a style more 
 characteristic of Boston than of ancient Athens. The authoress 
 is more successful in her minor works such as the Neighbour-in- 
 law, or the Beloved Time in which the hopeful benevolence of 
 her own character finds expression. Of the mystical and specu 
 lative portions of her miscellanies, we can give no clear account. 
 The Letters from New York may be described as the most 
 characteristic of Mrs Child's writings. 
 
 NortJuvood, by SARAH J. HALE, is described as a tale containing 
 faithful portraitures of society in New England. Among many 
 other fictions which might be noticed, if our space would permit, 
 we may allude to the writings of Mrs 0. Smith, Mrs Farrar, Mrs 
 Stephens, Miss Macintosh, Mrs Gilman, and Mrs Judson, who 
 has written under the pseudonym of Fanny Forrester. Dollars 
 and Cents, a tale by Amy Lothrop, The Wide, Wide World, and 
 Queednj, by Miss Warner, must be mentioned as tales that have 
 had a wide circulation, and have been commended for their moral 
 and religious tendency. The Lamplighter belongs to the same 
 class of fictions. 
 
 CAROLINE M. KIRKLAND, the authoress of several lively tales 
 and sketches of society in the western settlements, is a native of 
 New York. Of her biography, we know little more than that 
 she married the amiable and accomplished William Kirkland, with 
 whom she lived some years at Geneva, on the Seneca Lake, and 
 afterwards in Michigan and in New York, until 1846, when her 
 husband was accidentally drowned in the Hudson river. 
 
 In 1839, Mrs Kirkland published, under a pseudonym, her first 
 book of western sketches, entitled a New Home, which was fol 
 lowed in 1842 by a work of similar character, Forest Life ; and in 
 1845, her Western Clearings appeared. These tales and sketches 
 give, in fresh and lively colours, portraits and groups evidently 
 taken from life on the western frontiers of civilisation. The traits 
 of character are often boldly drawn ; but caricature is avoided, 
 and the truthfulness of Mrs Kirkland's portraits is admitted by all 
 who are competent to judge. The unrestrained manners ; the 
 assertion of equality, almost bordering upon Communism ; the 
 plain-speaking selfishness, not so intense as that species found in
 
 214 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 cities, but perfectly undisguised : these, and other features of 
 society in the West, are portrayed by the authoress in a racy 
 style, and with as much delicacy and refinement as her subjects 
 would allow. Good sense, genial humour, and poetical feeling 
 in descriptions of nature, are the chief characteristics of these 
 truly American sketches. 
 
 Mrs Kirkland has also published Holidays Abroad, giving the 
 impressions of her travels in England and on the continent in 
 1837, or about that time. As an example of the errors into 
 which even a shrewd and sensible tourist may fall, in making 
 statements without due inquiry, we may notice, in this book, 
 the grave assertion, that the court of Great Britain is almost 
 entirely closed against men of eminence in literature and science, 
 and that learning, or the power of writing a good book, implies 
 'loss of caste' in the highest circles of British society. Another 
 American writer states, very confidently, that when the death 
 of Dr Southey left the office of poet-laureate vacant, the name 
 of the proposed successor Wordsworth was unknown at the 
 court of England ! 
 
 To return to the West where we find Mrs Kirkland at home 
 it would be unfair to select from her books the grotesque sketches 
 of rude life, and leave them without their context. The coarse 
 ness must be taken with its redeeming accompaniments of honesty, 
 hospitality, and enterprise. It is almost startling to read of the 
 extent to which the habit of ' loaning' (borrowing) is earned. 
 'This excellent reason, "cause you've got plenty,"' says Mrs 
 Kirkland, ' is conclusive as to sharing with your neighbours. 
 Whoever comes into Michigan with nothing, will be sure to better 
 his condition ; but wo to him that brings with him anything like 
 an appearance of abundance, whether of money or mere household 
 conveniences ! To have them, and not be willing to share them 
 in some sort with the whole community, is an unpardonable 
 crime. You must lend your best horse qui que cc, soit to go ten 
 miles over hill and marsh, in the darkest night, for a doctor ; or 
 your team to travel twenty after a " gal : " your wheel-barrows, 
 your shovels, your utensils of all sorts, belong, not to yourself, 
 but to the public, who do not think it necessary even to aslc a 
 loan, but take it for granted. The two saddles and bridles of 
 Montacute spend most of their time travelling from house to 
 house a-man-back ; and I have actually known a stray martingale 
 to be traced to four dwellings two miles apart, having been lent 
 from one to another, without a word to the original proprietor, 
 who sat waiting, not very patiently, to commence a journey.' 
 
 This is nothing to the climax of a woman who wished ' to 
 borrow her neighbour's baby ! ' but we must remember that the
 
 SECOND PERIOD. C. SI. KJRKLAND. 215 
 
 habit carried to this absurd extreme, arose from the necessities 
 of forest-life. 
 
 SCENE AT A POPULAR ELECTION. 
 
 ' " Gentlemen !" said the orator, taking off his hat, and waving it 
 in a courteous and inviting manner, while he wiped his brow with a 
 faded cotton handkerchief" Gentlemen ! may I beg your attention 
 for a few moments. You are aware that I do not often draw very 
 largely on your patience, and also that I am not a man who is fond 
 of talking about himself. It is indeed a most unpleasant thing to 
 me, to be in a manner forced to advocate my own cause $. and nothing 
 short of the desire I feel to have an opportunity of advancing tho 
 interest of my friends and neighbours in the legislature, would induce 
 me to submit to it." 
 
 Somebody groaned : " Oh, Tim, that's tough !" 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen ! as you observe, it is tough ; it is a thing that 
 always hurts a man's feelings. But, as I was observing, we must go 
 through with whatever is for the good of our country. The greatest 
 good of the greatest number, / say ! " 
 
 By this time the auditory had greatly increased, and comprised 
 indeed nearly all the voters. Mr Rice went on with increasing 
 animation. 
 
 " This is the principle to go upon, and if this was only carried out, 
 we should all have been better off long ago. This is where the 
 legislature wants mending. They always stop short of the right 
 3iiark. They get frightened, gentlemen ! yes, frightened, scar't ! 
 They always have a lot of these small souls among them souls cut 
 after a scant pattern souls that are afraid of their own shadows 
 that object to all measures that would really relieve the people, so 
 they just give the people a taste to keep them quiet, and no more, 
 for fear of what folks a thousand miles off would say! You've 
 heard of the jackass that was scar't at a penny-strumpet well, these 
 jackasses are scar't at what isn't louder than a penny-trumpet, nor 
 half so loud." 
 
 Here was a laugh, which gave the orator time to moisten his 
 throat from a tumbler handed up by a friend. 
 
 " Now you see, gentlemen, nobody would have said a word against 
 that exemption bill, if everybody was as much in favour of the 
 people as I am. I don't care who knows it, gentlemen / am in 
 favour of the people. Don't the people want relief ? And what 
 greater relief can they have, than not to be obliged to pay their 
 debts, when they have nothing to pay them with ? that is, nothing 
 that they can spare conveniently. I call that measure a half-way 
 measure, gentlemen it is a measure that leaves a way open to take 
 a man's property if he happens to have a little laid by a little of 
 his hard earnings, gentlemen ; and you all know what hard 
 earnings are. 
 
 " What is the use of having the privilege of making laws, if wo
 
 216 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 can't make them to suit ourselves ? "We might as well be a Territory 
 again, instead of a sovereign State, if we are a-going to legislate to 
 favour the people of other States, at the expense of our own people. 
 I don't approve of the plan of creditors from other States coming 
 here to take away our property. Folks are very fond of talking 
 about honesty and good faith, and all that. As to faith, they may 
 talk, but I'm more for works ; and the man that works hard and 
 can't pay his debts, is the one that ought to be helped, in my 
 judgment. 
 
 " They '11 tell you that the man that sues for a debt is owing 
 somebody else, and wants his money to pay with. Now, / say, he's 
 just the man that ought to feel for the other, and not want to crowd 
 him hard up. Besides, if we pass exemption laws, don't we help 
 him too ? Isn't it as broad as it's long ?" 
 
 A murmur of applause. 
 
 " Then as to honesty ; where '11 you find an honest man, if not 
 among the people ? and such measures are on purpose to relieve the 
 people. The aristocracy don't like 'em perhaps, but who cares what 
 they like ? They like nothing but grinding the face of the poor." 
 
 Here a shout of applause, and a long application to the tumbler. 
 
 " Gentlemen," continued Mr Rice, " some people talk as if what 
 debts were not paid were lost, but it is no such thing. What one 
 man don't get, t'other keeps ; so it 's all the same in the long-run. 
 Folks ought to be accommodating, and if they are accommodating, 
 they won't object to any measures for the relief of the people ; and 
 if they don't want to be accommodating, we'll just make 'em, 
 that's all ! 
 
 " Some say it 's bad to keep altering and altering the laws, till 
 nobody knows what the law is. That's a pretty principle, to be 
 sure ! What do we have a legislature for, I should be glad to know, 
 if not to make laws ? Do we pay them two dollars and fifty cents a 
 day to sit still and do nothing ? Look at the last legislature. They 
 did not hold on above two months, and passed rising of two hundred 
 laws, and didn't work o' Sundays neither ! Such men are the men 
 you want, if they'll only carry the laws far enough to do some good. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen, I see the poll's open, and I s'pose you want to 
 be off, so I will not detain you much longer. All I have to observe 
 is, that although I am far from commending myself, I must give you 
 my candid opinion, that a certain person, who has thrust himself 
 before the public on this occasion, is unworthy of the suiFrages of a 
 free and enlightened community like this. He 's a man that 's 
 always talking about doing justice to all, and keeping up the repu 
 tation of the State, and a great deal more stuff of the same sort ; but 
 it 's all humbug ! nothing else ; and he has an axe of his own to 
 grind, just like the rest of us. And worse than all, gentlemen, as 
 you very well know, he's one of these tee-totallers, that are trying 
 to coax free-born Americans to sign away their liberty, and make 
 hypocrites of 'em. I'm a man that will never refuse to take a glass 
 of grog with a fellow-citizen because he wears a ragged coat.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. ELIZA LESLIE. 217 
 
 Liberty and equality, / say Hurrah for liberty and equality ! tlircc 
 cheers for liberty and equality, and down with the tee-totallers ! " 
 
 The orator had been so attentive to the tumbler, that the sincerity 
 of the latter part of his speech at least could not be doubted ; and, 
 indeed, his vehemence was such as to alarm Seymour, who felt 
 already somewhat ashamed of the cause he was bound to advocate, 
 and who feared that a few moro tumblers would bring Tim to a 
 point which would render his advocacy unavailing. He therefore 
 sought an opportunity of a few moments' private talk with the 
 candidate, and ventured to hint that, if he became so enthusiastic 
 that he could not stand, he would have very little chance of sitting 
 in the legislature. 
 
 Now, Mr Rice liked not such quiet youths as our friend Seymour, 
 and especially in his present elevated frame did he look down with 
 supreme contempt upon anything in the shape of advice on so 
 delicate a subject ; so that Seymour got an answer which by no 
 means increased his zeal in Mr Rice's service, though he still resolved 
 to do his best to fulfil the wishes of Mr Hay. 
 
 Rice's conduct throughout the day was in keeping with the 
 beginning which we have described ; and such was the disgust with 
 which it inspired Seymour, that he at length concluded to quit the 
 field, and tell Mr Hay frankly that it was impossible for him to 
 further the interests of so unprincipled a candidate.' 
 
 ELIZA LESLIE, sister of the eminent painter C. R. Leslie, is a 
 lively and sarcastic sketcher of manners. Her Pencil Sketches 
 give some remarkable instances of the power of an easy and 
 fluent style in carrying the reader through 'a story of which the 
 incidents are very trivial. For example, in the sketch of ' That 
 Gentleman,' the passengers on a liner bound for New York are 
 curious to learn the name of a reserved individual, and the 
 captain refuses to give it. At last, after many pages of suspense, 
 when we hope for some striking explanation of the mystery, we 
 find nothing more than the fact, that the name is Sir St John 
 St Ledger, and that it was kept secret because its sibilation 
 offended the ears of the captain. In caricatures of vulgarity 
 and affectation, Miss Leslie writes with great zest and liveliness, 
 as may be seen in the sketch of ' Mrs Washington Potts;' but 
 ridiculous traits should be contrasted with the better features 
 of society, in order to make satire truthful and wholesome. 
 
 The story of Mrs Marsden's ambition to become acquainted 
 with Mrs Potts, a vulgar woman of fashion, is a fair satire on the 
 petty worship of aristocracy which prevails here and there in the 
 United States. As this feature in American society has been 
 frequently ridiculed, it should not be forgotten that it is the 
 genuine growth of the old country. Our British homage, paid, in 
 season and out of se'ason, to the distinctions of rank and title, is a
 
 218 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 common object of ridicule among continental people. A German 
 prince cannot travel through our country without laughter at the 
 solemnities of our court-circular and other ' records of movements 
 in high life.' Mrs Kirkland observes that this species of worship 
 appears more ridiculous in America, because it is there copied on 
 a small scale. ' We must laugh,' says she, ' when we see the 
 managers of a city-ball admit the daughters of wholesale merchants, 
 while they exclude the families of merchants who sell at retail ; 
 and still more, when we come to the " new country," and observe 
 that Mrs Penniman, who takes in sewing, utterly refuses to 
 associate with her neighbour Mrs Clay because she goes out 
 sewing by the day ; and that our friend Diggins, being raised a 
 step in the world by the last election, signs all his letters of 
 friendship " D. Diggins, Sheriff." ' 
 
 To return to Miss Leslie's satirical story. Mrs Washington 
 Potts is described as ' a charming woman, who makes strange 
 mistakes in talking.' She is travelling in America with an 
 English family the Montagues who assume the style of 
 aristocracy. Their exclusiveness excites the ambition of Mrs 
 Marsden, who employs all possible means of attracting their 
 notice. At last she succeeds, and the distinguished travellers 
 accept her invitation. Among other arrangements for the 
 entertainment of the party, a certain homespun and rather 
 uncouth relative of the Marsdens Aunt Quimby is set aside or 
 confined to her own chamber. But in the midst of all the 
 charming talk of high life, this original old lady escapes from her 
 room, and introduces herself to the guests. Miss Leslie must 
 narrate the sequel : 
 
 'At this juncture to the great consternation of Mrs Marsden 
 and her daughter who should make her appearance but Aunt 
 Quimby, in the calico gown which Albina now regretted having- 
 persuaded her to keep on ! The old lady was wrapped in a small 
 shawl and two large ones, and her head was secured from cold 
 by a black silk handkerchief tied over her cap and under her 
 chin. She smiled and nodded all around to the company, and said : 
 " How do you do, good people ? I hope you are all enjoying your 
 selves. I thought I must come down and have a peep at you. 
 For after I had seen all the ladies take off their hoods, and had 
 my tea, I found it pretty dull work sitting up stairs with the 
 mantua-maker, who had no more manners than to fail asleep while 
 I was talking." 
 
 Mrs Marsden, much discomfited, led Aunt Quimby to a chair 
 between two matrons, who were among the "unavoidably invited," 
 and whose pretensions to refinement were not very palpable. But 
 the old lady had no idea of remaining stationary all the evening 
 between Mrs Johnson and Mrs Jackson. She wisely thought that
 
 SECOND PERIOD. II. B. STOWE. 219 
 
 *she could sec more of the party" if she frequently changed her 
 place ; and being of what is called a sociable disposition, she never 
 hesitated to talk to any one that was near her, however high or 
 however low 
 
 " And now," said Albina starting, " I will shew you a far worse 
 mortification than the failure of the ice-cream. Only look there 
 sits Aunt Quimby between Mr Montague and Mrs Washington 
 Potts!" 
 
 c How in the world did she get there !" exclaimed Mrs Marsden. 
 
 "I daresay she walked up, and asked them to make room for 
 her between them. There is nothing now to be done but to pass 
 her off as well as we can, and to make the best of her. I will 
 manage to get as near as possible, that I may hear what she is 
 talking about, and take an opportunity of persuading her away." 
 
 As Mrs Marsden approached within hearing distance, Mr 
 Montague was leaning across Aunt Quimby, and giving Mrs Potts 
 an account of something that had been said or done during a splendid 
 entertainment at Devonshire House. " Just at that moment," said 
 he, u I was lounging into the room with Lady Augusta Fitzhenry 
 on my arm (unquestionably the finest woman in England), and Mrs 
 Montague was a few steps in advance, leaning on my friend the 
 Marquis of Elvington." 
 
 " Pray, sir," said Mrs Quimby, " as you are from England, do 
 you know anything of Betsy Dempsey's husband ? " 
 
 " I have not the honour of being acquainted with that person," 
 replied Mr Montague after a withering stare. 
 
 "Well, that's strange," pursued Aunt Quimby, "considering 
 that he has been living in London at least eighteen years or 
 perhaps it is only seventeen. And yet I think it must be near 
 eighteen, if not quite. Maybe seventeen and a half. Well, it's 
 best to be on the safe side, so I '11 say seventeen. Betsy Dempsey's 
 mother was an old schoolmate of mine. Her father kept the 
 Black Horse Tavern. She was the only acquaintance I ever had 
 that married an Englishman. He was a grocer, and in very good 
 business ; but he never liked America, and was always finding 
 fault with it ; and so he went home, and was to send for Betsy. 
 But he never sent for her at all ; and for a very good reason, which 
 was, that he had another wife in England, as most of them have 
 no disparagement to you, sir." 
 
 Mrs Marsden now came up, and informed Mrs Potts in a whisper, 
 that the good old lady beside her was a distant relation or rather 
 connection of Mr Marsden's, and that though a little primitive 
 in appearance and manner, she had considerable property in 
 bank-stock.' 
 
 Among the writers who have employed fiction to convey 
 moral lessons, Mrs STOWE, the author of the celebrated tale of 
 Uncle Tom's Cabin, has been eminently successful. Harriet 
 Beecher Stowe is the daughter of Dr Lyman Beecher, an able
 
 220 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 congregational minister. Her early writings, including tales and 
 sketches of New England life, published under the title of The 
 Mayflower, gave promise of the graphic powers of narrative 
 which appeared more fully in Uncle Tom's Cabin. We shall 
 not attempt to criticise a book so well known all over the world. 
 Its pathos, and rich variety of scenes and characters, have 
 recommended it to unnumbered readers. 
 
 The success of the work was very remarkable. In the course 
 of less than a year after its publication, more than 200,000 copies 
 were sold in the United States. To supply the demand, ' the 
 publishers kept four steam-presses running night and day, 
 Sundays alone excepted, and at double the ordinary speed, being 
 equal to sixteen presses worked ten hours a day at the usual 
 speed.' The several editions printed in nine months consumed 
 75 tonweights of paper, and 200 hands were constantly employed 
 in binding. In England, the sale was still more extraordinary, 
 and the statistics of the several reprints would be curious ; but 
 we cannot give them with accuracy. It has been stated that thirty 
 editions were issued in London in the course of six months. One 
 was recommended by a preface written by the Earl of Carlisle. 
 The rights of the author were forgotten in the warmth of zeal 
 for the liberation of slaves. A small percentage of the profits 
 derived from the several reprints, would have enabled Mrs Stowe 
 to purchase the freedom of many negroes ; but we have not heard 
 that any share of these funds was devoted to that purpose. 
 
 The popularity of the book, arising, in the first place, from its 
 own merit, was increased by the efforts of persons Avho had an 
 interest in spreading the epidemic. Lecturers, who had failed 
 to attract by other themes, found crowded houses ready to 
 listen to the tale of Uncle Tom, illustrated in coarse paintings. 
 Vocalists of a commonplace order were encored when they sang 
 ballads written by poets whose existence had been revealed by 
 Uncle Tom. Children cried for printed handkerchiefs, as memo 
 rials of the ' Cabin.' Mozart and Beethoven were set aside to 
 make room for ' Uncle Tom's Polka.' The theatres assisted in 
 maintaining the furor : even the itinerant circus was compelled 
 to assume a moral and anti-slavery tendency ; and ' Uncle Tom ' 
 might be seen careering in the arena, and appealing to the 
 sympathies of the spectators. 
 
 In this place, the names of several female writers of descriptive 
 sketches and other light papers may be mentioned, though they 
 do not belong to the class of novelists. The Trap to Catch a 
 Sunbeam, by Miss PLANCHE, is partly allegorical, and, like so 
 many other tales by female writers, is made a vehicle of moral
 
 SECOND PERIOD. FANNY FERN MISS COOPER. 221 
 
 doctrine. Fern Leaves, by FANNY FERN the pseudonym of a 
 lady who is said to be the sister of N. P. Willis is the title 
 of a rather large collection of short and familiar sketches of 
 manners, stories, passages of sentiment or satire, and fragments of 
 gossip, written in an easy, careless style, not without a certain 
 audacity of censure directed against one-half of the human family. 
 The most remarkable trait in these papers, is their rather angry 
 complaint of a want of ' gentlemen ' in the United States. The 
 justice or injustice of the writer's frequent censure of the charac 
 ters, as well as the manners of her countrymen, is a question of 
 facts which, happily, it is not our duty to determine. The facility 
 with which these numerous Fern Leaves have been thrown off, 
 reminds us of Jean Paul's prediction, that ' the days will come 
 when all men [and all women], from the North Pole to the South, 
 will write books;' and we may add, as a natural consequence, 
 that nobody will read them. 
 
 One of the pleasantest of the books descriptive of nature in 
 America, is the volume entitled Rural Hours, by Miss COOPER, 
 who has also written a work on The Rhyme and Reason of Country 
 Life. In the former volume, we find faithful sketches of the 
 change of the seasons, and the habits of birds, insects, and plants. 
 The descriptions have a quiet truthfulness of detail, which dis 
 tinguishes them from passages written for effect. For example, 
 many writers have attempted to paint in words the glory of 
 American forest-scenery in autumn, but we have seen no sketch 
 that can rival Miss Cooper's in distinctness and brilliancy. 
 Without some preface, it might appear too highly coloured. 
 
 The Indian summer and autumn include the most beautiful 
 days in the American year. Bryant, Lowell, and other poets have 
 described the glory of this season. Emerson has almost forgotten 
 himself and his abstractions, when speaking of the halcyon-days 
 that sleep ' over the broad hills and warm wide fields.' First come 
 the calm, clear days of the early grain-harvest, while the forests 
 wear all their rich foliage, without a trace of decay ; and one day 
 ufter another passes beneath an unclouded blue sky, and closes 
 with a brilliant sunset. Next, when the ripe maize has been 
 gathered in, and the orchards have yielded their stores of apples, 
 plums, peaches, and other fruits, light frosts follow, and the first 
 sign of the dying year is seen here and there in the woods, 
 where a maple-tree is glowing with the colours of decay. Still 
 the greater part of the forest preserves its glossy green or russet 
 foliage. But a few nights, nay, even one night, of sharper frost, 
 will change the colouring of the landscape from its varied 
 shades of green to deep red. bright yellow, gold, orange, scarlet,
 
 222 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and other rich hues, such as Turner might have envied. In such 
 a scene, we can hardly see a poetical truth in the words 
 ' melancholy autumn.' As Bryant says : ' The woods have put 
 their glory on' 
 
 * The mountains that enfold, 
 
 In their wide sweep, the coloured landscape round, 
 Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, 
 
 That guard the enchanted ground.' 
 
 Another stanza in the same poem might be regarded as 
 hyperbole ; but it is nothing more than the natural truth 
 
 ' Beneath yon crimson tree, 
 Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, 
 Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, 
 
 Her blush of maiden shame.' 
 
 AUTUMNAL CHANGES. 
 
 '"We behold the green woods becoming one mass of rich and 
 varied colouring. It would seem as though Autumn, in honour of 
 this high holiday, had collected together all the past glories of the 
 year, adding them to her own ; she borrows the gay colours that 
 have been lying , during the summer months among the flowers, in 
 the fruits, upon the plumage of the bird, on the wings of the butterfly, 
 and working them together in broad and glowing masses, she throws 
 them over the forest to grace her triumph. Like some great festival 
 of an Italian city, where the people bring rich tapestries and hang 
 them in their streets ; where they unlock chests of heir-looms, and 
 bring to light brilliant draperies, which they suspend from their 
 windows and balconies, to gleam in the sunshine. 
 
 The hanging woods of a mountainous country are especially 
 beautiful at this season ; the trees throwing out their branches, one 
 above another, in bright variety of colouring and outline, every 
 individual of the gay throng having a fancy of his own to humour. 
 The oak loves a deep rich red, or a warm scarlet, though some of 
 his family are partial to yellow. The chestnuts are all of one shade- 
 less mass of gold-colour, from the highest to the lowest branch. 
 The bass-wood, or linden, is orange. The aspen, with its silvery 
 stem and branches, flutters in a lighter shade, like the wrought gold 
 of the jeweller. The sumach, with its long pinnated leaf, is of a 
 brilliant scarlet. The pepperidge is almost purple, and some of the 
 ashes approach the same shade during certain seasons. Other 
 ashes, with the birches and beech, hickory and elms, have their own 
 tints of yellow. That beautiful and common vine, the Virginia 
 creeper, is a vivid cherry-colour. The sweet-gum is vermilion. The 
 Viburnum tribe and dogwoods are dyed in lake. As for the maples, 
 they always rank first among the show ; there is no other tree which 
 contributes singly so much to the beauty of the season, for it unites
 
 SECOND PERIOD. MARGARET FULLER. 223 
 
 more of brilliancy, with more of variety, than any of its companions ; 
 with us it is also more common than any other tree. Hero you 
 have a soft maple, vivid scarlet from the highest to the lowest leaf ; 
 there is another, a sugar maple, a pure sheet of gold ; this is dark 
 crimson like the oak, that is vermilion ; another is party-coloured, 
 pink and yellow, green and red ; yonder is one of a deep purplish 
 hue ; this is still green, that is mottled in patches, another is shaded ; 
 still another blends all these colours on its own branches, in capri 
 cious confusion the different limbs, the separate twigs, the single 
 leaves, varying from each other in distinct colours, and shaded tints. 
 And in every direction a repetition of this magnificent picture meets 
 the eye : in the woods that skirt the dimpled meadows, in the 
 thickets and copses of the fields, in the bushes which fringe the 
 brook, in tho trees which line the streets and roadsides, in those of 
 the lawns and gardens brilliant and vivid in the nearest groves, 
 gradually lessening in tone upon the further woods and successive 
 knolls, until, in the distant background, the hills are coloured by a 
 mingled confusion of tints, which defy the eye to seize them.' 
 
 Several works by the authoress of Woman in the Nineteenth 
 Century, may be noticed in connection with a brief sketch of her 
 life and character. The Memoirs of Margaret Fuller, written by 
 several of her friends, consist partly of personal notices, but 
 include many letters and papers on art and literature. The 
 tendencies of certain modes of intellectual culture are illustrated 
 in this singular book. 
 
 MARGARET FULLER was born in Cambridge, Massachusetts, 
 in 1810. At an early age, she displayed a remarkable activity 
 of intellect. Her father overworked the child's memory to a 
 degree which proved very injurious to her mental and physical 
 health. The details of this cruelty, as given in her memoirs, 
 may serve as a warning against that stimulant-system of early 
 training, which has arisen from a want of knowledge of the 
 relations existing between the mind and the body. When 
 Margaret was nine years old, her father, who acted as her 
 tutor, was accustomed to require from her the composition of a 
 number of Latin verses every day, besides other tasks in various 
 branches of knowledge. The doctrine that the mind of a child 
 requires a large proportion of rest and play, was no part of his 
 creed. ' At the very beginning,' says his daughter, ' he made one 
 great mistake, more common, it is to be hoped, in the last gene 
 ration, than the warnings of physiologists will permit it to be with 
 the next : he thought to gain time by bringing forward the intellect 
 as early as possible. Thus I had tasks given me, as many and 
 various as the hours would allow, and on subjects beyond my 
 age; with the additional disadvantage of reciting to him in the 
 evening, after he returned from his office. As he was subject to
 
 224 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 many interruptions, I was often kept up very late ; and as he was 
 a severe teacher, both from his habits of mind and his ambition 
 for me, my feelings were kept on the stretch till the recitations 
 were over. Thus, frequently, I was sent to bed several hours too 
 late, with nerves unnaturally stimulated. The consequence was, 
 a premature development of the brain, that made me a " youthful 
 prodigy" by day, and by night a victim of spectral illusions, 
 nightmare, and somnambulism, which at the time prevented the 
 harmonious development of my bodily powers, and checked my 
 growth ; while, later, they induced continual headache, weakness, 
 and nervous affections of all kinds. As these again reacted on 
 the brain, giving undue force to every thought and every feeling, 
 there was finally produced a state of being both too active and 
 too intense, which wasted my constitution, and will bring me 
 even although I have learned to understand and regulate my now 
 morbid temperament to a premature grave.' The statements of 
 her friends confirm her own account. 
 
 This explanation of the cause of various eccentricities disarms 
 ridicule. Unhappily, after her father's death, Margaret's educa- 
 cation, under her own management, was continued in a mode 
 hardly less injurious than her early training. In the course of a 
 few years, we find her reading largely and discursively in English, 
 French, and German literature ; attempting abstruse metaphysics, 
 and losing herself in a bewildering misuse of books. One of her 
 friends, Mr Clark, states, that ' in about three months from the 
 time (1832) that Margaret commenced German, she was reading 
 with ease the master-pieces of its literature. Within the year, 
 she had read Goethe's Faust, Tasso, Iphigenia, Hermann and 
 Dorothea, Elective Affinities, and Memoirs ; Tieck's William Lovel, 
 Prince Zerbino, and other works ; Korner, Novalis, and something 
 of Kichter ; all of Schiller's principal dramas, and his lyric poetry ' 
 to say nothing of English books. 
 
 In the same year, we find the authoress venturing, without a 
 guide, into the dim recesses of German philosophy ! She con 
 fesses, in a letter to a friend, that she ' could not understand Fichte ;' 
 and adds this curious paragraph, which must excite the compassion 
 of every reader who is acquainted with the mazes of bewilder 
 ment in the works of Fichte, Jacobi, and his friend Hamann : 
 ' Jacobi I could understand in details, but not in system (!) It 
 seemed to me that his mind must have been moulded by some 
 other mind, with which I ought to have been acquainted in order to 
 know him well perhaps Spinoza's. 1 Since I came home, I have 
 been consulting Buhle's and Tennemann's histories of philosophy, 
 
 1 Jacobi had no system, but wrote agaimt the views of Spinoza.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. MARGARET FULLER. 225 
 
 and dipping into Brown, Stewart, and that class of books.' 
 The same letter mentions a contemplated Life of Goethe. After 
 all this diversity of study in one year, the authoress writes to her 
 friend : ' New lights are constantly dawning on me ; and I think 
 it possible I shall come out from the Carlyle view. 1 This last 
 obscure expression seems to imply that Margaret had studied the 
 writings of Thomas Carlyle. She found comfort in the fact, that 
 even Sir James Mackintosh had been puzzled by the metaphysical 
 problems which had baffled her own intellect ! ' It is quite 
 gratifying, 1 she writes, ' after my late chagrin, to find Sir James, 
 with all his metaphysical turn and ardent desire to penetrate it, 
 puzzling so over the German philosophy, and particularly what I 
 was myself troubled about at Cambridge Ja^oWs Letters to Fichte.' 
 After this, she commenced reading Bacon's Norum Organum, and 
 was shocked by finding that her own knowledge, acquired by 
 discursive reading, was ' vague and superficial. 1 
 
 In 1839, Margaret Fuller published a translation of Eckermann's 
 Conversations v:ith Goethe ; and in the following year, wrote several 
 papers for The Dial, a periodical conducted by Ralph Waldo 
 Emerson. At Concord, where she resided for some time, she 
 enjoyed the society of Hawthorne, then living at the Old Manse, 
 William Ellery Channing, Emerson, and other literary friends. 
 Her conversation, as described by her best friends, was charac 
 terised by an excessive self-esteem. After a tour in 1843, she 
 published a work entitled Summer on the Lakes, consisting of 
 descriptions interspersed among various speculations. 
 
 When Emerson discontinued The Dial, Margaret went to New 
 York, where she resided with Horace Greeley, editor of The 
 Tribune, and wrote for his paper the reviews of current literature. 
 In 1845, she published her most characteristic work Woman in 
 the Nineteenth Century ; an earnest protest against the commonly 
 received views of the social position of women. Her views are 
 explained by her friend, Mr Greeley, in a letter from which we 
 may quote a passage : ' She demanded [for her sisters] the 
 fullest recognition of social and political equality with the 
 rougher sex ; the freest access to all stations, professions, and 
 employments which are open to any. To this demand, I heartily 
 acceded. It seemed to me, however, that her clear perceptions 
 of abstract right were often overborne, in practice, by the 
 influence of education and habit ; that, while she demanded 
 absolute equality for women, she exacted a deference and courtesy 
 from men to women, as women, which was entirely inconsistent 
 with that requirement. 1 
 
 During a visit to England in 1845. Miss Fuller was introduced 
 to several celebrated persons, of whom she gave some accounts 
 
 o
 
 226 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in letters published in The Tribune. In 1846 and following 
 years, she travelled and resided in Italy, where she was married 
 to an impoverished nobleman, the Marquis d'Ossoli, who was 
 engaged in the revolutionary movement of 1849. In the 
 following year, she embarked with her husband and their 
 child in a vessel bound for New York. Their voyage was- 
 disastrous : but they had almost reached the American coast r 
 when the ship was wrecked by a violent gale off the shore 
 of Fire Island. There was a good chance of saving the lives 
 of all the passengers ; but Margaret reftfsed to be parted from 
 Ossoli and their son. Her literary ambition had been almost 
 forgotten in her love for her boy, named Angelino. While the 
 seamen were vainly persuading her to leave the child in the 
 care of the steward, a heavy sea washed over the forecastle, and 
 carried all away. Margaret sank with her husband, and the 
 lifeless body of the child was carried to the beach. 
 
