fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Contents
inventing an america......................................................................................................5
martin luther king, jr.: i have a dream...................................................................... 6
inventors of america..................................................................................................... 8
dbq guidelines.................................................................................................................10
1. the encounter and north americas up to 1763..........................................................11
native american poetry................................................................................................13
pagans and pilgrims in the promised land................................................................15
native americans: nation v. tribe?...............................................................................16
indians and europeans meet.........................................................................................17
“the great debate”..........................................................................................................19
powahtan’s letter to captain john smith................................................................ 20
nathaniel bacon: bacon’s declaration in the name of the people july 30, 167621
gottlieb mittelberger: on the misfortune of indentured servants (1754) .......21
john winthrop: ..............................................................................................................23
a model of christian charity......................................................................................23
a model hereof – 1630....................................................................................................23
jonathan edwards: . ......................................................................................................25
sinners in the hands of an angry god .......................................................................25
excerpts from the testimony of the trial of anne hutchinson, 1637.................27
anne bradstreet 1612—1672: poems.............................................................................28
edward taylor: poems (1642—i729)..............................................................................31
the mayflower compact................................................................................................33
november 11, 1620............................................................................................................33
washington irving: . ..................................................................................................... 34
rip van winkle................................................................................................................ 34
washington irving: . ......................................................................................................41
the legend of sleepy hollow.......................................................................................41
diedrich knickerbocker: ..............................................................................................52
history of new york - chapter v..................................................................................52
phillis wheatley: poems................................................................................................57
metacomet cries out for revenge...............................................................................59
mary rowlinson............................................................................................................. 60
gustavus vassa: the interesting narrative of the life of oloudah equiano.......61
crèvecoeur: letter ix description of charles-town; thoughts on slavery........72
dbq: comparing the new england and chesapeake regions.....................................73
the quest for gentility in . .........................................................................................76
pre-revolutionary america..........................................................................................76
howard zinn: columbus, the indians, and human progress................................... 79
edmund morgan: slavery and freedom - the american paradox (1972).................88
carol f. karlsen: excerpts – devil in the shape of a woman................................. 90
11. the struggle for independence 1763-1783.................................................................. 93
john locke: of civil government (1688).......................................................................95
daniel dulany: “considerations” (1765).......................................................................97
resolutions of the stamp act congress (1765)...........................................................97
declaratory act............................................................................................................ 98
first continental congress, declaration and resolves (1774).............................. 99
second continental congress,
“declaration of the causes of the necessity of taking up arms,” (1775)..............100
thomas paine, “common sense” . .................................................................................102
(january 10, 1776)..........................................................................................................102
ben franklin: ...............................................................................................................104
promoting the abolition of slavery.........................................................................104
the declaration of independence ............................................................................106
(july 4, 1776)...................................................................................................................106
mary beth norton: ......................................................................................................109
women in the revolution............................................................................................109
clinton rossiter: england in the wilderness - the colonists and their world..114
james kirby martin: protest and defiance in the continental ranks............... 121
iii. developing a framework for government: from articles of confederation to
the constitution: 1777-1791....................................................................................... 123
the articles of confederation (1777)........................................................................ 125
excerpts from the iroquois constitution...............................................................126
edgar allan poe: poems...............................................................................................128
edgar allen poe: .......................................................................................................... 131
the fall of the house of usher.................................................................................. 131
walt whitman: . ...........................................................................................................139
poetry crossing brooklyn ferry.................................................................................139
beat! beat! drums!.........................................................................................................141
song of myself...............................................................................................................142
o captain! my captain!.................................................................................................170
i hear america singing................................................................................................170
james madison: ............................................................................................................. 171
the federalist papers #10 (1787)................................................................................. 171
james madison: .............................................................................................................173
fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
the federalist papers #51 (1787).................................................................................173
selected arguments of antifederalists (1780s)...................................................... 174
document-based question - ....................................................................................... 175
the constitution: . ...................................................................................................... 175
a democratic document?............................................................................................. 175
charles beard: the constitution..............................................................................179
a minority document (1913)........................................................................................179
staughton lynd: .......................................................................................................... 183
the conflict over slavery........................................................................................... 183
henry steele commager: ............................................................................................188
a constitution for all the people............................................................................188
iv. the early republic: forging a national identity: 1791-1824..................................193
alexander hamilton and thomas jefferson popular rule................................... 195
thomas jefferson: the importance of agriculture (1784)......................................196
alexander hamilton, report on the subject of manufactures (1791).................196
thomas jefferson: opinion on the constitutionality of the bank (1791)...........197
alexander hamilton: opinion on the constitutionality of the bank (1791).....198
hamiltonian federalists and jeffersonian republicans:
views on the revolution.............................................................................................199
the alien and sedition acts: intolerance and the search for order............... 200
the revolution of 1800................................................................................................201
the kentucky resolutions of 1799.............................................................................203
rhode island and new hampshire’s
responses to the virginia and kentucky resolutions (1799)................................ 204
washington’s farewell address, september 17, 1796...............................................205
thomas jefferson: first inaugural address............................................................ 206
important decisions of the .......................................................................................208
supreme court...............................................................................................................208
the report and resolutions of the hartford convention january 4, 1815........210
the monroe doctrine (1823)........................................................................................ 211
v the disgusting spirit of equality:
the age of jackson and antebellum reform: 1824-1860.......................................... 213
transcendentalism defined....................................................................................... 215
ralph waldo emerson: poems (1803—1882)................................................................ 216
henry david thoreau: civil disobedience.................................................................218
martin luther king, jr.: .............................................................................................226
letter from a birmingham jail..................................................................................226
margaret fuller: ........................................................................................................ 232
the great lawsuit (1810‑1850)..................................................................................... 232
andrew jackson: . .........................................................................................................238
veto of maysville road bill (1830).............................................................................238
south carolina ordinance of nullification (november 24,1832)...........................239
john c. calhoun: ......................................................................................................... 240
the fort hill address (1831)....................................................................................... 240
andrew jackson: proclamation to the people of south carolina (1832)............ 240
andrew jackson: . .........................................................................................................241
veto of the bank bill (1832)........................................................................................241
two documents on indian removal (1830s)...............................................................242
cherokee nation vs. state of georgia (1831)............................................................. 244
emily dickinson: poems (1830‑1886)..............................................................................246
kate chopin, at the ‘cadian ball...............................................................................249
kate chopin: the storm............................................................................................... 253
kate chopin, desiree’s baby...........................................................................255
edith wharton: the other two................................................................................ 257
seneca falls declaration of sentiments and resolutions...................................266
elizabeth cady stanton: address delivered at the seneca falls convention..267
july 19, 1848...................................................................................................................267
sojorner truth: ain’t i a woman?.............................................................................. 269
john l. o’sullivan: manifest destiny from democratic review (1839 and 1845)..270
viewpoints of the mexican war ................................................................................ 271
barbara welter: the cult of true womanhood (1820-1860)...................................272
arlene hirschfelder: supreme court decisions affecting native americans..... 275
vi.slavery, sectionalism and secession: 1830-1860........................................................279
charles w. chestnut: .................................................................................................. 281
the passing of grandison............................................................................................. 281
charles ball: slave testimony (1858).........................................................................288
necessary evil to positive good.................................................................................289
abolitionist arguments............................................................................................. 290
dred scott vs sanford (1857)...................................................................................... 291
the lincoln-douglas debates (1858)...........................................................................293
dbq: free soil, free labor, free men — the rise of the republican party..........295
harriet beecher stowe: uncle tom’s cabin..............................................................297
lincoln denies racial equality.................................................................................. 301
interpreting the causes of the civil war................................................................ 301
nathaniel hawthorne: ..............................................................................................302
young goodman brown.................................................................................................302
nathaniel hawthorne: ..............................................................................................308
my kinsman, major molineux......................................................................................308
fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Inventing An America
Crèvecoeur Discovers a New Man (c. 1770)
Michel-Guillaume jean de Crèvcoeur, a young Frenchman of noble
family, served with the French army in Canada from 1 758 to 1
759. Finally reaching the English colonies in 1759, be traveled
widely, married a woman, and settled down to an idyllic existence
on his New York estate, “Pine Hill “ A born farmer, he introduced
into America a number of plants, including alfalfa. Probably
during the decade before 1775, he wrote in English the classic series
of essays known as Letters from an American Farmer (published
in 1782). This glowing account was blamed for looting some five
hundred French families to the wilds of the Ohio Country, where
they perished. What does Crèvecoeur reveal regarding the racial
composition of the col­onies? What did be regard as the most important
factors creating the new American man?