 It is not our purpose to criticise the writings named in this 
 biographical sketch. It appears clear that the eccentricity and 
 unhappiness of Margaret Puller, though partly constitutional, 
 were in a great measure caused by the errors of her early 
 training ; and in this point of view, her biography affords a useful 
 warning. With regard to the style and the general characteris 
 tics of her writings, the opinions of an American editor Mr 
 Griswold may be quoted. Of the work, entitled Woman in the 
 Nineteenth Century, he says : ' It is difficult to understand what is 
 its real import, further than to the extent, that the author was ill 
 satisfied that there should be difference in the rank or opportunity 
 
 of the sexes Summer on the Lalces evinces considerable 
 
 descriptive power, and contains some good verses The 
 
 Papers on Literature and Art are all forcible, and brilliant in a 
 degree, but frequently pointed with pique or prejudice.' .... 
 The authoress ' was fond of epigram, and shewed everywhere a 
 willingness to advance any opinion for the sake of making a 
 
 point She rarely attempted particular or analytical 
 
 criticism, but commended or censured all books with about an 
 equal degree of earnestness, being generally most severe upon 
 those of home-production, excepting a few by personal friends. 
 
 She had remarkable quickness, but not much subtlety of 
 apprehension ; general, but not solid acquirements ; and an 
 astonishing facility in the use of her intellectual furniture, which 
 secured her the reputation of being one of the best talkers of 
 the age.'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. D. WILLIAMSON. 227 
 
 HISTORY. 
 
 BANCROFT HILDRETH PAR KM AN TICKNOR, AND 
 
 OTHER WRIMR8. 
 
 ' More than four hundred large historical works,' says 
 an American writer, ' have been written in the United States.' 
 Of these, however, a large majority may be described as con 
 sisting rather of compilations of materials than of complete and 
 well-executed books. The names of Bancroft, Prescott, Hildreth, 
 and Sparks, are the most prominent in the departments of 
 history and historical biography. 
 
 The work of Bancroft on the History of the United States was 
 preceded by the writings of Hutchinson, Belknap, Ramsay, 
 Holmes, Marshall, Botta, Pitkins, and Grahame, besides several 
 local histories already named. Judge Marshall's History of the 
 Colonies planted by the English on the Continent of North America, 
 appeared in 1824. In the same year, James Grahame, a Scotch 
 advocate, commenced writing a History of the United States, which 
 was completed and published in four octavo volumes (1836). This 
 work was very coldly received in England, and its publication 
 occasioned a pecuniary loss of L.1000 sterling. It is described as 
 a valuable work based upon diligent research. Botta's History of 
 the War of the Revolution is a treatise of considerable merit, but 
 has the disadvantage of being written by a foreigner. American 
 readers had too long borrowed their knowledge of the history of 
 their own country, when, in 1834, Mr Bancroft published the first 
 volume of his History of the Colonisation of the United States. The 
 materials for the work were abundant, but no American before 
 Bancroft had attempted to collect and organise them. A few 
 brief notices of the works of several local historians may precede 
 our remarks on Bancroft's history. 
 
 A History of the State of Maine, by WILLIAM D. WILLIAMSON, 
 includes the period 1602-1820, and has been highly commended 
 for its fidelity and completeness of narrative, its judicious 
 arrangement, and neat and perspicuous style. 
 
 The Historical Sketches of Michigan comprise a series of 
 discourses delivered before the Historical Society of that state 
 by Lewis Cass, Henry Whiting, John Biddle, and Henry R. 
 Schoolcraft. These papers are rather fragmentary, but include 
 several interesting memoirs. 
 
 Another collection of materials for American history was 
 supplied by SALMON P. CHASE in his three volumes of the
 
 228 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Statutes of Ohio and of tlte North-western Territory (1788-1833). 
 The Collections of the New York Historical Society include 
 numerous valuable materials and curious old works. Gayarre's 
 History of Louisiana written in French embodies several 
 important documents, but does not claim notice as a complete 
 history. An Introduction fa the History of the Colony and Ancient 
 Dominion of Virginia, by CHARLES CAMPBELL, and A History of 
 Georgia, by the Rev. "W. B. STEVENS, must be classed with the 
 more valuable contributions to national historical literature. 
 
 A History of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, by MANN BUTLER, 
 must be commended as a work of research, though its style is 
 inelegant. It introduces us to the early settlers, men of hardy 
 and daring character, among whom the most celebrated was 
 Daniel Bcone. 
 
 Several other works of the same class might be mentioned ; 
 but the preceding notices may be sufficient to indicate the 
 abundance of materials for a History of the United States. This 
 wealth of details made the task of the historian very difficult. 
 To combine the annals of the several states, and to sustain a 
 connected narrative interest throughout the details of the colonial 
 period; to correct the errors of early writers on the affairs of 
 the several colonies ; and to find unity of purpose and tendency 
 in the development of the various local governments such was 
 the arduous undertaking of Mr Bancroft. He has written in a 
 high tone of enthusiasm, and has given a warmth of colouring 
 to many topics which had been coldly treated by other writers. 
 There can be no doubt of his industry and fidelity in research ; 
 but critics have censured his immoderate use of eulogy, and have 
 complained that his views afe sometimes American rather than 
 philosophical. 
 
 GEORGE BANCROFT, the historian of the United States, is the 
 son of a congregational minister, and was born at Worcester, 
 in Massachusetts, in the year 1800. His father had some reputa 
 tion as a historical writer, and published in 1807 a Life of 
 Washington, which passed through many editions. 
 
 In 1817, Bancroft graduated with the first honours of his class 
 in Harvard College, and gained one of the Bowdoin prizes by an 
 Essay on the Use and Necessity of Revelation. At this time, he 
 had determined to enter the Christian ministry ; and after a visit 
 to Europe, he appeared, on some few occasions, as a successful 
 preacher ; but his love of literature soon prevailed over his first 
 choice of a profession. During his stay in Germany, he had 
 studied history and philosophy under the learned professor 
 Heeren, and had enjoyed the society of the historian Schlosser.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. GEORGE BANCROFT. 229 
 
 In 1824, Bancroft published a translation of Heeren's Reflections 
 on the Politics of Ancient Greece, which was followed by several 
 translations of German works on philology ; and in 1828, by 
 Heeren's histories of the states of antiquity, and of the political 
 system of Europe and its colonies, from the discovery of America 
 to the time of independence. Meanwhile, the translator, not 
 trusting in the precarious gains of literary labour, had opened a 
 school at Northampton. In his political views, he had seen 
 reasons for leaving the Whig party, and joining the democracy. 
 An article from his pen, ' The Progress of Civilisation,' published 
 in The Boston Quarterly Review, explained his motives in making 
 this change. 
 
 The first volume of the History of the Colonisation of the United 
 States appeared in 1834, and was received with general approba 
 tion. The services of the writer were rewarded by his appoint 
 ment as collector of the customs at Boston. The second volume 
 of the History appeared hi 1837, and the third in 1840. After 
 a considerable interval of time, partly occupied by the author's 
 official duties, the fourth volume, giving a view of the first epoch 
 of the American Revolution, or the overthrow of the colonial 
 system, appeared in 1852, and has been followed by the history 
 of the revolution. Besides thin principal work, Bancroft has 
 published an abridgment of the History, and has contributed 
 several articles to the North American and Boston Quarterly 
 Reviews. His services have been justly recognised in his own 
 country, and the eminent political and social position he holds 
 has been won by literature. America has unwisely refused to 
 insure to the scholar a fair share of the profits of his own toil, but 
 has not yet adopted the policy of treating learning and intellectual 
 power as disqualifications for public service. In 1844, Bancroft 
 was appointed secretary of the navy ; and in this office, his zeal 
 and foresight in planning reforms and instituting a Nautical 
 School and Astronomical Observatory, made his services highly 
 important and valuable. In 1846, he was sent as minister- 
 plenipotentiary to Great Britain. 
 
 The History of the United States is based on extensive research 
 in original documents, and corrects the errors of former works. 
 Its failings are very intimately connected with its best qualities. 
 It is too exclusively American in its tone. The generous enthu 
 siasm of the writer must be commended, and is well displayed 
 in eulogy of the heroes of early colonisation ; but in the warmth 
 of sympathy, Bancroft sometimes appears rather as the advocate 
 than the historian. With regard to the institutions of his country, 
 too, the strong national feeling of the writer has led him aside 
 from the path of careful analysis.
 
 230 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Among the most characteristic portions of the History, we must 
 notice the narratives of the early colonisation of New England and 
 Pennsylvania. The several sketches of character are written in 
 an enthusiastic and eloquent style. A summary of the early 
 annals of Connecticut may be mentioned as one of the best 
 examples of the author's manner. In other parts of the work, 
 digressions on topics which do not belong strictly to American 
 history are too freely introduced. To quote the remarks of an 
 American Review ' Mr Bancroft likes to expatiate on a bound 
 less theme, passing swiftly from one portion of it to another ; here 
 presenting a striking event, and there portraying a brilliant 
 character, and colouring the whole with the glare of ambitious 
 rhetoric and a somewhat overstrained republican philosophy.' 
 
 The style of the historian, in speaking of the heroes of liberty 
 and civilisation, is so hearty and enthusiastic, that he seems to 
 identify himself with the characters portrayed by his pen. The 
 narration of the deeds of George Fox and William Penn is so 
 warmly eulogistic, that we might imagine the author to be a 
 descendant of the American Quakers ; but his zeal has a broader 
 character than that of the sectarian, and is as readily called 
 forth by the exploits of the Jesuit missionary as by the courage 
 of Roger Williams. In both instances, the same grandeur of 
 character and nobility of purpose awaken the sympathy of 
 Bancroft. He forgets the creed, and sees only the man. His 
 narrative of the adventure of the Catholic missionaries in the 
 Western territory, is one of the most attractive episodes in 
 American history. 
 
 As the Reformation gave rise to the settlement of New 
 England, so the counter-movement commenced by Loyola, first 
 introduced civilisation into Canada and the West. In 1634, the 
 two Jesuit missionaries Brebeuf and Daniel, joined a tribe of 
 Huron Indians, and travelled more than 300 leagues through 
 dense forests, and along the Ottawa and its confluents, enduring 
 all the miseries of savage-life, resting at night on the bare earth, 
 and subsisting on a scanty supply of maize. Near a bay of Lake 
 Huron, in the Indian territory, they raised their first chapel, and 
 began their labours among the natives. Six years later, Montreal 
 was selected as a mission-station ; and a plan was formed for 
 establishing settlements among the northern Indians, as in 
 Michigan, the south of Lake Huron, and other regions of the 
 West. Serious difficulties opposed this design, for the animosities 
 of the tribes made the proposed routes of travel impracticable. 
 Some years elapsed before the missionary Jogues was deputed to 
 visit the Mohawks, in order to establish friendly relations with 
 the tribes known as the Five Nations. He obeyed the order, but,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. GEORGE BANCROFT. 231 
 
 as he departed, said : ' /k>, et non redibo 11 (I shall go, but shall not 
 return). His foreboding was true, for he was condemned by the 
 Mohawk council, and put to death as an enchanter who had 
 blighted their harvest. 
 
 These and other efforts excited the enmity of the surrounding 
 tribes against the Hurons and their missionaries. Their villages 
 were invaded ; men, women, and children were put to death, or driven 
 into the woods; and then- teachers were made prisoners, and 
 subjected to tortures. The sufferings of Brebeuf and his col 
 league Lallemand too dreadful to be detailed were borne with 
 a firmness which excited the wonder of their Indian executioners. 
 Other victims followed, for religious enthusiasm was kindled 
 anew by every martyrdom. The aged JRene" Mesnard travelled 
 from Quebec to the south of Lake Superior, and on his way to 
 another station not clearly indicated was lost in the forest, and 
 never seen again. The Sioux Indians, whom he had visited, 
 preserved as charms his cassock and breviary. 
 
 So far as the conversions of the Indians may be judged by 
 their results, the labours of the French missionaries were vainly 
 continued, year after year, in the wilderness. No permanent 
 success was obtained. Indians learned to talk of the white man's 
 'manitou,' regarded the priest as a skilful 'medicine-man,' 
 submitted themselves to the rite of baptism, and suspended their 
 thank-offerings of rich furs and crimson belts on the crosses set 
 tip by the Jesuits ; but these external innovations passed away. 
 As the pioneers of civilisation, the illustrious missionaries Alloiiez, 
 Dablon, Joliet, and Marquette, earned for themselves immortal 
 honour. While engaged in extending the power of France 
 through vast regions, they had heard, from time to time, the Indian 
 stories of ' the Great River.' It was described as abounding in 
 monsters, which swallowed b'tth. men and canoes ; and when the 
 fearless Marquette resolved to attempt the discovery, the friendly 
 natives who heard the proposal, warned him of the excessive heats 
 on the banks of the river, and of warlike tribes who would never 
 spare the strangers. The sequel must be narrated by Bancroft : 
 
 THE FRENCH DISCOVERY OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 ' Behold, then, in 1673, on the tentli day of June, the meek, 
 single-hearted, unpretending, illustrious Marquette, with Joliet for 
 his associate, five Frenchmen as his companions, and two Algonquins 
 as guides, lifting their two canoes on their backs, and walking across 
 the narrow portage that divides the Fox River from the Wisconsin. 
 They reach the water-shed : uttering a special prayer to the imma 
 culate Virgin, they leave the streams that, flowing onwards, could 
 have borne their greetings to the castle of Quebec ; already they
 
 232 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 stand by the Wisconsin. " The guides returned," says the gentlo 
 Marquette, "leaving us alone, in this unknown land, in the hands of 
 Providence." France and Christianity stood in the valley of the 
 Mississippi. Embarking on the broad Wisconsin, the discoverers, 
 as they sailed west, went solitarily down the stream, between alter 
 nate prairies and hillsides, beholding neither man nor the wonted 
 beasts of the forest : no sound broke the appalling silence, but the 
 ripple of their canoe, and the lowing of the buffalo. In seven days, 
 " they entered happily the Great River, with a joy that could not be 
 expressed ;" and the two birch-bark canoes, raising their happy sails 
 under new skies and to unknown breezes, floated down the calm 
 magnificence of the ocean stream, over the broad, clear sand-bars, 
 the resort of innumerable water- fowl gliding past islets that swelled 
 from the bosom of the stream, with their tufts of massive thickets, 
 and between the wide plains of Illinois and Iowa, all garlanded 
 with majestic forests, or checkered by island-groves, and the open 
 vastness of the prairie. 
 
 About sixty leagues below the mouth of the Wisconsin, the 
 western bank of the Mississippi bore on its sands the trail of men ; 
 a little footpath was discerned leading into a beautiful prairie ; and, 
 leaving the canoes, Joliet and Marquette resolved alone to brave a 
 meeting with the savages. After walking six miles, they beheld a 
 village on the banks of a river, and two others on a slope, at a 
 distance of a mile and a half from the first. The river was the 
 Mou-in-gou-e-na, or Moingona, of which we have corrupted the 
 name into Des Moines. Marquette and Joliet were the first white 
 men who trod the soil of Iowa. Commending themselves to God, 
 they uttered a loud cry. The Indians hear ; four old men advance 
 slowly to meet them, bearing the peace-pipe, brilliant with many- 
 coloured plumes. "We are Illinois," said they that is, when 
 translated, "We are men ;" and they offered the calumet. An aged 
 chief received them at his cabin with upraised hands, exclaiming : 
 " How beautiful is the sun, Frenchman, when thou comest to visit 
 us ! Our whole village awaits thee ; thou shalt enter in peace 
 into all our dwellings." And the pilgrims were followed by the 
 devouring gaze of an astonished crowd. 
 
 At the great council, Marquette published to them the one true 
 God, their Creator. He spoke also of the great captain of the 
 French, the governor of Canada, who had chastised the Five Nations, 
 and commanded peace ; and he questioned them respecting the 
 Mississippi, and the tribes that possessed its banks. For the messen 
 gers Avho announced the subjection of the Iroquois, a magnificent 
 festival was prepared of hominy and fish, and the choicest viands 
 from the prairies. 
 
 After six days' delay, and invitations to new visits, the chieftain 
 of the tribe, with hundreds of warriors, attended the strangers to 
 their canoes ; and selecting a peace-pipe embellished with the head 
 and neck of brilliant birds, and all feathered over with plumage of 
 various hues, they hung round Marquette, the mysterious arbiter
 
 SECOND PERIOD. GEORGE BANCROFT. 233 
 
 of peace and war, the sacred calumet, a safeguard among the 
 nations. 
 
 The little group proceeded onwards. " I did not fear death," says 
 Marquette : " I should have esteemed it the greatest happiness to 
 have died for the glory of God." They passed the perpendicular 
 rocks, which wore the appearance of monsters ; they heard at a 
 distance the noise of the waters of the Missouri, known to them by 
 its Algonquin name of Pekitanoni ; and when they came to the 
 most beautiful confluence of rivers in the world where the swifter 
 Missouri rushes like a conqueror into the calmer Mississippi, dragging 
 it, as it wore, hastily to the sea the good Marquette resolved in 
 his heart, anticipating Lewis and Clarke, one day to ascend the 
 mighty river to its source ; to cross the ridge that divides the 
 oceans, and, descending a westerly flowing stream, to publish the 
 gospel to all the people of this New World. 
 
 In a little less than forty leagues, the canoes floated past the Ohio-, 
 which was then, and long afterwards, called the Wabash. Its banks 
 were tenanted by numerous villages of the peaceful Shawnees, who 
 quailed under the incursions of the Iroquois. 
 
 The thick canes begin to appear so close and strong, that the 
 buffalo could not break through them ; the insects become intoler 
 able ; as a shelter against the suns of July, the sails are folded into 
 an awning. The prairies vanish ; and forests of whitewood, admir 
 able for their vastness and height, crowd even to the skirts of the 
 pebbly shore. It is also observed that in, the land of the Chickasas 
 the Indians have guns. 
 
 Near the latitude of 33 degrees, on the western bank of tho 
 Mississippi, stood the village of Mitchigamea, in a region that had 
 not been visited by Europeans since the days of Do Soto.* " Now," 
 thought Marquette, " we must indeed ask the aid of the Virgin." 
 Armed with bows and arrows, with clubs, axes, and bucklers, 
 amidst continual whoops, the natives, bent on war, embark in 
 vast canoes made out of the trunks of hollow trees ; but at the 
 sight of the mysterious peace-pipe held aloft, God touched the 
 hearts of the old men, who checked the impetuosity of the young ; 
 and throwing their bows and quivers into the canoes, as a token of 
 peace, they prepared a hospitable welcome. 
 
 The next day, a long wooden canoe, containing ten men, 
 escorted the discoverers, for eight or ten leagues, to the village of 
 Akansca, the limit of their voyage. They had left the region of the 
 Algonquins, and in the midst of the Sioux and Chickasas, could 
 speak only by an interpreter. A half-league above Akansea, they 
 were met by two boats, in one of which stood the commander, holding 
 in his hand the peace-pipe, and singing as he drew near. After 
 offering the pipe, he gave bread of maize. The wealth of his 
 
 * Ferdinand de Sotn, a Spaniard, first discovered the Mississippi in 1541. As 
 he found no ' golden land ' such as his fancy had painted, his voyage was regarded 
 as a failure, and no use was made of his" discovery. He died of fever, and was 
 buried in the Mississippi, 1542.
 
 234 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 tribe consisted in buffalo-skins ; their weapons were axes of steel 
 a proof of commerce with Europeans. 
 
 Thus had our travellers descended below the entrance of the 
 Arkansas, to the genial climes that have almost no winter, but rains, 
 beyond the bound of the Huron and Algonquin languages, to the 
 vicinity of the Gulf of Mexico, and to tribes of Indians that had 
 obtained European arms by traffic with Spaniards or with Virginia. 
 
 So, having spoken of God and the mysteries of the Catholic faith ; 
 having become certain that the father of rivers went not to the 
 ocean east of Florida, nor yet to the Gulf of California, Marquette 
 and Joliet left Akansea, and ascended the Mississippi. 
 
 At the 3Sth degree of latitude, they entered the river Illinois, and 
 discovered a country without its paragon for the fertility of its 
 beautiful prairies, covered with buffaloes and stags for the love 
 liness of its rivulets, and the prodigal abundance of wild-ducks and 
 swans, and of a species of parrots and wild-turkeys. The tribe of 
 Illinois, that tenanted its banks, entreated Marquette to come and 
 reside among them. One of their chiefs, with their young men, 
 conducted the party, by way of Chicago, to Lake Michigan ; and 
 before the end of September, all were safe in Green Bay. 
 
 Joliet returned to Quebec to announce the discovery, of which 
 the fame, through Talon, quickened the ambition of Colbert : the 
 unaspiring Marquette remained to preach the gospel to the Miamis, 
 who dwelt in the north of Illinois, round Chicago. Two years 
 afterwards, sailing from Chicago to Mackinaw, he entered a little 
 river in Michigan. Erecting an altar, he said mass, after the rites 
 of the Catholic church ; then, begging the men who conducted his 
 canoe to leave him alone for a half-hour 
 
 " in the darkling wood, 
 Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, 
 And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks 
 And supplication." 
 
 At the end of the half-hour, they went to seek him, and he was 
 no more. The good missionary, discoverer of a world, had fallen 
 asleep on the margin of the stream that bears his name. Near its 
 mouth, the canoemen dug his grave in the sand. Ever after, 
 the forest-rangers, if in danger on Lake Michigan, would invoke his 
 name. The people of the West will build his monument.' 
 
 The Hist&nj of the United Stales, by EICHARD HILDRETH, has 
 been characterised as a laborious compilation of facts, arranged 
 mostly in chronological order, but deficient in the higher qualities 
 of historical writing. One of the most prominent features of this 
 work, is its low estimate of the Puritan Fathers of New England, 
 and its very unfavourable representation of their theocratic form 
 of government. The author brings forward many undoubted 
 facts to support his charges of bigotry and religious persecu 
 tion ; but he has neglected to consider dispassionately the
 
 SECOND PERIOD. HILDRETH PARKMAN TICKNOR. 235 
 
 circumstances of the Pilgrims and their followers, and the 
 characteristics of the time. These remarks are applicable 
 only to certain portions of Mr Hildreth's extensive work ; but a 
 coldness of tone, strongly contrasted with the national fervour of 
 Bancroft, may be ascribed to the whole history. ' Of centennial 
 sermons and Fourth of July orations,' says the author, ' there are 
 more than enough.' He suggests that historians and orators 
 have described with theatrical pomp and exaggeration the 
 supposed heroes of the colonial and the revolutionary period, 
 and asserts that his own purpose is to wipe away the ' patriotic 
 rouge,' to strip off ' the fine-spun cloaks of excuses and apology,' 
 and to exhibit, for the first time, the heroes of American history 
 in their true character. ' The history of the revolution,' says a 
 reviewer, ' is clearly and succinctly told, but in as cold-blooded a 
 manner as if the writer had been engaged with an account of a 
 long struggle between two tribes of savages in the heart of Africa. 
 Nil admirari might be inscribed on the volume as its motto. The 
 account of the battle of Bunker Hill, which " figures in history as 
 having tested the ability of the provincials to meet a British army 
 in the field," closes with the characteristic remark, that " the men 
 engaged in it were not all heroes. The conduct of several officers 
 on that day was investigated by court-martial, and one at least 
 was cashiered for cowardice." ' 
 
 A History of the Conspiracy of Pontiac, and the War of the 
 North American Tribes against the English Colonies, has been ably 
 written by FRANCIS PARKMAN. It comprises a curious and 
 interesting account of the aborigines, and narrates, in a spirited 
 style, the incidents of savage warfare, including the obstinate 
 and memorable siege of Detroit by the Indian forces under 
 Pontiac. Mr Parkman's work has been 'based on careful 
 researches, and is one of the most valuable contributions to the 
 history of the aborigines of America. The well-known Naval 
 History of the United States, by JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, the 
 novelist, and a History of the Northmen, by HENRY WHEATON, 
 may be mentioned in this place. 
 
 In the department of literary history, America has produced 
 one work of first-rate character the History of Spanish Literature, 
 by GEORGE TICKNOR. The writer, one of the most accomplished 
 of American scholars, preceded Longfellow in the chair of Modern 
 Literature in Harvard College. During his travels in Europe, 
 he collected the numerous materials which have been skilfully 
 employed in the composition of his work. It is rich in its details, 
 including reviews of the poetry, romance, and all the general 
 literature of Spain ; its critical views are genial, and at the same
 
 236 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 time judicious; and the plan combines literary history with a 
 view of the moral and intellectual life of the Spanish nation. 
 The merits of the work have been universally recognised by 
 European scholars, and several translations have already 
 appeared. 
 
 INDIAN HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 One of the duties of American literature, has been to collect 
 and preserve the records of the various tribes of Red Indians now 
 passing away from their ancestral dwelling-places. To this task 
 several writers, including Thatcher, Stone, Drake, Catlin, School- 
 craft, Gallatin, Bradford, M'Kenney, and Hall, have contributed 
 their services. Their researches have greatly modified the repre 
 sentations given by romantic writers ; but when fiction has been 
 put aside, there still remains a history which must excite com 
 passion for the fate of the aborigines. Of all the descriptions of 
 these wandering tribes, the most unfair is that given by GRUND, 
 a German, who wrote on America. He asserts, that the expelled 
 Indians never had any right to dwell on their native soil ; that 
 they were justly treated as wild animals ; and that their extinction 
 was necessary, and by no means to be regretted. 
 
 Other writers have described, in a more humane manner, the 
 characteristics and the destiny of the red race in America. Mr 
 STONE, in a series of memorials of the Six Nations, has preserved 
 many fragments of Indian history and biography. THATCHER'S 
 Indian Biography gives many sketches of tribes and individuals ; 
 and a more comprehensive work, The History of the Indian Tribes 
 of North America, has been published by M'KENNEY and HALL. 
 The portraits given in this work were taken from the Indian 
 chiefs, or delegates, who visited the seat of legislature for the 
 purpose of making treaties or transacting other business. But 
 among all the writers of Indian history and biography, Schoolcraft 
 is probably the highest authority. He has lived among the Red 
 Men ; has studied their dialects, and translated their legends ; and 
 though he speaks warmly of their virtues, he is not a one-sided 
 advocate. HENRY ROWE SCHOOLCRAFT (born 1793) has a high 
 reputation as a man of general cultivation and scientific attain 
 ments. His first work, a scientific treatise on Vitreology, published 
 in 1817, described modes of applied chemistry in the fusion of 
 silica and kali for making glass and enamel. His View of the 
 Lead Mines of Missouri (1819), was followed in the next year by 
 the Journal of a Tour in the Interior of Missouri and Arkansas, and 
 soon afterwards by a Narrative Journal of a Tour in the Copper
 
 SECOND PERIOD. INDIAN HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 237 
 
 legion of Lake Stqwrior. In 1821, the author was appointed 
 secretary to the commission for treating with the Indian tribes 
 at Chicago, and afterwards devoted his studies chiefly to Indian 
 ethnology. After all the attempts of fiction-writers to portray 
 the Red Men, readers who would find truth must study the works 
 of Schoolcraft. His statements are founded on extensive obser 
 vation during his years of service among the remnants of the 
 Indian tribes. He married a lady who was descended, on the 
 maternal side, from the hereditary chief of Lake Superior. In 
 1839, he published Algic Researches, consisting of two volumes of 
 Indian legends; and after a visit to Europe and other travels, 
 commenced in 1844 the publication, in numbers, of Oneota, or the 
 ' Red Race in America.' In this and other works, Schoolcraft 
 established his reputation as an authority on the history, tradi 
 tions, customs, and dialects of the Algic tribes. In 1846, he 
 presented to the legislature of his native state a report, consisting 
 of Contributions to the Statistics, Aboriginal History, and General 
 Ethnology of Western New York. 
 
 The writings of Schoolcraft, and other authors already named, 
 enable us to correct the erroneous impressions made by works 
 of fiction respecting the red race. 
 
 AVe have no facts to support the statements of writers who have 
 found refinement and philosophy among the children of the forest. 
 The wigwam was no fit abode for such Indian characters as are 
 seen in romances. It was a smoky den, where families were 
 huddled together in circumstances which made decency and 
 cleanliness impossible. For food, the Indian depended partly on 
 the chase of wild animals ; but he was not wholly ignorant of 
 agriculture. With some few exceptions, all the tribes south of 
 the St Lawrence tilled the soil. The use of milk was unknown, 
 which fact distinguishes the American Indians from nomadic 
 tribes of the Old World. The plants cultivated included maize, 
 the vine styled the squash, beans, and tobacco. Arrows tipped 
 with hartshorn, eagles' claws, or sharp flint, were used in the 
 chase ; and fish were taken with nets and spears. 
 
 The squaw, or Indian's wife, was his slave. When he returned 
 from the chase, he remained idle until hunger again moved him ; 
 while the wife tilled the ground, reaped the harvest, pounded the 
 maize, and, in travelling, carried the poles of the wigwam. Scarcity 
 of food was a frequent cause of suffering ; for when provisions 
 were plentiful, appetite knew no bounds. The condition of 
 afflicted individuals and old and infirm people was very miserable. 
 Decoctions of herbs and a simple form of vapour-bath were the 
 favourite remedies for various diseases. 
 
 The wars, or rather ' scalp-hunts,' of the natives consisted
 
 238 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 chiefly of ambuscade and surprise. Remarkable cunning and 
 keenness of the senses were evinced in following the trail of an 
 enemy. Commonly, a scalping-party included about six or seven 
 Indians, sometimes only two or three ; though, on great occasions, 
 as many as forty would go out together, traverse the forest, enter 
 the foe's domain, and lurking behind rocks or trees, wait for 
 their victims. The taking of the scalp of an enemy was the first 
 ambition of the young men. 
 
 The treatment of prisoners was even more revolting than the 
 custom of taking scalps. The captive doomed to die was made 
 to pass through lingering tortures, such as Cooper has described 
 in his forest -romances. By his fortitude in bearing all the cruelty 
 of his foes, the Indian gained the highest honour for himself and 
 his tribe. Councils of war or negotiations for peace were 
 conducted with a solemn decorum, and the patience of the Indian 
 in listening to a speech or argument was always exemplary. 
 He seldom interrupted the speech of his opponent. 
 
 The oratory of the Red Men has been misrepresented : the 
 tedious long-drawn argument, or the rambling after-dinner 
 speech, was never a characteristic of the Indian. When sober, 
 he was seldom talkative. He spoke in metaphors, reasoned by 
 analogy, and never employed abstract terms. Happiness was 
 a bright sun or a clear blue sky ; burying a tomahawk signified 
 peace ; a thorny plant symbolised adversity. This metaphorical 
 style naturally gave rise to eloquent but short addresses. A 
 Choctaw chief, who died while on a visit to Washington, finding 
 his end approaching, sent the following message to his people : 
 ' I shall die,' said he, ' but you will return to our brethren. As 
 you go along the paths, you will see the flowers and hear the 
 birds sing ; but Pushmataha will see them and hear them no more. 
 When you shall come to your home, they will ask you : " Where 
 is Pushmataha ? " and you will say to them : " He is no more." 
 They will hear the tidings like the fall of a mighty oak in the 
 stillness of the woods.' 
 
 The only style of writing was pictorial. Rude outlines 
 of animals sketched on the bark of a tree, or on a smooth 
 stone, served as symbols of tribes, or as memoranda of events. 
 Remembrance of transactions was assisted by a sort of rosary of 
 shells, or by a small bundle of sticks held in the hand. When 
 Roger Williams, conversing with a chief, spoke of the good faith 
 of the white men, the chief took a stick, and breaking it into ten 
 pieces, related ten instances of bad faith, laying down a short 
 stick to mark each item. 
 
 The same want of the power of abstraction or generalisation 
 observed in the language, is found also in the religious notions of
 
 SECOND PERIOD. INDIAN HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 239 
 
 the Indian. Yet he was not a materialist. He could discern 
 between cause and effect ; he believed in an unseen power, the 
 manitou, or spirit, as residing in every plant, or animal, or other 
 natural object. As he conceived, there was a manitou, a spirit, 
 which gave the spark from the flint, lived in every blade of 
 grass, flowed in the streams, shone in the stars, and thundered 
 in the water-falls ; but in each example the notion of deity was 
 concrete and particular. When missionaries suggested the unity 
 of the Great Spirit pervading all beings, it Avas very readily 
 received ; but it does not appear that this generalisation had 
 been made by the Indian previous to his intercourse with white 
 men. 
 
 The specimens given by Schoolcraft in his Oneota of the myths 
 and legends, or unwritten poetry of the Indians, have the simpli 
 city of stories for children. We may give one example, translated 
 from one of the dialects of the Algonquin language. 1 It bears 
 strong internal evidence of genuineness. 
 
 SHINGEBISS:- AX INDIAN FABLE. 
 
 ' There was once a Shingebiss living alone in a solitary lodge on 
 tho shores of the deep bay of a lake, in the coldest winter weather. 
 The ice had formed on the water, and he had but four logs of wood 
 to keep his fire. Each of these would, however, burn a month ; 
 and as there were but four cold winter months, they were sufficient 
 to carry him through till spring. 
 
 Shingebiss was hardy and fearless, and cared for no one. He 
 would go out during the coldest day, and seek for places where 
 flags and rushes grew through the ice, and plucking them up with 
 his bill, would dive through the openings in quest of fish. In this 
 way he found plenty of food while others were starving; and he 
 went home daily to his lodge, dragging strings of fish after him on 
 the ice. 
 
 Kabebonicca 3 observed him, and felt a little piqued at his 
 perseverance and good-luck, in defiance of the severest blasts of 
 wind he could send from the north-west. u Why, this is a wonderful 
 man !" said he; "he does not mind the cold, and appears as happy 
 and contented as if it were the month of June. I will try whether 
 he cannot be mastered." He poured forth tenfold colder blasts and 
 drifts of snow, so that it was next to impossible to live in the open 
 air. Still the fire of Shingebiss did not go out; he wore but a 
 single strip of leather around his body, and he was seen in tho 
 
 1 The Algonquin language (so called by the French) was spoken, though not 
 exclusively, in a territory that extended through 60 degrees of longitude, and 
 more than 20 degrees of latitude. Bancroft. 
 
 - The Indian name of a species of wild-duck. 
 
 3 A personification of the north-west or wintry wind.
 
 240 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 worst weather searching the shores for rushes, and carrying home 
 fish. 
 