... Whence came all these people?
They are a mixture of English, Scotch, Irish, French, Dutch,
Germans, and Swedes. From this promiscuous breed, that
race now called Americans have arisen. The Eastern [New
England] provinces must indeed be excepted, as being the
unmixed descendants of Englishmen. I have heard many wish
that they had been more inter­mixed also. For my part, I am
no wisher, and think it much better as it has happened. They
exhibit a most conspicuous figure in this great and variegated
picture; they too enter for a great share in the pleasing
perspective displayed in these thirteen prov­inces. I know it
is fashionable to reflect on them, but I respect them for what
they have done; for the accuracy and wisdom with which they
have settled their territory; for the decency of their manners;
for their early love of letters; their ancient college, the first in
this hemisphere; for their industry, which to me, who am but a
farmer, is the criterion of everything. There never was a people,
situated as they are, who with so ungrateful a soil have done
more in so short a time....
In this great American asylum, the poor of Europe have by
some means met together, and in consequence of various causes;
to what purpose should they ask one another what countrymen
they are? Alas, two-thirds of them had no country. Can a
wretch who wanders about, who works and starves, whose
life is a continual scene of sore affliction or pinching penurycan that man call England or any other kingdom his country?
A country that had no bread for him, whose fields procured
him no harvest, who met with nothing but the frowns of the
rich, the severity of the laws, with jails and punishments; who
owned not a single foot of the extensive surface of this planet?
No! Urged by a variety of motives, here they came. Everything
has tended to regenerate them: new laws, a new mode of living,
a new social system. Here are become men. In Europe they
were as so many useless plants, wanting vegetative mould,
and refreshing showers; they withered, and were mowed
down by want, hunger, and war. But now by the power of
transplantation, like all other plants, they have taken root and
flourished! Formerly they were not numbered in any civil lists
of their country, except in those of the poor. Here they rank
as citizens.
By what invisible power has this surprising metamorphosis
been performed? By that of the laws and that of their industry.
The laws, the indulgent laws, protect them as they arrive,
stamping on them the symbol of adoption. They receive ample
rewards for their labors; these accumulated rewards procure
them lands; those lands confer on them the title of freemen,
and to that title every benefit is affixed which men can possibly
require....
What then is the American, this new man? He is either an
European, or the descendant of an European; hence that
strange mixture of blood, which you will find in no other
country. I could point out to you a family whose grandfather
was an Englishman, whose wife was Dutch, whose son married
a French woman, and whose present four sons have now four
wives of different nations.
He is an American who, leaving behind him all his ancient
prejudices and man­ners, receives new ones from the new mode
of life he has embraced, the new government he obeys, and the
new rank he holds. He becomes an American by being received
in the broad lap of our great alma mater. Here individuals of
all nations are melted into a new race of men whose labors
and posterity will one day cause great changes in the world.
Americans are the western pilgrims, who are carrying along
with them the great mass of arts, sciences, vigor, and industry
which began long since in the East. They will finish the great
circle.
The American ought therefore to love this country much better
than that wherein either he or his forefathers were born. Here
the rewards of his industry follow with equal steps the progress
of his labor; his labor is founded on the basis of nature, selfinterest; can it want a stronger allurement? Wives and children,
who before in vain demanded of him a morsel of bread, now,
fat and frolicsome, gladly help their father to clear those fields
whence exuberant crops are to arise to feed and to clothe them
all; without any part being claimed, either by a despotic prince,
a rich abbot, or a mighty lord. Here religion demands but little
of him: a small voluntary salary to the minister, and gratitude
to God. Can he refuse these?
The American is a new man, who acts upon new principles; he
must therefore entertain new ideas, and form new opinions.
From involuntary idleness, servile de­pendence, penury, and
useless labor, he has passed to toils of a very different nature,
rewarded by ample subsistence.
This is an American.
Martin Luther King, Jr.: I have a Dream
Delivered on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C.
on August 28, 1963
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic
shadow we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This
momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to
millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames
of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the
long night of captivity.
But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that
the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of
the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation
and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later,
the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a
vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the
Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society
and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come
here today to dramatize an appalling condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation’s capital to cash a check.
When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent
words of the Constitution and the declaration of Independence,
they were signing a promissory note to which every American
was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men would
be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness.
It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory
note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of
honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro
people a bad check which has come back marked “insufficient
funds.” But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is
bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient
funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we
have come to cash this check -- a check that will give us upon
demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We
have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the
fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury
of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.
Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of
segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time
to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children. Now
is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial
injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the
moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro.
This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent
will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom
and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a
fieldston american reader
beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off
steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if
the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither
rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his
citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to
shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of
justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people who stand
on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice.
In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be
guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst
for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of
dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest
to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must
rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul
force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the
Negro community must not lead us to distrust of all white
people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their
presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny
is tied up with our destiny and their freedom is inextricably
bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march
ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking
the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We
can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the
fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the
highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied
as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto
to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as a Negro in
Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he
has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and
we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and
righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of
great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from
narrow cells. Some of you have come from areas where your
quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution
and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been
the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the
faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia,
go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our
northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and
will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
volume i – fall 2007
I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties
and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream. It is a
dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live
out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be
self-evident: that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons
of former slaves and the sons of former slaveowners will be able
to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a
desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression,
will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a
nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin
but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day the state of Alabama, whose
governor’s lips are presently dripping with the words of
interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a
situation where little black boys and black girls will be able
to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk
together as sisters and brothers.
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true.
So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New
Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of
New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies
of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California!
But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of
Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village
and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able
to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and
white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will
be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro
spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are
free at last!”
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every
hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be
made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and
the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it
together.
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the
South. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain
of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to
transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful
symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to
work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to
jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we
will be free one day.
This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to
sing with a new meaning, “My country, ‘tis of thee, sweet land
of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the
pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.”
Inventors of America
“The Englishmen who landed in Virginia in 1607, and on the
bleaker shores of Massachusetts thirteen years later, did not
begin a new history, but continued a history which had begun
many centuries before.”
Lord James Bryce, The Study of American History
“Men, like plants cannot be rooted from their native soil and
set again in some distant land without undergoing profound
changes... In like manner the institutions, manners, morals,
religious beliefs, and thoughts of the European settlers
underwent a change in the soil of America.”
Thomas Jefferson Wertenbaker, The First Americans
Most of the big shore places were closed now and there were
hardly any lights except the shadowy, mov­ing glow of a ferryboat
across the Sound. And as the moon rose higher the inessential
houses began to melt away until gradually I became aware of
the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes—
a fresh, green breast of the new world. Its vanished trees, the
trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house, had once pandered
in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a
transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath
in the presence of this continent, compelled into an aesthetic
contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face
for the last time in history with something commensurate to
his capacity for wonder.
And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I
thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green
light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to
this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that
he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was
already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity be­
yond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on
under one night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic fu­ture that
year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no
matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms
farther. . . . And one fine morn­ing— So we beat on, boats
against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
fieldston american reader
I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud; for it is in
such little retired … valleys… that population, manners, and
customs, remain fixed; while the great torrent of migration and
improvement, which is making such incessant change in other
parts of this restless country, sweeps by them unobserved. They
are little nooks of still water which border a rapid stream…
Washington Irving, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
The pastoral ideal it has been used to define the meaning of
America ever since the age of discovery, and it has not yet lost
its hold upon the native imagination. The reason is dear enough.