 " I shall go and visit him," said Kabebonicca one day, as he saw 
 Shingebiss dragging along a quantity of fish ; and accordingly that 
 very night he went to the door of his lodge. Meantime Shingebiss 
 had cooked his fish and finished his meal, and was lying, partly on 
 his side, before the fire, singing his songs. After Kabebonicca had 
 come to the door, and stood listening there, he sang as follows : 
 
 " Spirit of the North-west, 
 You are but my fellow-man ! " 
 
 The hunter knew that Kabebonicca was at his door, for he felt 
 his cold and strong breath ; but he kept on singing his songs, and 
 affected utter indifference. At length Kabebonicca entered, and 
 took his seat on the opposite side of the lodge ; but Shingebiss did 
 not regard or notice him. He got up as if nobody were present, 
 and taking his poker, pushed the log, which made his fire burn 
 brighter, repeating as he sat down again : 
 
 ' ' You are but my fellow-man ! " 
 
 Very soon the tears began to flow down Kabebonicca's cheeks, 
 which increased so fast that presently he said to himself: "I cannot 
 stand this ; I must go out." He did so, and left Shingebiss to his 
 songs ; but resolved to freeze up all the flag orifices, and make the 
 ice thick, so that he could not get any more fish. Still Shingebiss, 
 by dint of great diligence, found 'means to pull up new roots and 
 dive under for fish. At last, Kabebonicca was compelled to give up 
 the contest. " He must be aided by some Monedo," 1 said he : ' ; I 
 can neither freeze him nor starve him ; he is a very singular being. 
 I will let him alone." ' 
 
 Besides their faith in the manitou, -which was so easily led up 
 to a belief in one Great Spirit, the Indians had several forms of 
 superstition regarding charms, incantations, and dreams such as 
 are commonly found among tribes who live in intimate dependence 
 on the powers of nature. 
 
 The medicine-man was a professed sorcerer, prophet, and 
 rain-maker. His spells were supposed ^to have virtues in 
 making the arrow swift and sure, drawing fish into the net, 
 and outwitting the cunning of the moose-deer. For the cure 
 of sickness, he would prescribe fanciful remedies in some cases, 
 while, in others, he recommended means which might have some 
 good effect such* as rolling in the snow, or exposure to excessive 
 heat. His powers were ascribed to his friendship with a strong 
 manitou, and cases of failure were easily explained some manitou 
 stronger than his own had attacked the patient. All the logic of 
 
 1 A spirit or god.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. INDIAN HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 241 
 
 certain modem medical theories may be found in the doctrine 
 of the Indian quack. 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say, that dreams exercised a great 
 influence on the mind of the lied Man. He would expose himself 
 to great hardship in order to comply with the supposed commands 
 of a manitou as given in dreams. His faith in immortality was 
 iirm, though not refined. He believed in a life beyond the grave, 
 but it was not an ideal life, abstracted from all the common 
 sights and sounds of mother-earth. The spirit of the Red Man 
 goes to the happy hunting-ground in the far south-west ; there 
 he finds abundance of game, with beans and maize ; there he has 
 still his quiver, arrows, and moccasons, his pipe and tomahawk ; 
 and there he feasts joyfully with his friends. 
 
 For accounts of the condition of the Indian tribes after their inter 
 course with Europeans, we refer to the writings of the authors 
 already named. Thatcher's Indian Biography gives many interest 
 ing sketches of character, and is written in a spirit of sympathy 
 with the aborigines, yet without injustice to the early settlers. The 
 Life of Black-Hawk is a curiosity, as it gives a narrative of 
 adventures written under the dictation of the chief so named. 
 There is no doubt of the truth of its statements, for ' an Indian's 
 word of honour is as good as a white man's oath.' Black-Hawk 
 boasts of having taken his first scalp when he was only fifteen 
 years old, and justifies his subsequent warfare with white men. 
 After signing a treaty of peace, he remarks : ' What do we know 
 of the laws and customs of the white people ? They might buy 
 our bodies for dissection, and we would touch the goose-quill 
 to confirm it, without knowing what we are doing.' This aptly 
 describes the mode in which lands have been sold by the Indians. 
 The forced sale of his own village compelled the chief to question 
 whether the Americans could discern between right and wrong. 
 When a very small fraction of the lands, bought for a trifle, was 
 resold at a high price, he could not understand the transaction. 
 Indeed, the sale of land, or claiming fields, and rivers, and woods, 
 as private property, was a mystery to the Indian. The chief 
 Tecumthe" on one occasion concisely expressed the views of his 
 people. ' Sell a country ! ' said he ; ' why not sell the air, the 
 clouds, and the great sea, as well as the earth? Did not the 
 Great Spirit make them all for the use of his children?' 
 
 From the days of the apostle John Eliot to the present time, 
 endeavours to convert the Indians to Christianity have commonly 
 been failures. The schools, churches, and villages, formerly 
 planted by missionary effort in the forest, have all vanished. 
 The Indian Bible translated by Eliot is a dead-letter, for all the 
 people who spoke its language have been long extinct. In 
 
 P
 
 242 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 almost all instances of natives educated by white men, savage 
 life has won back the weary students. All that the Indians 
 learned from the settlers was the use of ' fire-water ' or alcohol. 
 The chief Red-jacket gave, in its most simple form, the common 
 Indian argument against the adoption of Christianity. ' If,' said 
 he, ' the Great Spirit had intended that the Red Men should be 
 Christians, he would have made his revelation to them as well as 
 to the whites ; and not having made it, it was clearly his will that 
 they should continue in the faith of their fathers.' He also made 
 use of another argument when he replied to the missionaries : 
 ' Go, try your hand in the town of Buffalo for one year. If in 
 that time you shall have done them [the white people] any good, 
 and made them any better, then we will let you come among our 
 people.' The fact that, during more than two centuries, these 
 aborigines have lived, more or less, in intercourse with civilised 
 and Christian men, and yet have refused the new ideas offered by 
 their neighbours, is very remarkable, and suggests queries not 
 readily answered. The tribes now remaining, says Schoolcraft, 
 ' desire neither our knowledge nor our religion. They distrust 
 our power, decry our refinements, and condemn our laborious 
 industry.' 
 
 For speculations on the probable origin of the North- American 
 tribes, we refer to the writings of GALLATIN and DRAKE 
 (Biography and History of the Indians of North America), BRAD 
 FORD (American Antiquities}, and SQUIER and DAVIS (Ancient 
 Monuments of America). It is commonly said that America has 
 no antiquity : this is true of the United States ; but the New 
 World has its archteology, more shadowy and seemingly unreal 
 than the story of ancient Egypt. 1 Whence came the Red Men ? 
 Who were the ' mound-builders ' in the valley of the Mississippi ? 
 and how were they related to the Toltec race in Central America? 
 These questions make the exploration of Aztec and Inca monu 
 ments seem comparatively an easy matter. No answers better 
 than mere guesses have hitherto been given. Of course, the Ten 
 Tribes have been traced in America, as in all other lands, and 
 so-called affinities of language have been found between the 
 Algonquin and the Hebrew. With equal facility, analogies 
 would be found between the Huron dialect and the Sanscrit. 
 Many of the theories based on comparison of languages, are 
 
 1 Of the supposed ' mound-bunders of the north,' a -writer in the North American 
 Review says : ' We know not what fearful pestilence or what terrible enemy may 
 have overcome them. Other perished nations have survived in the history of their 
 conquerors. But no historian existed for this people. No wandering poet, singing 
 for all ages, told the story of their deeds, or the tale of then- wrongs. Ruler and 
 subject, priest and warrior, are buried in one overwhelming oblivion. Forgotten 
 by men, their record is with God alone.'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. II. PRESCOTT. 243 
 
 
 
 scarcely better than the characteristic , notion of old Cotton 
 Mather, who explained almost everything mysterious by a simple 
 reference to the devil. ' We may guess,' said he, ' that probably 
 the devil decoyed those miserable salvages hither, in hopes that 
 the gospel .... would never come here to destroy or disturb 
 his absolute empire over them. But our Eliot,' he continues, 
 referring to the great missionary, ' was willing to rescue as many 
 of them as he could from that old usurping landlord of America.' 
 
 Leaving this mythological theory, we may quote from the work 
 of Squier a summary of its statements respecting the so-called 
 ' ancient earthworks ' in the West : 
 
 ' The mounds,' says Mr Squier, ' are of all dimensions, from those 
 of but a few feet in height and a few yards in diameter, to those 
 which, like the celebrated structure at the mouth of Grave Creek, 
 in Virginia, rise to the height of 70 feet, and measure 1000 feet in 
 circumference at the base. The great mound in the vicinity of 
 Miamisburgh, Montgomery county, Ohio, is 68 feet in perpendicular 
 height, and 852 in circumference at the base, containing 311,353 
 cubic feet. The truncated pyramid at Cahokia, Illinois, has an 
 altitude of 90 feet, and is upwards of 2000 feet in circumference at 
 the base. It has a level summit of several acres' area. The great 
 mound at Selzerstowri, Mississippi, is computed to cover 6 acres 
 of ground. Mounds of these extraordinary dimensions are most 
 common at the south, though there are some of great size at the 
 north. The usual dimensions are, however, considerably less than 
 in the examples here given. The greater number range from 6 to 
 30 feet in perpendicular height, by 40 to 100 feet diameter at the 
 base.' 
 
 It is now generally admitted, that early explorers of the 
 Mississippi valley would have been less successful in finding 
 aboriginal earthworks, if they had enjoyed a greater share of 
 geological science. It has been clearly shewn that, with regard 
 to the more gigantic mounds and fortifications, nature was the 
 engineer. The imagination of theorists gave a complete and 
 artificial form to every conical elevation, and made a fortress of 
 every hill approaching a quadrangular form. 
 
 WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT. 
 
 WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT, the historian, is the descendant of one 
 of the most prominent families of New England, and was born in 
 Salem in 1796. After a course of classical studies at Harvard 
 University, he travelled in Europe, and returned in 1817 to 
 Boston, where he applied his mind to the study of modern 
 languages, and wrote several articles chiefly for the North
 
 244 AMERICAN LITERATUlir. 
 
 | 
 
 American Review. In 1819, he began to meditate the plan 
 of some extensive historical work, and determined to devote 
 ten years to preliminary studies. Subsequently, he found a 
 field of research in the times of Ferdinand and Isabella of 
 Spain the age of revolutions in the political system of Europe, 
 and marked by a brilliant assemblage of historical characters 
 and events, including, among the former, Henry VIII. of England, 
 Charles VIII. of France, Ximeues the statesman, Cordova the 
 soldier, and Columbus the navigator ; among the latter, the 
 overthrow of the Moorish kingdom, the establishment of the 
 Inquisition, and the discovery of the New World. This last 
 feature of the age especially recommended it to the American 
 historian. 
 
 Through the aid of Mr Alexander II. Everett, minister at the 
 court of Spain, Mr Prescott obtained from the libraries of the 
 Peninsula many valuable materials, including Llorente's History of 
 the Inquisition, Conde's version of the Spanish- Arab chronicles, and 
 the writings of Marina, Sempere, and Capmauy on the ancient poli 
 tical institutions of Spain. These and other rare and valuable works 
 enabled the historian to commence his work with resources far 
 superior to any known by his predecessors in the same field the 
 Abbe Mignot, and the German author Rupert Becker. The 
 historical works of Mr Prescott are remarkable as proofs of what 
 may be done by zeal and industry in circumstances of great 
 difficulty. In his youth, an accident had deprived the writer 
 of the sight of one eye, and the other suffered so much from 
 literary labours, that the task of writing the history of Ferdi 
 nand and Isabella required the use of a writing-case such as is 
 sometimes used by persons totally blind. In consulting authori 
 ties, he was obliged to be satisfied with the services of a reader 
 who did not understand Spanish. After some years of labour 
 under these disadvantages, the author's eyesight improved, 
 though it still remained so imperfect that it could only be 
 employed with great moderation and by daylight. The wide 
 extent of research shewn in the numerous citations and references 
 in Ferdinand and Isabella, appears very remarkable when the 
 circumstances of the writer are considered. After twelve years 
 of meditation and labour, the book was published in 1838, and 
 was universally received as an elaborate and important work on 
 a period in history which had previously been very meagerly 
 treated. It fulfilled far more than the promise of its title-page, 
 as it gave a history not only of the reign of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella, but also of the reigns of John II. of Aragon, John II. 
 and Plenry IV. of Castile, Philip and Joanna, and the regencies 
 of Ferdinand and Ximenes.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. H. PRESCOTT. 245 
 
 In the two parts of the introduction to his work, the historian 
 lias given comprehensive views of the political, religious, and 
 social condition of the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon about the 
 middle of the fifteenth century. This summary is followed by 
 notices of theTeigns of the two kings, John II. of Aragon, father 
 of Ferdinand, and John II. of Castile, father of Isabella, whose 
 crowns were united by the marriage of their heirs. The factions 
 and wars preceding this union are narrated with numerous 
 details not found in any previous history of the time. A chapter 
 is devoted to the institution of the Inquisition, and the persecution 
 of the Jews in Spain the darkest features of the age. This is 
 one of the most graphic and original portions of the history. It 
 is followed by an account of the Spanish Arabs, which serves as 
 an introduction to the wars of Granada. The first part of the 
 Avork closes with historical notices of Spanish literature. 
 
 The foreign affairs of Spain ; the Italian wars, and the triumph 
 of the great captain, Gonsalva ; the death of Isabella, and the 
 consequent disturbances ; Ferdinand's second marriage, and his 
 resignation of the regency, followed by his return to power ; the 
 extraordinary career of that able and versatile hermit, cardinal, 
 despot, scholar, soldier, and saint, Ximenes : these are among 
 the chief topics of the second part. It is obvious that the story 
 of a work of such magnitude cannot be sufficiently direct and 
 simple to allow an unbroken narrative interest. The writer has, 
 with good judgment, deviated in many places from the chrono 
 logical order of events, so as to avoid the intermixture of too 
 many topics, and to give to each a certain degree of completeness. 
 Perhaps, it may be objected that the treatment of some topics 
 for example, the Spanish literature is too minute for the purpose 
 of a general history of a period. The portraits of the leading 
 characters Isabella, Ferdinand, Columbus, Gonsalvo, Ximenes, 
 and others are very carefully drawn. 
 
 Five years after the publication of his first historical work, 
 Mr Prescott produced a second the History of the Conquest of 
 Mexico. In this work, the subject is of an inferior nature ; indeed, 
 it is nothing more than the extermination of a helpless nation ; 
 the perpetrators of which cannot, by any fair historical treatment, 
 be raised to the rank of heroes. With this defect, the Conqiiest 
 of Mexico had the advantage of a clear, direct and marvellous 
 narrative, and afforded abundant scope for the exercise of powers 
 of description. The landing of the Spaniards on the shore of 
 Mexico ; their march over the coast, and through the tropic 
 scenery of the plain, to the table-land ; their skirmishes and 
 negotiations with the several native tribes ; the rapid fall of an 
 empire ; the beginning of that work of desolation which has
 
 246 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 made the history of South America more melancholy than that of 
 any other section of the world : these striking features made 
 Mr Prescott's second work even more successful than his first. 
 It has been widely circulated in America and Great Britain ; and, 
 besides several reprints, translations have appeared in Paris, 
 Berlin, Home, Madrid, and Mexico. Though the author's share 
 of profit has been by no means commensurate with the extensive 
 sale of his works, it is pleasing to know that his success in his own 
 country has added a considerable sum to his inherited property. 
 
 In the introduction to the History of the Conquest of Mexico, 
 the historian gives the results of extensive researches in a general 
 view of Aztec civilisation ; and throughout the work he makes use 
 of numerous materials unknown to the preceding writers on the 
 same subject Dr Robertson, and the Spaniard Antonio de Solis. 
 The summary of Aztec culture is exceedingly interesting, and: 
 prepares the reader to study with sympathy the following 
 narrative. We borrow from this summary a few of the more 
 prominent facts. 
 
 In his physical structure, the Aztec was less robust than the 
 European, and in some respects resembled the Hindoo. His hair 
 was straight and black ; the beard was usually plucked away or 
 thinned ; the complexion was a reddish brown or copper colour, 
 the cheek-bones high, and the eyes obliquely set. The women 
 were exempted from the hard bodily labour imposed upon them 
 by savage tribes ; and the wife was the companion, not the slave 
 of her husband. This one trait proves that a considerable degree 
 of civilisation had been attained. The agriculture of the Aztecs 
 was skilful; and in other useful arts, great progress had been 
 made. Vessels for domestic use were made of clay or lackered 
 or painted wood ; and articles of luxury included gold and silver 
 ornaments, jewellery, and especially splendid dresses and tapestry, 
 made of the plumage of tropical birds. 
 
 The tables of the wealthy were supplied with such delicacies 
 as sauces, confectionary, chocolate flavoured with vanilla, and 
 fish brought from a sea-shore 200 miles distant. The dark fact 
 that cannibalism formed a part of their luxurious banquets, seems 
 scarcely conceivable among a people otherwise refined and gentle 
 in their manners. 
 
 As a specimen of Aztec literature, Mr Prescott notices the 
 poems ascribed to one of the kings of the Tezcucans the most 
 civilised of all the tribes who inhabited the valley of Mexico. 
 The strains of this royal poet have a melancholy tone, reminding 
 the reader of a troubled life, not without crime, of remorse and 
 forebodings mixed with the pleasures of a palace. A system 
 of picture-writing served for the publication of laws and the
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. H. PRESCOTT. 247 
 
 record of memorable events. Time was accurately measured ; and 
 the advanced state of the Aztec astronomy is perhaps the most 
 remarkable fact brought to light by recent researches. 
 
 The religion and the political system of the Aztecs were very 
 closely connected. The education of the people was one of 
 the duties of the priesthood, which was not bound by vows of 
 celibacy. Temples were richly endowed, and the priests received 
 first-fruits and many voluntary offerings. The surplus of the 
 church-revenues was distributed in alms. One supreme Creator 
 and Lord of the universe was the central object of worship ; but 
 homage was also paid, as by the Hindoos, to a multitude of 
 subordinate deities. A ceremony, having some likeness to 
 baptism, was used in naming children, and a cleansing power, 
 in a moral sense, was ascribed to the water. Roman Catholic 
 missionaries have recognised in the monuments of the Aztecs the 
 rites of confession and absolution. The cross seems to have been 
 an object of adoration. These and other coincidences have 
 suggested the theory of connecting Aztec religion and civilisation 
 with Jewish traditions ; but, on the other side, the Aztec worship 
 was as degraded and cruel as that of the lowest savages. Human 
 sacrifices were commonly offered on the altars of the gods, and 
 the flesh of enemies seized in battle was served up at luxurious 
 banquets. 
 
 The Aztec government was an elective monarchy. A numerous 
 aristocracy depended on the throne. Judges in the superior 
 courts were appointed by the crown ; while, in the lower, they 
 were chosen by the people. For numerous details of a people 
 whose civilisation, so far as researches have hitherto extended, 
 seems an isolated fact in the world's history, connecting itself 
 with nothing before or after it, we have to thank Mr Prescott ; 
 but he has wisely abstained from theorising on the origin of 
 Mexican culture. He has left it as he found it a problem 
 presenting the greatest difficulties to students who hold the tradi 
 tional theory of civilisation. The end of this Mexican system 
 seems as mysterious as the beginning. Other nations have 
 perished, but not without leaving some heritage to their 
 successors. Where are the inheritors of Aztec culture? For 
 what great purpose connected with the world's general history 
 did it exist? These are questions to which human reason 
 can rind no reply. The melancholy fate of the Aztecs has no 
 parallel in all history. Other nations have passed away, but 
 not without having fulfilled a destiny more or less important 
 as a part of the whole life of mankind. So natural is the 
 belief that all culture must, in some form or other, perpetuate 
 itself, that we cannot, without some feeling of scepticism, read
 
 248 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 
 
 Mr Prescott's able and interesting summary of Aztec civilisation 1 , 
 especially his account of the character and poetical writings of 
 the king of Tezcuco, who might be styled the Aztec Solomon. 
 We read that the latter part of his life ' was devoted to astrono 
 mical, and, probably, astrological studies ; to meditation on his 
 immortal destiny ; and to giving utterance to his feelings in songs, 
 or rather hymns, of much solemnity and pathos.' An extract 
 from one of these will convey some idea of his religious 
 speculations. 
 
 HYMN ON MORTALITY. 
 
 BY THE KISO OF TEZCUCO. 
 
 'All things on earth have their term, and, in the most joyous 
 career of their vanity and splendour, their strength fails, and they 
 sink into the dust. All the round world is but a sepulchre ; and 
 there is nothing which lives on its surface, that shall not be hidden 
 and entombed beneath it. Rivers, torrents, and streams move 
 onward to their destination. Not one flows back to its pleasant 
 source. They rush onward, hastening to bury themselves in the 
 deep bosom of the ocean. The things of yesterday are no more 
 to-day ; and the things of to-day shall cease, perhaps, on the morrow. 
 The cemetery is full of the loathsome dust of bodies once quickened 
 by living souls, who occupied thrones, presided over assemblies, 
 marshalled armies, subdued provinces, arrogated to themselves 
 worship, were puffed up with vainglorious pomp, and power, and 
 empire. 
 
 But these glories have all passed away, like the fearful smoke 
 that issues from the throat of Popocatepetl, 1 with no other memorial 
 of their existence than the record on the page of the chronicler. 
 
 The great, the wise, the valiant^ the beautiful -alas ! where 
 are they now ? They are all mingled with the clod ; and that which 
 has befallen them shall happen to us, and to those that come after 
 us. Yet, let us take courage, illustrious nobles and chieftains, 
 true friends and loyal subjects let us aspire to that heaven, 
 where all is eternal, and corruption cannot come. The horrors of 
 the tomb are but the cradle of the Sun, and the dark shadows of 
 death are brilliant lights for the stars.' 
 
 The writer of this hymn died about the year 1470, or half 
 a century before the desolation commonly called the Conquest of 
 Mexico. 
 
 After a clear and comprehensive introduction, giving an 
 account of the Aztec civilisation, Mr Prescott proceeds to give 
 the narrative of the rapid conquest of Mexico ; and in doing this, 
 he supplies many details which reduce the vague, marvellous, and 
 
 i A volcano.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. H. PRESCOTT. 249 
 
 seemingly fabulous account, rendered by the preceding historian, 
 Itobertson, to a statement that may be readily understood and 
 credited. At first sight, it seems a mere story of romance that 
 a handful of adventurers, landing in Mexico, scantily furnished 
 with the means of warfare, and fighting at their own cost, could, 
 in the space of two years, overthrow an empire and destroy an 
 ancient civilisation. Besides the facts, that these adventurers 
 were excited by a thirst for gold to the highest degree of valour ; 
 that they were led on by a bold, enthusiastic, and yet cunning 
 commander ; and that their victims were a singularly unwarlike 
 people, dismayed even by the sound of firearms ; we require 
 other circumstances to explain how one Spaniard literally put 
 to flight a thousand Mexicans. 
 
 In the first place, we learn that the empire of the Aztecs was 
 a mere aggregate of several distinct communities, without the 
 centralisation required for a common defence. Cortes conquered 
 one tribe after another, and made the vanquished his allies. In 
 doing this, he was greatly assisted by the jealousies excited 
 against the Indian monarch, Montezuma. Though his military 
 prowess was celebrated in Mexico, it was little better than the 
 courage of a mere child when opposed to the discipline of the 
 invaders ; for of the art of war, the irresolute and bewildered king 
 knew nothing. 
 
 The prediction current in Mexico, that the empire must fall 
 into the hands of invaders coming from the east, was no slight 
 aid to the adventurers ; but their greatest auxiliaries were found 
 in the divisions of the Indian tribes and the vacillation of the 
 monarch. Montezuma acted as a fatalist who sees his destiny, 
 and submits. When he heard of the strange men, if men they 
 could be called, who had landed on his coast, and, accompanied 
 by unknown terrors of thunder and lightning, were marching on 
 his capital, his superstitious mind remembered the prophecy of 
 invasion from the east ; and when he declined the proffered visit, 
 it was not through indignation or simple fear, but with the deep 
 melancholy of a man who has foreseen a gloomy fate, and knows 
 that his hour is come. 
 
 When the invaders appeared before him, he at once resigned 
 everything into their hands as his subjects said, ' he became a 
 woman.' As Mr Prescott states Montezuma died ' quite as much 
 under the anguish of a wounded spirit as under disease Per 
 ceiving his end approach, some of the cavaliers present in the 
 fortress, whom the kindness of his manners had personally attached 
 to him, were anxious to save the soul of the dying prince from the 
 sad doom of those who perish in the darkness of unbelief. They 
 accordingly waited on him, with Father Olmedo at their head, and
 
 250 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in the most earnest manner implored' him to open his eyes to the 
 error of his creed, and consent to be baptised. But Montezuma, 
 whatever may have been suggested to the contrary, seems never 
 to have faltered in his hereditary faith, or to have contemplated 
 becoming an apostate for surely he merits that name, in its most 
 odious application, who, whether Christian or Pagan, renounces his 
 religion without conviction of its falsehood. Indeed, it was a too 
 implicit reliance on its oracles which had led him to give such 
 easy confidence to the Spaniards. His intercourse with them had 
 doubtless not sharpened his desire to embrace their communion ; 
 and the calamities of his country he might consider as sent by his 
 gods, to punish him for his hospitality to those who had desecrated 
 and destroyed their shrines. 
 
 When Father Olmedo, therefore, kneeling at his side, with 
 the uplifted crucifix, affectionately besought him to embrace the 
 sign of man's redemption, he coldly repulsed the priest, exclaim 
 ing: "I have but a few moments to live, and will not at this 
 hour desert the faith of my fathers." One thing, however, 
 seemed to press heavily on Montezuma's mind this was the 
 fate of his children, especially of three daughters, whom he had 
 by his two wives ; for there were certain rites of marriage which 
 distinguished the lawful wife from the concubine. Calling 
 Corte"s to his bedside, he earnestly commended these children to 
 his care, " as the most precious jewels that he could leave him." 
 He besought the general to interest his master, the emperor, 
 in their behalf, and to see that they should not be left destitute, 
 but be allowed some portion of their rightful inheritance. " Your 
 lord will do this," he concluded, " if it were only for the friendly 
 offices I have rendered the Spaniards, and for the love I have 
 shewn them, though it has brought me to this condition. But 
 for this I bear them no ill-will." Such, according to Corte's 
 himself, were the words of the dying monarch. Not long after, 
 on the 30th of June 1520, he expired in the arms of some of 
 his own nobles, who still remained faithful in their attendance on 
 his person.' 
 
 The preceding notices have shewn how clearly the historian 
 explains the circumstances which make credible so romantic a 
 story as the conquest of Mexico by Cortes and his followers. 
 The march of the adventurers is described in a vivid style. 
 Considering all the circumstances conspiring to aid their enter 
 prise, we still must admire their courage, and might follow them 
 with sympathy if some better motive than the thirst for gold 
 had impelled them. When they marched boldly from the coast 
 through the gorgeous low tropical district, discovering every 
 day new wonders in the surrounding scenes, they knew little
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. II. TRESCOTT. 251 
 
 or nothing of the power of the people whom they went to 
 conquer. They knew not that jealousies and divisions existed 
 among the native tribes ; that the monarch was superstitious and 
 irresolute ; and that the Aztec oracles would be found in alliance 
 with the invaders. Through a land of mystery, they marched 
 on from the tropic climate of the lowlands to the temperate slopes 
 or terraces ; and still on, over the high table-lands and through 
 the passes, where tempests of snow and arrowy sleet beat upon 
 them. Here the larch, oak, and cypress appeared in place of the 
 tropical aloes and bananas, and rich groves adorned a landscape 
 which has been desolated by the Spaniards a people whose taste 
 in arboriculture equals their success in colonisation. After hard toil 
 and suffering from cold, the invaders reached the summit of the 
 mountain-chain of Ahualco. So far, the country had appeared 
 less and less attractive as they had ascended the table-land. 
 
 ' Their progress was now comparatively easy, and they marched 
 forward with a buoyant step, as they felt they were treading the 
 soil of Montezuma. 
 
 They had not advanced far, when, turning an angle of the sierra, 
 they suddenly came on a view which more than compensated the 
 toils of the preceding day. It was that of the valley of Mexico, or 
 Tenochtitlan, as more commonly called by the natives ; which, with 
 its picturesque assemblage of water, woodland, and cultivated plains, 
 its shining cities and shadowy hills, was spread out like some gay and 
 gorgeous panorama before them. In the highly rarefied atmosphere 
 of these upper regions, even remote objects have a brilliancy of colour 
 ing and a distinctness of outline which seem to annihilate distance. 
 Stretching far away at their feet, were seen noble forests of oak, 
 sycamore, and cedar, and beyond, yellow fields of maize, and the 
 towering maguey, intermingled with orchards and blooming gardens ; 
 for flowers, in such demand for their religious festivals, were even 
 more abundant in this populous valley than in other parts of 
 Anahuac. In the centre of the great basin were beheld the lakes, 
 occupying then a much larger portion of its surface than at present ; 
 their borders thickly studded with towns and hamlets ; and in the 
 midst like some Indian empress with her coronal of pearls the 
 fair city of Mexico, with her white towers and pyramidal temples, 
 reposing, as it were, on the bosom of the waters the far-famed 
 " Venice of the Aztecs." High over all rose the royal hill of Chapol- 
 tepee, the residence of the Mexican monarchs, crowned with the 
 same grove of gigantic cypresses which at this day fling their broad 
 shadows over the land. In the distance, beyond the blue waters of 
 the lake, and nearly screened by intervening foliage, was seen a 
 shining speck, the rival capital of Tezcuco ; and still further on, the 
 dark belt of porphyry, girdling the valley around, like a rich setting 
 which nature had devised for the fairest of her jewels. Such was 
 the beautiful vision which broke on the eyes of the conquerors.
 
 252 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And even now, when so sad a change has come over the scene ; 
 when the stately forests have been laid low, and the soil, 
 unsheltered from the fierce radiance of a tropical sun, is in many 
 places abandoned to sterility ; when the waters have retired, 
 leaving a broad and ghastly margin white with the incrustation of 
 salts, while the cities and hamlets on their borders have mouldered 
 into ruins : even now that desolation broods over the landscape, so 
 indestructible are the lines of beauty which nature has traced ou 
 its features, that no traveller, however cold, can gaze on them with 
 any other emotions than those of astonishment and rapture. 
 
 What, then, must have been the emotions of the Spaniards, when, 
 after working their toilsome way inta the upper air, the cloudy 
 tabernacle parted before their eyes, and they beheld these fair 
 scenes in all their pristine magnificence and beauty ! It was like 
 the spectacle which greeted the eyes of Moses from the summit of 
 Pisgah, and in the warm glow of their feelings they cried out : " It is 
 the promised land !"' 
 
 Mr Prescott lavishes the charms of his style to invest with 
 dignity the marches and battles of the merciless freebooters who 
 desolated Mexico. He feels the difficulty of describing massacres 
 with the pomp of great actions of warfare, and therefore often 
 turns aside from the direct course of events to relieve the tale of 
 carnage by interspersed descriptions of cities, architecture, and 
 the grandeurs of natural scenery. But he describes Cortes as a 
 hero, and even hazards the assertion that he ' was not cruel ; at 
 least, not cruel as compared with most of those who followed 
 his iron trade.' This appears a bold statement, when we look 
 at the plain facts of the conqueror's career. It was rapid, and 
 its success is easily explained by the unwarlike character of the 
 unhappy Aztecs, who never offered any considerable resistance 
 until the last moment of desperation, when, driven into their 
 capital, they defended it with that courage which even the most 
 inoffensive bird will display in defence of the nest which contains 
 her brood. The other so-called battles were so many massacres, 
 like that perpetrated by Pizarro and his accomplices at Caxamalca ; 
 and the description of one might serve for the whole series. We 
 see a mass of unarmed, naked, and timid Indians, amazed by 
 the appearance of mounted troopers, with guns discharging deadly 
 fire with the noise of thunder. To the wretched Mexicans, these 
 terrors seemed supernatural ; and to offer battle was as hopeless 
 as to wage warfare with the giants and demons of mythology. 
 The conquerors, therefore, rode over their victims. A wolf in a 
 fold of lambs could scarcely have an easier task than many of 
 the ' victories ' of Cortes and his band. The rapidity of their 
 march is sufficient evidence of the nature of the adventure. In 
 August 1519, they commenced the expedition against the city of
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. II. PRESCOTT. 253 
 
 Mexico ; they arrived here in November, and passed the winter. 
 After reducing several places on the lake, gaining victories over 
 various tribes, and waiting for reinforcements, they captured the 
 city, and completed the conquest of an empire in August 1521. 
 The fact that this was achieved by a small band of hardy adven 
 turers, and in the course of two years, can be explained only by 
 the passive character of the subjugated people, and the alliance 
 formed by the Spaniards with the several Indian tribes, especially 
 the republicans of Tlascala. 
 
 We cannot agree with the historian, either in his general 
 estimate of the character of Cortes, or in his palliation of the 
 gross superstition and cruelty of the Spaniards. It must not be 
 forgotten that the same form of religion professed by the 
 invaders of Mexico, had been found, in other men, compatible 
 with feelings of humanity. False religion, or even the darkest 
 superstition, has been in many cases rather the pretext and 
 disguise than the real incentive to cruelty and oppression. It 
 was not a religious zeal that led Cortes to Mexico, and Pizarro 
 to Peru ; it was the wild spirit of adventure, and that greedy 
 love of gold which, in our own times, has made almost a pande 
 monium of California. With this protest, we give the more 
 favourable character of Cortes, as described by Mr Prescott : 
 
 ' Cortes was not a vulgar conqueror. He did not conquer from the 
 mere ambition of conquest. If he destroyed the ancient capital of 
 the Aztecs, it was to build up a more magnificent capital on its 
 ruins. If he desolated the land, and broke up its existing institutions, 
 he employed the short period of his administration in digesting 
 schemes for introducing there a more improved culture and a higher 
 civilisation. In all his expeditions, he was careful to study the 
 resources of the country, its social organisation, and its physical 
 capacities. He enjoined it on his captains to attend particularly to 
 these objects. If he was greedy of gold, like most of the Spanish 
 cavaliers in the New World, it was not to hoard it, nor merely to 
 lavish it in the support of a princely establishment, but to secure 
 funds for prosecuting his glorious discoveries. Witness his costly 
 expeditions to the Gulf of California. His enterprises were not 
 undertaken solely for mercenary objects, as is shewn by the various 
 expeditions he set on foot for the discovery of a communication 
 between the Atlantic and the Pacific 
 
 He was a knight-errant in the literal sense of the word. Of all 
 the baud of adventurous cavaliers, whom Spain, in the sixteenth 
 century, sent forth on the career of discovery and conquest, there 
 was none more deeply filled with the spirit of romantic enterprise 
 than Hernando Cortes. Dangers and difficulties, instead of deterring, 
 seemed to have a charm in his eyes. They were necessary to rouse 
 him to a full consciousness of his powers. He grappled with them 
 at the outset, and, if I may so express myself, seemed to prefer to
 
 254 AMERICAN LITEKATURE. 
 
 take his enterprises by the most difficult side. He conceived, at the 
 first moment of his landing in Mexico, the design of its conquest. 
 When he saw the strength of its civilisation, he was not turned from 
 his purpose ; when he was assailed by the superior force of 
 Narvaez, he still persisted in it ; and when he was driven in ruin 
 from the capital, he still cherished his original idea. How successfully 
 he carried it into execution, we have seen.' 
 
 Nine years after the publication of the History of Ferdinand 
 and Isabella, the author completed the story of Spanish dis 
 covery and conquest in America. The History of the Conquest 
 of Peru (1847), is the result of careful research in valuable 
 documents which the former historian, Robertson, had not 
 employed ; but in the narrative of the conquest, Prescott has 
 added little to the statements of his conscientious predecessor. In 
 the preliminary view of the civilisation achieved by the Incas of 
 Peru, the writings of the Spaniards Sarraiento and Ondegardo, 
 contemporaries of the Pizarros, have been consulted and collated 
 with the commentaries of Garcilasso, and all that can be known 
 of the Peruvians at the time of the conquest has been collected. 
 Of the origin of this civilisation, or of the history of the Incas in 
 times preceding the conquest, we can learn nothing, as no written 
 records were found. 
 
 The materials for the historian of Peru are, therefore, very 
 scanty. He finds only documents describing the life of two 
 generations the people living during the so-called conquest, and 
 their immediate predecessors ; for of the scattered remnant who 
 lived after the conquest, the tale is as brief as it is melancholy. 
 We find a quiet and inoffensive nation sheltered among the valleys 
 of Peru : they are divided into two castes the Incas or rulers, 
 and the common people. We see that they understand several of 
 the useful arts. Their agriculture covers the terraces of their 
 hills with verdure ; then- roads and bridges are remarkable 
 structures ; and their architecture has a rude magnificence. We 
 are curious to learn, if possible, the origin and the traditions of 
 this isolated system of culture ; but while we contemplate it, 
 suddenly the scene changes, and the dynasty of the Incas vanishes 
 like a dream. Its gilded temples have attracted the avarice of 
 a band of marauders coming from the west ; they invade the 
 land, massacre the helpless people, and so completely do the work 
 of extermination, as to leave, in the course of a few years, nothing 
 more than those records of rapine and oppression which fill the 
 history of Spanish colonisation. 
 
 The origin of the Inca-systein of government, like that of the 
 Aztecs, remains a mystery. An Indian tradition tells us, that in 
 the most ancient times all the tribes of the American continent
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. II. PRESCOTT. 255 
 
 were savages, worshipping rude natural objects, delighting in 
 warfare, and eating the flesh of captives. A celestial man and 
 woman, children of the sun, appeared and fixed their residence in 
 the valley of Cuzco, where they opened a school of civilisation. 
 Manco Capac, the husband, instructed the men in agriculture ; 
 while Mama Oello, his wife, taught the women to weave and 
 spin. In process of time, the city of Cuzco was built, and here 
 the mild government of the Incas or descendants from Manco 
 Capac and Mama Ocllo was first established. There may be 
 some germ of truth in the legend which describes a government 
 founded on superior wisdom rather than physical force. The Incas 
 were certainly more advanced in intellect than the common 
 people of Peru, and the difference found in the facial angles of the 
 two races, corresponds with this fact. 
 
 "\Vhatever may have been its origin, the Inca-system fostered 
 a remarkable civilisation. Agriculture was in an advanced state. 
 The sovereign or Inca was its patron, and on one day in every 
 year went into the fields and ploughed a furrow. A magnificent 
 system of irrigation was employed. The surplus of abundant 
 harvests was stored in granaries, to provide for times of scarcity. 
 Bare rocks were cut into terraces, covered with soil, and made 
 fruitful. Manures were liberally used ; and guano, a recent 
 improvement in Europe, was commonly applied in Peru before 
 the ' conquest,' or rather desolation, of the country by the Spanish 
 banditti. Among the other useful arts in which the Peruvians 
 excelled, we find working in gold and silver, engraving on gems, 
 smelting copper-ore, and spinning and weaving woollen and other 
 fabrics. The use of iron was unknown. Their architecture was 
 simple and massive; and their great roads are perhaps more 
 remarkable than any other results of their civilisation. 'One of 
 these roads,' Mr Prescott says, ' passed over the grand plateau ; T 
 and its length has been estimated at from 1500 to 2000 miles. 
 ' Its breadth scarcely exceeded twenty feet. It was built of heavy 
 flags of freestone, and, in some parts at least, covered with a 
 bituminous cement, which time has made harder than the stone 
 itself. In some places, where the ravines had been filled up with 
 masonry, the mountain-torrents, wearing on it for ages, have 
 gradually eaten a way through the base, and left the superincum 
 bent mass such is the cohesion of the materials still spanning 
 the valley like an arch ! Over some of the boldest streams, 
 it was necessary to construct suspension-bridges, as they are 
 termed, made of the tough fibres of the maguey or of the osier of 
 the country, which has an extraordinary degree of tenacity and 
 strength. These osiers were woven into cables of the thickness of 
 a man's body. The huge ropes, then stretched across the water,
 
 256 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 were conducted through rings or holes cut in immense buttresses of 
 stone raised on the opposite banks of the river, and there secured 
 to heavy pieces of timber. Several of these enormous cables, bound 
 together, formed a bridge, which, covered with planks, well 
 secured and defended by a railing of the same osier materials on 
 the sides, afforded a safe passage for the traveller.' 
 
 The general characteristics of the Peruvians under the Inca 
 government were those of a mild, peaceable people living under 
 a paternal despotism. Their want of enterprise depended pro 
 bably on the want of property in the soil, which was annually 
 distributed among them, so that each received a share. This 
 form of communism favoured the development of a quiet, unambi 
 tious, and unwarlike character, which was ill fitted to resist the 
 Spanish invasion. The Inca, or king, was also the high-priest, or 
 chief-minister of religion; and the highest aristocracy consisted of 
 the members of the royal family, who led the armies and filled 
 the chief offices of church and state. One Supreme Being was 
 the central object of worship, as ^.mong the Aztecs in Mexico ; 
 but homage was also paid to many subordinate deities, and 
 especially to the sun, as the great ancestor of the Inca dynasty. 
 The moon was worshipped as the sister, and the planet Venus as 
 the page, or morning and evening attendant of the sun. A class 
 of nuns, styled ' Virgins of the Sun,' served in the temples, and, 
 among other duties, tended the sacred fire which was lighted on a 
 certain annual festival. The four chief festivals were celebrated 
 at the solstices and equinoxes, when sacrifices were offered, 
 which, on some rare occasions, included among their victims a 
 child or a beautiful virgin. 
 
 Such were the traits of government, religion, and social life 
 among the quiet people who fell victims to the ruthless cruelty of 
 a base adventurer. Pizarro, a rapacious marauder, who, in other 
 times, would have reached no higher elevation than the gallows, 
 was the natural son of a Spanish officer. Left in a state of 
 beggary by his father, the boy was for some time engaged as 
 a swineherd. When he attained manhood, he joined a band of 
 military adventurers, went to seek his fortune in the New World, 
 and, by his courage, gained promotion to the rank of lieutenant. 
 After following Balboa, and remaining for some time with the 
 colony on the isthmus of Panama, he sought more exciting 
 adventures in the regions on the south, and, having found suitable 
 companions, sailed southwards from Panama, hoping to find some 
 golden country. This first private enterprise was a failure ; but 
 the hopes of Pizarro were not easily discouraged. A second 
 expedition was successful ; and, after great sufferings, Pizarro 
 and his associates anchored their vessel in the harbour of Tumbez,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. H. PRESCOTT. 257 
 
 within the dominions of the Inca. Here they were hospitably 
 treated by the natives, and feasted their eyes on the gold and 
 silver work of a temple. 
 
 Having made this reconnaissance of his intended victims, the 
 adventurer prudently abstained from immediate hostilities, and 
 sailed back to Panama to raise a stronger band of invaders. As 
 the governor of the colony refused his assistance, Pizarro returned 
 to Spain, and there was appointed governor of Peru, but left to 
 rind lus own resources for the subjugation of the country. Among 
 the first volunteers on his side were his own brothers, Hernando, 
 Juan, and Gonzalo, and a relative named Francisco all worthy 
 associates in a scheme of enormous robbery. Many difficulties 
 were encountered and overcome by their fanatical thirst for 
 riches ; and at last, with banditti numbering 180 men, and only 
 27 horses for cavalry, Pizarro was prepared to invade Peru. The 
 invasion, at all times easy, was favoured by the circumstance, 
 that at this time a disputed succession to the throne had divided 
 the timid and defenceless people. 
 
 Landing near the haven of Tumbez, Pizarro, with his banditti, 
 marched into the country. Murder and rapine marked their path 
 from village to village, and the poor natives fled like sheep before 
 a band of wolves. Gold and silver sent home to Panama excited 
 other adventurers to sail for Peru ; and having thus gained 
 reinforcements, Pizarro boldly marched on the capital, and 
 determined to seize the person of the reigning Inca. He 
 succeeded by a base act of treachery, inviting the king to visit 
 the Spanish quarters, where he was made a prisoner. The 
 conditions offered to the Inca were, that he should immediately 
 be baptised as a convert to the Catholic faith, and surrender his 
 throne to Spain. These conditions were rejected with natural 
 indignation. Meanwhile, the invader had concealed his forces 
 in the temples and other buildings near the great square where 
 the interview with the Inca had taken place. He now waved in 
 the air a white scarf, as the signal of beginning the slaughter 
 of the terrified people. The Spaniards rushed out from their 
 hiding-places and fired upon the Peruvians. There was no 
 battle ; no resistance was offered by the unarmed natives. 
 Stunned by the din of musketry, the miserable king saw his 
 people falling around him under the storm of bullets, or cut down 
 like grass and trampled under the hoofs of the fierce cavalry. 
 His troops, regarding battle as a hopeless right with demons of 
 superhuman power, fled in all directions before the assassins, and 
 thus the so-called conquest of Peru was achieved ! The king was 
 retained as a prisoner until his subjects handed over to the 
 Spaniards a large ransom, and then he was murdered. One brave 
 
 Q
 
 258 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Peruvian chieftain, who offered resistance to Pizarro, was taken, 
 after a skirmish, and burned alive. The remainder of the 
 story consists chiefly of the internal discords of the marauding 
 Spaniards. 
 
 This is the simple account of an enormous crime which Mr 
 Prescott has described in a very calm and lenient style, such as 
 may be suitable to the history of honourable warfare, but is, 
 we conceive, utterly out of place in narrating the career of a 
 sanguinary outlaw like Pizarro. The historian has apparently 
 attempted to treat the butchery at Caxamalca as a military exploit. 
 It is true, he has not falsified any facts : he admits that the 
 natives made no resistance ; that they had no weapons ; that the 
 ferocious Spaniards were in no more danger than a sportsman 
 encounters in the slaughter of pheasants ; that, indeed, they did 
 not lose a single man ; but he throws a false dignity over the 
 crime and its perpetrators. Without a word of indignation, he 
 tells us that his hero saw that ' the hour had come ; ' that ' his 
 followers shouted the old war-cry of " St Jago and at them ! " ' that 
 the struggle (?) ' became fiercer than ever around the royal litter ;* 
 and so forth but the reader who looks through the rather 
 florid dress thrown over the massacre, will find nothing more than 
 the fact, that Spanish ruffians shot and cut down a crowd of 
 timid and inoffensive Indians. 
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 In this department we find several valuable works, with many 
 others characterised by a special rather than a general interest. 
 The section of religious biography is crowded with memoirs 
 of eminent divines, missionaries, and other leading characters in 
 the several churches of America. It is obvious that we cannot 
 notice fairly any considerable number of works of this class, and 
 to copy their titles would make our pages a bibliographical 
 catalogue. We must therefore pass over a host of volumes, to 
 notice a work which contains the best specimens of American 
 biography. 
 
 JARED SPARKS, the editor of this extensive work, was born 
 about the year 1794. His earlier writings included several essays 
 on religious questions, and contributions to The North American 
 Review, which remained under his editorship during the years 
 1823-30. In 1828, he commenced the series of American 
 biographies, and since that time has chiefly devoted his studies 
 to the illustration of the history of his country. His first
 
 SECOND PERIOD. BIOGRAPHY. 25 
 
 biographical work, The Life of John Ledyard, the traveller, was 
 followed by a Life of Governor Morris, and The Diplomatic 
 Correspondence of the. American Revolution the latter published 
 in twelve volumes, in the years 1829-31. In 1833, he commenced 
 the publication of The Life and Writings of Washington, which 
 was completed in twelve volumes, the last appearing in 1840. 
 This was followed by a complete edition of the works of Benjamin 
 Franklin, with a continuation of his autobiography and explanatory 
 notes. 
 
 The Library of American Biography already includes twenty- 
 live volumes. In the first series of ten volumes, the editor 
 wrote the lives of Ethan Allen, Benedict Arnold, and Father 
 Marquette, the French discoverer of the Mississippi. Among the 
 other contributors to this extensive work, the names of the 
 brothers EVERETT, PRESCOTT, WHEATON, CHARLES F. HOFFMAN, 
 HENRY REED, and GEORGE HILLARD, may be mentioned. The 
 several important contributions to historical biography by Mr 
 Sparks, display remarkable fidelity and diligence of research. 
 His style is sober and correct, but deficient in animation and 
 variety. 
 
 As specimens of numerous memoirs which might be noticed if 
 our space would allow, we may mention SABINE'S Sketches of ilie 
 Ann rican Loyalists; RAYNER'S Life of Jefferson ; ELUS'S Life of 
 Perm ; The Letters of Mrs Adams, wife of the second president ; 
 and TICKNOR'S Life of Daniel Webster. In the department of 
 religious biography, examples of works of general interest are 
 found in GURLEY'S Life of Ashmun, a tribute to the memory of a 
 good man who devoted his labours to the African colonisation in 
 Liberia ; the Life of Boardman, another contribution to the 
 history of Christian missions ; GAMMEL'S Life of Roger Williams ; 
 and M'LuRE's Lives of the Fatliers of New England. 
 
 The well-known biographical works of WASHINGTON IRVING 
 have been mentioned in a general review of his writings. We 
 may add the remarks, that his Life of Goldsmith can bear no 
 comparison with the elaborate biography written by Mr Forster, 
 and that the Life of Mohammed has been generally regarded as 
 deficient in the critical investigation required in following the 
 statements of Oriental writers. Irving's latest work, the Life of 
 George Washington, is necessarily rather historical than biogra 
 phical; for it may be said of the hero of the revolution, that- 
 he scarcely had at any time a private life. ' All his actions and 
 concerns, almost from boyhood, were connected with the history 
 of his country.' Throughout the work, Irving has been largely
 
 2CO AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 indebted to the researches of that laborious and conscientious 
 contributor to national literature Jared Sparks ; but the manu 
 scripts of the correspondence of Washington have also been 
 consulted and carefully collated with ' Washington's writings.' 
 as edited by Sparks. 1 
 
 The following notices are appended as curiosities in the 
 biographical literature of America. The first requires no 
 preface to indicate its general and scientific interest : the second 
 is selected not merely as unique of its kind, but also as having a 
 rather important purport with regard to the state of culture and 
 popular taste in England and America. 
 
 LAURA B R I D G M A N. 
 
 Condillac, and other writers who regarded the senses as the 
 only sources of intelligence, might have found some difficulty 
 in explaining the case of a child deprived of sight and hearing, 
 and almost destitute of smell and taste, yet capable of receiving 
 and combining many ideas. 
 
 Laura Bridgman, bom in 1829, when two years old was 
 attacked by a violent fever, and lost the senses of sight and 
 hearing, while that of smell was almost destroyed, and taste was 
 much impaired. Thus the imprisoned soul of the child had 
 only one door by which communication could take place with 
 the surrounding world. The one sense of feeling was left as the 
 only channel through which she could receive impressions and 
 ideas from nature and her fellow-creatures. To educate a mind 
 thus isolated seemed hopeless. The results of the experiment 
 are so interesting, that readers will probably wish to know 
 something of the process, conducted under the direction of Dr 
 Howe. 2 At four years of age, the general health of the blind, 
 deaf, and dumb child improved, and she began to exert the 
 sense of touch more actively ; followed her mother about the 
 house, felt her arms and hands when they were engaged in 
 various domestic duties, and imitated their motions. Her affections 
 expanded something like stubbornness appeared, but this might 
 be merely the result of her condition. Gentle patting on the head 
 seemed to be understood as indicating approbation ; on the back, 
 disapprobation. 
 
 1 It was intended that a more proportionate notice of Irving's Life of Washington 
 should be given in this place ; but though the work has long been announced as 
 on the eve of publication, the first volume is all that has hitherto appeared. 
 
 2 The following account is condensed from the very interesting narrative by Dr 
 Howe. See Ninth Annual Report of the Perkins Institution and Massachusetts 
 Asylum for the Blind.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. LAURA BRIDGMAN. 261 
 
 In 1837, when Laura was eight years old, she was brought to 
 the Boston Institution for the Blind. The strange locality seemed 
 awhile to bewilder her mind ; but in the course of a fortnight, by 
 continually using her one perfect sense of touch, she made herself 
 at home, or acquainted with surrounding objects. To convey 
 to her a knowledge of signs, words in raised letters were used. 
 For example, the name s-p-o-o-n was pasted on the article 
 signified ; and in the same way the words key and book were 
 used. Shortly she learned to put the label book upon a 
 book, and so to recognise the labels for the spoon, key, and other 
 objects. Next she learned to arrange the separate and disordered 
 letters for example, o o s p n, so as to form the word spoon. 
 This process required some weeks of patient toil. I)r Howe 
 says he could almost fix the moment when, after much bewilder 
 ment, the notion entered her mind of expressing her wishes by the 
 arbitrary signs of embossed letters. The next step was to procure 
 a set of metal types, with a board drilled with square holes, in 
 which she might fix the letters when spelling names of objects. 
 She attained great dexterity in the use of this manual alphabet, 
 and could read very quickly, on the tips of her fingers, the names 
 of known objects arranged by her teachers. 
 
 Having mastered the manual alphabet of the deaf mutes, and 
 learned to spell in this mode the names of many things, Laura 
 readily acquired the use of words denoting qualities, such as 
 hard or soft, and naturally placed these adjectives after their 
 respective nouns. Next, she was taught the use of words denoting 
 relations to place. A ring was placed on a box, then OH a hat, 
 then in the hat or box ; and these distinctions were pointed out 
 by the usual mode of spelling. After some study, the meaning 
 of the several little words seemed suddenly to enter her mind. 
 She spelled the word o, and then laid one hand on the other ; 
 then spelled into, and enclosed one hand within the other. Active 
 verbs such as to walk, to run, to sew were readily understood ; 
 but at first, no distinction of mood or tense could be made. In 
 asking for bread she used the form : Bread, give, Laura. 1 
 
 When she first understood the use of writing, and knew that by 
 tracing letters with a pencil she could convey her thoughts to 
 absent persons, her delight was remarkable, and her progress so 
 rapid, that, after a few months, she was able to write a note to 
 her mother. About the same time, Laura learned to add and 
 subtract small numbers, and to count to one hundred. She 
 acquired, without any great labour, a considerable accuracy in 
 the measurement of time ; knew the days of the week ; could 
 calculate on what day the 15th or 16th from a certain date 
 would fall ; and could mark upon the key-board of a pianoforte
 
 262 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the relative durations of crotchets and quavers in other words, 
 she could divide a second of time into two equal parts. Her 
 acuteness of touch became more and more remarkable, and in 
 her eleventh year, among forty or fifty friends, she was able to 
 recognise any person whose hand she might examine. At the 
 same time, her vocabulary had greatly increased, so that she 
 could construct such sentences as ' I did learn to read much with 
 types ' ' Doctor did teach me in nursery.' The use of pronouns 
 now varied her forms of speech, and she would even correct those 
 who used the childish repetition of the noun. When Dr Howe 
 said, ' Doctor will teach Laura,' she eagerly shook his arm, and 
 told him to say, ' I will teach you.' The moral qualities were 
 developed in proportion with the intellectual. She was remark 
 ably correct in her deportment; and her love of order, neatness, 
 and cleanliness was exemplary. Her notions of property were 
 very definite, and while she tenaciously claimed her own, she was 
 never known to take anything belonging to another. In two 
 instances of strong temptation, Laura was found capable of 
 falsehood ; but, with these exceptions, her openness and con 
 scientiousness were very pleasing. Having offended in some 
 trifling manner, she would at once spontaneously confess her 
 fault, sometimes with tears, and saying, ' It was wrong. Teacher 
 cannot love wrong girl. 1 
 
 She distinguished the different degrees of intellect in others, 
 would betray a rather unamiable contempt of dull pupils, and 
 selected the most lively and intelligent as her friends. The traits 
 of self-assertion and jealousy were strongly marked in her cha 
 racter, and a sense of the humorous was shewn by such tricks 
 as treating her doll as a sick pupil, putting it to bed with a bottle 
 of hot water to its feet, and laughingly requesting the doctor to 
 apply a blister to the wooden patient. When left alone, she 
 would soliloquise by spelling on her fingers. Dr Howe observes, 
 of her moral character : ' It is beautiful to behold her continual 
 gladness, her keen enjoyment of existence, her expansive love and 
 sympathy with suffering, her truthfulness and hopefulness.' Speak 
 ing of the child when eleven years old, he adds : ' No religious 
 feeling, properly so called, has developed itself, nor is it yet 
 time perhaps to look for it ; but she has shewn a disposition to 
 respect those who have power and knowledge, and to love those 
 who have goodness.' 
 
 Such were the results of a benevolent effort to liberate an 
 imprisoned mind. The report of the case must be as interesting 
 to the metaphysician as it is pleasing to the general reader. 
 
 We do not see how Locke and Condillac could have explained 
 the well-authenticated facts in the education of Laura Bridgman.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. P. T. I5ARNU.M. 2G3 
 
 P H I N E A S T. B A R N U M. 
 
 The Life of P. T. Barnum, written by himself, would scarcely 
 claim a notice here, if regarded simply as a literary effort ; but it 
 is a representative book. It tells a curious tale of the tastes for 
 amusement prevailing in large masses of respectable people in 
 Great Britain and America. Mr Barnum was one of the most 
 successful of showmen. While others were labouring, through 
 heavy discouragements, to educate and refine popular taste, he 
 determined to cater for that taste in static quo, and to make a large 
 profit by so doing. Putting aside all consideration of the honesty 
 of such a plan, it must be admitted that the means adopted were 
 clever. Having failed in various other schemes for raising money, 
 the writer turned his attention to the showman's profession, and 
 resolved to speculate on the popular love of wonders. The first 
 curiosity to which he invited the notice of a discerning public, was 
 described as a very old negress ' Joice Heth, aged 161 years, 
 and formerly nurse to General Washington.' Mr Barnum liked 
 the appearance of the old woman ; for ' so far as outward indi 
 cations were concerned, she might almost as well have been 
 called a thousand years old as any other age.' Having largely 
 advertised this curiosity, as the venerable negress who, to use her 
 own words, had ' raised ' General Washington, the showman was 
 liberally assisted by the press. Editorial notices in literary, 
 political, and religious papers recommended the people to make 
 haste to behold the monument of antiquity ; and the people 
 obeyed. Her love of psalmody made the old negress a favourite 
 object of religious sympathies. 
 
 In the course of a little time, the negress died, and dissection 
 exposed the gross imposition, but not before it had succeeded 
 well enough for the showman. His next remarkable adventure, 
 after some attempts in selling fictitious Cologne-water and bear's 
 grease, was the purchase of a collection of curiosities known as 
 ' the American Museum.' Mr Barnum made great improvements 
 in this place of amusement, enriching it with ' industrious fleas, 
 educated dogs, fat boys, giants, dwarfs,' manufactured mermaids, 
 &c. ; and among his first ' extra exhibitions,' he presented to the 
 public ' a model of Niagara Falls, with real water,' of Avhich he 
 gives a ludicrous account. 
 
 This was followed by an exhibition of ' the Fejee Mermaid,' a 
 romantic specimen in natural history, manufactured with some 
 skill, but, according to the placards, taken alive by a fisherman 
 somewhere near the Fejee Islands. It was a miserable disappoint 
 ment for the spectators who had gazed on the external bait, a
 
 264 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ' large transparency,' representing beautiful sirens, when they 
 saw the internal reality, ' a black-looking specimen of dried 
 monkey and fish ; ' but the adventure was successful. The rage 
 for seeing this coarse fiction infected editors of papers as 
 well as the less enlightened public, and is described as the 
 ' mermaid fever ' by Mr Barnum, who boasts that he sold 10,000 
 ' mermaid pamphlets.' 
 
 The next adventure cast both the mermaid and the venerable 
 negress into the shade. Mr Barnum had heard of a remarkably 
 small child named Charles Stratton. ' He was only Jive years old, 
 and to exhibit a dwarf of that age might provoke the question : 
 "How do you know that he is a dwarf?'" Consequently, the 
 caterer for public amusement advertised the little boy as ' General 
 Tom Thumb, a dwarf of eleven years of age, just arrived from 
 England!' In fact, he came from Bridgeport, in Connecticut. 
 With this curiosity, Mr Barnum started to make the tour of 
 Europe. 
 
 Having arrived in London, he determined to begin the imposi 
 tion among the highest classes of society, and accordingly hired a 
 respectable house in the West End, whence he sent ' letters of 
 invitation to the editors and several of the nobility,' to visit 
 the little boy. The invitation was readily accepted, and it soon 
 became fashionable to call on the tiny general. ' Mr Everett, 
 the American minister, called,' and ' was highly pleased.' The 
 Baroness Rothschild sent her carriage for ' the dwarf and Mr 
 Barnum,' who says : ' On taking our leave, an elegant and well- 
 filled purse was quietly slipped into my hand, arid I felt that 
 the golden shower was beginning to fall ! The same trick was 
 played upon me, shortly afterwards, at the mansion of Mr 
 Drummond,' the eminent banker. Greater distinction followed, 
 when a placard on the door of the Egyptian Hall announced 
 that the exhibition would be closed one evening, as ' General 
 Tom Thumb would be at Buckingham Palace, by command of 
 Her Majesty.' Thrice the general appeared at court : this made 
 success sure in town, as in the provinces. Portraits of the dwarf 
 were given in pictorial papers Tom Thumb Polkas and 
 Quadrilles were published; Punch, as Mr Barnum states, gave 
 caricatures, which assisted in bringing in funds. ' Besides his 
 three public performances per day, the little general attended 
 from three to four private parties per week, for which we 
 were paid eight to ten guineas each.' The Queen-dowager, 
 Adelaide, presented to the diminutive boy ' a beautiful little gold- 
 watch, placing the chain around his neck with her own hands.' 
 His Grace the Duke of Devonshire contributed to the Tom 
 Thumb Museum ' an elegant gold snuff-box mounted with
 
 SECOND PERIOD. P. T. BARNC.U. 2G5 
 
 turquoise.' ' The Duke of Wellington called frequently to see 
 the little general.' Mr Barnum adds : ' At the various parties 
 which we attended, we met, in the course of the season, nearly 
 all the nobility.' 
 
 A remarkable success rewarded the enterprising showman in 
 France, where he ' visited King Louis-Philippe and the royal 
 family on four different occasions.' In Paris, ' the general made 
 a great hit as an actor. He performed for two months at one 
 of the leading theatres, in a French play,' entitled Petit Poucct, 
 written expressly for him. 
 
 Having returned to America, the dwarf was allowed to visit his 
 native place, Bridgeport, where the people were much delighted 
 to see their old friend ' little Charlie ' again. ' They little 
 thought, when they saw him playing about the streets a few 
 years previously, that he was destined to create such a sensation 
 among the crowned heads of the Old World.' ' How old are you, 
 general?' asked one of his acquaintances. 'As Mr Barnum 
 makes it out, I am fifteen,' said the general, laughing, for he was 
 aware that the inquirer knew his true age to be only nine. 
 
 The next great speculation consisted in a contract made with 
 the jmina. donna Jenny Lind. Mr Barnum, who had never heard 
 this lady's voice, determined to advertise her vocal powers and 
 private virtues throughout the Union, and to pay 1000 dollars, 
 besides all the expenses, for each concert. The popular furor for 
 Jenny Lind was extreme : as the speculator himself declares, ' the 
 facts, at this late day, seem, even to myself, more like a dream 
 than a reality.' Bayard Taylor, a poet, was employed to write a 
 prize ode on the 'nightingale's' arrival in America. Biographies 
 of the Swedish nightingale were largely circulated. ' Foreign 
 correspondence glorified her talents and triumphs by narratives of 
 her benevolence, and printer's ink was employed in every possible 
 form to put and keep Jenny Lind before the people.' 1 
 
 The receipts for ninety- five concerts amounted to more than 
 712,000 dollars, of which sum the portion of 176,000 dollars and 
 upwards was paid to Miss Lind ; while the sum of more than 
 535,000 dollars was claimed, according to contract, by Mr Barnum. 
 On one occasion, the sum of 625 dollars was paid for a ticket. 
 
 This was the adventurer's climax of success. Having made 
 his fortune, he retired to his mansion, built in the style of the 
 Brighton pavilion, and styled Iranistan. The grandeur of his 
 principal schemes has induced us to overlook several minor 
 speculations which more or less assisted his progress. In 1844, 
 he had engaged the Lancashire bell-ringers for an American 
 
 1 In justice to this lady, it should be stated that she was ignorant of many of 
 the stratagems practised by the showman.
 
 266 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 tour, and one of the stipulations was, that these performers 
 ' should suffer their moustaches to grow, assume a picturesque 
 dress, and be known as the Swiss bell-ringers!' As a compen 
 sation to England for the loss of the bell-ringers, he sent the 
 party of Iowa Indians to London. 
 
 Various giants and dwarfs, the Scotch Boys, the Bateman 
 Children, and an importation of ten elephants for the Great 
 Asiatic Caravan, Museum, and Menagerie, are included in Mr 
 Barnum's list of all the attractions he has offered to the public. 
 
 In 1848, the daring showman observed a horse of rather small 
 size, without any mane, and with rough or curly hair on the limbs 
 and body. In itself, this was scarcely a wonder great enough to 
 excite the public mind ; but at this tune the adventures of Colonel 
 Fremont in the Rocky Mountains were regarded with interest. 
 Mr Barnum now set the press to work to circulate the story, that 
 the bold colonel, with a band of warriors, had, after a chase of 
 incredible difficulty, captured a strange nondescript animal which 
 might be styled ' the woolly horse.' A picture represented the 
 animal in the act of leaping over a valley five miles wide, and 
 an advertisement described nature as exerting ' all her ingenuity 
 in the production of this astounding animal extremely complex 
 made up of the elephant, deer, horse, buffalo, camel, and sheep.' 
 Tolerable success rewarded this imposture, though the exhibiter 
 was arrested on a charge of obtaining money under false pretences. 
 On another occasion, a small herd of tamed and harmless calf- 
 buffaloes was advertised as a ' grand buffalo-hunt,' illustrating 
 the ' wild sports of the western prairies ; ' but though the poor 
 creatures were sharply goaded, they refused to move. In justi 
 fication of these and other similar exhibitions, the writer pleads 
 that he has done good service to the state by promoting popular 
 recreations, and adds : ' As a business-man, undoubtedly, my 
 prime object has been to put money in my purse. I succeeded 
 beyond my most sanguine anticipations, and am satisfied ; but 
 what I have here said will prepare the reader for what I con 
 ceive to be a just and altogether reasonable claim, that I have 
 been a public benefactor, to an extent seldom paralleled in the 
 histories of professed and professional philanthropists.' 
 
 There is nothing in this autobiography, regarded as a literary 
 work, which might lead us to doubt its authorship. Undoubtedly, 
 the man who could impose General Tom Thumb on the crowned 
 heads of Europe, must have been clever enough to write this 
 account of his own successes. But one feature in the life 
 suggests the notion that some literary hack may have been 
 employed to compile the book, and, weary of the subject, may 
 have endeavoured, here and there, to relieve it by a stroke of
 
 SECOND PERIOD. P. T. BARNUM. 267 
 
 satire. We allude to the passages in which the assumed author 
 advertises his own piety. Thus he supports some of his own 
 views by a reference to the ' venerable and illustrious name of 
 Channing ; eminent alike for wisdom, benevolence, piety, and 
 purity.' Soon after making the confession of an imposition 
 respecting the age and birthplace of the dwarf-child, he moralises 
 in the following vein : ' Though many people may not see how 
 my profession of a showman can be made to appear consistent 
 with my profession of another kind, I must claim having always 
 revered the Christian religion. I have been indebted to Chris 
 tianity for the most serene happiness of my life, and I would not 
 part with its consolations for all things else in the world. In all 
 my journeys as a showman, the Bible has been my companion, 
 and I have repeatedly read it attentively from beginning to end. 
 Whether I have or have not been profited by its precepts, is a 
 question not here to be considered ; but the scriptural doctrine of 
 the government of God, and its happy issue in the life to come, 
 has been my chief solace in affliction and sorrow, and I hope 
 always to cherish it as my greatest treasure.' And the writer 
 closes his work with the self-complacent and hopeful words : ' I 
 am at home, in the bosom of my family; and home and family- 
 are the highest and most expressive symbols of .the kingdom of 
 heaven.' These incongruities are our only reasons for entertaining 
 any doubt of the authorship of the book. It appears, at first 
 sight, improbable that a writer would suggest the severest censure 
 on his own impostures by a reference to that religion which 
 demands a rigid adherence to truth. 
 