The ruling motive of the good shepherd, leading figure of the
classic, Virgilian mode, was to withdraw from the great world
and begin a new life in a fresh, green landscape. And now here
was a virgin continent! Inevitably the European mind was
dazzled by the prospect. With an unspoiled hemisphere in
view it seemed that mankind actually might realize what had
been thought a poetic fantasy. Soon the dream of a retreat
to an oasis of harmony and joy was removed from its traditional
literary context. It was embodied in various utopian schemes
for making America the site of a new beginning for Western
society. In both forms —one literary and the other in essence
political — the ideal has figured in the American view of life
which is, in the widest sense, the subject of this book.
Leo Marx, The Machine in the Garden, Technology and the
Pastoral Ideal in America
Freedom, too, the long-sought, we still seek, -- the freedom
of life and limb, the freedom to work and think, the freedom
to love and aspire Work, culture, liberty, all these we need,
not singly but together, not successively but together each
growing and aiding each, and all striving toward that vaster
ideal that swims before the Negro people, the ideal of human
brotherhood, gained through the unifying ideal of Race; the
ideal of fostering and developing the traits and tal­ents of the
Negro, not in opposition to or contempt for other races, but
rather in large conformity to the greater ideals of the American
Republic, in order that some day on American soil two worldraces may have each to each those characteris­tics both so sadly
lack We the darker ones come even now not altogether emptyhanded: there are to-day no truer expo­nents of the pure human
spirit of the Declaration of Indepen­dence than the American
Negroes; there is no true American music but the wild sweet
volume i – fall 2007
melodies of the Negro slave; the American fairy tales and folk4ore
are Indian and African; and, all in all, we black men seem the sole
oasis of simple faith and reverence in a dusty desert of dollars and
smartness.
W.E.B. duBois, The Souls of Black Folks
The need to establish difference stemmed not only from the Old
World but from a difference in the New. What was distinctive
in the New was, first of all, its claim to freedom and, second,
the presence of the unfree within the heart of the democratic
experiment the critical absence of democ­racy, its echo, shadow,
and silent force in the political and intellectual activity of some
not-Americans. The distin­guishing features of the not-Americans
were their slave status, their social status and their color.
It is conceivable that the first would have self-destructed in a variety
of ways had it not been for the last. These slaves, unlike many
others in the world’s history, were visible to a fault. And they had
inherited, among other things, a long history in the meaning of
color. It was not simply that this slave population had a distinctive
color; it was that this color meant something. That meaning had
been named and deployed by scholars from at least the moment,
in the eighteenth century, when other and sometimes the same
scholars started to investigate both the natural history and the
inalienable rights of man that is to say, human freedom.
Toni Morrison, Playing in the Dark
Or will Americans of diverse races and ethnicities be able to
connect themselves to a larger narrative? Whatever happens, we
can be certain that much of our society’s future will be influenced
by which mirror ‘ we choose to see ourselves. America does not
belong to one race or one group, the people in this study remind
us, and Americans have been constantly redefining their national
identity from the moment of first contact on the Virginia shore. By
sharing their stories, they invite us to see ourselves in a different
mirror.
As Americans, we originally came from many different shores,
and our diversity has been at the center of the making of America.
While our stories contain the memories of different communities,
together they inscribe a larger narrative. Filled with what Walt
Whitman celebrated as the “varied across” of America, our
history generously gives all of us our “mystic chords of memory.”
Throughout our past of oppressions and struggles for equality,
Americans of different races and ethnicities have been “singing
with open mouths their strong melodious songs” in the textile
mills of Lowell, the cotton fields of Mississippi, on the Indian
reservations of South Dakota, the railroad tracks high in the
Sierras of California, in the garment factories of the Lower East
Side, the canefields of Hawaii, and a thousand other places across
the country. Our denied history “bursts with telling.” As we
hear America singing, we find our­selves invited to bring our rich
cultural diversity on deck, to accept ourselves. “Of every hue and
caste am I,” sang Whitman. “I resist any thing better than my
own diversity.”
Ronald Takaki, A Different Mirror
Real soon, now, this is a turning point The hoop, the sacred hoop
was broken here at Wounded Knee, and it will come back again.
The stake here that represents the tree of life, the tree will bloom,
it will flower again, and all the people will rejoin and come back
to the sacred road, the red road.
Wallace Black Elk, Wounded Knee, 1973
The idea shaped our politics, our institutions, and to some extent
our national character, but it was never the only influence at work.
Material circumstances exerted an opposing force. The open
frontier, the hardships of homesteading from scratch, the wealth of
natural resources, the whole vast challenge of a continent waiting
to be exploited, combined to produce a prevailing materialism and
an American drive bent as much, if not more, on money, property,
and power than was true of the Old World from which we had
fled. The human resources we drew upon were significant: Every
wave of immigration brought here those people who had the extra
energy, gumption, or restlessness to uproot themselves and cross
an unknown ocean to seek a better life. Two other factors entered
the shaping process—the shadow of slavery and the destruction
of the native Indian.
The historical experience is…one of going back into the past
and returning to the present with a wider and more intense
consciousness of the restrictions of our former outlook. We return
with a broader awareness of the alternatives open to us and armed
with a sharper perceptiveness with which to make our choices. In
this manner it is possible to loosen the clutch of the dead hand
of the past and transform it into a living tool for the present
and future.
William Appleman Williams
DBQ GUIDELINES
A DBQ is simply a document based question. Just as
we have been analyzing primary source documents in class, so
you will be asked to analyze a set of documents on your own.
The difference is that you will be asked to answer a particular
question, or discuss a particular thesis, using the documents as
evidence.
knowledge. Then state your thesis clearly and directly, before
moving on to support it with a nice balance of information
from both the documents and outside sources.
Typically, the DBQ:
1.) contains documents, including maps, charts, and cartoons.
These are often arranged chronologically. Note the dates.
2.) focuses on topics we have discussed.
3.) is specific about the information required, so read the
question very carefully.
TIPS FOR STUDENTS
1.) Use a pen.
2.) Remember that you have time to plan, so don’t panic.
3.) Read the question and note the time period. Do not include
information unless it fits chronologically or is directly relevant
to other events during the period.
4.) List all the information about the time period that you can
recall-events, names, terms, etc.
5.) Write a thesis sentence on top of a scratch sheet of paper.
Make sure that it directly answers the DBQ question.
6.) Outline your essay quickly without looking at the
documents.
7.) Now look at the documents and try to decide how you will
fit them into your already planned essay.
8.) Each document does different things, so try to use them all.
Here is the format: As the map (document B) indicates.. Or:
The cartoon (document D) shows that...
9.) Analyze the documents. Why are they significant? What do
they show? Do quote extensively from them. Do not, however,
be afraid to mention them briefly.
10.) If possible, link brief descriptions to the names you use. For
example: Alexander Stephens, a Whig senator from Georgia,
noted in the Southern Literary Journal (document C) that..
11.) Coverage of the documents is important, but the inclusion
of outside information is critical. Strive for balance, because
only a balanced essay will receive the highest scores.
12.) A possible approach: Write an introductory paragraph
setting the scene and demonstrating that you have some outside
10 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
3
1.
the encounter
and north americas
up to
1763
1. the encounter and north americas up to 1763
11
12 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Native American Poetry
WHEN SUN CAME TO RIVERWOMAN
Leslie Marmon Silko
beside the Rio Grande.
LAGUNA PUEBLO
WHERE MOUNTAIN LION
LAY DOWN WITH DEER
I climb the black rock mountain
stepping from day to day
silently.
I smell the wind for my ancestors
pale blue leaves
crushed wild mountain smell.
Returning
up the gray stone cliff
where I descended
a thousand years ago.
Returning to faded black stone
where mountain lion lay down with deer.
It is better to stay up here
watching wind’s reflection in tall yellow flowers.
The old ones who remember me are gone
the old songs are all forgotten
and the story of my birth.
How I danced in snow‑frost moonlight
distant stars to the end of the Earth,
How I swam away
in freezing mountain water
narrow mossy canyon tumbling down
out of the mountain
out of deep canyon stone
down
the memory
spilling out
into the world.
that time
in the sun
voice of the mourning dove calls
long ago long ago
remembering the lost one remembering the love.