 Our only apology for noticing this work has been already 
 given it is a representative book. It might be passed over 
 in silence, if it merely reflected discredit on the writer. It would 
 be great injustice to use it for the purpose of pointing any 
 censure of American characteristics ; but it may be fairly quoted 
 to illustrate that state of taste and education on both sides of 
 the Atlantic which has insured such success to Mr Barnum. 
 While genius and learning were toiling vainly for recognition and 
 reward ; while plans of national education and popular improve 
 ment were, to say the least, coldly regarded by the wealthy and 
 powerful classes ; all circles of society excepting the lower, to 
 which he hardly condescended were open to receive the dwarf- 
 boy with his showman ! At the time when the painter Haydon, 
 in his misery and despair, lifted the fatal pistol to his head, the 
 aristocracy the best people of the realm were crowding to the 
 levees of Tom Thumb and Barnum. In the provinces, in our 
 county towns each surrounded by its ignorant and helpless 
 peasantry, calling for aid the higher classes, the elite of their
 
 268 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 respective neighbourhoods, might be seen in the train of the 
 American speculator ; and high-born and beautiful ladies, lavish 
 of their homage, pressed forward in eager competition for a kiss 
 from the wearied dwarf! In places where an intellectual lecturer 
 could not calculate on ' a respectable audience,' crowds listened 
 with delight to the tiny boy's eulogium on the British court, 
 which he had been taught, in parrot style, to describe concisely 
 as ' first-rate ! ' The book that records these facts has a certain 
 significance it suggests thought as well as laughter. Mr 
 Barnum is the author of a very severe satire. 
 
 VOYAGES AND TRAVELS-NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 A few works in this department may be classed with general 
 literature ; but the most important results of travel including 
 those of the United States 1 Exploring Expedition (1838-1842) 
 belong to the special literature of the several sciences. The 
 Narratice of this expedition by CHARLES WILKES, United States' 
 Navy, is an extensive work in five large volumes, and gives 
 accounts of visits to Chili, Peru, and several groups of islands in 
 the South Seas. A condensed summary in one volume has been 
 published. 
 
 It is difficult to select from the mass of books of voyages and 
 travels, those most worthy of notice in a review of American 
 literature. Professor SILLIMAN'S Journal of travels in various 
 parts of Europe ; A Year in Europe, by JOHN GRISCOJI ; 
 CARTER'S Letters from Europe ; and the Leaves of a Journal in 
 North Britain and Ireland, by ANDREW BIGELOW these may be 
 mentioned as specimens of works that have more than an ephemeral 
 interest. The Reminiscences of Spain, by CALEB GUSHING, may 
 be described as a miscellany of fact and fiction, written on a plan 
 resembling that of Irving's Sketch-book. Four Years in Great 
 Britain, by CALVIN COLTON, gives too many details of well-known 
 objects. Ship and Shore, and A Visit to Constantinople and 
 Athens, by WALTER COLTON, have been commended as lively 
 and pleasant books. 
 
 Among the contributions to literature by sea-faring men, 
 A Narrative of Voyages and Commercial Enterpriser, by RICHARD 
 J. CLEVELAND, must be mentioned. DANA'S Two Years Before 
 ilie Mast is a well-written account of a sailor's life. The writer is 
 the son of Richard II. Dana, the essayist. 
 
 The books of travel by Lieutenant SLIDELL, J. G. SHEA,
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. L. STEPHENS. 269 
 
 CARPENTER, KENDALL. CARNES. and WAI.I.IS, might be noticed, 
 if our limits would allow lair treatment of their respective merits. 
 
 JOHN LLOYD STEPHENS (1805-1852), author of Incidents of 
 Travel in Egypt, Arabia, Palestine, Yucatan, and Central America, 
 was a man of enterprising character, whose life was mainly spent in 
 voyages and journeys, of which his several works gave unstudied 
 but lively and graphic notices. He was born in New Jersey, 
 educated in the city of New York, and, after a course of legal 
 studies, was advised to travel for the benefit of his health. In 
 1834-36, he visited Italy, Greece, Turkey, and Russia, returning 
 by the way of Poland and Germany to France. Hence he sailed 
 for Alexandria, and ascended the Nile as far as Thebes. The 
 results of this pilgrimage were given in his Incidents of Travel 
 in the several countries mentioned, which were published in 
 1836-37, and had an extensive circulation in Europe, as in 
 America. About two years later, he was appointed special 
 ambassador to Central America, and visited Chiapas and Yucatan, 
 returning to the latter country in 1842. Of his political objects 
 in this journey, he jocosely said, that he had travelled over all 
 Guatemala, looking in vain for the government to which he was 
 accredited ; so, failing to find sufficient occupation in diplomacy, 
 he turned aside to study the antiquities of Yucatan. His 
 speculations, though based on personal observation without the 
 advantage of antiquarian learning, correspond with the views 
 given by Prescott in the introduction to the History of Mexico. 
 The truthfulness of Stephens has, we believe, never been doubted ; 
 but it has been suggested that a greater share of learning might 
 have given a higher value to his laborious researches. In 1849, 
 he engaged with others in the enterprise of the Panama Railway, 
 and visited the isthmus for the purpose of exploring the route. 
 His zeal in this great undertaking of connecting the two oceans, 
 induced him to make greater exertions than his physical strength 
 could support ; and soon after his return, he died at the early age 
 of forty-seven. 
 
 Several interesting narratives of travel might be selected 
 from the rather extensive literature of Christian missions. As 
 specimens of this class of books, we may mention A Tour in 
 Armenia, by ELI SMITH and H. G. 0. D\VIGHT ; and A Visit to 
 the South Seas, &c., by CHARLES S. STEWART, a chaplain in 
 the navy. Memoirs of travels in Switzerland, by the Rev. G. 
 CUEEVER, have appeared under the titles, The Pilgrim in the 
 Shadow of Mont Blanc, and The Pilgrim in the Shadow of the 
 Jungfrau. A religious tendency characterises these works ; and
 
 270 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 it lias been remarked that the writer, in his endeavour to preserve 
 a tone of piety, has thought it necessary to refer frequently to his 
 own creed. Mr Cheever contributed many articles to reviews and 
 other periodicals, and wrote several theological works, including 
 Lectures on the Pilgrim's Progress, and the Life and Times of 
 John Bunyan. 
 
 Among recent books of travel, the writings of J. T. HEADLEY 
 must be noticed on account of their pleasant style. His Letters 
 from Italy, the Alps, and the Rhine, published in 1844, have been 
 followed by Sketches and Rambles, and several other works. It 
 should be added, that the unassuming and easy tone of the Letters 
 from Italy will not be found in the author's later works Napoleon 
 and his Marshals, and the Sacred Mountains. BAYARD TAYLOR'S 
 graphic sketches of travels in the East deserve more than a 
 passing notice ; but they belong to a class of recent books too 
 numerous to be fairly described in our review. 
 
 In connection with books of travel, we may notice here the 
 literary portion of two of the most beautiful works in natural 
 history The American Ornithology by Wilson, and The Birds of 
 America by Audubon. 
 
 Scotland must claim the honour of having sent the pioneer of 
 ornithology; ALEXANDER WILSON into the woods of America. 
 He arrived in 1794, and after years of poverty and striving, was 
 enabled to prosecute, though with much difficulty, his favourite 
 study. His enthusiasm could not be understood by those from 
 whom he had hoped to receive encouragement. When he sallied 
 forth, in 1808, to find subscribers to his work on the birds of 
 America, he was able to collect, after all his pains and humiliation, 
 only forty-one names : in several places he was received as a 
 singular fanatic, or as a suspicious character, cloaking political 
 designs under pretence of the study of nature ; for there were 
 many who could not conceive how any sane man would endure 
 poverty and hardship, and forego the winning of dollars, for the 
 love of natural history. ' The subjects of his art and inquiry 
 were not playthings to him : they were intimate and familiar 
 friends ; their voice was not music, but language ; instead of 
 dying away upon the ear, it went down into his soul. To him 
 the notes with which they heralded the spring were full of glory ; 
 and when, in the autumn, they heard far eft' the trumpet of the 
 storm, and sang their farewell to the woods, it was solemn and 
 affecting, as if it were breathed from a living and beating heart. 
 To others, this interest seemed senseless and excessive ; but he 
 was one of those who never smile at the depth and earnestness of 
 their own emotions. When he described the birds, he spoke of
 
 , SECOND PERIOD. J. J. AUDCBON. 271 
 
 their habits and manners as if they were intelligent things ; and 
 thus he has given a life and charm to his descriptions, which will 
 make his work the chief attraction of the science in our country 
 for many years to come.' * Years after Wilson had passed 
 through his heavy discouragements, the best of the American 
 reviews was entreating the wealthy classes to assist Audubon, and 
 reminding them of the fact, that among ten millions of people, 
 the Scotch pioneer had failed to find more than two hundred 
 subscribers to his beautiful work. 
 
 JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, author of a splendid work on The 
 Bird* of America, was born in Louisiana about the year 1782. 
 His name will ever be remembered in connection with natural 
 history ; and the graceful and happy descriptions of forest -ad ven 
 tures, interspersed with his sketches of birds in the Ornithological 
 Biography, justly claim for him a pla*ce in our series of American 
 authors. He was an intelligent and enthusiastic student of 
 nature, endowed with the feeling and imagination of a poet, and 
 blending in his deportment the refinement of a gentleman with 
 the simplicity and frankness of a backwoodsman. 2 
 
 After studying in Paris, where he took lessons in drawing from 
 the painter David, Audubon, when eighteen years old, returned 
 .to America, and began farming. He was for some time engaged 
 in commercial pursuits, but his love of art and natural history led 
 him away from the haunts of trade ; and in 1811 we find him in 
 Florida, employed as a sportsman and artist now shooting a 
 deer, a squirrel, or a turkey, or hooking a trout to provide for 
 himself a meal ; then writing or drawing a sketch of some 
 beautiful bird ; spending the day in arduous journeys, to add to 
 the pages of his Ornithology, and resting at night under a shed of 
 green boughs. After some years of lonely wanderings in the 
 forests of the West, he returned to Philadelphia in 1824, and 
 visited New York, where he was encouraged to proceed in 
 preparing his splendid work on The Birds of America. In 1826, 
 he visited Edinburgh, and there found several warm friends. 
 
 Subsequently, he received the highest honours from scientific 
 men in Paris, London, and Boston, United States, and persevered 
 in labouring for the completion of his great undertaking. In 1830, 
 he had issued his first volume, containing one hundred plates, 
 representing ninety-nine species of birds, every figure of the size 
 and colour of life. In 1834, he was again in Edinburgh, finished 
 the second volume of The Birds of America, and published 
 
 1 Xorth American Review, No. 75. 
 
 3 This is the estimate of Audubons character given by his friend Professor 
 Wilson, but we have not quoted the exact words.
 
 272 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 another volume of his Ornithological Biography. In 1839, having 
 returned to his native country, he commenced publishing the 
 octavo edition of his great work, of which the seventh and last 
 volume appeared in 1844. Of the folio edition, Cuvier said : ' It 
 is the most splendid monument which art has erected in honour 
 of ornithology. 1 
 
 This work, and the accompanying biography, gave to the world 
 the results of almost a whole life devoted to travel and adventure, 
 ' amid the tall grass of the far-extended prairies of the west in 
 the solemn forests of the north on the heights of the midland 
 mountains by the shores of the boundless ocean, and on the 
 bosoms of our vast bays, lakes, and rivers ; searching for things 
 hidden, since the creation of this wondrous world, from all but 
 the Indian who has roamed in the gorgeous but melancholy 
 wilderness.' 
 
 While the people's editidh of The Birds of America was in 
 course of publication, Audubon recommenced his travels, to 
 prepare materials for his new work on The Quadrupeds of 
 America, of which the first volume of biographies appeared 
 in 1847. 
 
 The following extract from Audubon's numerous lively descrip 
 tions of scenery and adventure, is beautiful in itself, and serves to 
 illustrate the rapid progress of society in America : 
 
 DESCENT OF THE OHIO IN 1809. 
 
 ' It was in the month of October. The autumnal tints already 
 decorated the shores of that queen of rivers, the Ohio. Every tree 
 was hung with long and flowing festoons of different species of vines, 
 many loaded with clustered fruits of varied brilliancy, their rich 
 bronzed carmine mingling beautifully with the yellow foliage, which 
 now predominated over the yet green leaves, reflecting more lively 
 tints from the clear stream than ever landscape-painter portrayed or 
 poet imagined. 
 
 The days were yet warm. The sun had assumed the rich and 
 glowing hue which at that season produces the singular phenomenon 
 called there the Indian summer. The moon had rather passed the 
 meridian ef her grandeur. We glided down the river, meeting 
 no other ripple of the water than that formed by the propulsion of 
 our boat. Leisurely we moved along, gazing all day on the grandeur 
 and beauty of the wild scenery around us. 
 
 Now and then a large cat-fish rose to the surface of the water in 
 pursuit of a shoal of fry, which, starting simultaneously from the 
 liquid element, like so many silvery arrows, produced a shower of 
 light, while the pursuer with open jaws seized the stragglers, and 
 with a splash of his tail disappeared from our view. Other fishes 
 we heard uttering beneath our bark a rumbling noise, the strange
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. J. AUDUBOX. 273 
 
 sounds of which we discovered to proceed from the white perch, for, 
 on casting our net from the bow, wo caught several of that species, 
 when the noise ceased for a time. 
 
 Nature, in her varied arrangements, seems to have felt a partiality 
 toward this portion of our country. As the traveller ascends or 
 descends the Ohio, he cannot help remarking that alternately, nearly 
 the whole length of the river, the margin on one side is bounded by 
 lofty hills and a rolling surface ; while on the other, extensive plains 
 of the richest alluvial land are seen as far as the eye can command 
 the view. Islands of varied size and form rise here and there from 
 the bosom of the water, and the winding course of the stream 
 frequently brings you to places where the idea of being on a river 
 of great length changes to that of floating on a lake of moderate 
 extent. Some of these islands are of considerable size and value ; 
 while others, small and insignificant, seem as if intended for contrast, 
 and as serving to enhance the general interest of the scenery. 
 These little islands are frequently overflowed during great freshets 
 or floods, and receive at their heads prodigious heaps of drifted 
 timber. We foresaw with great concern the alteration that 
 cultivation would soon produce along those delightful banks. 
 
 As night came, sinking in darkness the broader portions of the 
 river, our minds became affected by strong emotions, and wandered 
 far beyond the present moments. The tinkling of bells told us that 
 the cattle which bore them were gently roving from valley to valley 
 in search of food, or returning to their distant homes. The hooting 
 of the great owl, or the muffled noise of its wings as it sailed 
 smoothly over the stream, were matters of interest to us ; so was 
 the sound of the boatman's horn, as it came winding more and more 
 softly from afar. When daylight returned, many songsters burst 
 forth with echoing notes, more and more mellow to the listening ear. 
 Here and there the lonely cabin of a squatter struck the eye, giving 
 note of commencing civilisation. The crossing of the stream by a 
 deer foretold how soon the hills would be covered with snow. 
 
 Many sluggish flat-boats we overtook and passed : some laden 
 with produce from the different head-waters of the small rivers that 
 pour their tributary streams into the Ohio ; others, of less dimensions, 
 crowded with emigrants from distant parts, in search of a new home. 
 Purer pleasures I never felt ; nor have you, reader, I ween, unless 
 indeed you have felt the like, and in such company 
 
 When I think of the times, and call back to my mind the grandeur 
 and beauty of those almost uninhabited shores ; when I picture to 
 myself the dense and lofty summits of the forest, that everywhere 
 spread along the hills, and overhung the margins of the stream, 
 unmolested by the axe of the settler ; when I know how dearly 
 purchased the safe navigation of that river has been by the blood of 
 many worthy Virginians ; when I see that no longer any aborigines 
 are to be found there, and that the vast herds of elks, deer, and 
 buffaloes which once pastured on these hills and in these valleys, 
 making for themselves great roads to the several salt-springs, have 
 
 B
 
 274 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ceased to exist ; when I reflect that all this grand portion of our 
 Union, instead of being in a state of nature, is now more or less 
 covered with villages, farms, and towns, where the din of hammers 
 and machinery is constantly heard ; that the woods are fast 
 disappearing under the axe by day, and the fire by night ; that 
 hundreds of steam-boats are gliding to and fro, over the whole 
 length of the majestic river, forcing commerce to take root and to 
 prosper at every spot ; when I see the surplus population of Europe 
 coming to assist in the destruction of the forest, and transplanting 
 civilisation into its darkest recesses ; when I remember that these 
 extraordinary changes have all taken place in the short period of 
 twenty years, I pause, wonder, and although I know all to be fact 
 can scarcely believe its reality.' 
 
 As life becomes more and more artificial in our crowded towns 
 and ways of commerce, we may suppose that, by a natural love 
 of contrast, such books as these by Wilson and Audubon, 
 breathing the spirit of the western forests, will increase in their 
 attractiveness. It is delightful to forget, for a time, all the 
 troubles of mankind, and the never-ending questions of social 
 life, and to go out with the enthusiast and hold converse with the 
 merry boblink and the versatile mocking-bird. So numerous and 
 so charming are the sketches of birds by the pen and the pencil 
 of Audubon, that a few specimens can give no fair idea of his 
 rich variety. He has widened our field of observation, and has 
 given us, at our firesides, impressions of the vivid pleasures for 
 which he travelled so many leagues through the forests and along 
 the rivers. The belted kingfisher, sitting, as in a trance, or 
 glancing with a passing lustre along the bank of the lonely 
 stream ; the versatile boblink ; the purple martin ; the blue jay ; 
 the snowbird, drifting along in the wintry storm ; the crimson 
 oriole, falling like a flake of fire in the forest; the cat-bird, 
 injuriously named, for he can sing sweetly ; the crimson linnet, 
 with his flute-like song : all these, and a host of other feathered 
 friends, have their colours represented and their habits faithfully 
 described in the splendid pages of Audubon. We here select 
 a sketch, prefixing a short account of the writer's mode of life 
 while pursuing his researches in the forest. 
 
 THE LIFE OF A NATURALIST. 
 
 'The adventures and vicissitudes which have fallen to my lot, 
 instead of tending to diminish the fervid enthusiasm of my nature, 
 have imparted a toughness to my bodily constitution, naturally 
 strong, and to my mind, naturally buoyant, an elasticity such as to 
 assure me that though somewhat old, and considerably denuded in 
 the frontal region, I could yet perform on foot a journey of any 
 length, were I sure that I should thereby add materially to our
 
 SECOND PERIOD. J. J. AUDUBOX. 275 
 
 knowledge of the ever-interesting creatures which have for so long 
 a time occupied my thoughts by day, and filled my dreams with 
 pleasant images. Nay, reader, had I a new lease of life presented to 
 me, I should choose for it the very occupations in which I have been 
 engaged. 
 
 And, reader, tho life which I have led has been, in some respects, 
 a singular one. Think of a person intent on such pursuits as mine 
 have been, aroused at early dawn from his rude couch on the alder- 
 fringed brook of some northern valley, or in the midst of some yet 
 unexplored forest of the west, or perhaps on the soft and warm 
 sands of the Florida shores, and listening to the pleasing melodies 
 of songsters innumerable saluting the magnificent orb, from whose 
 radiant influence the creatures of many worlds receive life and 
 light. Refreshed and reinvigorated by healthful rest, he starts upon 
 his feet, gathers up his store of curiosities, buckles on his knapsack, 
 shoulders his trusty firelock, says a kind word to his faithful dog, and 
 recommences his pursuit of zoological knowledge. Now the morning 
 is spent, and a squirrel or a trout affords him a repast. Should the 
 day be warm, he reposes for a time under the shade of some tree. 
 The woodland choristers again burst forth into song, and he starts 
 anew to wander wherever his fancy may direct him, or the objects 
 of his search may lead him in pursuit. When evening approaches, 
 and the birds are seen betaking themselves to the retreats, he looks 
 for some place of safety, erects his shed of green boughs, kindles his 
 fire, prepares his meal ; and as the widgeon or blue-winged teal, or 
 perhaps the breast of a turkey or a steak of venison, sends its 
 delicious perfumes abroad, he enters into his parchment-bound 
 journal the remarkable incidents and facts that have occurred in the 
 course of the day. Darkness has now drawn her sable curtain over 
 the scene ; his repast is finished, and kneeling on the earth, lie 
 raises his soul to Heaven, grateful for the protection that has been 
 granted to him, and the sense of the Divine presence in this solitary 
 place. Then wishing a cordial good-night to all the dear friends at 
 home, the American woodsman wraps himself up in his blanket, and 
 closing his eyes, soon falls into that comfortable sleep which never 
 fails him on such occasions.' 
 
 THE HUMMING-BIRD. 
 
 ' Where is the person, who, on observing this glittering fragment of 
 the rainbow, would not pause, admire, and instantly turn his mind 
 with reverence toward the Almighty Creator, the wonders of whose 
 hand we at every step discover, and of whoso sublime conceptions 
 we everywhere observe the manifestations in his admirable system 
 of creation ? There breathes not such a person, so kindly have we 
 all been blessed with that intuitive and noble feeling admiration ! 
 
 No sooner has the returning sun again introduced the vernal season, 
 and caused millions of plants to expand their leaves and blossoms to 
 his genial beams, than the little humming-bird is seen advancing on
 
 276 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 fairy wings, carefully visiting every opening flower-cup, and, like a 
 curious florist, removing from each the injurious insects that other 
 wise would erelong cause their beauteous petals to droop and decay. 
 Poised in the air, it is observed peeping cautiously, and with sparkling 
 eye, into their innermost recesses ; whilst the ethereal motions of its 
 pinions, so rapid and so light, appear to fan and cool the flower, 
 without injuring its fragile texture, and produce a delightful 
 
 murmuring sound, well adapted for lulling the insects to repose 
 
 The prairies, the fields, the orchards and gardens, nay, the deepest 
 shades of the forests, are all visited in their turn, and everywhere 
 the little bird meets with pleasure and with food. Its gorgeous 
 throat in beauty and brilliancy baffles all competition. Now it glows 
 with a fiery hue, and again it is changed to the deepest velvety black. 
 The upper parts of its delicate body are of resplendent changing 
 green ; and it throws itself through the air with a swiftness and 
 vivacity hardly conceivable. It moves from one flower to another 
 like a gleam of light upwards, downwards, to the right, and to the 
 left. In this manner, it searches the extreme northern portions of 
 our country, following, with great precaution, the advances of the 
 season, and retreats with equal care at the approach of autumn.' 
 
 THEOLOGY AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 In the department of Theology and Biblical literature, American 
 works of the present century are far too numerous to be adequately 
 described in this brief review. 
 
 Among the earlier writers of the present century, prominence 
 may be given to the names of JOSEPH S. BUCKMINSTER, JOHN 
 M. MASON, and EDWARD PAYSON writers of discourses which 
 have been described as good examples of pulpit oratory. 
 
 In polemical theology, and especially in the controversy between 
 Orthodoxy and Umtarianism, the more eminent of the orthodox 
 writers are NOAH WORCESTER, SAMUEL WORCESTER, MOSES 
 STUART, and LEONARD WOODS; while on the latter side, the names 
 of WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING, HENRY WARE, ANDREWS 
 NORTON, and BERNARD WHITMAN may be noticed. During the 
 last thirty years, or rather more, an important movement has 
 taken place in theological opinions. The Unitarians, under the 
 leadership of Dr Channing, have become a considerable party, 
 having a large share of influence in general literature. A dis 
 tinction must be made between the Unitarians of the old school 
 if we may so speak and other writers, including Dr WALKER, 
 W. B. GREENE, and THEODORE PARKER, who have assumed a 
 wider latitude of opinion, and have attempted to make innovations
 
 SECOND PERIOD. THEOLOGY AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 277 
 
 in theology and moral philosophy. The views of Theodore 
 I 'arker are given hi his Discourse on, Matters Pertaining to Religion. 
 His Critical aryl Miscellaneous Writings comprise essays on 
 German Literature, the Education of the Labouring Class, and 
 Thoughts on Labour, and other papers deserving commendation 
 as examples of a clear style of writing. This is the more 
 noticeable from its being evident that the writer has studied 
 German authors who have buried their thoughts under a mass of 
 confused verbiage. 
 
 Apart from controversy some of the most valuable writings of 
 American divines are found in the department of Biblical literature. 
 The Notes on the Gospels, by ALBERT BARNES, has had a wide 
 circulation in England as in the United States. Dr ROBINSON, 
 formerly editor of the B'Miotheca Sacra, commenced in 1843, is the 
 author of an important work, entitled Biblical Researches in 
 Palestine, published in 1841. It gives the results of extensive 
 studies and travels in the East, and has been highly commended 
 by the best Biblical scholars of our age. GEORGE BUSH, a learned 
 divine, who holds the views of Swedenborg, is the writer of works 
 intended partly to oppose the literal reading of certain parts 
 of Scripture. His principal work is a treatise entitled Anastasis, 
 in which he lias controverted the commonly received doctrine of 
 the resurrection. 
 
 The commentaries on several parts of the New Testament and 
 other theological writings by MOSES STUART, have gained a very 
 high reputation in the Biblical literature of our times. A New 
 Translation of the Psalms and other lyrical parts of the Old 
 Testament, by G. R. NOYES, D.D. ; a treatise On the Evidences 
 of the Genuineness of the Gospels, by ANDREWS NORTON; and the 
 Lectures on the Evidences of Christianity, by Bishop M'lLVAiNE of 
 Ohio : these are mentioned as representatives of valuable works 
 which cannot be particularly and fairly noticed here. 
 
 Several theological writers have contributed to the department 
 of moral philosophy and metaphysics. The treatises of JONATHAN 
 EDWARDS, and his son, the younger Edwards, have been briefly 
 described in I former part of this work. The writings of JOHN 
 SMAI.LEY (1734-1820), including a treatise on Natural and Moral 
 Innhilitii, seem to belong to the last century. Among other works 
 of the same class, we may mention Outlines of Moral Science, by 
 Dr ALEXANDER; The Elements of Mental and Moral Science, by 
 GEORGE PAYNE; The Elements of Moral Science, by FRANCIS 
 WAYLAND ; Mental Philosophy, by THOMAS C. UPIIAM ; the 
 writings of H. P. TAPPAN; and several works on psychology 
 by LAURENS P. HICKOK. 
 
 Modern writers on metaphysics may be mainly divided into
 
 278 . AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 two classes the former, including those who have adhered, more 
 or less strictly, to the general principles of Locke, is represented 
 by FRANCIS BOWEN, editor of the North American Review ; while 
 the latter including JAMES MARSH, EMERSON, WALKER, GREENE, 
 PARKER, and other writers is characterised partly by a rejection 
 of Locke's theoiy. Emerson is regarded as the leader of the 
 ' transcendentalists,' and has borrowed the results of the specula 
 tions of Fichte ; while others have adopted, more or less, the 
 views of German idealism or French eclecticism. JAMES MARSH 
 expounded the philosophical doctrine of Coleridge. More recently, 
 the Positive Philosophy of M. Comte has been introduced in the 
 writings of ORESTES A. BROWNSON. 
 
 In the following notices, prominence is given to the works of 
 Dr Channing and Dr Dewey, as representatives of moral philosophy. 
 It is hardly necessary to say that their theological opinions have 
 no influence on our estimate of their literary merit. Channing's 
 essays may be classed under the title of moral philosophy, and 
 Dewey's discourses may be correctly described as practical moral 
 essays. , 
 
 WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING. 
 
 This eminent divine and moral philosopher was born at New 
 port in Rhode Island, 7th April 1780. ' I thank God,' he said 
 in one of his sermons, ' that this beautiful island was the place of 
 my birth.' Here Eoger Williams, the apostle of religious liberty, 
 had laboured and suffered for the truth, and had left a common 
 wealth pervaded by his own spirit. The venerable founder of 
 Rhode Island, in his quaint and rugged prose, had uttered, in the 
 early part of the seventeenth century, the doctrine of religious 
 freedom which was developed by Channing. 
 
 When fourteen years old, Channing entered Harvard College, 
 where he graduated with the highest honours in the year 1798. 
 After leaving Cambridge, he resided as a private tutor with a 
 family in Virginia, and, during this time, his sedentary and 
 studious habits impaired his health, which always remained 
 delicate. Of a subsequent course of study in his native place he 
 writes : ' I had two noble places of study one the edifice, now so 
 frequented and useful as a public library ; then so deserted that I 
 spent day after day, and sometimes week after week, amidst its 
 dusty volumes without interruption from a single visitor: the 
 other the beach, my daily resort, dear to me in the sunshine, still 
 more attractive in the storm. Seldom do I visit it now without 
 thinking of the work, which there, in the sight of that beauty, in 
 the sound of those waves, was carried on in my soul. No spot
 
 SECOND PERlbD. W. E. CHAINING. 279 
 
 on earth has helped to form me so much as that beach. There 
 I lifted up my voice in praise amid the tempest. There, softened 
 by beauty, I poured out my thanksgiving and contrite confession. 
 There, in reverential sympathy with the mighty Power around me, 
 I became conscious of power within. There struggling thoughts 
 and emotions broke forth, as if moved to utterance by nature's 
 eloquence of the winds and waves. There began a happiness 
 surpassing all worldly pleasures, all gifts of fortune the happiness 
 of communing with the works of God.' 
 
 In 1803 he was ordained pastor of the church in Federal Street, 
 Boston. Though his health was feeble, his services were so 
 acceptable that it was soon found necessary to build a larger 
 place of worship. In the distinctive articles of his creed he was 
 a Unitarian ; but the use of this term must remind us that such 
 names give no fair definition of character. Channing said of 
 himself : ' I am little of a Unitarian ; ' and his friends have said 
 that he was more nearly related to Funelon than to Priestley. 
 His sermon on ' Unitarian Christianity,' preached at Baltimore hi 
 1819, is perhaps the best of his writings on dogmatic theology. 
 In the following year, he published his Moral Argument against 
 Calvinism. But controversial divinity was by no means his 
 favourite study. Of his sermon, entitled Man the Image of his 
 Maker, it is said, that the reading of it has been an era in the 
 lives of many students. 
 
 In 1823, Channing published an essay on National Literature, 
 which was followed by Remarks on the Character and Writings of 
 Jo/in Milton (1826), and by Remarks on the Life and Character of 
 Napoleon Bonaparte. In this review, he judges the military hero 
 by an ideal standard, rather than by fair comparison with other 
 men of the same class. Channing found a more congenial theme 
 in the Character and Writings of Fenelon, of which he wrote a 
 review for the Christian Examiner in 1829. Already, in 1816, 
 he had written against war ; and again, in 1835 and 1839, he 
 appeared as the earnest advocate of peace. In all these writings, 
 the amiable traits of his own character appeared prominently, as 
 in the Address on Self-culture (1838), which served as an intro 
 duction to a course of Lectures on the Elffation of the Labouring 
 Portion of the Connnunit;/. Though Channing was not connected 
 with any anti-slavery society, he wrote with clearness and 
 earnestness against the great social evil of the United States, 
 and his arguments against slavery exerted a beneficial influence 
 on public opinion. In these and other lectures and essays he 
 founded his principles of morals, politics, and theology on his 
 idea of the true object of human life. He subordinated all other 
 cultivation, physical, intellectual, and social, to the culture of man
 
 280 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 as a moral and religious being. Regarded from this point of 
 view, all his writings are consistent parts of one doctrine, and his 
 life perfectly harmonised with his principles. He was highly 
 esteemed as a friend and a citizen. Of his daily conversation it 
 has been said, that it was even better than his printed discourses. 
 ' He disliked being styled reverend,' and wished that the members 
 of his congregation would regard him as a thoughtful brother, and 
 not as a professional man. ' He would not have been the head 
 of a sect if he could. He loved his religious opinions, but was 
 anxious not to love them in such a way as to get bigoted 
 to them.' 
 
 In his domestic life and social relations, Charming was 
 fortunate, though often depressed by the want of physical health. 
 He passed the last few years of his life in retirement, living in 
 Boston during winter, and at Newport, his birthplace, in summer, 
 where he often enjoyed the society of his friends, Allston the 
 painter and Dana the essayist, who had shared in the pleasures 
 of his early days. His last public address was a speech delivered 
 in August 1842, in commemoration of the British emancipation of 
 slaves. In October of the same year, he was seized with typhus 
 fever while travelling, and died at Bemiington, in Vermont. 1 His 
 memoirs, as a friend has said, give emphasis to almost every 
 sentence of his writings, ' and now his simple name is a nobler 
 thing than even the books themselves of many other writers.' 
 
 The writings of Channing consist of essays and discourses, all 
 marked by the characteristics of an abstract thinker. Of the 
 thousandfold varieties of human life, its stern realities, its incon 
 sistencies, and the difficulties it ever opposes to the schemes of the 
 philanthropist, Channing gives no faithful delineation. He writes 
 generally in abstract terms, of will, conscience, intellect, and moral 
 and religious culture. The same idea everywhere presents itself 
 in his essays and discourses ; the culture of the human soul is 
 constantly asserted as the only true end of religion, philosophy, 
 literature, society, and government. ' The human soul,' we 
 read, ' is greater, more sacred than the state, and must never be 
 sacrificed to it. Thrones which have stood for ages are to meet 
 
 the doom pronounced upon all man's works But man is older 
 
 than nations, and he is to survive nations He has rights by 
 
 nature. In the order of things, they precede society, lie at its 
 foundation, constitute man's capacity for it, and are the great 
 
 objects of social institutions A human being is a member of 
 
 the community not as a limb is a member of the body, or as a 
 wheel is a part of a machine, intended only to contribute to some 
 
 1 Memoirs of William Ellery Channing ; edited by his nephew, William Henry 
 Channing.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. W. E. CIIANNIN(i. 281 
 
 general joint result. He was created, not to be merged in the 
 whole, as a drop in the ocean, or as a particle of sand on the sea 
 shore, and to aid only in composing a mass. He is an ultimate 
 being, made for his own perfection as his highest end made 
 to maintain an individual existence, and to serve others only as 
 far as consists with his own virtue and- progress.' These few 
 sentences may indicate the purport of Channing's moral and 
 political philosophy. 
 
 The lectures on Self-culture and the Elevation of the Labouring 
 Classes are noble in their protest against -the laws of custom 
 which separate the various classes of society. It may be said 
 that the writer develops nothing new that his doctrine of the 
 right of all men to enjoy opportunities of culture is everywhere 
 admitted in theory, though denied in practice ; but truths as 
 old as the hills must be repeated again and again, in order to 
 moderate, if not to abolish, the tyranny of custom. Channing 
 was no leveller he admitted the necessity of various degrees of 
 wealth and power among men; but at the same time he contended 
 that, without any disturbance of social order, the Avails of separa 
 tion between the several classes might be removed by the gradual 
 process of a truly liberal education. After reading his hopeful 
 doctrines, we regret that society in its movement remains so far 
 behind the pioneers of progress ; that truths so often repeated as 
 to become tiresome in literature, have still to find their place in 
 real life ; and that the habits and fashions of the world, for which 
 we can assign no good reason, are still stronger than the best 
 philosophy. 
 
 Nothing can be clearer or more rational than Channing's main 
 doctrine in these lectures : ' Men may work in different depart 
 ments of life, and yet recognise their brotherly relation, and 
 honour one another, and hold friendly communion with one 
 another.' Every reader admits this abstract proposition it is, 
 at least, as old as Christianity, and forms a part of the creed of 
 Christendom ; but when the writer proceeds to apply it, and to 
 suggest that, without disturbing the order of society, a true 
 education should remove all vain distinctions, and should intro 
 duce the working-man to the saloons of the wealthy, we doubt 
 the propriety of choosing the saloon as the meeting-ground. 
 
 The style of Channing's essays and discourses has been often 
 commended. His style is indeed clear, generally correct, and well 
 adapted to its purpose the assertion of isolated propositions 
 but it wants variety. Its pattern, however neat, is so small, and so 
 uniformly repeated in every part, that we may select almost any 
 passage as a fair specimen of the whole. His essays may be divided 
 into a number of short paragraphs, each almost as clear and self-
 
 282 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 explanatory as if it had been written without any context. One 
 short sentence follows another ; while in their general structure 
 the several paragraphs bear a close resemblance to each other. 
 There is a certain beauty in this mode of writing, but it is the 
 beauty of a trim garden, laid out on a small scale, and without 
 the charming diversities of nature. 
 
 Of Channing's theological and polemical works, no detailed 
 account can be given in this place. He began his course of 
 public teaching at a time when religious faith was disturbed ; 
 when the Calvinistic creed, which had prevailed ever since the 
 settlement of New England, was losing its influence in the 
 neighbourhood of Boston. Many inquirers were led to adopt the 
 general principles of the Unitarians ; others proceeded further in 
 innovation, and claimed a latitude of opinion more or less resem 
 bling that of the German rationalists and idealists. Channing 
 adhered to the Unitarians, so far as he belonged to any party. 
 In defending his views, ' he was never betrayed by the ardour 
 of discussion into intemperance in language or extravagance in 
 doctrine. His controversial sermons and tracts exhibit uniformly 
 the decorous forms of expression, and the gentle and tolerant 
 spirit which, while they are graceful in all men, are more 
 especially becoming in a minister of religion.' 1 
 
 The appended extracts from Channing's essays and lectures are 
 fair specimens of his characteristics in ethical writing and literary 
 criticism. 
 
 THE GRAND END OF SOCIETY. 
 
 'Property continually tends to become a more vivid idea than 
 right. In the struggle for private accumulation, the worth of every 
 human being is overlooked. The importance of -every man's progress 
 is forgotten. We must contend for this great idea. They who 
 hold it, must spread it around them. The truth must be sounded in 
 the ears of men, that the grand end of society is to place within 
 reach of all its members the means of improvement, of elevation, 
 of the true happiness of man. There is a higher duty than to build 
 alms-houses for the poor, and that is, to save men from being 
 degraded to the blighting influence of an alms-house. Man has 
 a right to something more than bread to keep him from starving. 
 He has a right to the aids, and encouragements, and culture, by which 
 he may fulfil the destiny of a man ; and until society is brought to 
 recognise and reverence this, it will continue to groan under its 
 present miseries.' 
 
 1 Xort h American Review, >"o. 89, p. 373.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. \V. E. CHANNIXG. 283 
 
 THK DOMINION OF MIND. 
 
 ' In proportion as society becomes enlightened, talent acquires 
 influence. In rudo ages, bodily strength is the most honourable 
 distinction ; and in subsequent times, military prowess and skill 
 confer mastery and eminence. But as society advances, mind, 
 thought, becomes the sovereign of the world ; and accordingly, at 
 the present moment, profound and glowing thought, though breathing 
 only from the silent page, exerts a kind of omnipotent and omni 
 present energy. It crosses oceans and spreads through nations ; and 
 at one and the same moment, the conceptions of a single mind are 
 electrifying and kindling multitudes, through wider regions than the 
 Roman eagle overshadowed. This agency of mind on mind, I repeat 
 it, is the true sovereignty of the world, and kings and heroes are 
 becoming impotent by the side of men of deep and fervent thought.' 
 
 PART Y-SP 1RIT. 
 
 ' Human nature seems incapable of a stronger, more unrelenting 
 passion. It is hard enough for an individual, when contending all 
 alone for an interest or an opinion, to keep down his pride, wilfulness, 
 love of victory, and other personal feelings. But let him join a 
 multitude in the same warfare, and, without singular self-control, 
 he receives into his single breast the vehemence, obstinacy, and 
 vindictiveness of all. The triumph of his party becomes immeasur 
 ably dearer to him than the principle, true or false, which was the 
 original ground of division. The conflict becomes a struggle, not for 
 principle, but for power, for victory ; and the desperateness, the 
 wickedness of such struggles, is the great burden of history. In 
 truth, it matters little what men divide about, whether it be a foot 
 of land, or precedence in a procession. Let them but begin to fight 
 for it, and self-will, ill-will, the rage for victory, the dread of mortifi 
 cation and defeat, make the trifle as weighty as a matter of life and 
 death. The Greek or Eastern Empire was shaken to its foundation 
 by parties which differed only about the merits of charioteers at 
 the amphitheatre. Party-spirit is singularly hostile to moral 
 independence. A man, in proportion as he drinks into it, sees, hears, 
 judges by the senses and understandings of his party. He surrenders 
 the freedom of a man, the right of using and speaking his own 
 mind, and echoes the applauses or maledictions with which the 
 leaders or passionate partisans see fit that the country should ring.' 
 
 GREAT IDEAS. 
 
 'What is needed to elevate the soul is, not that a man should 
 know all that has been thought and written in regard to the spiritual 
 nature not that a man should become an encyclopaedia ; but that 
 the great ideas, in which all discoveries terminate, which sum up all 
 sciences, which the philosopher extracts from infinite details, may
 
 284 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 be comprehended and felt. It is not the quantity, but the quality 
 of knowledge, which determines the mind's dignity. A man of 
 immense information may, through the want of large and compre 
 hensive ideas, be far inferior in intellect to a labourer, who, with 
 little knowledge, has yet seized on great truths. For example, I do 
 not expect the labourer to study theology in the ancient languages, 
 in the writings of the Fathers, in the history of sects, &c. ; nor is 
 this needful. All theology, scattered as it is through countless 
 volumes, is summed up in the idea of God ; and let this idea shine 
 bright and clear in tlie labourer's soul, and he has the essence of 
 theological libraries, and a far higher light than has visited thousands 
 of renowned divines. A great mind is formed by a few great ideas, 
 not by an infinity of loose details. I have known very learned men, 
 who seemed to me very poor in intellect, because they had no grand 
 thoughts. What avails it that a man has studied ever so minutely 
 the histories of Greece and Rome, if the great ideas of freedom, and 
 beauty, and valour, and spiritual energy, have not been kindled by 
 those records into living fires in his soul ? The illumination of an 
 age does not consist in the amount of its knowledge, but in the broad 
 and noble principles of which that knowledge is the foundation and 
 inspirer. The truth is, that the most laborious and successful student 
 is confined in his researches to a very few of God's works ; but this 
 limited knowledge of things may still suggest universal laws, 
 broad principles, grand ideas, and these elevate the mind. There 
 are certain thoughts, principles, ideas, which by their nature rule 
 over all knowledge, which are intrinsically glorious, quickening, 
 all-comprehending, eternal.' 
 
 ' In the best books, great men talk to us, give us their most 
 precious thoughts, and pour their souls into ours. God be thanked 
 for books ! They are the voices of the distant and the dead, and 
 make us heirs of the spiritual life of past ages. Books are the true 
 levellers. They give to all who will faithfully use them, the society, 
 the spiritual presence of the best and greatest of our race. No 
 matter how poor I am no matter though the prosperous of my 
 own time will not enter my obscure dwelling if the Sacred Writers 
 will enter and take up their abode under my roof if Milton will 
 cross my threshold to sing to me of Paradise, and Shakspeare to 
 open to me the worlds of imagination and the workings of the 
 human heart, and Franklin to enrich me with his practical wisdom 
 I shall not pine for want of intellectual companionship, and I may 
 become a cultivated man, though excluded from what is called the 
 best society in the place where I live.' 
 
 LITERATURE OF THE PRESENT AGE. 
 
 ' The character of the age is stamped very strongly on its literary 
 productions. Who, that can compare the present with the past, is not
 
 SECOND PERIOD. ORVILLE DEWEY. 285 
 
 struck with the bold and earnest spirit of the literature of our times. 
 It refuse" *";tG itself on trifles, or to minister to mere gratifi 
 cation. . all that is written has now some bearing on great 
 interests of human nature. Fiction is no longer a mere amusement ; 
 but transcendent genius, accommodating itself to the character of 
 the age, has seized upon this province of literature, and turned 
 fiction from a toy into a mighty engine ; and, under the light tale, is 
 breathing 1 through the community either its reverence for the old or 
 its thirst for the new communicates the spirit and lessons of history 
 unfolds the operations of religious and civil institutions and 
 defends or assails new theories of education or morals by exhibiting 
 them in life and action. The poetry of the age is equally charac 
 teristic. It has a deeper and more impressive tone than comes to 
 us from what has been called the Augustan age of English literature. 
 The regular, elaborate, harmonious strains which delighted a former 
 generation, arc now accused, I say not how justly, of playing too 
 much on the surface of nature and of the heart. Men waiit and 
 demand a more thrilling note a poetry which pierces beneath the 
 exterior of life to the depths of the soul, and which lays open its 
 mysterious workings, borrowing from the whole outward creation 
 fresh images and correspondences with which to illuminate the 
 secrets of the world within us. So keen is this appetite, that 
 extravagances of imagination and gross violations both of taste 
 and moral sentiment are forgiven, when conjoined with what 
 awakens strong emotion ; and, unhappily, the most stirring is the 
 most popular poetry, even though it issue from the desolate soul of 
 a misanthrope and a libertine, and exhale poison and death.' 
 
 ORVILLE DEWEY. 
 
 The example of Channing, who had already extended the range 
 of topics commonly treated in the pulpit, was followed by his 
 successor Orville Dewey (born 1794), who may be described as 
 the most practical of the Unitarian divines. He first appeared 
 as a minister in the pulpit left vacant by Channing when he 
 travelled in Europe. After ten years of service as pastor of a 
 church in New Bedford, Dr Dewey was appointed minister of the 
 church of the Messiah, in New York, where he gained a wide 
 reputation by his sermons and other publications. His account 
 of a tour in Europe, published under the title of The Old World 
 and the New (1836), was well received, and was followed by several 
 collections of his sermons, essays, reviews, and tracts, marked 
 by a sober yet animated style, and a constant application to 
 practical life. 
 
 In 1838. he published twelve discourses, collectively entitled 
 Moral Views of Commerce, Society, and Politics. The subjects
 
 286 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 treated in this volume include the Moral Laws of Trade, the 
 Uses of Labour, a Passion for a Fortune, the Moral Limits of 
 Accumulation, and others of a similar nature, well suited to attract 
 the attention of men in a state of society remarkable for its 
 commercial spirit. In defence of his own unusual choice of 
 topics, Dr Dewey, in his preface, makes a protest against the 
 common narrow range of topics discussed in the pulpit, and 
 adds : ' I must confess I cannot understand by what process of 
 enlightened reasoning and conscience, the preacher can come to 
 the conclusion, that there are wide regions of moral action and 
 peril around him, into which he may not enter, because such 
 unusual words as commerce, society, politics, are written over the 
 threshold.' 
 
 RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 
 
 The essays and lectures of Emerson have perhaps had a 
 larger circulation than any other works of the same kind. Con 
 sidering the abstruse nature of many of their topics, and their 
 singular style, sometimes oracular and rhapsodical, it is difficult 
 to account for the wide diffusion of such writings, though they 
 contain many excellent passages. 
 
 EALPH WALDO EMERSON has been, during the greater part of 
 his life, a retired student, a thinker who from time to time has 
 given to the world the results of his own meditations, and has 
 apparently taken very little care to adapt them to the thoughts 
 of other men. Though his writings often oppose established 
 opinions, and suggest many topics for discussion, he is by no 
 means a controversial author. In reply to a letter inviting 
 discussion, he writes : ' I could not give account of myself, if 
 challenged. I could not possibly give you one of the arguments 
 you cruelly hint at, on which any doctrine of mine stands. For 
 I do not know what arguments mean in reference to any expres 
 sion of a thought. I delight in telling what I think ; but if you 
 ask me why I dare say so, or why it is so, I am the most helpless 
 of mortal men.' In the same letter he styles himself, with 
 reference to his writings, ' a chartered libertine,' and confesses an 
 ' incapacity of methodical writing.' 
 
 We know little of the biography of this author. He was bom 
 in 1803 at Boston, United States, and studied at Harvard Univer 
 sity, where, in his eighteenth year, he took his degree as Bachelor 
 of Arts. For some short period, he was pastor of a Unitarian 
 congregation in his native city; but differences of opinion between 
 himself and his hearers led to his retirement from this office.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. W. EMEKSON. 287 
 
 Since then, he has passed his time in studious solitude, at Concord 
 in Massachusetts, has occasionally lectured, and has paid a visit 
 to friends in England. Having a competent fortune, he has been 
 fully at liberty to choose his own topics and indulge in his 
 style of soliloquy, and his writings prove that his simple object 
 has been to think for himself and give free expression to his 
 thoughts. He has no system of philosophy, no definite method 
 of arriving at conclusions. In his views of man and nature 
 briefly, sometimes mysteriously expressed he often coincides 
 with the results of German writers on philosophy, and especially 
 with the doctrines of Fichte. How far this may be ascribed 
 to reading, we cannot say, though it is stated that Mr Emerson is 
 well acquainted with the writings of the German idealists. 
 
 A poetical spirit pervades many passages in his essays and 
 lectures ; and brief descriptive sketches, often marked by wit :ind 
 humour, relieve the more abstruse parts of his writings. His 
 doctrine, so far as it refers to points in speculative theology, 
 cannot be discussed here ; but it may be said that his moral tone 
 is uniformly noble and manly. The variety of thoughts suggested, 
 but not unfolded in any orderly style ; the union of the several 
 styles of philosophy, poetry, fact, and description : these and 
 other peculiar features make it no easy task to write a fair and 
 complete criticism on the works of Emerson. 
 
 Remote from the pressure of active life in America, and apart 
 from the crowd of restless politicians, buyers and sellers and 
 practical speculators, there exists a philosophical, and perhaps 
 rather dreamy little Germany if we may so speak of a certain 
 class of men devoted to abstruse studies. Of this circle of 
 thinkers, Ralph Waldo Emerson is, to use his own words, 'the 
 representative man.' From his quiet retirement at Concord, 
 he has sent forth'his little books, consisting of essays and lectures, 
 full of elevated thoughts, sometimes happily but often vaguely 
 uttered, which have exercised a considerable influence upon many 
 readers. He has written, in an abstract manner, of man, society, 
 government, religion, and the philosophy of nature. His religious 
 views may be concisely described as the extreme opposite of all 
 views based upon tradition and authority. Of that tendency of 
 the mind and longing of the heart for unity and repose, which 
 has led many doubters to submit their faith to the absolute 
 guidance of a church, Emerson appears to know nothing. On 
 the contrary, he advocates a stern self-reliance, perhaps we might 
 say a self-isolation. 
 
 A clear criticism of Emerson's philosophical doctrines is 
 perhaps impossible, but the main feature in his style of thinking 
 and writing may be easily defined : it consists in the constant
 
 288 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 use of abstract terms in isolated assertions. Wherever we open 
 his essays, we are sure to find passages like the following : ' There 
 are no fixtures in nature. The universe is fluid and volatile. 
 Permanence is but a word of degrees. Our globe, seen by God, 
 is a transparent law, not a mass of facts. The law dissolves the 
 fact, and holds it fluid.' Such abstract statements philosophy in 
 short-hand, as they might be styled may have their meaning in 
 the mind of the original thinker ; but to make them commonly 
 intelligible, they require to be written out and explained by 
 details. As an extreme instance of the condensed style in which 
 Emerson gives the results of whole volumes of German philo 
 sophy, we may quote the following : ' Nature is the incarnation 
 of a thought, and turns to a thought again, as ice becomes 
 water and gas. The world is mind precipitated, and the 
 volatile essence is for ever escaping again into the state of free 
 thought. Hence the virtue and pungency of the influence on the 
 mind of natural objects, whether inorganic or organised. Man 
 imprisoned, man crystallised, man vegetative, speaks to man 
 impersonated.' This appears to be intended as a summary of a 
 German theory; but how dark must be the expressions here used 
 to readers not initiated in the doctrines of Schelling and Hegel ! 
 These writers developed doctrines which may be condensed into 
 the few terms used by the American writer, but they do not use 
 such expressions without detailed explanation. Hegel, for 
 example, in the preface to one of his works, 1 employs the 
 metaphor of ' making fluid,' to describe the dialectic method ; but 
 in the same preface, he clearly exposes the error of employing 
 abstract or general assertions as substitutes for logical writing. 
 
 These remarks may be sufficient to prove what we have 
 already said that any methodical account of Emerson's views 
 of the philosophy of nature is impossible. They must be 
 regarded simply as assertions of his own thoughts and impres 
 sions, of which he confesses that he is not able to ' give 
 account.' 
 
 It may be readily supposed that the influence of his writings 
 upon young readers is rather exciting and disturbing than 
 instructive. Hawthorne seems to imply this in his description 
 of some of the disciples of Emerson : 
 
 ' Severe and sober as was the Old Manse' [a house in the village 
 of Concord], ' it was necessary to go but a little way beyond its 
 threshold before meeting with stranger moral shapes of men than 
 might have been encountered elsewhere in a circuit of a thousand 
 miles. 
 
 1 rtiaeiiomenologie des Geistes. Ed. von Schulze. 1832.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. V>~. EMERSON. 289 
 
 These hobgoblins of flesh and blood were attracted thither by 
 the wide-spreading influence of a great original Thinker, who had 
 his earthly abode at the opposite extremity of our village. His 
 mind acted upon other minds, of a certain constitution, with 
 wonderful magnetism, and drew many men upon long pilgrim 
 ages, to speak with him face to face. Young visionaries to 
 whom just so much of insight had been imparted as to make life 
 all a labyrinth around them came to seek the clue that should 
 guide them out of their self-involved bewilderment. Gray-headed 
 theorists whose systems, at first air, had finally imprisoned them in 
 an iron framework travelled painfully to his door, not to ask 
 deliverance, but to invite the free spirit into their own thraldom. 
 People that had lighted on a new thought, or a thought that 
 they fancied new, came to Emerson, as the finder of a glittering 
 gem hastens to a lapidary to ascertain its quality and value. 
 Uncertain, troubled, earnest wanderers, through the midnight of 
 the moral world, beheld his intellectual fire as a beacon burning on 
 a hill-top, and climbing the difficult ascent, looked forth into the 
 surrounding obscurity more hopefully than hitherto 
 
 But it was impossible to dwell in his vicinity without inhaling, 
 more or less, the mountain atmosphere of his lofty thought, which 
 in the brains of some people wrought a singular giddiness new 
 truth being as heady as new wine. Never was a poor little country 
 village infested with such a variety of queer, strangely-dressed, 
 oddly-behaved mortals, most of whom took upon themselves to bo 
 important agents of the world's destiny, yet were simply bores of a 
 very intense water. Such, I imagine, is the invariable character of 
 persons who crowd so closely about an original thinker as to draw 
 in his unuttered breath, and thus become imbued with a false 
 originality.' 1 
 
 In the series of lectures on Representative Men, Montaigne 
 is selected as the example of the sceptical tendency in thought ; 
 though sincerity and liberality are equally characteristic of the 
 French essayist, as Emerson implies in the following passage : 
 
 ' Over his name he drew an emblematic pair of scales, and wrote 
 " Que scais-je ?" under it. As I look at his effigy, opposite the title- 
 page, I seem to hear him say : " You may play old 1'oz, if you will ; 
 you may rail and exaggerate I stand here for truth, and will not, 
 for all the states, and churches, and revenues, and personal reputa 
 tions of Europe, overstate the dry fact as I see it : I will rather 
 mumble and prose about what I certainly know my house and barns ; 
 my father, my wife, and my tenants ; my old lean bald pate ; my 
 knives and forks ; what meats I eat and what drinks I prefer ; and 
 a hundred straws just as ridiculous than I will write, with a fine 
 crow-quill, a fine romance. I like gray days, and autumu and 
 
 1 Hawthorne's Mosses from an Old Alante.
 
 200 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 winter weather. I am gray and autumnal myself, and think an 
 undress and old shoes that do not pinch my feet, and old friends 
 that do not constrain me, and plain topics where I do not need to 
 strain myself and pump my brains, the most suitable." ' 
 
 In the lecture on Goethe or the Writer, the reader must be 
 disappointed if he expects a clear and sober statement of the 
 merits of the celebrated German. Mr Emerson ventures to say : 
 ' The old Eternal Genius who built the world has confided himself 
 more to this man (Goethe) than to any other;' and yet he adds 
 in the next sentence ' I dare not say that Goethe ascended 
 to the highest grounds from which genius has spoken.' These 
 two statements seem hardly to admit reconciliation. That style 
 of speaking for which Montaigne has been commended, would 
 be very desirable in a description of the characteristics of Goethe, 
 for many of the criticisms and commentaries on his works are 
 remarkably vague or contradictory. Thus we find, in contrast 
 against the enthusiastic praises bestowed by Mr Carlyle, 
 the opinions of such German winters as Gcrres, Novalis, and 
 Borne, who condemn Goethe as ' a heathen,' an ' anti-christian 
 writer,' and 'a preacher of moral indolence;' while Menzel 
 carries animosity against Goethe and all his admirers to an 
 absurd extreme ; and even Theodore Parker writes : ' That 
 Goethe, as a man, was selfish to a very high degree, a debauchee, 
 and well-bred epicurean, who had little sympathy with what was 
 highest in man, so long as he could crown himself with rose-buds, 
 we are willing to admit.' Of the most enigmatical of all Goethe's 
 writings the second part of Faust Mr Emerson says : ' It is a 
 
 philosophy of literature set in poetry This reflective and 
 
 critical wisdom makes the poem more truly the flower of this 
 
 time The wonder of the book is its superior intelligence.' 
 
 Yet, of this same poem, an able German critic and warm admirer 
 of Goethe, 1 says : ' Already many passages in this second part 
 have become riddles, and for the hopeless solution we may vainly 
 strive until we lose our" temper ; while others may be readily 
 guessed ; but not without the vexation of finding, under a great 
 array of symbols, nothing more than a trivial and insignificant 
 result : so we may conclude, that in the course of some fifty 
 years, the whole of this second part will be almost destitute 
 of meaning.' 
 
 The other lectures describe as representatives Plato, the 
 Philosopher ; Swedenborg, the Mystic ; Shakspeare, the Poet ; 
 and Napoleon, the Man of the World. In all, several striking 
 passages occur in contrast with obscure statements and exaggerated 
 
 1 Dr VUmar Vorletungen tier die Geschichte der deuftchen Kationalliteratur.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. R. W. EMERSON. 291 
 
 or one-skied assertions. The same characteristic of isolated 
 propositions, which makes it impossible to find any method of 
 thinking in Mr Emerson's works, also makes his style rather 
 monotonous. His language, truly representing his thoughts, 
 consists chiefly of short, aphoristic sentences. A quotation from 
 the lecture on Plato is appended : 
 
 SOCRATES. 
 
 * Socrates, a man of humble stem, but honest enough ; of the 
 commonest history ; of a personal homeliness so remarkable, as to 
 be a cause of wit in others the rather that his broad good-nature 
 and exquisite taste for a joke invited the sally, which was sure to be 
 paid. The players personated him on the stage ; the potters copied 
 his ugly face on their stone jugs. He was a cool fellow, adding to 
 his humour a perfect temper and a knowledge of his man be he 
 who he might whom he talked with, which laid the companion 
 open to certain defeat in any debate ; and in debate he immoderately 
 delighted. The young men are prodigiously fond of him, and invite 
 him to their feasts, wliither he goes for conversation. He can drink 
 too ; has the strongest head in Athens ; and, after leaving the whole 
 party under the table, goes away as if nothing had happened, to 
 begin new dialogues with somebody that is sober. In short, he was 
 what our country-people call an old one. 
 
 He affected a good many citizen-like tastes, was monstrously 
 fond of Athens, hated trees, never willingly went beyond the walls, 
 knew the old characters, valued the bores and Philistines, thought 
 everything in Athens a little better than anything in any other 
 place. He was plain as a Quaker in habit and speech, affected low 
 phrases and illustrations from cocks and quails, soup-pans and 
 sycamore-spoons, grooms and farriers, and unnameable offices ; 
 especially if he talked with any superfine person. He had a 
 Franklin-like wisdom. Thus, he shewed one who was afraid to go 
 on foot to Olympia, that it was no more than his daily walk within 
 doors, if continuously extended, would easily reach. 
 
 Plain old uncle as he was, with his great ears an immense talker 
 the rumour ran, that on one or two occasions, in the war with 
 Bocotia, he had shewn a determination which had covered the 
 retreat of a troop ; and there was some story that, under cover of 
 foll_v, he had in the city government, when one day he chanced to 
 hold a seat there, evinced a courage in opposing singly the popular 
 voice, which had well-nigh ruined him. He is very poor ; but then 
 lie is as hardy as a soldier, and can live on a few olives ; usually in 
 the strictest sense on bread and water, except when entertained by 
 his friends. His necessary expenses were exceedingly small, and 
 no one could live as he did. He wore no under garment ; his upper 
 garment was the same for summer and winter ; and he went bare 
 footed ; and it is said that, to procure the pleasure which he loves, 
 of talking at his case all day with the most elegant and cultivated
 
 292 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 young men, he will now and then return to his shop, and carve 
 statues, good or bad, for sale. However that be, it is certain that 
 he had grown to delight in nothing else than this conversation ; and 
 that, under his hypocritical pretence of knowing nothing, he attacks 
 and brings down all the fine speakers, all the fine philosophers of 
 Athens, whether natives or strangers from Asia Minor and the 
 Islands. Nobody can refuse to talk with him, he is so honest and 
 really curious to know ; a man who was willingly confuted, if he did 
 not speak the truth, and who willingly confuted others asserting 
 what was false ; and not less pleased when confuted than when 
 confuting ; for he thought not any evil happened to men of such 
 a magnitude, as false opinion respecting the just and the unjust. A 
 pitiless disputant, who knows nothing, but the bounds of whose 
 conquering intelligence no man had ever reached ; whose temper* 
 was imperturbable ; whose dreadful logic was always leisurely and 
 sportive ; so careless and ignorant as to disarm the wariest, and 
 draw them, in the pleasantest manner, into horrible doubts and 
 confusion. But he always knew the way out knew it, but would 
 not tell it. No escape ; he drives them to terrible choices by his 
 dilemmas, and tosses the Hippiases or Gorgiases, with their grand 
 reputations, as a boy tosses his balls. The tyrannous realist ! Meno 
 has discoursed a thousand times at length, on virtue, before many 
 companies, and very well, as it appeared to him ; but at this moment 
 he cannot even tell what it is this cramp-fish of a Socrates has so 
 bewitched him. 
 
 This hard-headed humorist, whose strange conceits, drollery, and 
 bonhomie diverted the young patricians, whilst the humour of his 
 sayings and quibbles gets abroad every day, turns out, in the sequel, 
 to have a probity as invincible as his logic, and to be either insane, 
 or at least, under cover of this play, enthusiastic in his religion. 
 "When accused before the judges of subverting the popular creed, 
 he affirms the immortality of the soul, the future reward and 
 punishment ; and, refusing to recant, in a caprice of the popular 
 government, was condemned to die, and sent to the prison. Socrates 
 entered the prison, and took away all ignominy from the place, 
 which could not be a prison whilst he was there. Crito bribed 
 the jailer ; but Socrates would not go out by treachery. ' What 
 ever inconveniences ensue, nothing is to be preferred before justice. 
 These things I hear like pipes and drums, whose sound makes me 
 deaf to everything you say. 1 ' The fame of this prison, the fame of 
 the discourses there, and the drinking of the hemlock, are one of 
 the most precious passages in the history of the world.'
 
 SECOND PERIOD. ESSAYS, REVIEWS, AND ORATIONS. 293 
 
 ESSAYS, REVIEWS, AND ORATIONS. 
 
 In America, as in England, the quarterly reviews and other 
 periodicals employ the services of the best writers, and critical 
 essays and summaries given in the form of reviews have taken the 
 place occupied by the Tatler, Spectator, and other papers of the 
 eighteenth century. Salmagundi, a miscellany written by Irving, 
 Verplanck, and Paulding (1807), may be regarded as the last 
 imitation of the plan of essay-writing introduced by Steele and 
 Addison. About the same time, The Monthly Anthology appeared 
 under the editorship of the Rev. Mr Emerson (father of the well- 
 known essayist), and was continued until 1811. Four years later, 
 The North American lf< >/( n- A\as established by William Tudor, 
 and after several changes of management during the years 1815-19, 
 was transferred to the care of Edward Everett. Subsequently, it 
 was conducted by Jared Sparks (1822-30), Alexander Everett 
 (1830-35), Dr Palfrey (1835-), and in 1842 passed into the hands 
 of Francis Bowen, a gentleman highly esteemed for his acquire 
 ments in general literature and philosophy. TJie North American 
 It/ >!, m has long maintained the highest position among critical 
 journals, and has employed the services of the best scholars in the 
 United States. 
 
 In the year 1827, The American Quarterly Review was com 
 menced in Philadelphia, under the direction of Mr Robert "\Valsh, 
 and was continued until 1837. In this year, The Boston Quarterly 
 Review Avas established. During recent years, it has been under 
 the guidance, and, indeed, has been chiefly written by Orestes A. 
 Brownson. The Southern Quarterly Review, edited by W. Gilmore 
 Simms, was established in Charleston, 1828, suspended in 1833, 
 and recommenced in 1842. 
 
 Of the monthly literary magazines, The Knickerbocker, estab 
 lished in 1832, has been one of the most successful, and has 
 numbered among its contributors Irving, Paulding, Bryant, and 
 Longfellow. Harpers 1 fit, /a -hie, published in New York, has 
 enjoyed a very extensive circulation, but cannot be classed with 
 respectable periodicals. It has adopted the plan of seizing and 
 appropriating, for its own use. the articles of English writers ; and 
 this has frequently been done without any form of acknowledg 
 ment. A higher character is justly claimed by Putnam's Monthly, 
 a literary miscellany which deserves success, for its object is the 
 culture and encouragement of native American talent. It already 
 includes among its contributors several of the best writers of 
 light literature. 
 
 The writers of reviews and essays are too numerous to be
 
 294 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 distinctly characterised. VERPLANCK, an historical essayist, who 
 has prepared the best American edition of Shakspeare, has written 
 many critical articles displaying great research, especially with 
 regard to the early colonisation of New York. The Lectures on 
 Shakspeare, by H. N. HUDSON, have been commended as examples 
 of genial criticism and delicate analysis. Among the contributors 
 to The North American Revieio, we may mention the names of 
 the brothers EVERETT, C. C. FELTON, GEORGE S. PERKINS, 
 PICKERING, CHARLES SUMNER, and GEORGE HILLARD ; while we 
 omit here the names of other writers whose works have already 
 been noticed in other parts of this volume. 
 
 In selecting a few names as representatives of a class too 
 numerous to be fully described here, it is by no means implied 
 that the respective merits of these and other writers can be 
 fairly estimated by our brief notices. 
 
 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS (1767-1848) devoted his life to political 
 studies, and rose to the office of President of the United States. 
 Amid the cares of his public life, he found occasional solace in 
 literature, especially in the study of Shakspeare's plays. These 
 he viewed chiefly with regard to their moral purport ; and his 
 Essays on the Characters of Shakspeare contain some singular 
 assertions respecting the great poet's ethical teaching. For 
 example, Mr Adams gravely and elaborately contended that 
 Othello was written to expose the enormity of Desdemona's 
 marriage ' with a blackamoor.' 
 
 ALEXANDER EVERETT (1790-1847) edited The North American 
 Review in the years 1830-35, and during that time contributed 
 several articles, which have been collected, with other papers, and 
 published under the title Critical and Miscellaneous Essays. He 
 also wrote extensively for the same review while it was edited 
 by his younger brother Edward ; arid at various times was a 
 contributor to The Boston Quarterly Review, The Democratic 
 Review, and other periodicals. His other works include an essay, 
 entitled New Ideas on Population (1822), intended to refute the 
 theory of Malthus ; a work on America ; and a collection of 
 political addresses and occasional orations. 
 
 During a considerable part of his life, Alexander Everett was 
 engaged in politics and diplomacy. In 1809 he went to St Peters 
 burg, on a mission to Russia, and while ho resided there, studied 
 modern languages, public law, and political economy. After a 
 visit to London, he returned to the United States, and in 1821 
 published his work, entitled Europe ; or a General Survey of the 
 Political Situation of the Principal Poicers, icith Conjectures on their
 
 SECOND PERIOD. A. AND E. EVERETT. 295 
 
 Future Prospects. In his next work, the essay on population, 
 he argued against Malthus, that the growth of an industrious 
 population must always be accompanied by a proportionate 
 increase of the means of subsistence. 
 
 In 1825, he was appointed minister at the court of Madrid. 
 During his residence in this capital, he continued his literary 
 pursuits, and wrote, besides his work on America, several articles 
 for The North American Review. While in Spain, he collected the 
 valuable new materials for Prescott's History of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella, and also assisted Irving in historical researches relative 
 to the Life of Columbus. 
 
 In the years 1830-40, Everett was engaged in political affairs, 
 and devoted a part of his leisure to literary pursuits. In 1845, 
 he was appointed to succeed Caleb Gushing on a mission to 
 China. In the following year he sailed for Canton, where he 
 died in the summer of 1847. 
 