Out of the dense green eternity of springtime willows rustle in
the blue wind timeless
DESMET, IDAHO, MARCH 1969
At my father’s wake,
The old people
Knew me,
Though I
Knew them not,
And spoke to me
In our tribe’s
Ancient tongue
Ignoring
The fact
That I
Don’t speak
The language,
And so
I listened
As if I understood
What it was all about,
And,
Oh,
Stirred me
That strange,
Softly
Flowing
Native tongue,
So
My childhood ear.
the year unknown unnamed.
The muddy fast water warm around my feet you move into the
current slowly
brown skin thighs deep intensity flowing water.
Your warmth penetrates
13
Endless eyes shining always for green river moss for tiny water
spiders.
Crying out the dove
it is ordained in swirling brown water
man of Sun
he left her
came to riverwoman and in the sundown wind
to sing
yellow sand and sky.
will not let me forget
and it carries you away, my lost one my love, the mountain.
for rainclouds swelling in the northwest sky for rainsmell on
pale blue winds from China.
Janet Campbell Hale
COEUR D’ALENE
SALAD LA RAZA
The crisp Pale green Lettuce Caught the sunlight, Glistened,
As I Broke the leaves For my salad, Lettuce I’d bought that
morning at Safeway, Remembering how My family, For a
time, And off and on, Lived in dumpy cabin camps, Moved
around, Picking berries beans, apples, cherries, Stripping hops.
I remembered The dirt, And sweating Under a blazing sun For
next to nothing, And The babbling, Laughing Mexican workers,
Who called themselves “Spanish” (There were no Chicanos
in those days) And looked down On Indians so much, “Los
Indios” was enough of a dirty name In itself. Eating my crisp
and delicious Safeway salad, I tried not to think Of Caesar
Chavez.
14 fieldston american reader
ON A CATHOL.IC CHILDHOOD
Even after Confession, Sister Mary Leonette told me (I was six
years old at the time) My soul would be scarred by sin.
This was during catechism.
I had a question:
“Can’t you make your guardian angel go away
Not even while you’re going to the toilet?”
Mary Leonette glared at me
And the children laughed.
She was from Vermont and didn’t
Like it in grubby old Omak, Washington, all that much.
I thought guardian angels were creepy
And sermons boring,
And when I had to kneel during Mass
I prayed to God
To make it pass quickly
Because my knees ached.
Padre Nostros De Ern Chalis
Smelling incense
And having to look at a gory
life‑size painted statue of
the crucified Christ,
And think of
The poor souls
In purgatory
And a recent sin of my own
I’d never confess:
I stole my sister’s plastic glows‑in‑the‑dark Virgin Mary
And hid it deep within the lilac bush.
God would never understand.
volume i – fall 2007
Pagans and Pilgrims in the Promised Land
What should we do but sing his Praise
That led us through the watry Maze
Unto an Isle so kong unknown
And yet far kinder than our own?
He lands us on a grassy Stage;
Safe from the Storms, and Prelat’s rage.
He gave us this eternal Spring
Which here enamells every thing;
And sends the Fowls to us in care,
On daily visits through the Air.
He hangs in shades the Orange bright,
Like golden lamps in a green Night.
“The islands were so terrible to all that ever touched on them,
and such tempests, thunders, and other fearefull objects are
seene and heard about them, that they be called commonly, The
Devil’s Ilands, and are feared and avoyded of all sea travellers
alive, above any other place in the world.. Yet it pleased our
mercifull God, to make even this hideous and hated place,
both the place of our safetie, and meanes of our deliverance.”
—William Strachey, 1609
Andrew Marvell, “Bermudas”
“We found shole water, where we smelt so sweet, and so strong
a smell, as if we had been in the midst of some delicate garden
abounding with all kinds of odiferous flowers. ..The place
where we put ashore was so full of grapes, as the very beating
and surge of the Sea overflowed them, of which we found such
plentie, as well there as in all places else, both on the sand and
on the greene soile of the hills, that I think in all the world like
abundance is not to be found: and my selfe having seene those
parts of Europe that most abound, find such difference as were
incredible to be written. ..Virginia is a land of plentie. The soil
is the most plentifull, sweete, fruitfull, and wholesome of all
the world; the virgin forest is not at all like the barren and
fruitless woods of Europe, but is full of the highest and reddest
Cedars of the world.”
—Captain Arthur Barlowe, 1584
“...Hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wild beasts and wild
men. There are only dangerous shoulds and roaring breakers.
Neither could they, as it were, goe up to the tope of Pigsah,
to vew from this wilderness a more goodly cuntrie to feed
their hops; fore which way soever they tumd their eys (save
upward to the heavens) they could have litle solace or content
in respecte of any outward objects. For summer being done,
all things stand upon them with a wetherbeaten face; and the
whole countrie, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild
and savege hiew. If they looked behind them, ther was the
mighty ocean which they had passed, and was now as a maine
barre and goulf to separate them from all the civill parts of the
world.”
—William Bradford, 1620
15
Native Americans: Nation v. Tribe?
Native American Creation Myths
in return . . . . these people are so amiable and friendly that
even the King took a pride in calling me his brother . . . . I
could not clearly understand whether the people possess any
private property, for I observed that one man had the charge
of distributing various things to the rest, but especially meat
and provisions and the like. I did not find, as some of us had
expected, any cannibals amongst them, but on the contrary,
men of great deference and kindness.
Columbus, Letter of March 14, 1493.
Document A
Document D
Primary Sources
…Our legends tell us that it was hundreds and perhaps
thousands of years ago since the first man sprang from the
soil in the midst of the great plains. The story says that one
morning long ago a lone man awoke, face to the sun, emerging
from the soil . . . . Up and up the man drew himself until he
freed his body from the clinging soil . . . . the sun shone and
ever the man kept his face turned toward it. In time the rays
of the sun hardened the face of the earth and strengthened
the man and he bounded and leaped about, a free and joyous
creature. From this man sprang the Lakota nation . . . . So this
land of the great plains is claimed by the Lakotas as their very
own. We are the soil and the soil is us.
Sioux Genesis
Document B
Way beyond the earth, a part of the Osage lived in the sky.
They wanted to know where they came from, so they went
to the sun. He told them that they were his children. Then
they wandered still farther and came to the moon. She told
them that she gave birth to them, and that the sun was their
father. She said they must leave the sky, and go down to live
on the earth, so they wept and called out, but no answer came
from anywhere. They floated about in the air seeking in every
direction for help from some god; but found none.
Usage, Children of the Sun
European perceptions of Native Americans
Document C
I gave to all I approached whatever articles I had about me,
such as cloth and many other things, taking nothing of theirs
in return: but they are naturally timid and fearful. As soon
however as they see that they are safe, and have laid aside all
fear, they are very simple and honest, and exceedingly liberal
with all they have; none of them refusing any thing he may
possess when he is asked for it, but on the contrary inviting
us to ask them. They exhibit great love towards all others in
preference to themselves; they also give objects of great value
for trifles, and content themselves with very little or nothing
16 fieldston american reader
The Spanish have a perfect right to rule these barbarians of the
New World and the adjacent islands, who in prudence, skill,
virtues, and humanity are as inferior to the Spanish as children
to adults, or women to men, for there exists between the two
as great a difference as between savage and cruel races and the
most merciful, between the most intemperate and the moderate
and temperate and, I might even say, between apes and men . .
. . But see how they [the inhabitants of New Spain and Mexico]
deceive themselves, and how much I dissent from such an
opinion, seeing , on the contrary, in these very institutions a
proof of the crudity, the barbarity, and the natural slavery of
these people; for having houses and some rational way of life
and some sort of commerce is a thing which the necessities of
nature itself induce, and only serves to prove that they are not
bears of monkeys and are not totally lacking in reason. But
on the other hand, they have established their nation in such
a way that no one possesses anything individually, neither a
house nor a field, which he can leave to his heirs in his will,
for everything belongs to their masters whom, with improper
nomenclature, they call kings, and by whose whims they live,
more than by their own, ready to do the bidding and desire of
these rulers and possessing no liberty. And the fulfillment of
all this, not under the pressure of arms but in voluntary and
spontaneous way, is a definite sign of the servile and base soul
of there barbarians . . . . Therefore, if you wish to reduce them,
I do not say to our domination, but to a servitude a little less
harsh, it will not be difficult for them to change their masters,
and instead of the one they had, who were barbarous and
impious and inhuman, to accept the Christians, cultivators of
human virtues and the true faith . . .
Sepulveda, The Second Democrates (1547)
Document E
Now if we shall have shown that among our Indians of the
western and southern shores (granting that we call them
barbarians and that they are barbarians) there are important
kingdoms, large numbers of people who live settled lives in
a society, great cities, kings, judges and laws, persons who
engage in commerce, buying, selling, lending, and the other
contracts of the laws of nations, will it not stand proved that the
volume i – fall 2007
Reverend Doctor Sepulveda has spoken wrongly and viciously
against peoples like these . . . The Indian race is not that
barbaric, nor are they dull witted or stupid, but they are easy
to teach and very talented in learning all the liberal arts, and
very ready to accept, honor, and observe the Christian religion
and correct their sins (as experience has taught) once priests
have introduced them to the sacred mysteries and taught them
the word of God.
Bartolome de Las Casas, Thirty Very Judicial
Propositions (1552)
Document F
The place they had thoughts on was some of those vast &
unpeopled countries of America, which are fruitful & fitt for
habitation, being devoyd of all civill inhabitants, where there
are only savage & brutish men, which range up and downe,
little otherwise then the wild beasts of the same . . . . And
also those which should escape or overcome these difficulties,
should yet be in continuall danger of the salvage people, who
are cruell, barbarous, & most trecherous, being contente only
to kill, & take away life, but delight to tormente men in the
most bloodie maner that may be; fleaing some alive with the
shells of fishes, cutting of the members & joynts of others by
peesmeale, and broiling on the coles, eate the collops of their
flesh in their sight whilst they live; with other cruelties horrible
to be related.
William Bradford, Of Plymouth Plantation, 1620
Document G
They have no Fence to part one anothers Lots in their CornFields, but every Man knows his own, and it scarce ever happens
that they rob one another of so much as an Ear of Corn, which
if any is found to do, he is sentenced by the Elders to work
and plant for him that was robbed, till he is recompensed for
all the Damage he has suffered in his Corn-Field; and this
is punctually performed, and the Thief held in Disgrace that
steals from any of his Country-Folks.
On the Tuscaroras, John Lawson, History of North
Carolina, circa 1700.
Secondary Source
Document H
The word “tribe” does not do justice to the extreme variety of
[Native American] political organizations, methods of foodgathering, cultural and religious patterns, and population size
. . . . native bands, tribelets, pueblo city states, nations and
confederacies were as culturally different from each other as
the nations of Europe.
Peter Nabokov, Native American Testimony.
Indians and Europeans Meet
Five hundred years ago, residents of the Caribbean islands saw on
the horizon ships unlike any they had ever before seen or imagined.
These vessels carried Christopher Columbus and his men, who
soon claimed the islands for Spain and who called the inhabitants
“inditaos” because they thought that they had reached the East Indies
off the’ coast of Asia. Columbus died believing devoutly in his
immense geographical error, but his name for the native inhabitants
of the Western Hemisphere remains as an ironic monument to
Columbus’s unrealized search for a shortcut to the riches of
Scholars debate the meaning of the European conquest that Columbus
inaugu­rated. And in 1992—the five-hundredth anniversary of
Columbus‘s first voyage— some Native Americans argued that
genocide of native peoples was the principal leg­acy of the Colombian
encounter and its aftermath. Certainly, the European conquest of
America set off among the indigenous peoples of America’s vicious
cycle of population that may have amounted to as much as a 90
percent reduction. Most of the population losses came from the impact
of epidemic diseases that Indians had not been exposed to before 1492.
Smallpox, measles, bubonic plague, and other Old World maladies
swept off large numbers of Indians at a single stroke and left natives
weakened and vulnerable. Yet Indians did not merely fade away
when Europeans arrived. They adjusted to new conditions of life
and, when conditions changed, asserted a measure of control in the
new world that Indians and Europeans together created.
When Columbus arrived in America, he expected to find Asia and
its riches. Instead, he encountered the Carib people on San Salvador
island. In the first document, a letter to the Spanish monarchs,
Columbus describes the Caribs, discusses their ignorance of European
weapons, and observes that they would make good servants. By
1519 Spanish explorers were expanding their grip to the American
mainland. Hernando Cortes who led the Spanish conquest of
Mexico, found a formidable foe in the Aztec Empire that held
control over central Mexico. In the second document, Aztec emperor
Moctezuma (also spelled iWutezu,na or Montezumo) tells Cortes
that he believe that the Spanish have come to reclaim Mexico. in
accordance with Aztec history and prophecy Aztec compli­ance proved
a great convenience for Cortes, who, in order to master the Aztecs,
was more than willing to accept the part that Moctezuma assigned
him. The third document records in song the Aztec perspective on
the sad outcome of Cortes’s conquest. The ac­count of Jacques Cartier
in the fourth document contrasts sharply with those of Cortes’s and
Columbus. Here we see Micmac Indians in the Gulf of St. Lawrence
region clamor­ing to trade furs for French metaiware in 1534. The
fifth document is Arthur Barlowe’s description of hi hospitable
reception by the Indians of Virginia. Friendship and trade seemed
to mark this early encounter with the English. The final document is
17
the Pilgrim Governor William Bradford’s account of the first treaty
of peace with the Wampanoags of Massachusetts Bay.
At first contact, European and Indian needs and expectations
varied widely, but ul­timately Europeans prevailed throughout the
hemisphere. Could these early encounters have resulted in mutually
beneficial relationships, or were Indians destined to be de­feated from
the start?
Columbus on the Indians’ “Discovery”
of the Spanish, 1492
“I [Columbus wrote], in order that they might feel great amity
towards us, be­cause I knew that they were a people to be
delivered and converted to our holy faith rather by love than
by force, gave to some among them some red caps and some
glass beads, which they hung round their necks, and many
other things of little value. At this they were greatly pleased
and became so entirely our friends that it was a wonder to see.
Afterwards they came swimming to the ships’ boats, where
we were, and brought us parrots and cotton thread in balls,
and spears and many other things, and we exchanged for them
other things, such as small glass beads and hawks’ bells, which
we gave to them. In fact, they took all and gave all, such as
they had, with good will, but it seemed to me that they were a
people very deficient in everything. They all go naked as their
mothers bore them, and the women also, although I saw only
one very young girl. And all those whom I did see were
youths, so that I did not see one who was over thirty years of
age; they were very well built, with very handsome bodies and
very good faces. Their hair is coarse almost like the hairs of
a horse’s tail and short; they wear their hair down over their
eyebrows, except for a few strands behind, which they wear
long and never cut. Some of them are painted black, and they
are the colour of the people of the Canaries, neither black
nor white, and some of them are painted white and some red
and some in any colour that they find. Some of them paint
their faces, some their whole bodies, some only the eyes, and
some only the nose. They do not bear arms or know them, for
I showed to them swords and they took them by the blade and
cut themselves through ignorance. They have no iron. Their
spears are certain reeds, without iron, and some of these have
a fish tooth at the end, while others are pointed in various
ways. They are all generally fairly tall, good looking and well
proportioned. I saw some who bore marks of wounds on their
bodies, and I made signs to them to ask how this came about,
and they indicated
to me that people came from other islands, which are near,
and wished to capture them, and they defended themselves.
And I believed and still believe that they come here from the
mainland to take them for slaves. They should be good ser­vants
and of quick intelligence, since I see that they very soon say all
that is said to them, and I believe that they would easily be
18 fieldston american reader
made Christians, for it appeared to me that they had no creed.
Our Lord willing, at the time of my departure I will bring
back six of them to Your Highnesses, that they may learn to
talk. I saw no beast of any kind in this island, except parrots.”