 It is well known that in America the public speeches of Daniel 
 "Webster, Calhoun, the brothers Everett, and other politicians, 
 are regarded as worthy of a prominent place in national literature. 
 The orations delivered on various occasions by Daniel Webster 
 and Edward Everett, have been collected and published as 
 important contributions to the American library. ' Our national 
 literature,' says a reviewer, ' is to be found hi the records of our 
 greatest minds, and is not confined to the poems, novels, and 
 essays which may be produced by Americans.' These remarks 
 may serve to explain the fact, that the reputation of Alexander 
 Everett, like that of his younger brother Edward, was not wholly 
 founded on his essays, reviews, and other political writings, but 
 was partly aided by his public speeches, of which several are 
 included in the list of his publications. 
 
 As a writer and an orator, Alexander was inferior to his 
 brother EDWARD EVERETT, who has expended, in periodical 
 literature and public speaking, the powers which might have 
 produced works deserving a permanent reputation. He was 
 born at Dorchester, near Boston, in 1794 ; graduated at Harvard 
 University in 1811 ; and succeeded Buckminster as minister of a 
 Unitarian church in Boston. At this tune, when nineteen years 
 old, he wrote a Defence of Christianity. After a course of travel 
 for the benefit of his health, he entered in 1819 on the duties of 
 his professorship of the Greek language and literature, in Harvard 
 University, to which he had been appointed in 1815. In the 
 following year (1820), he commenced the editorship of The Nort/i 
 American Review, and during the four years of his regime, he 
 wrote almost one half of the work. Subsequently, when his elder
 
 296 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 brother. Alexander, undertook the duties of management, Edward 
 Everett remained one of the leading contributors. His numerous 
 essays and reviews include some elaborate articles : while others, 
 the productions of the few leisure hours allowed by professional 
 duties, have the common faults of hasty writing. Everett has 
 rarely enjoyed the advantages of the retired student. His ten 
 years of service in the House of Representatives ; the duties of 
 the presidency of Harvard College during three years ; the cares 
 of the office of governor of Massachusetts, and of an embassy to 
 the court of England these, and other public services, have left so 
 little time for unbroken studies, that the scholarship and variety 
 of intellectual resources found in his writings and public speeches 
 must excite admiration. 
 
 His Orations and Speeches, published in 1850, include a great 
 diversity of topics, but have one common feature in their 
 enthusiastic national tone. In commemorating the settling of 
 New England, or the events of the revolutionary war ; in eulogies 
 of the patriots of America ; and in speeches for literary institu 
 tions, charitable associations, temperance societies ; and even at 
 agricultural dinners and cattle-shows, Everett never forgets to 
 infuse an American spirit. His language is generally chaste and 
 elegant, and often rises to a higher style of eloquence in accord 
 ance with .the development of his subject ; but he has not always 
 resisted the peculiar seductions of public speaking. 
 
 We append an extract from Everett's oration on the arrival of 
 the Pilgrims in New England : 
 
 THE LANDING OF THE MAYFLOWER. 
 
 ' Let us go up for a moment, in imagination, to yonder hill, which 
 overlooks the village and the bay, and suppose ourselves standing 
 there on some bleak, ungenial morning, in the middle of November of 
 that year [1620]. The coast is fringed with ice. Dreary forests, inter 
 spersed with sandy tracts, fill the background. Nothing of humanity 
 quickens on the spot, save a few roaming savages, who, ill provided 
 with what even they deem the necessaries of life, are digging with 
 their fingers a scanty repast out of the frozen sands. No friendly 
 light-houses had as yet hung up their cressets upon your headlands ; 
 no brave pilot-boat was hovering like a sea-bird on the tops of the 
 waves, beyond the cape, to guide the shattered bark to its harbour ; 
 no charts and soundings made the secret pathways of the deep as 
 plain as a gravelled road through a lawn ; no comfortable dwellings 
 along the line of the shore, and where are now your well-inhabited 
 streets, spoke a welcome to the pilgrim ; no steeple poured the 
 music of Sabbath-morn into the ear of the fugitive for conscience' 
 sake. Primeval wildness and native desolation brood over sea and
 
 SECOND PERIOD. E. EVERETT. 297 
 
 land ; and from the 9th of November, when, after a most calamitous 
 voyage, the Mai/jlncir first came to anchor in Provincetown harhour, 
 to the end of December, the entire male portion of the company was 
 occupied, for the greater part of every day, and often by night 
 as well as by day, in exploring the coast, and seeking a place of 
 rest, amidst perils from the savages, from the unknown shore, 
 and the elements, which it makes one's heart bleed to think upon. 
 
 But this dreary waste, which we thus contemplate in imagination, 
 and which they traversed in sad reality, is a chosen land. It is a 
 theatre upon which an all-glorious drama is to be enacted. On this 
 frozen soil driven from the ivy-clad churches of their mother-land, 
 escaped at last from loathsome prisons the meek fathers of a pure 
 church will lay the spiritual basement of their temple. Here, ou 
 the everlasting rock of liberty, they will establish the foundation of 
 a free state. Beneath its ungenial wintry sky, principles of social 
 right, institutions of civil government, shall germinate, in which, 
 what seemed the Utopian dreams of visionary sages, are to be more 
 than realised. 
 
 But let us contemplate, for a moment, the instruments selected by 
 Providence for this political and moral creation. However unpro 
 mising the field of action, the agents must correspond with the 
 excellence of the work. The time is truly auspicious. England 
 is well supplied with all the materials of a generous enterprise. She 
 is in the full affluence of her wealth of intellect and character. The 
 age of Elizabeth has passed, and garnered up its treasures. The 
 age of the Commonwealth, silent and unsuspected, is ripening 
 towards its harvest of great men. The Burleighs and Cecils have 
 sounded the depths of statesmanship ; the Drakes and Raleighs have 
 run the whole round of chivalry and adventure ; the Cokes and 
 Bacons are spreading the light of their master-minds through the 
 entire universe of philosophy and law. Out of a generation of 
 which men like these are the guides and lights, it cannot be difficult 
 to select the leaders of any lofty undertaking ; and, through their 
 influence, to secure to it the protection of royalty. But, alas for 
 New England ! No, sir, happily for New England, Providence works 
 not with human instruments. Not many wise men after the flesh, 
 not many mighty, not many noble, are called. The stars of human 
 greatness that glitter in a court are not destined to rise on the 
 lowering horizon of the despised colony. The feeble company of 
 Pilgrims is not to be marshalled by gartered statesmen or mitred 
 prelates. Fleets will not be despatched to convoy the little band, 
 nor armies to protect it. Had there been honours to be won, or 
 pleasures to be enjoyed, or plunder to be grasped, hungry courtiers, 
 midsummer friends, godless adventurers, would have eaten out the 
 heart of the enterprise. Silken Buckinghams and Somersets would 
 have blasted it with their patronage. But safe amidst their 
 unenvied perils, strong in their inoffensive weakness, rich in their 
 untempting poverty, the patient fugitives are permitted to pursue 
 unmolested the thorny paths of tribulation ; and, landed at last on
 
 298 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the unfriendly shore, the hosts of God, in the frozen mail of 
 December, encamp around the dwellings of the just 
 
 " Stern famine guards the solitary coast, 
 And winter barricades the realms of frost." 
 
 While Bacon is attuning the sweetest strains of his honeyed 
 eloquence to soothe the dull ear of a crowned pedant, and his great 
 rival, only less obsequious, is on his knees to deprecate the royal 
 displeasure, the future founders of the new republic beyond the sea 
 are training up for their illustrious mission, in obscurity, hardship, 
 and weary exile in a foreign land. 
 
 'And now for the fulness of time is come let us go up once 
 more, in imagination, to yonder hill, and look out upon the 
 November scene. That single dark speck, just discernible through 
 the perspective-glass, on the waste of waters, is the fated vessel. 
 The storm moans through her tattered canvas, as she creeps, almost 
 sinking, to her anchorage in Provincetown harbour ; and there she 
 lies, with all her treasures, not of silver and gold for of these she 
 lias none but of courage, of patience, of zeal, of high spiritual 
 daring. So often as I dwell in imagination on this scene ; when 
 I consider the condition of the Mayflower, utterly incapable as she 
 was of living through another gale ; when I survey the terrible 
 front presented by our coast to the navigator who, unacquainted 
 with its channels and roadsteads, should approach it in the stormy 
 season, I dare not call it a mere piece of good-fortune, that the 
 general north and south wall of the shore of New Eugland should be 
 broken by this extraordinary projection of the Cape, running out 
 into the ocean a hundred miles, as if on purpose to receive and 
 encircle the precious vessel. As I now see her, freighted with the 
 destinies of a continent, barely escaped from the penis of the deep, 
 approaching the shore precisely where the broad sweep of this most 
 remarkable headland presents almost the only point at which for 
 hundreds of miles she could with any ease have made a harbour, 
 and this perhaps the very best on the sea-board, I feel my spirit 
 raised above the sphere of mere natural agencies. I see the 
 mountains of New England rising from their rocky thrones. They 
 rush forward into the ocean, settling down as they advance ; and 
 there they range themselves as a mighty bulwark around the 
 Heaven-directed vessel. Yes, the everlasting God himself stretches 
 out the arm of his mercy and his power, in substantial manifes 
 tation, and gathers the meek company of his worshippers as in the 
 hollow of his hand.' 
 
 In accordance with the rule laid down by an American 
 reviewer, we must include DA^TIEL WEBSTER in our list of 
 authors, though he never wrote a book. We readily grant that 
 his speeches are far more valuable than many books which have 
 been noticed in our review. He was born (in 1782) at Salisbury, 
 in New Hampshire. After he had graduated in Dartmouth 
 College, he chose the profession of law, and for some time
 
 SECOND PERIOD. DANIEL WEBSTEB. 299 
 
 practised as an attorney and counsellor. In early life, he devoted 
 a considerable share of his studies to political questions, and soon 
 after the declaration of war (1812), "was elected a member of the 
 national House of Representatives. During his retirement from 
 Congress (1817-23), he wrote several articles for The North 
 American Review, and delivered some of his most celebrated 
 orations. The remainder of his public life was devoted to the 
 service of his country, and its record belongs to political history. 
 He died in October 1852. 
 
 The collected writings of Daniel Webster, including speeches 
 in Congress and addresses on various public occasions, with 
 forensic arguments, and several essays, appeared in 1852-53, 
 with a memoir written by Edward Everett. His orations are 
 characterised as 'more remarkable for fervour of sentiment and 
 depth of feeling than for richness of imagery or imaginative 
 power. No one has a greater contempt for the barren shows of 
 oratorical and poetic phraseology, or for the mere illusions of 
 fancy.' This statement accords well with Webster's own 
 description of eloquence, given in one of his speeches, from which 
 the following passage may be quoted : 
 
 ' When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions, 
 when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, 
 nothing is valuable in speech further than as it is connected with 
 high intellectual and moral endowments. Clearness, force, and 
 earnestness are the qualities that produce conviction. True 
 eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought 
 from far. Labour and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in 
 vain. Words and phrases may be marshalled in every way, but 
 they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, 
 and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp 
 of declamation, all may aspire to it ; they cannot reach it. It 
 comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the 
 earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, 
 original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly 
 ornaments and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust 
 men when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their 
 children, and their country, hang on the decision of the hour. Then 
 words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate 
 oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and 
 subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism 
 is eloquent ; then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, 
 outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm 
 resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from 
 the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, 
 right onward to his object this, this is eloquence ; or rather it 
 is something greater and higher than all eloquence it is action, 
 noble, sublime, godlike action.'
 
 300 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 JOSEPH STORY (1779-1845), an eminent lawyer and judge in 
 the Supreme Court of the United States, devoted his leisure 
 hours to literature, and wrote several occasional addresses and 
 biographical sketches, besides his essays contributed to The North 
 American Review. His writings on jurisprudence including 
 Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States, Commentaries 
 on the Conflict of Laics, and on Equity Pleadings, and numerous 
 written judgments are voluminous. The following extract is 
 taken from a Centennial Discourse at Salem, in which the author 
 refers to the intolerance of the Puritans in New England : 
 
 p E R s E c u T i o \. 
 
 'I stand not up here the apologist for persecution, whether it be 
 by Catholic or Protestant, by Puritan or Prelate, by Congregationalist 
 or Covenanter, by church or state, the monarch or the people. 
 Wherever and by whomsoever it is promulgated or supported, under 
 whatever disguises, for whatever purposes, at all times, and under 
 :tll circumstances, it is a gross violation of the rights of conscience, 
 r.nd utterly inconsistent with the spirit of Christianity. I care not, 
 whether it goes to life, or property, or office, or reputation, or mere 
 private comfort, it is equally an outrage upon religion and the 
 inalienable rights of man. If there is any right sacred beyond all 
 others, because it imports everlasting consequences, it is the right to 
 worship God according to the dictates of our own consciences. 
 Whoever attempts to narrow it down in any degree, to limit it by 
 the creed of any sect, to bound the exercises of private judgment or 
 free inquiry by the standard of his own faith, be he priest or layman, 
 ruler or subject, dishonours, so far, the profession of Christianity, 
 and wounds it hi its vital virtues. The doctrine on which such 
 attempts are founded, goes to the destruction of all free institutions 
 of government. There is not a truth to be gathered from history 
 more certain or more momentous than this that civil liberty cannot 
 long be separated from religious liberty without danger, and 
 ultimately without destruction to both. Wherever religious liberty 
 exists, it will, first or last, bring in and establish political liberty. 
 Wherever it is suppressed, the church establishment will, first or 
 last, become the engine of despotism, and overthrow, unless it be 
 itself overthrown, every vestige of political right. How it is possible 
 to imagine, that a religion breathing the spirit of mercy and benevo 
 lence, teaching the forgiveness of injuries, the exercise of charity, 
 and the return of good for evil how it is possible, I say, for such 
 a religion to be so perverted as to breathe the spirit of slaughter 
 and persecution, of discord and vengeance for differences of opinion, 
 is a most unaccountable and extraordinary moral phenomenon. 
 Still more extraordinary, that it should be the doctrine, not of base 
 and wicked men merely, seeking to cover up their own misdeeds, 
 but of good men, seeking the way of salvation with uprightness of 
 heart and purpose. It affords a melancholy proof of the infirmity of
 
 SECOND PERIOD. BROWNSON LEGARE TUCKERMAN. 301 
 
 Imman judgment ; and teaches a lesson of humility, from which 
 spiritual prido may learn meekness, and spiritual zeal a moderating 
 wisdom.' 
 
 The names already given must suffice as representative of other 
 writers of orations CLAY, CALHOUN, LEGARE, BURGESS, WRIGHT, 
 CHOATK, and PRESTON. In the same mode of treatment, we 
 may select a few names of writers of essays and reviews, without 
 any intention of asserting their claims to be regarded as the chief 
 representatives of their respective departments. 
 
 The essays and reviews written by THEODORE PARKER for 
 The Dial and other periodicals, would demand more than a 
 passing notice, if their topics might be included in the range of 
 general literature. As specimens of clear writing on difficult 
 subjects, they deserve the highest commendation. Their 
 theological purport has been indicated, and cannot with propriety 
 be discussed in this place. 
 
 ORESTES A. BROWNSON, formerly editor of The Boston Quarterly 
 Review, gained a reputation rather by his rapid changes of 
 opinions than by his ability in metaphysical and theological 
 controversy. During his editorship (1838-43), he wrote, it is 
 said, almost the whole of the Keview; and in 1844, when The 
 Boston Quarterly had been merged in The Democratic Review, 
 he commenced a new quarterly to expound his own doctrines. 
 These were subject to changes so rapid, that a weekly periodical 
 was required to keep pace with them. By turns, Brownson 
 advocated Catholicism in religion, eclecticism in philosophy, and 
 other systems more or less borrowed from foreign writers, and 
 ultimately found a resting-place in the Positive Philosophy of 
 M. Comte. Respecting this last phase of faith, Mr Griswold 
 says : ' It is more creditable to his [Brownson's] judgment than to 
 his candour ; for I do not recollect that he has once mentioned 
 the name of an author from whom he has rather compiled than 
 borrowed.' This is a serious charge; and we fear that several 
 similar charges might be justly preferred against other meta 
 physical writers who have borrowed without sufficient 
 acknowledgment from the French and the German. 
 
 HUGH SWINTON LEGARE (1797-1843) must be mentioned 
 as the chief contributor to The Southern Quarterly Review, 
 established at Charleston in 1827, and as the writer of several 
 able articles in The New York Review. 
 
 HENRY THEODORE TUCKERMAN (born 1813) may be described 
 as one of the most imaginative and sympathetic of American
 
 302 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 critics, and as a refined and elegant writer. His essays and 
 reviews shew a liberal cultivation of mind and heart. He is one 
 of the few men who are well qualified to write criticism on poetry, 
 for he has the powers required to recognise, though insufficient 
 to create, true poetry. The poet and his competent critic must 
 resemble each other, so far that the latter must be capable of 
 recognising all the ideas and sentiments uttered by the former. 
 It may be asserted that, in compass, their minds are equal, and 
 that the difference between them is caused by the superior 
 energy of the creative mind. 
 
 In 1835, Mr Tuckerman published, under the title of The 
 Italian Sketch-book, a series of papers giving the thoughts 
 suggested by a tour in Southern Europe. Another work of 
 similar character, though written in the form of a romance, was 
 entitled Isabel; or Sicily a Pilgrimage, and appeared in 1839. 
 This was followed in 1841 by a volume of miscellanies under the 
 title of Ranibles and Reveries; and in 1846 by the more 
 characteristic work, Thoughts on the Poets a series of essays 
 on twenty-six Italian, English, and American poets, including 
 Petrarch and Alfieri, Goldsmith, Gray, Burns, Cowper, Crabbe, 
 Coleridge, Wordsworth, Tennyson, and Bryant. In his Charac 
 teristics of Literature, Mr Tuckerman has given a series of 
 analytical, yet very genial and sympathetic sketches of celebrated 
 authors, taking each as the representative of a class. He 
 observes, in a preface to the second series, that ' the choice 
 of writers has been quite accidental and subordinate to the 
 principal aim that of grouping around them something like a 
 brief history and analysis of the species of writing in which they 
 excelled.' Thus Sir Thomas Browne serves as the representative 
 of philosophy ; Channing is the moralist ; Charles Lamb, the 
 humorist ; Burke, the rhetorician ; Humboldt, the naturalist ; 
 and Godwin, the reformer. 
 
 Besides the woA:s already mentioned, Mr Tuckerman has 
 written a series of essays, entitled Leaves from the Diary of a 
 Dreamer, a didactic essay in verse, styled The Spirit of Poetry, 
 and several shorter poems and magazine articles. In one of his 
 best essays, entitled New England Philosophy, and first published 
 in The Democratic Review, he discusses with ability and good 
 taste the question of the relative merits of the two departments 
 of culture one including the imaginative faculty and the 
 affections ; the other embracing the powers strictly called intel 
 lectual. He maintains that these latter the faculties of practical 
 intellect 'are too often cultivated with an unwise neglect of the 
 sentiments commonly, but vaguely, styled poetical. The whole 
 essay may be regarded as a defence of enthusiasm taking this
 
 SECOND PERIOD. II. T. TUCKERMAN. 303 
 
 word in its best and most refined meaning and the greater 
 portion of it is beautifully written. 
 
 A DEFENCE OF K N T II U S I A S 3r. 
 
 'Enthusiasm is the very life of gifted spirits. Ponder the lives of 
 the glorious in art or literature through all ages. "What are they but 
 records of toils and sacrifices supported by the earnest hearts of 
 their votaries ? Dante composed his immortal poem amid exile and 
 suffering, prompted by the noble ambition of vindicating himself to 
 posterity ; and the sweetest angel of his paradise is the object of his 
 early love. The best countenances the old painters have bequeathed 
 to us are those of cherished objects intimately associated with their 
 fame. The face of Raphael's mother blends with the angelic beauty 
 of all his Madonnas. Titian's daughter, and the wife of Correggio, 
 again and again meet in their works. Well does Foscolo call the 
 fine arts the children of love. The deep interest with which the 
 Italians hail gifted men, inspires them to the mightiest efforts. 
 National enthusiasm is the great nursery of genius. When Cellini's 
 statue of Perseus was first exhibited on the Piazza at Florence, it 
 was surrounded for days by an admiring throng, and hundreds of 
 tributary sonnets were placed upon its pedestal. Petrarch was 
 crowned with laurel at Rome for his poetical labours ; and crowds 
 of the unlettered may still be seen on the Mole at Naples listening 
 to a reader of Tasso. Reason is not the only interpreter of life. 
 The fountain of action is in the feelings. Religion itself is but a 
 state of the affections. I once met a beautiful peasant-woman in the 
 valley of the Arno, and asked the number of her children. " I have 
 three here, and two in Paradise," she calmly replied, with a tone 
 and manner of touching and grave simplicity. Her faith was of the 
 heart. Constituted as human nature is, it is in the highest degree 
 natural that rare powers should be excited by voluntary and 
 spontaneous appreciation. Who would not feel urged to high 
 achievement, if he knew that every beauty his canvas displayed, or 
 every perfect note he breathed, or every true inspiration of his 
 lyre, would find an instant response in a thousand breasts ? Lord 
 Brougham calls the word " impossible " the mother-tongue of little 
 souls. What, I ask, can counteract self-distrust, and sustain the 
 higher efforts of our nature, but enthusiasm ? More of this element 
 would call forth the genius and gladden the life of New England. 
 While the mere intellectual man speculates, and the mere man of 
 acquisition cites authority, the man of feeling acts, realises, puts forth 
 his complete energies. His earnest and strong heart will not let his 
 mind rest ; he is urged by an inward impulse to embody his thought. 
 He must have sympathy he must have results. And nature yields 
 to the magician, acknowledging him as her child. The noble statue 
 comes forth from the marble, the speaking figure stands out 
 from the canvas, the electric chain is struck in the bosoms of his 
 fellows. They receive his ideas, respond to his appeal, and reciprocate
 
 804 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 his love Sentiment, in its broadest acceptation, is 
 
 as essential to the true enjoyment and grace of life as mind. 
 Technical information, and that quickness of apprehension which 
 New Englanders call smartness, are not so valuable to a human 
 being as sensibility to the beautiful, and a spontaneous appreciation 
 of the divine influences which fill the realms of vision and of sound, 
 and the world of action and feeling. The tastes, affections, and 
 sentiments, are more absolutely the man than his talent or acquire 
 ments. And yet it is by and through the latter that we are apt 
 to estimate character, of which they are at best but fragmentary 
 evidences. It is remarkable that, in the Xew Testament, allusions 
 to the intellect are so rare, while the " heart" and the "spirit we are 
 of," are ever appealed to. Sympathy is the golden key which 
 unlocks the treasures of wisdom ; and this depends upon vividness 
 and warmth of feeling. It is therefore that Tranio advises : " In 
 brief, sir, study what you most affect." A code of etiquette may 
 refine the manners, but the " heart of courtesy," which, through the 
 world, stamps the natural gentleman, can never be attained but 
 through instinct ; and in the same manner, those enriching and noble 
 sentiments which are the most beautiful and endearing of human 
 qualities, no process of mental training will create. To what end is 
 society, popular education, churches, and all the machinery of culture, 
 if no living truth is elicited, which fertilises as well as enlightens ? 
 Shakspeare undoubtedly owed his marvellous insight into the human 
 soul to his profound sympathy with man. He might have conned 
 whole libraries on the philosophy of the passions ; he might have 
 coldly observed facts for years, and never have conceived of jealousy 
 like Othello's, the remorse of Macbeth, or love like that of Juliet.' 
 
 EDWIN P. WHIPPLE (born 1819), one of the writers in The 
 North American Review, has resided since 1837 in Boston, where 
 he lias been mainly occupied with commercial pursuits. Besides 
 his lectures on Life and Literature (1850), he has written many 
 reviews and critical papers, commonly marked by a lively and 
 perspicuous style. 1 He is recognised as one of the most popular 
 of the younger essayists. The following passage is taken from one 
 of the Lectures on Subjects connected with Literature and Life : 
 
 WIT AND HUMOUR. 
 
 1 Wit was originally a general name for all the intellectual powers, 
 meaning the faculty which kens, perceives, knows, understands ; it 
 was gradually narrowed in its signification, to express merely the 
 resemblance between ideas ; and lastly, to note that resemblance 
 
 1 "VVhipple's papers in The North American Review include the following : The 
 Old English Dramatists British Critics Byron Wordsworth Talfourd James 
 the Novelist Sydney Smith. In The American Review, he has written on the 
 topics : Beaumont and Fletcher English Poets of the Nineteenth Century- 
 Coleridge as a Philosophical Critic, &c.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. HENRY REED. 305 
 
 when it occasioned ludicrous surprise. It marries ideas, lying wide 
 ap;irt, by a sudden jerk of the understanding. Humour originally 
 meant moisture, a signification it metaphorically retains, for it is the 
 very juice of the mind, oozing from the brain, and enriching and 
 fertilising wherever it falls. Wit exists by antipathy ; humour by 
 sympathy. Wit laughs at things ; humour laughs with them. Wit 
 lashes external appearances, or cunningly exaggerates single foibles 
 into character ; humour glides into the heart of its object, looks 
 lovingly on the infirmities it detects, and represents the whole man. 
 Wit is abrupt, darting, scornful, and tosses its analogies in your face ; 
 humour is slow and shy, insinuating its fun into your heart. Wit is 
 ncgdtive, analytical, destructive ; humour is creative. The couplets 
 of Pope are witty, but Sancho Panza is a humorous creation. Wit, 
 when earnest, has the earnestness of passion, seeking to destroy ; 
 humour has the earnestness of affection, and would lift up what is 
 seemingly low, into our charity and love. Wit, bright, rapid, and 
 blasting as the lightning, flashes, strikes, and vanishes in an instant ; 
 humour, warm and all-embracing as the sunshine, bathes its objects 
 in a genial and abiding light. Wit implies hatred or contempt of 
 folly and crime, produces its effects by brisk shocks of surprise, uses 
 the whip of scorpions and the branding-iron stabs, stings, pinches, 
 tortures, goads, teases, corrodes, undermines ; humour implies a sure 
 conception of the beautiful, the majestic, and the true, by whose light 
 it surveys and shapes their opposites. It is a humane influence, 
 softening with mirth the ragged inequalities of existence promoting 
 tolerant views of life bridging over the spaces which separate the 
 lofty from the lowly, the great from the humble. Old Dr Fuller's 
 remark, that a negro is " the image of God cut in ebony," is 
 humorous ; Horace Smith's inversion of it, that the taskmaster is 
 " the image of the devil cut in ivory," is witty. Wit can coexist 
 with fierce and malignant passions ; but humour demands good 
 feeling and fellow-feeling feeling not merely for what is above us, 
 but for what is around and beneath us.' 
 
 HENRY REED, a writer in the Library of American Biography, 
 and one of the contributors to the New York Review (1837-1842), 
 wrote a course of Lectures on English Literature, from Chaucer to 
 Tennyson, which has been recently reprinted in London. On his 
 return from a visit to England, this amiable and promising writer 
 perished in the wreck of the Arctic.
 
 306 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 Newspapers are the representatives of the millions of people 
 in America, while books of poetry, history, and philosophy 
 represent only certain classes of readers. A few facts taken from 
 the census of 1850 will suffice to prove this assertion. In that 
 year, the number of copies of newspapers and periodicals printed 
 in the United States amounted to 422,600,000. If we subtract 
 from the total population of the States (23,267,498) the number 
 of the slaves (3,197,589), we find rather more than twenty 
 newspapers and periodicals allowed for every free man, woman, 
 or child, in the year 1850. The details of the same census include 
 350 daily papers, 150 appearing thrice in a week, 125 published 
 twice in a week, 2000 weekly papers, and 175 magazines, quarterly 
 reviews, &c. ; making a total of 2800 newspapers and perio 
 dicals, of which more than two thousand have been commenced 
 since the year 1820. 
 
 The cheapness of newspapers in America explains their wide 
 circulation. ' A city of 2000 inhabitants, which in England would 
 not support a journal of its own of any description, has its daily 
 in America ; and cities of 20,000 people, which in England are 
 content with their semi-weeklies or weeklies, in the United States 
 support four or five dailies, with as many weeklies.' ' Even 
 villages of a few hundred inhabitants have their papers, which, if 
 not supported in the hamlet, draw patronage from the surrounding 
 rural population; and almost every family takes at least one 
 journal.' " A recent traveller states that ' newspapers are seen 
 everywhere, in the hands of the labouring as well as the wealthy 
 classes In the streets, at the doors of hotels, and in railway- 
 cars, boys are seen selling them in considerable numbers. Nobody 
 ever seems to grudge buying a paper. In the parlours of public- 
 houses and hotels in England, a newspaper is handed from one 
 person to another, because the purchase of a copy would be 
 expensive ; but we see little of this practice in America. Every 
 morning at the Astor House, I should think some hundreds of 
 newspapers were bought by the guests. At breakfast, almost 
 every man had a paper. And I believe I may safely aver, that 
 no working-man of any respectability goes without his paper 
 daily, or at least several times in a week. Newspapers, in a word, 
 are not a casual luxury, but a necessary of life in the States ; and 
 the general lowness of price of the article admits of its widest 
 diffusion. 
 
 1 Introduction to TrUbner's Bibliographical Guide to American Literature.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. NEWSPAPERS. 307 
 
 Many of these papers are only a cent equal to a half-penny 
 each ; but two or three cents are a more common price, and some 
 are charged five or six cents. Compared with the expensively 
 got-up and well-written papers of London, the American news 
 papers, though low-priced, are scarcely entitled to be called cheap. 
 Much of their space is occupied with advertisements, and in some 
 cases the whole readable matter amounts to a few paragraphs of 
 news and remarks connected with party politics. Indulgence in 
 personalities is usually, and with truth, regarded as the worst of 
 their editorial features.' l 
 
 As representatives of the leading journals, we may mention 
 The National Intelligencer, published in Washington city ; The 
 Journal of Commerce, Evening Post, Courier, Inquirer, Tribune, 
 and Times, in New York ; The Pennsylvanian Inquirer, in 
 Philadelphia ; The Journal, at Louisville ; and The Patriot, at 
 Baltimore. ' These,' it is said, ' fairly represent the ability, 
 scope, excellence, and tone of the respectable American press, 
 and if more quoted from in Europe, would greatly contri 
 bute to remove the erroneous impressions respecting American 
 newspapers.' 2 
 
 We find no statistics of the comparative numbers of the profli 
 gate papers of which Mr Dickens has given a very dark account. 3 
 It is probable that a fair representation might be gained by 
 comparing with his statement the remarks of the best American 
 reviews, and the facts stated or implied in other notices of 
 journalism; for example, Buckingham's Specimens of Newspaper 
 Literature (1850), and a life of the editor of The Tribune, recently 
 published. ' The profligate papers,' says a reviewer, 4 ' numerous 
 as they are, and widely as their circulation ranges, neither express, 
 nor guide, nor govern what can, with any propriety, be called 
 the public opinion of the country; they may open their foul 
 mouths in full cry upon a man of character, year after year, and 
 through every state in the Union, but they can harm him no 
 more than the idle wind. They are read, despised, and the next 
 day utterly forgotten. A temporary prejudice may be raised, and 
 that is all. Their cowardly malice, their ignorance, vulgarity, 
 and profligacy, overshoot the mark.' Of invasions of private life, 
 and attacks on personal character, it is not necessary to say 
 more. With regard to public life, it is admitted that the 
 violence and indecorum of party politics are prominent charac 
 teristics of a large portion of the newspaper press. A few 
 
 1 Things as They Arc in America, by William Chambers. 13J4. 
 - Introduction to Trtibner's Bibliographical Guide. 
 
 3 American Note* for General Circulation. 
 
 4 Forth American Review, No. 118, Art. 9.
 
 308 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 specimens may be noticed, as warning examples of the abuse of 
 journalism. 
 
 The style indulged by many editors and correspondents of 
 newspapers seems to have arisen from a desire to use the pen 
 as a substitute for the tomahawk. Among the characteristics 
 of speakers in Congress and elsewhere, none are more applauded, 
 in certain prints, than their abilities of speech in the cutting, 
 flaying, or withering style. Such passages as the following are 
 frequent in the newspapers to which we refer : 
 
 'The most withering speech was made by , who seems in that 
 
 line to be one of the first men in the House.' .... 'We publish 
 
 to-day the powerful remarks of Mr on the Seminole war. 
 
 His indignation, like the fire from the cloud, blasts wherever it 
 
 falls.' .... ' The excoriation that Mr G administered the 
 
 other day to Mr P was dreadful. Several of the Whig members 
 
 were desirous of trying their hands on P , but after the speech 
 
 of Mr G , nothing remained for them to do !'.... ' We have 
 
 a rich treat for our readers we allude to the speech of Mr S 
 
 in reply to Mr D Such withering sarcasm, such 
 
 torturing ridicule, &c The poor doctor is literally flayed 
 
 alive. Had he been on the rack of a thousand inquisitions, his 
 torture could not have been more severe.' .... ' The tremendous 
 
 singeing which P gave to G ,' &c ' Mr P 
 
 continued .... to cut deep and serve up the party,' &c. l 
 
 In another passage, we have a finished portrait of a Mr "vV , 
 
 who seems to have been the beau ideal of a congressional 
 gladiator : 
 
 ' "It is fortunate that he is so abstemious [with regard to alcohol, 
 we suppose], for were it otherwise, he would be exceedingly danger 
 ous. As a debater, he is quick and full of energy fire is not more 
 
 scorching than he is He is ferocious in his anger 
 
 His personal rage has no interpreter save in the firm-set mouth, the 
 unflinching and withering eye, and the compact and sullen rigidity 
 of every muscle," &c. ... In another place, we read that " Colonel 
 
 C 's speech was enlivened by frequent sallies of real humour. 
 
 .... He took hold of .... Senator A , and held him up before 
 
 the searching fire of his sarcasm and rebuke, turning him first this 
 way and then that, basting him now here and now there, as the 
 blisters were seen to rise upon his epidermis, very much as a log- 
 cabin housewife manages a roasting goose." ' 
 
 It is pleasant to turn from such passages to the facetfa 
 
 reported in some newspapers. The G newspaper, commenting 
 
 upon a speech made in Congress by a Mr D , says : ' It is not 
 
 a speech accommodated to rhetoricians' rules ; but it will be 
 
 1 These, and the following specimens of certain prints, are taken from an 
 article in The Forth American Review, No. 110.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. NEWSPAPERS. 309 
 
 found well suited to the strong-minded, true-hearted, well-affected 
 
 husbandmen of the West Strong sense, strong feeling, 
 
 generous sentiments, make up their stamina; broad humour, 
 careless gaiety, and hardy dispositions, with some little coarseness, 
 
 characterise their manners. Mr D 's speech will be found in 
 
 keeping with all these characteristics.' One passage from the 
 said speech may be quoted : 
 
 Mr D said : "Sir, I delight in the very name of a log-cabin. 
 