The Emperor Moctezuma Links the Spanish
to the Fulfillment of the Aztecs’ Destiny, 1519
Moctezuma explains Aztec origins to Cortes. For a long time
we have known from the writings of our ancestors that neither
I, nor any of those who dwell in this land, are natives of it, but
foreigners who came from very distant parts; and like­wise we
know that a chieftain, of whom they were all vassals, brought
our people to this region. And he returned to his native land
and after many years came again, by which time all those who
had remained were married to native women and had built
villages and raised children. And when he wished to lead them
away again they would not go nor even admit him as their chief;
and so he departed. And we have always held that those who
descended from him would come and conquer this land and
take us as their vassals. So because of the place from which
you claim to come, namely, from where the sun rises, and the
things you tell us of the great lord or king who sent you here,
we believe and are certain that he is our natural lord, especially
as you say that he has known of us for some time. So be assured
that we shall obey you and hold you as our lord in place of that
great sovereign of whom you speak; and in this there shall be
no offense or betrayal whatsoever. And in all the land that lies
in my domain, you may command as you will, for you shall
be obeyed; and all that we own is for you to dispose of as you
choose. Thus, as you are in your own country and your own
house, rest now from the hardships of your journey and the
battles which you have fought, for I know full well of all that
has happened to you from Puntunchan to here, and I also know
how those of Cempoal and Tascalteca have told you much
evil of me; believe only what you see with your eyes, for those
are my enemies, and some were my vassals and have rebelled
against me at your coming and said those things to gain favor
with you. I also know that they have told you the walls of my
houses are made of gold, and that the floor mats in my rooms
and other things in my house­hold are likewise of gold, and that
I was, and claimed to be, a god; and many other things besides.
The houses as you see are of stone and lime and clay.”
Then he raised his clothes and showed Cortes his body, saying,
as he grasped his arms and trunk with his hands, “See that I am
of flesh and blood like you and all other men, and I am mortal
and substantial. See how they have lied to you’? It is true that I
have some pieces of gold left to me by my ancestors; anything I
might have shall be given to you whenever you ask. Now I shall
go to other house where I live, but here you shall be provided
with all that you and your people require, and you shall receive
no hurt. for you are in your own land and our own house.”
volume i – fall 2007
Juan Gines de Sepulveda:
“The Great Debate”
Juan Gines De Sepulveda, a distinguished scholar of Aristotle,
was official historian of the Spanish crown. In 1547 he wrote
The Second Democrates to defend the Spanish Conquest of the
Americas. He used the substance of that argument when he debated
Bartolomede Las Casas three years later. Bartoleme de las Casas,
a Spanish colonist, a priest, founder of a Utopian community and
first Bishop of Chiapas, was a scholar, historian and 16th century
human rights advocate. Las Casas has been called the Father of antiimperialism and anti-racism. Others take a more guarded or modest
view of his achievements. What there is little or no dispute about is
that Las Casas was an early and energetic advocate and activist
for the rights of native peoples. Consider the arguments that are
set forth by the two men. Which argument do you think is more
effective? Why? How might these ideas shape the sentiments and
mentalities of the colonizers for years to come?
Sepulveda (1550 in the Spanish capital of Valladolid)
Superior Spanish
The man rules over the woman, the adult over his children.
That is to say, the most powerful and most perfect rule over
the weakest and most imperfect. The same relationship exists
among men, there being some who by nature are masters and
others who by
nature are slaves.
Those who surpass the rest in prudence and intelligence,
although not in physical strength, are by nature the masters.
On the other hand, those who are dim-witted and mentally
lazy, although they may be physically strong enough to fulfill
all the necessary tasks, are by nature slaves.
It is just and useful that it be this way. We even see it
sanctioned in the Book of Proverbs: “He who is stupid will
serve the wise man” [11:29].
And so it is with the barbarous and inhumane peoples [the
Indians] who have no civil life and peaceful customs. It will
always be just and in conformity with natural law that such
people submit to the rule of the more cultured and humane
princes and nations. Thanks to their virtues and the practical
wisdom of their laws, the latter [the Spanish] can destroy
barbarism and educate these people to a more humane and
virtuous life. And if the latter [the Indians] reject such rule, it
can be imposed upon them by force of arms. Such a war will
be just, according to natural law....
Barbaric Indians
Until now we have mentioned their impious religion and
their abominable sacrifices, in which they worship the Devil as
God, to whom they thought of offering no better tribute than
human hearts...They placed these hearts on their abominable
altars. With this ritual they believed that they had appeased
their gods. They also ate the flesh of sacrificed men.
War against these barbarians can be justified not only on
the basis of their paganism but even more so because of their
abominable licentiousness, their prodigious sacrifice of human
victims, the extreme harm that they inflicted on innocent
persons, their horrible banquets of human flesh, and the
impious cult of their idols....
Merciful Force
Since the evangelical law of the New Testament is more
perfect and more gentle than the Mosiac law of the Old
Testament, so also wars are now waged with more mercy and
clemency. Their purpose is not so much to punish as to correct
evils.
What is more appropriate and beneficial for these barbarians
than to become subject to the rule those whose wisdom, virtue,
and religion have converted them from barbarism into civilized
men (insofar as they are capable of becoming so), from being
torpid and licentious to becoming servants of the Devil to
becoming believers of the true God?
For these barbarians, our rule ought to be even more
advantageous than for our Spaniards, since virtue, humanity,
and the true religion are more valuable than gold or silver. And
if they refuse our rule, they may be compelled by force of arms
to accept it. Such a war will be just according to natural law.
Bartolome de Las Casas (1550 in the Spanish capital of
Valladolid)
Human Equality
There are no races in the world, however rude, uncultivated,
barbarous, gross, or almost brutal they may be, who cannot be
persuaded and brought to a good order and way of life....
Thus, the entire human race is one; all men are alike with
respect to their creation and the things of nature, and none is
born already taught. And so we all have the need, from the
beginning, to be guided and helped by those who have been
born earlier.
Thus, when some very rustic peoples are found in the world,
they are like untilled land, which easily produces worthless
weeds and thorns, but has within itself so much natural
power that when it is plowed and cultivated it gives useful and
wholesome fruits....
Noble Indians
All the races of the world have understanding and will,
and that which results from these two faculties in man--that is,
free choice. And consequently, all have the power and ability
or capacity...to be instructed, persuaded, and attracted to order
and reason and laws and virtue and all goodness.
They are very apt to receive our holy Catholic faith, to
be endowed with virtuous customs, and to behave in a godly
19
fashion. And once they begin to hear the tidings of the
faith, they are so insistent on knowing more...that truly, the
missionaries who are here need to be endowed by God with
great patience to endure such eagerness. Some of the secular
Spaniards who have been here for many years say that the
goodness of the Indians is undeniable, and that is this gifted
people could be brought to know the one
true God, they would be the most fortunate people in the
world.
A method contrary to the one we have been defending would
be the following: Pagans should first be subjected, whether
they wished to be or not, to the rule of Christian people, and
that once they were subjected, organized preaching would
follow.
But if the pagans find themselves first injured, oppressed,
saddened, and afflicted by the misfortunes of wars, through
loss of their children, their gods, and their own liberty...how
can they be moved voluntarily to listen to what is proposed to
them about faith, religion, justice, and truth...?
Merciful Persuasion
The one and only method of teaching men the true religion
was established by Divine Providence for the whole world, and
for all times: that is, by persuading the understanding through
reasons, and by gently attracting or exhorting his will.
Divine Wisdom moves rational creatures, that is, men, to
their actions or operates gently....Therefore, the method of
teaching men the true religion ought to be gentle, enticing,
and pleasant. This method is by persuading the understanding
and by attracting the will.
Hearers, especially pagans, should understand that the
preachers of the faith have no intention of acquiring power
over them.... Preachers should be slow themselves so mild and
humble, courteous and...good-willed that the hearers eagerly
wish to listen and hold their teaching in greater reverence.
[Preachers must] posses that same love of charity by which
Paul was accustomed to love men in the world that they might
be saved: “You are witnesses and God also, how holy and
just and blameless was our conduct towards you who have
believed.”
20 fieldston american reader
Powahtan’s Letter to Captain John Smith
I am now grown old, and must soon die; and the succession must
descend, in order, to my brothers, Opitchapan, Opekankanough,
and Catataugh, and then to my two sisters, and their two
daughters. I wish their experience was equal to mine; and that
your love to us might not be less than ours to you. Why should
you take by force that from us which you can have by love?
Why should you destroy us, who have provided you with food?
What can you get by war? We can hide our provisions, and
fly into the woods; and then you must consequently famish
by wronging your friends. What is the cause of your jealousy?
You see us unarmed, and willing to supply your wants, if you
will come in a friendly manner, and not with swords and guns,
as to invade an enemy. I am not so simple, as not to know it
is better to eat good meat, lie well, and sleep quietly with my
women and children; to laugh and be merry with the English;
and, being their friend, to have copper, hatchets, and whatever
else I want, than to fly from all, to lie cold in the woods, feed
upon acorns, roots, and such trash, and to be so hunted, that I
cannot rest, eat, or sleep. In such circumstances, my men must
watch, and if a twig should but break, all would cry out, “Here
comes Capt. Smith”; and so, in this miserable manner, to end
my miserable life; and, Capt. Smith, this might be soon your
fate too, through your rashness and unadvisedness. I, therefore,
exhort you to peaceable councils; and, above all, I insist that the
guns and swords, the cause of all our jealousy and uneasiness,
be removed and sent away.
volume i – fall 2007
Nathaniel Bacon: Bacon’s Declaration in
the Name of the People July 30, 1676
1. For having upon specious pretenses of public works raised
great unjust taxes upon the Commonality for the advancement
of private favorites and other Sinister ends, but no visible
effects in any measure adequate, for not having during this
long time of his Government in any measure advanced this
hopeful colony either by fortifications Townes or Trade.
2. For having abused and rendered contemptible the
Magistrates of Justice, by advancing to places of Judicature,
scandalous and Ignorant favorites.
3. For having wronged his Majesties prerogative and interest,
by assuming Monopoly of the Beaver trade, and for having in
that unjust gain betrayed and sold his Majesties Country and
the lives of his loyal subjects to the barbarous heathen.
4. For having protected, favored, and Imboldened the Indians
against his Majesties loyal subjects, never contriving, requiring,
or appointing any due or proper means of satisfaction for their
many Invasions, robberies, and murders committed upon us....
Of this and the aforesaid articles we accuse Sir William
Berkeley as guilty of every one of the same, and as one who
has traitorously attempted, violated, and injured his Majesties
interests here, by a loss of a great part of this his colony and many
of his faithful loyal subjects, by him betrayed in a barbarous
and shameful manner exposed to the incursions and murder of
the heathen, And we further do declare these ensuing persons
in this list, to have been wicked and pernicious councellors,
aiders, and assisters against the Commonality in these our
civil commotions. And we do further demand that the Said
Sir William Berkeley with all the persons in this list forthwith
delivered up or surrender themselves within four days after
this notice hereof, or otherwise we declare as forthwith:
That in whatsoever place, house, or ship, any of said persons
shall reside, be his, or protected, we declare the owner, master,
or inhabitor or said place traitors to the people, and the estates
of the aforesaid persons are to be confiscated, and this we the
Commons of Virginia do declare, desiring a firm union among
ourselves that we may jointly and with one accord defend
ourselves against the common enemy, and let not the faults of
the guilty be reproach for the innocent, or
the faults or crimes of our oppressors divide and separate us
who have suffered by their oppressions.
— Nathaniel Bacon General by Consent of the People
Gottlieb Mittelberger: On the Misfortune
of Indentured Servants (1754)
Indentured, or bonded, servants were an important source of
labor in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century America. The term
generally refers to immigrants who, in return for passage from
Europe to America, had bound themselves to work in America for a
number of years, after which time they would become completely free.
The practice was closely related to the tradition of apprenticeship, in
which a youth was assigned to work for a master in a certain trade
and in return was taught the skills of the trade.
Convicts were another important source of colonial labor; thousands
of English criminals were sentenced to labor in the colonies for a
specified period, after which time they were freed.
Gottlieb Mittelberger came to Pennsylvania from Germany in
1750. He returned to Europe four years later. Mittelberger’s own
fortunes were not so bleak as those of his shipmates. Mittelberger
served as a schoolmaster and organist in Philadelphia for three years.
He returned to Germany in 1754. Consider Miittelberger’s plight
and reflect upon how indentured servitude reveals a certain class
structure in the colonies. How might such a “set-up” pose problems
for the landed elite?
Both in Rotterdam and in Amsterdam the people are packed
densely, like herrings so to say, in the large sea-vessels. One
person receives a place of scarcely 2 feet width and 6 feet
length in the bedstead, while many a ship carries four to six
hundred souls; not to mention the innumerable implements,
tools, provisions, water-barrels and other things which likewise
occupy much space.
On account of contrary winds it takes the ships sometimes 2, 3
and 4 weeks to make the trip from Holland to England. But
when the wind is good, they get there in 8 days or even sooner.
Everything is examined there and the custom-duties paid, whence
it comes that the ships ride there 8, 10 to 14 days and even longer
at anchor, till they have taken in their full cargoes. During that
time every one is compelled to spend his last remaining money
and to consume his little stock of provisions which had been
reserved for the sea; so that most passengers, finding themselves
on the ocean where they would be in greater need of them, must
greatly suffer from hunger and want. Many suffer want already
on the water between Holland and Old England.
When the ships have for the last time weighed their anchors
near the city of Kaupp [Cowes] in Old England, the real misery
begins with the long voyage. For from there the ships, unless
they have good wind, must often sail 8, 9, 10 to 12 weeks before
they reach Philadelphia. But even with the best wind the voyage
lasts 7 weeks.
21
But during the voyage there is on board these ships terrible
misery, stench, fumes, horror, vomiting, many kinds of seasickness, fever, dysentery, headache, heat, constipation, boils,
scurvy, cancer, mouth-rot, and the like, all of which come from
old and sharply salted food and meat, also from very bad and
foul water, so that many die miserably.
Add to this want of provisions, hunger, thirst, frost, heat,
dampness, anxiety, want, afflictions and lamentations, together
with other trouble, as . . . the lice abound so frightfully, especially
on sick people, that they can be scraped off the body. The misery
reaches the climax when a gale rages for 2 or 3 nights and days,
so that every one believes that the ship will go to the bottom
with all human beings on board. In such a visitation the people
cry and pray most piteously.
When in such a gale the sea rages and surges, so that the waves
rise often like high mountains one above the other, and often
tumble over the ship, so that one fears to go down with the
ship; when the ship is constantly tossed from side to side by the
storm and waves, so that no one can either walk, or sit, or lie,
and the closely packed people in the berths are thereby tumbled
over each other, both the sick and the well - it will be readily
understood that many of these people, none of whom had been
prepared for hardships, suffer so terribly from them that they do
not survive it.
I myself had to pass through a severe illness at sea, and I best
know how I felt at the time. These poor people often long for
consolation, and I often entertained and comforted them with
singing, praying and exhorting; and whenever it was possible and
the winds and waves permitted it, I kept daily prayer-meetings
with them on deck. Besides, I baptized five children in distress,
because we had no ordained minister on board. I also held
divine service every Sunday by reading sermons to the people;
and when the dead were sunk in the water, I commended them
and our souls to the mercy of God.
Among the healthy, impatience sometimes grows so great and
cruel that one curses the other, or himself and the day of his
birth, and sometimes come near killing each other. Misery and
malice join each other, so that they cheat and rob one another.
One always reproaches the other with having persuaded him
to undertake the journey. Frequently children cry out against
their parents, husbands against their wives and wives against
their husbands, brothers and sisters, friends and acquaintances
against each other. But most against the soul-traffickers.
Many sigh and cry: “Oh, that I were at home again, and if I had to
lie in my pig-sty!” Or they say: “O God, if I only had a piece of good
bread, or a good fresh drop of water.” Many people whimper, sigh
and cry piteously for their homes; most of them get home-sick.
Many hundred people necessarily die and perish in such misery,
22 fieldston american reader
and must be cast into the sea, which drives their relatives, or
those who persuaded them to undertake the journey, to such
despair that it is almost impossible to pacify and console them.
No one can have an idea of the sufferings which women in
confinement have to bear with their innocent children on board
these ships. Few of this class escape with their lives; many a
mother is cast into the water with her child as soon as she is
dead. One day, just as we had a heavy gale, a woman in our
ship, who was to give birth and could not give birth under the
circumstances, was pushed through a loop-hole [port-hole] in
the ship and dropped into the sea, because she was far in the rear
of the ship and could not be brought forward.