 .... In the times of which I am speaking, log-cabins were what 
 
 the term means a house made of round logs," &c "So much 
 
 for the description ; now for the frolic. The frolic consisted in 
 dancing, playing and singing love-and-murdcr songs, eating johnny- 
 cake and pumpkin-pies, and drinking new whisky and brown sugar 
 out of a gourd. Our dancing, in my youthful days, and in my neigh 
 bourhood, was done to the performance of an old Irishman with one 
 leg, with the heel of which he beat time, and a fiddle with three 
 strings, to the air of 
 
 Judy put the kettle on, 
 And we '11 all take tea," &c. 
 
 .... u Do you desire to know the feelings of the western people in 
 relation to Harrison, Jackson, Johnson, and their relative services ? 
 I can tell you. If a western man is asked his opinion of General 
 Harrison, his answer will be, nineteen times out of twenty, that 
 General Harrison is a very good man, and was a tolerable 
 
 general This, sir, I Repeat, will be the general answer. In 
 
 some instances, a higher opinion will be expressed in some 
 instances, a lower one. My colleagues on this floor, Whigs and 
 Democrats, will bear me out in what I say ; but when you hear 
 Jackson and Johnson named, they are named in praise and song, in 
 affection and pride. Yes, sir, in praise and song. Were you ever 
 at a ' corn-shucking ' in the West ? If you were, you never left 
 it without hearing the wool-hat and linsey hunting-shirt boys 
 sing "' 1 
 
 The same speaker, in the same oration applauded for strong 
 sense and broad humour ventures again into versification, when 
 he describes the modern Whig party as consisting of 
 
 ' Coxcombs and dandies, and loafers and nibblers ; 
 Shavers and blacklegs, and pedlers and scribblers ; 
 Bankers and brokers, and cunning buffoons ; 
 Thieves that steal millions, and thieves that steal spoons ; 
 Eascals in ruffles and rascals in rags ; 
 Beggars in coaches and beggars on nags : 
 
 * * * 
 
 Such is the crew that for Harrison bellows 
 Always excepting some very fine fellows.' 
 
 1 The song is too grotesque to be quoted.
 
 310 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 As an example of success in American journalism, we may 
 briefly notice here the biography of Horace Greeley, editor of Tlte 
 Tribune. The style is very diffuse, and English readers may 
 imagine that too large a share of honour is awarded to the able 
 editor. Horace Greeley is the son of a farmer in New England, 
 and has raised himself from the station of a journeyman to that of 
 the chief proprietor and editor of The New York Tribune. It is 
 little more than twenty years since he arrived in New York with 
 only ten dollars in his pocket, and commenced working, as a com 
 positor, in West's printing- office, Chatham Street. After he had 
 saved some small capital, he embarked in the new scheme of a 
 penny paper, which proved a failure. It was followed by The New 
 Yorker, a journal noted for its accuracy in the statement of 
 matters of fact. A quotation from the editor's remarks, in 
 mentioning the publication of certain works on mathematics, may 
 supply a useful hint to many flippant reviewers. He says : ' As 
 we are not ourselves conversant with the higher branches of 
 mathematics, we cannot pretend to speak authoritatively upon the 
 merits of these publications.' This, with certain critics, would be 
 a simple non sequitur. In 1841, Mr Greeley started The New 
 York Tribune, which is now the first liberal paper in America. 
 A single fact in the history of The Tribune is so significant with 
 regard to certain other papers, that it may be noticed here. 
 
 Mr Dickens, as all the world knows, had been received with 
 the highest honours in America. He had on various occasions 
 argued publicly in favour of international copyright, contending 
 for the just claims of both English and American authors on 
 some share of the profit created by their own labour. His 
 arguments were conducted with perfect fairness and respectful 
 treatment of opponents. But for this offence, of having spoken 
 honestly his own thoughts on a question in which he had, of 
 course, a personal interest, he was virulently abused by certain 
 newspapers, and was stigmatised as a base ' mercenary,' as one 
 who had endeavoured to rob the Americans while they were 
 paying homage to him. It was even asserted and credited, that 
 he was the hired agent of English publishers, who paid his 
 travelling expenses ! Subsequently, when he gave in the American 
 Notes a very dark picture of a large portion of the newspaper 
 press in America, the invectives against him were repeated with 
 additions and variations. It was suddenly discovered that he had 
 no genius, but only a certain ' knack ' hi caricature, that he had 
 exhausted his store of ideas, and had not a sufficiently compre 
 hensive intellect to appreciate the grandeur of American 
 institutions, especially as represented in certain newspapers. 
 In the midst of all this dull malice, the editor of The Tribune
 
 SECOND PERIOD. SPECIAL LITERATURE. 311 
 
 ventured to think for himself, and declared that he regarded the 
 A mcrican Notes as ' one of the veiy best works of its class.' The 
 fact that such a simple statement of opinion should be remark 
 able for its boldness, speaks more loudly than any foreign comments 
 on the characteristics of certain news-writers in America. 
 
 SPECIAL LITERATURE AND MISCELLANEOUS 
 WRITINGS. 
 
 Under this head, we may briefly notice a few representatives 
 of numerous works on the several sciences, with some other 
 writings not commonly included in a review of general literature. 
 It is obviously impossible to characterise fairly, within our limits, 
 the works of eminent jurists, politicians, and scientific men ; yet 
 some brief notices are required to indicate at least the fact, 
 that the American library is comparatively rich in its special 
 departments law, politics, medicine, and the applied sciences. 1 
 
 In political economy, the works of Wayland, Colton, Dew, 
 Vethake, and other authors, have been accepted as authorities ; 
 while views opposed to the doctrines of Malthus and Ricardo 
 are found in the several works of Henry Carey on population, 
 wealth, wages, and other social questions. The works of Gallatin, 
 Raguet, and Tucker, on currency and banking, have a high 
 reputation. Clay, Matthew Carey, Alexander Everett, and 
 Greeley, may represent the writers who have advocated the 
 protective system in commerce ; while Raguet, Bryant the poet, 
 Biddle, Legget, and Walker, may be mentioned as free-traders. 
 
 In jurisprudence, the names of Story, Kent, Bradford, Living 
 ston, and Wheaton, have more than a national reputation. Kent's 
 Commentaries on American Law are classed beside the standard 
 work of Blackstone. We may mention, as connected with the 
 interests of American as well as English literature, the works 
 of Lieber and Curtis on literary copyright. 
 
 The department of medicine, anatomy, &c., contains many 
 valuable writings, both practical and speculative ; and homoeo 
 pathy has been advocated by numerous writers. 
 
 In ethnology, Morton's Crania Americana, and Gliddon's Types 
 of Mankind, may be classed with the most important contributions 
 to science. 
 
 Among numerous works on the exact sciences, the reports and 
 other publications of the Smithsonian Institution have a pro 
 minent place. The history of the endowment of this institution 
 
 1 See TrUbner's Bibliographical Guide to American Literature,
 
 312 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 is curious. James Smithson, from whom it derives its name, was 
 a son of the first Duke of Northumberland, and died at Genoa in 
 1829. By his will, he directed that, in case of the death of his 
 nephew and heir, or his children, during minority, the property 
 bequeathed to them should be left to the United States of 
 America, to found at Washington an establishment for the 
 increase and diffusion of knowledge among men. Smithson had 
 never visited America, had no friends there, and left no papers to 
 shew that he had ever regarded the country or its institutions 
 with any special interest. The income of the establishment 
 which bears his name amounts to about 40,000 dollars per annum, 
 and is applied to the culture of science by aiding researches, and 
 publishing reports and other works, which are freely distributed 
 among the literary and scientific societies of the United States 
 and foreign countries. 
 
 The scientific reports of the United States' Exploring Expedition 
 (1838-1842) include volumes on botany by Asa Gray ; animal 
 and botanical geography, by Charles Pickering ; geology, by 
 Dana ; philology, by Horatio Hale ; and other treatises giving the 
 results of researches in the islands of the South Pacific and 
 Antarctic Oceans, California, the north-west coast of Oregon, and 
 some parts of the antarctic continent. 
 
 In chemistry, the names of Hare, Webster, Silliman, and 
 Henry ; in mineralogy, Cleveland, Dana, and Beck ; in geology, 
 Hitchcock, Maclure, Jackson, Silliman, Mather, Hall, and Percival, 
 may be mentioned to indicate that in these sciences many 
 valuable works have been contributed by American writers. 
 The Flora of North America, by John Torrey and Asa Gray, 
 is the latest and most complete work of its kind. 
 
 Philology and education are very fertile departments in 
 American literature. The Dictionary of the English Language, 
 by Dr Webster ; the editions of the classics by Professor Anthon ; 
 Lewis, Felton, and Woolsey ; the several works on the aboriginal 
 dialects of America, and the numerous writings on philology by 
 American missionaries in various parts of the world : these are 
 briefly mentioned merely to indicate the existence of a large class 
 of books in two departments of Special Literature. 
 
 The general prevalence of education throughout the States, and 
 the circumstances arising from a want of international copyright, 
 will explain the comparatively high number of educational books 
 and juvenile works of instruction and entertainment produced in 
 America. As the representative of this latter department, we 
 must mention S. G. GOODRICH, the true, original Peter Parley, 
 whose little books have been exceedingly popular in England as 
 in America, while his nom de plume has been unfairly prefixed
 
 SECOND PERIOD. MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. 313 
 
 to the works of other authors. The writings of Mrs Emma 
 Willard on American history and geography, and many pleasant 
 books by Jacob Abbott, Mrs Clarke, Miss M'Intosh, and other 
 caterers for young readers, might be noticed as specimens of 
 numerous works in which instruction and entertainment are 
 happily united. It is well known that in the department of class- 
 books for common schools and colleges, America is almost 
 independent of the old country, and has supplied many acceptable 
 works for the English market. 
 
 We have hitherto failed to find any suitable place for a 
 number of curious books on the mysteries of Mormonism and 
 (so-called) Spiritualism. These productions stand alone as 
 phenomena of the ' latter days,' and have a significance with 
 regard to the state of moral and scientific culture. Of the several 
 records of ' rappings,' and other ' manifestations ' of supposed 
 spiritual agencies, we can give no critical account, but must 
 simply refer inquirers to such authorities as ' the Poughkeepsie 
 Seer' Davis, Dods, Mattison, Newman, and Oldfield. The 
 literature produced through the mediums can hardly be criti 
 cised without a seeming irreverence ; for all the specimens we 
 have seen are as weak and commonplace as the efforts of ordinary 
 mortals, while in many cases the ' spirits ' have expressed their 
 thoughts in ungrammatical forms. 
 
 In a literary point of view, nothing better can be said of the 
 famous Book of Mormon: its incredible stupidity is the chief 
 of its internal characteristics, but its history is one of the modern 
 curiosities of literature. When narrated without qualifying details, 
 the story of the rise of the sect of Mormons seems too wild and 
 absurd to find a place even in the most fantastic work of fiction. 
 We read that an illiterate young man of low reputation determined 
 to set up a new sect. While he was studying by what means he 
 might assert his own claims as an inspired teacher, he found 
 somewhere a stupid, long story written by a needy man, and 
 rejected by a bookseller. This tale of Mormon was adopted by 
 the new ' prophet ' as quite good enough for his purpose the 
 delusion of thousands of people in Christian and civilised 
 countries. He printed the dull fiction, and circulated it as a 
 revelation from Heaven ! It found readers and believers in 
 England, as in America, and the new prophet succeeded so well 
 that, in the course of a few years, his followers formed a large 
 community, and colonised a district of the far west, where, it is 
 said, they have already become so powerful, that they might
 
 314 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 perhaps be able to resist any force which could be sent against 
 them by the government of the United States. To increase the 
 marvel of the story, it is stated, on the best authority, that 
 emigrations from Great Britain have mainly supplied the popula 
 tion of Utah, the Mormon territory, and that this is likely, in the 
 course of a few years, to be large enough to claim recognition as 
 one of the United States. 
 
 The legend of the Book of Mormon shortly is, that it contained 
 a revelation to the North American Indians, descendants from the 
 Jews, but had lain buried for a certain period in a hillside, 
 whence it was drawn forth by an inspired personage named 
 Joseph Smith. The more practical account of it, however, 
 is this. A poor man, named Solomon Spaulding, who had 
 once been a preacher, and had failed in business, amused his 
 leisure by writing, in a very feeble and incorrect style, a religious 
 romance, which he entitled The Manuscript Found. It was founded 
 on the absurd theory, that the Red Indians of America are the 
 descendants of the Jews, or ' the lost Ten Tribes,' and gave an 
 account of their journey from Jerusalem to America. Mormon was 
 one of the principal characters of the story. The style of the 
 book was extremely dry, and in numerous passages, ungrammati- 
 cal. In 1812, the work was offered to a printer named Patterson, 
 residing at Pittsburg, in Pennsylvania, who retained it for some 
 time ; and after the author's death (in 1816), restored the manu 
 script to Spaulding's widow. In some way, not certainly explained, 
 the manuscript fell into the hands of one Sidney Rigdon, a 
 compositor employed by Patterson. This Rigdon afterwards 
 became the associate of Joseph Smith. When The Book of 
 Moj'mon was published as a new revelation, John Spaulding, the 
 brother of Solomon, declared upon oath that it was, to the best 
 of his recollection and belief, nearly identical with the romance 
 written by his brother. This statement was supported by the 
 depositions of the author's relatives, and by his partner in 
 business, Henry Lake. 1 
 
 The book itself, whatever may have been its origin, is a very 
 dull production. It contains no new doctrines. The peculiar 
 tenets, rites, and ceremonies of the Mormons have been founded 
 on later 'revelations.' The religious passages interwoven with 
 the story of the Ten Tribes, are borrowed from the Old and New 
 Testaments. The grammar is very bad, as a few specimens will 
 shew : ' Ye are like unto tliey." 1 . . . ' I should have wore these 
 bands.' . . . ' Ye saith unto him.' . . . ' He has fell." 1 Such 
 phrases are interspersed throughout the work. It was followed 
 
 1 Expose of Mormonism, by John Bennett. Boston : 1842.
 
 SECOND PERIOD. MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS. 315 
 
 by the book of Doctrine and Covenants, also purporting to be 
 a divine revelation, and containing definite doctrines and rules of 
 church-discipline. This book, written partly by Joseph Smith, 
 with the assistance of Rigdon, was, in fact, the new covenant 
 of the Latter-day Saints ; but its statements have not been 
 regarded as final. From time to time, new revelations have been 
 made, to suit various circumstances connected with the interests 
 of the sect. 
 
 The progress of the society, founded on the doctrines of Joseph 
 Smitli and his associates, cannot be rationally explained by a 
 mere reference to the books of the sect. The real causes of 
 success are found partly in the circumstances of society and the 
 state of popular education in England and Wales, but chiefly 
 in the enterprise, industry, and able organisation of the new 
 community. However absurd the pretensions of their leaders 
 may appear, it is unquestionable that, in practical affairs, the 
 Mormons have displayed remarkable energy and perseverance. 
 Their pilgrimage from Nauvoo to the Great Salt Lake, was a fine 
 example of union, cheerful endurance of hardship, and hopefulness 
 sustained during a perilous journey of 1000 miles. One of the 
 prominent features of their organisation of church and state is 
 the great number of its functionaries. It has been calculated that 
 every fifth man holds some office, so that work is found for 
 every grade of talent. Though the highest officers claim exalted 
 powers and privileges, there is some approach to the contemplated 
 equality of communism in the free access allowed to the numerous 
 subordinate posts of honour. 1 
 
 We must here bring lo a close this brief review of the more 
 remarkable books published in the United States. Our topic 
 might have been treated in a more ambitious style. Instead of 
 a series of descriptive notices of various works, with biographical 
 sketches of authors, we might have attempted an analysis of 
 literature, regarded from the highest point of view, as a record 
 of the intellectual life and moral progress of a people. But this 
 would be an exceedingly difficult task with regard to the people 
 of the United States, and one inconsistent with the popular 
 character of the present work. It would be necessary, in the 
 first place, to set aside all writings of the imitative class ; all 
 books described as echoes rather than as original voices as 
 
 1 For details of the system and doctrines of Mormonism we may refer to the 
 following works : The Seer, edited by Orson Pratt ; History of the Mormons, by 
 Lieutenant Gunnison; The Mormons, by Thomas Kane; History, Government, 
 <5-c., of the Latter-day Saintt, by B. G. Ferris; Mormonitm and the Mormons, by 
 I). T. Kidder ; Expedition to the Valley of the Great Salt Lake of Utah, by Captain 
 Btansbury.
 
 316 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 copies from memory rather than as expressions of life, thought, 
 and experience. Numerous productions in verse would have to 
 be neglected, as having no distinctive features. In prose-fiction, 
 the writings of Washington Irving and several other authors would 
 supply few traits of real life and character in the United States. 
 Cooper's fictions, indeed, and a few sketches already noticed under 
 the title of ' Backwoods' Literature,' would afford interesting views 
 of manners in rising settlements ; and such stories of domestic 
 life as have been written by Miss Sedgwick, Mrs Kirkland, and 
 other ladies, would certainly be worthy of consideration. But, 
 on the whole, it may be asserted, that to find American traits of 
 character, we must read newspapers and public speeches rather 
 than poems, novels, and essays. 
 
 Enougli has been said, however, to indicate the difficulty of 
 treating American Literature as a development of national cha 
 racter. It is, indeed, a continuation of our own. Well-educated 
 men in the United States still remain Englishmen in their choice of 
 books. They speak ' the tongue that Milton spoke.' Shakspeare, 
 Milton, Pope, Addison, Goldsmith, Burns, and Scott, with all our 
 other household names, are classical in the United States as in 
 Great Britain. 
 
 To conclude the American branch of English Literature has 
 already produced fruit worthy of the parent stem. Its future 
 development, we may hope, will be favourable to the friendly 
 intercourse of two nations separated by an ocean and by 
 differences of political institutions, but united by the sure bond 
 of one language both enjoying, as their inheritance, the richest 
 literature of modern times. 
 
 K
 
 I N D E I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ABBOT, Jacob, 313 
 
 ADAMS, John, .... 38 
 
 , John Quincy. . . .294 
 
 Adventures in the WP^, . . 171 
 ALEXANDER, Archibald, . . 277 
 
 Alligator, Sketch of, . . . 168 
 AIXSTON, Washington, . . 46, 113 
 American Literature 
 General Remarks on (See Introduc 
 tion) ; Poetry, 3, 33, 45, 104 ; Prose- 
 flction, 33, 111 ; Humorous Works, 
 172; Backwoods' Literature, 1 ">7 ; 
 History, 1, 30, 227 ; Indian His 
 tory iuul Biography, 236 ; Biogra 
 phy, 258; Theology, 27(>; Moral 
 Philosophy, 277 ; Travels, 2.68 ; 
 Essays, 293 ; Kcviews, 293 ; Ora 
 tions, 295 ; Periodicals, 293 ; 
 Newspapers, 39, 306 ; Special 
 Literature, 311 ; Politics, 36 ; 
 Jurisprudence, 311 ; Political Eco 
 nomy, 311; Medicine, 311; Natural 
 History, 270 ; Philology, 31'.' ; 
 Educational Works, 312. 
 
 AMES, Fisher 38 
 
 Annabel Lee, by E. A. Poe, . 88 
 ANTIION, Charles, .... 312 
 Arkansas, ig Bear of, . . 173 
 AUDUBON, John James, . . . 271 
 Author's Adventure, . . . 123 
 
 Autumnal Changes 222 
 
 Aztecs of Mexico, . . . 246 
 
 BACKWOOPS' LITERATURE, . . 157 
 
 Backwoodsman of Kentucky, . 163 
 BANCROFT, George, . . .228 
 
 BARLOW, Joel, .... 32 
 BARNES, Albert, . . . .277 
 
 BARNUM, Phineas T 263 
 
 BARTRAM, John, .... 35 
 
 Sail Psalm Book, .... 4 
 
 See-hunter, Sketch of, . . . 174 
 
 BELKNAP, Jeremy, ... 31 
 
 BEI.LAMT, Joseph, .... 20 
 
 BENJAMIN, Park 67 
 
 Bigluw Papers, .... 99 
 
 BIOGRAPHY 258 
 
 BIRD, Kobert M., . . . . 165 
 
 BLAIR, James, .... 21 
 
 Book of .Mormon, .... 313 
 BOWDITCH, Nathaniel (seelntroductionl. 
 
 BOWEN, Francis, .... 293 
 
 Boizans, Marc->, .... 59 
 
 BBADSTREET, Anne, ... 4 
 
 PACK 
 
 BRAINARD, John, ... 61 
 
 BRIDOMAN, Laura, .... 260 
 
 BROOKS, Maria, .... 108 
 
 BROWN, CharlgiB^ ,_ . . 33 
 
 BROWN-SON^ OTestes, . . . 301 
 
 BRYANT, William C 51 
 
 Sucnneer, The, .... 47 
 
 BUCKINGHAM, Joseph, . . . 307 
 
 BUCKMINSTKR, Joseph S., . . 276 
 
 BURGESS, Tristram, . . . 301 
 
 BUSH, George, .... 277 
 
 BUTLER, Mann 228 
 
 BYLES, Mather, .... 41 
 
 CALHOUN, John C., . . . . 301 
 
 CALLENDER, John, ... 31 
 
 CAMPBELL, Charles, . . . 228 
 
 Canvasser, Sketch of, . . . 191 
 
 CAREY, Henry C., . . . . 311 
 
 CARVER, Jonathan, ... 35 
 
 CATLIN, George 236 
 
 Celestial Railroad, ... 202 
 
 CIIANNING, William E., . . . 278 
 
 CHASE, Salmon P., ... 227 
 
 CHEEVER, George B., 269 
 CHILD, Mrs David, . . 181, 212 
 
 Christmas Sketches, by Irving, . 133 
 
 City Pigeon, Lines to a, . . 65 
 
 CLAY, Henry, 301 
 
 Climates of England and America, 197 
 
 COLPKN, Cadwallader, ... 31 
 
 COOPER, James Fenlmore, . . 143 
 
 , Miss, .... 221 
 
 Copyright Law, . . . 112, 118 
 
 COTTON, John 5, 18 
 
 Country Gentleman, Sketch of, . 177 
 
 DANA, Richard H., 
 
 -, 11. II., Junr., 
 DAVENPORT, John, 
 DAVIDSON, Lucrctia, 
 , Margaret, 
 
 . 47, 117 
 
 . 268 
 
 19 
 
 . 109 
 109 
 . 06 
 97 
 
 . 303 
 285 
 
 DAWKS, Kufus, 
 
 Death of a Child, Lines on the, 
 
 Defence of Enthusiasm, . 
 
 DEWEY, Orville, . 
 
 DICKINSON, John. . 
 
 DOANE, George W., ... 62 
 
 DUDLEY, Paul, 31 
 
 DWIGHT, Timothy, . . .21, 32 
 
 Educational Works, 
 EDWARDS, Jonathan, 
 , President, 
 
 312 
 19 
 30
 
 318 
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE. 
 
 TAGE 
 
 ELIOT, John, ..... 19 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IRVING, Washington 
 Biographical Sketch of, 119 ; Sal 
 magundi, 119; Knickerbocker, 120; 
 Sketch-book, 121 ; liracebridge 
 Hall, 122; Tales of a Traveller, 
 124 ; Stvle, 128 ; Variety, 129 ; 
 Tale of Ralph Hingwood, 157. 
 
 JAY, John 37 
 JEFFERSON, Thomas, ... 38 
 Jesuit Missions, .... 230 
 
 Eloquence, defined by Webster, . 299 
 
 EMERSON, Ralph W., . . . 286 
 Emigrant Mother, The, . . .105 
 England, Rural Scenery of, . . 129 
 
 Essayists and Reviewers, . . 293 
 Evangeline, Story of, 73 
 Evening Wind, Lines to the, . 54 
 EVERETT, Alexander, . . . 294 
 
 Journey to Palmyra, . . . 181 
 JUDD, Sylvester, .... 184 
 JUDSON, Emily ('Fanny Forrester '), 213 
 Juvenile Books 312 
 
 Excelsior, by Longfellow, . . 72 
 Exploring Expedition, . . 312 
 
 ' FANNY FERN,' . . . .221 
 FARKAK, Mrs, .... 213 
 FAY, Theodore, . . . .188 
 Federalist, The 37 
 Fictitious Travels, . . . .171 
 FLINT, Timothy, .... 115 
 FORCE, Peter, 2 
 FRANKLIN, Benjamin, ... 24 
 FRENEAU, Philip 33 
 FCLLER, Margaret, . . . 223 
 
 GALLATIN, Albert, .... 242 
 OILMAN, Caroline, . . . 108 
 GOODRICH, S. G. (' Peter Parley'), 312 
 GORDON, William, .... 31 
 GOULD, Hannah F., . . . 108 
 GRAHAME, James, .... 227 
 GRAY, Asa, 312 
 GREELEY, Horace, .... 310 
 GRISWOLD, Rufus, . 45, 109, 145 
 
 HATE, Sarah J., ... 108 
 HALLECK, Fitz Greene, ... 59 
 HALL, Elizabeth, .... 110 
 , James, ..... 162 
 
 KENNEDY, John P., ... 177 
 KENT, William, .... 311 
 Kentucky, Woodcraft in, . . 157 
 KIEKLAND, Caroline M., . . 213 
 
 Lament of the Captive, ... 50 
 Landing of the ' Mayflower,' 1 . 296 
 LEDYARD, John, .... 35 
 LEE, Arthur 36 
 , Richard H., .... 36 
 
 LEOARE, Hugh S., ... 301 
 Legend, Golden, .... 80 
 Legend of Sleepy Hollow, . . 136 
 LEGGETT, William, .... 176 
 LESLIE, Eliza, .... 217 
 Literature, National, 2, 52, 112, US, 185 
 LITERATURE, SPECIAL, . . 311 
 LONGFELLOW, Henry w. 
 Poems, 67 ; Prose" Writings, 185. 
 LOWELL, James Russell, ... 05 
 
 MACINTOSH, Miss, . . . 213 
 MADISON, James, .... 37 
 Marco Sozzaris, Death of, . 59 
 MARSHALL, John, . . . .227 
 MARSH, James 278 
 MATHER, Cotton, .... 12 
 Champion of Witchcraft, 15; his 
 Diary, 13 ; Wonders of the Invi 
 sible World, 17. 
 MATTHEWS, Cornelius, . . . 191 
 ' Mayflower,' Landing of, . . 296 
 May, Verses on, .... 58 
 MAYO, Dr 190 
 MELVILLE, Hermann, . . . 189 
 Mexico, Conquest of, . . 250 
 MINOT, George R., . . . .31 
 Mississippi, Discovery of, . . 231 
 MITCHELL, Donald, . . . 188 
 MORAL PHILOSOPHY, . . . -77 
 Mormon, Book of, . . . . 313 
 MORRIS, George P., . . 66 
 MCRRAY, Lindley, . ... 32 
 
 NEAL, John 
 Poems, 57 ; Prose Writings, 176. 
 NEAL, Joseph C., . . . . 190 
 NEVILLE, Morgan, . . . 173 
 NEWSPAPERS, .... 39, 306 
 Niagara, Sketch of, . . . 198 
 North American Indians, . . 236 
 North American Review, . . 293 
 
 HAMILTON, Alexander, . . 37 
 HAWES, W. P., .... 173 
 
 HAWTHORNE, Nathaniel, . . 200 
 HEADLEY, J. T., . . . . 270 
 ' Heavy Reviewer,' Sketch of, . 99 
 HERBE'RT, Henry W., . . . 173 
 HILUOCSE, James A., ... 51 
 HILL ARD, George, .... 294 
 HISTORY, . . . . 2, 30, 227 
 History, Local American, . 30, 227 
 History of the United States, . 228 
 HOFFMAN, Charles F., . . 66, 170 
 HOLMES, Oliver W., ... 82 
 HOOKER, Thomas 18 
 Hooper Lucy, In Memory of, . 81 
 HOPKINS, Samuel 21 
 HVBBARD, William, ... 3 
 HUDSON, H. N., . . . . 294 
 
 Humorous Fiction, . . . 172 
 HUTCHINSON, Thomas, ... 30 
 Hymn on Mortality, . . . 248 
 
 Immoral Literature, . . . 119 
 Incas of Peru 255 
 Indian Converts to Christianity, . 242 
 Indian Fable, .... 239 
 
 INDIAN HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY, 236 
 Indian Hounds (supposed), , . 243
 
 INDEX. 
 
 319 
 
 p 
 NORTON, Andrews, .... 
 
 AGE 
 
 277 
 19 
 111 
 
 42 
 295 
 270 
 190 
 110 
 
 38 
 277 
 235 
 113 
 277 
 58 
 293 
 254 
 46 
 46 
 101 
 256 
 220 
 
 104 
 215 
 152 
 243 
 30 
 111 
 31 
 9 
 
 31 
 92 
 103 
 305 
 111 
 83 
 293 
 32 
 277 
 129 
 
 211 
 190 
 176 
 G7 
 131 
 236 
 171 
 112 
 116 
 104 
 171 
 68 
 110 
 314 
 
 on 
 
 Socratei, Sketch of, 
 SPAULDING, Solomon, . 
 SPARKS, Jared, 
 Spirit-rappings, . 
 SPRAOUE, Charles, . 
 SQUIER, E. G 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 291 
 314 
 . 258 
 313 
 . 48 
 242 
 
 NOVELS AND ROMANCES, . . 33, 
 Old Neivs, . ... 
 
 Orations, 
 Ornithology, .... 
 OSBOKX, Laugh ton, 
 OSQOOD, Frances L., . 
 
 PAINE, Thomas, .... 
 PARKER, Theodore, . . 
 PARKMAN, Francis, .... 
 PATJLDING, James K., . 
 
 STEPHENS, Anne, 
 
 . 213 
 269 
 . 228 
 
 STEVENS, W. B., . . 
 
 STI i.]-:s, Ezra, 
 
 32 
 
 . 300 
 
 STOWE, Harriet B., 
 STREET, Alfred B., . 
 STUART, Hoses, . 
 SUMNER, Charles, 
 
 219 
 . 102 
 294 
 
 . 277 
 
 . 277 
 
 PERCIVAL, James G., . 
 PEEIODICALS, .... 44, 
 Peru, Conquest of, . . . 
 
 TAYLOR, Bayard, 
 Thanatopsis, . . . 
 
 103 
 . 55 
 
 Pilyrim Fathers, .... 
 Pious Editor's Creed, 
 Fizarro, Character of, 
 PLANCIIE, Miss, .... 
 POE, Edgar Allan 
 Poems, 85 ; Prose Writings, 187. 
 POETRY, ... 3, 33, 45, 
 Popular Election, Scene at a, . 
 1'rairie on Fire, .... 
 PRESCOTT, William II., . 
 PKINCE, Thomas, 
 PROSE-FICTION, ... 33, 
 PROUD, Robert, .... 
 Puritan Intolerance, 
 
 RAMSAY, David, .... 
 Raven, Tlie, by E. A. Poe, 
 HEAD, Thomas B., 
 KEEP, Henry, 
 Reprints of British Authors, 
 Return of Spring, .... 
 
 THEOLOGY, .... 
 THORPE, T. B., 
 TICKNOR, George, 
 TOMPSON, Benjamin, 
 
 . 13, 276 
 . 172 
 
 235 
 
 5 
 
 . 35 268 
 
 TRUMBULL, John, . 
 TUCKERMANN, Henry T., 
 TUDOH, William, 
 
 Unitarians, American, . 
 
 VERPLANCK, G. C., . 
 Versifiers, .... 
 Village Mlacksmith, 
 
 WALKER, James, 
 WALSH, Robert, . 
 WARE, William, 
 WARNER, Miss, . 
 WAYLAND, Francis, 
 Way to Wealth, . 
 WEBSTER, Daniel, . 
 
 . 32 
 301 
 . 293 
 
 . 276, 282 
 
 . 176 
 
 45, 85, 109 
 . 79 
 
 . 276 
 293 
 . 180 
 213 
 . 311 
 27 
 . 298 
 312 
 . 235 
 304 
 . 81 
 6 
 . 50 
 6 
 . 31 
 227 
 
 RITTENHOUSE, David, 
 KOBINSON, Edward, 
 Rural Scenery of England, 
 
 Sabbath in Ifew England, . 
 SANDERSON, John, .... 
 SANDS, Robert C., ... 
 
 , Noah, . 
 WHEATON, Henry, . 
 WIIIITLE, E. P., . 
 WHITTIER, John G., 
 WIGGLESWORTH, Michael, . 
 WILDE, Richard H., 
 WILLIAMS, Roger, . 
 
 Scenery in Spain, 
 SCHOOLCRAFT, Henry R., 
 SEALSFIELD, Charles, . 
 SEDGWICK, Catherine M., . . 
 Sewasserna, Country of, 
 SICOURKET, Lvdia H 
 SIMMS, William G., 
 Skeleton in Armour, 
 SMITH, Elizabeth 0., . 
 
 
 WILLIS, Nathaniel P. 
 Poems, 64 ; Prose Writings, 192. 
 Winged Worshippers, ... 49 
 WINTHROP, John, ... 3 
 WISE, Lieutenant, . . . .190 
 Wit and Humour contrasted, . 304 
 WITHERSPOON, John, . . . .21 
 WOLCOT, Roger, . ... 6 
 
 Smithsonian Institution, 
 
 WOOLMAN, John, 
 
 22 
 
 Edinburgh : 
 Printed by W. and R. Chambers.
 

 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 
 FEB 1 4 1954 
 MAR 2 01953 
 
 D L 
 
 MAY 06 
 
 MAR 2711185 
 
 OCT291987 
 
 >rm L9 15m-10,'48(B1039)444 
 
 T ^ LIBRARY
 
 PS 85 
 F81h 
 
 UCLA-Young Research Library 
 
 PSB5 .F81h 
 y 
 
 L 009 530 197 4 
 
 AA 001 217911 5