Children from 1 to 7 years rarely survive the voyage. I witnessed
misery in no less than 32 children in our ship, all of whom were
thrown into the sea. The parents grieve all the more since their
children find no resting-place in the earth, but are devoured by
the monsters of the sea.
That most of the people get sick is not surprising, because, in
addition to all other trials and hardships, warm food is served
only three times a week, the rations being very poor and very
little. Such meals can hardly be eaten, on account of being so
unclean. The water which is served out on the ships is often
very black, thick and full of worms, so that one cannot drink
it without loathing, even with the greatest thirst. Toward the
end we were compelled to eat the ship’s biscuit which had been
spoiled long ago; though in a whole biscuit there was scarcely a,
piece the size of a dollar that had not been full of red worms and
spiders nests.
At length, when, after a long and tedious voyage, the ships come
in sight of land, so that the promontories can be seen, which the
people were so eager and anxious to see, all creep from below
on deck to see the land from afar, and they weep for joy, and
pray and sing, thanking and praising God. The sight of the land
makes the people on board the ship, especially the sick and the
half dead, alive again, so that their hearts leap within them;
they shout and rejoice, and are content to bear their misery in
patience, in the hope that they may soon reach the land in safety.
But alas!
When the ships have landed at Philadelphia after their long
voyage, no one is permitted to leave them except those who pay
for their passage or can give good security; the others, who cannot
pay, must remain on board the ships till they are purchased,
and are released from the ships by their purchasers. The sick
always fare the worst, for the healthy are naturally preferred and
purchased first; and so the sick and wretched must often remain
on board in front of the city for 2 or 3 weeks, and frequently die,
whereas many a one, if he could pay his debt and were permitted
to leave the ship immediately, might recover and remain alive.
volume i – fall 2007
The sale of human beings in the market on board the ship
is carried on thus: Every day Englishmen, Dutchmen and
High-German people come from the city of Philadelphia and
other places, in part from a great distance, say 20, 30, or 40
hours away, and go on board the newly arrived ship that has
brought and offers for sale passengers from Europe, and select
among the healthy persons such as they deem suitable for their
business, and bargain with them how long they will serve for
their passage money, which most of them are stiff in debt for.
When they have come to an agreement, it happens that adult
persons bind themselves in writing to serve 3, 4, 5 or 6 years for
the amount due by them, according to their age and strength.
But very young people, from 10 to 15 years, must serve till they
are 21 years old.
Many parents must sell and trade away their children like so
many head of cattle; for if their children take the debt upon
themselves, the parents can leave the ship free and unrestrained;
but as the parents often do not know where and to what people
their children are going, it often happens that such parents and
children, after leaving the ship, do not see each other again for
many years, perhaps no more in all their lives.
It often happens that being sold to different purchasers separates
whole families, husband, wife, and children, especially when
they have not paid any part of their passage money.
When a husband or wife has died at sea, when the ship has
made more than half of her trip, the survivor must pay or serve
not only for himself or herself, but also for the deceased.
When both parents have died over half-way at sea, their
children, especially when they are young and have nothing to
pawn or to pay, must stand for their own and their parents’
passage, and serve till they are 21 years old. When one has
served his or her term, he or she is entitled to a new suit of
clothes at parting; and if it has been so stipulated, a man gets
in addition a horse, a woman, a cow.
When a serf has an opportunity to marry in this country, he or
she must pay for each year which he or she would have yet to
serve, 5 to 6 pounds. But many a one who has thus purchased
and paid for his bride, has subsequently repented his bargain,
so that he would gladly have returned his exorbitantly dear
ware, and lost the money besides.
If some one in this country runs away from his master, who
has treated him harshly, he cannot get far. Good provision has
been made for such cases, so that a runaway is soon recovered.
He who detains or returns a deserter receives a good reward.
If such a runaway has been away from his master one day, he
must serve for it as a punishment a week, for a week a month,
and for a month half a year.
John Winthrop:
A Model of Christian Charity
A Model Hereof – 1630
God Almighty, in his most holy and wise providence, hath
so disposed of the condition of mankind, as in all times some
must be rich, some poor, some high and eminent in power and
dignity, others mean and in subjection.
THE REASON HEREOF
First, to hold conformity with the rest of his works. Being
delighted to show forth the glory of his wisdom in the variety
and difference of the creatures; and the glory of his power, in
ordering all these differences for the preservation and good of
the whole; and the glory of his greatness, that as it is the glory
of princes to have many officers, so this great king will have
many stewards, counting himself more honored in dispensing
his gifts to man by man, than if he did it by his own immediate
hands.
Secondly, that he might have the more occasion to manifest
the work of his Spirit. First, upon the wicked, in moderating
and restraining them: so that the rich and mighty should not
eat up the poor, nor the poor and despised rise up against their
superiors and shake off their yoke. Secondly, in the regenerate,
in exercising his graces in them: as in the great ones, their love,
mercy, gentleness, temperance etc.; in the poor and inferior
sort, their faith, patience, obedience etc.
Thirdly, that every man might have need of other, and from
hence they might be all knit more nearly together in the bond
of brotherly affection. From hence it appears plainly that no
man is made more honorable than another, or more wealthy
etc., out of any particular and singular respect to himself,
but for the glory of his creator and the common good of the
creature, man. Therefore God still reserves the property of
these gifts to himself, as Ezekiel, 16.17: he there calls wealth
his gold and his silver; Proverbs, 3.9: he claims their service as
his due: honor the Lord with thy riches etc. All men being thus
(by divine providence) ranked into two sorts, rich and poor,
under the first are comprehended all such as are able to live
comfortably by their own means duly improved; and all others
are poor, according to the former distribution....
This law of the Gospel propounds likewise a difference of
seasons and occasions. There is a time when a Christian must
sell all and give to the poor, as they did in the apostles’ times.
There is a time also when a Christian (though they give not
all yet) must give beyond their ability, as they of Macedonia,
II Corinthians, 8.8. Likewise community of perils calls for
23
extraordinary liberality, and so doth community in some
special service for the church. Lastly, when there is no other
means whereby our Christian brother may be relieved in his
distress, we must help him beyond our ability, rather than tempt
God in putting him upon help by miraculous or extraordinary
means....
Thirdly, the end is to improve our lives to do more service to the
Lord; the comfort and increase of the body of Christ whereof
we are members, that ourselves and posterity may be the better
preserved from the common corruptions of this evil world, to
serve the Lord and work out our salvation under the power and
purity of his holy ordinances.
The definition which the scripture gives us of lave is this: ‘Love is
the bond of perfection.’ First, it is a bond, or ligament Secondly,
it makes the work perfect There is nobody but consists of parts,
and that which knits these parts together, gives the body its
perfection, is love....
From hence we may frame these conclusions. First, all true
Christians are of one body in Christ, I Corinthians, 12.12.27:
“Ye are the body of Christ and members of its parts”
Fourthly, for the means whereby this must be effected. They
are twofold, a conformity with the work and end we aim at.
These we see are extraordinary, therefore we must not content
ourselves with usual ordinary means: whatsoever we did, or
ought to have done, when we lived in England, the same must
we do, and more also, where we go. That which the most in
their churches maintain as a truth in profession only, we must
bring into familiar and constant practice, as in this duty of
love. We must love brotherly without dissimulation, we must
love one another with a pure heart fervently, we must bear one
another’s burdens, we must not look only on our own things,
but also on the things of our brethren. Neither must we think
that the Lord will bear with such failings at our hands as he
cloth from those among whom we have lived, and that for
three reasons.
Secondly, the ligaments of this body which knit together are
love. Thirdly, no body can be perfect which wants it proper
ligament. Fourthly, all the parts of this body, being thus united,
are made so contiguous in a special relation as they must needs
partake of each other’s strength and infirmity, joy and sorrow,
weal and woe, I Corinthians, 12.26: “If one member suffers,
all suffer with it, if one be in honor, all rejoice with it.” Fifthly,
this sensibleness and sympathy of each other’s conditions will
necessarily infuse into each part a native desire and endeavor
to strengthen, defend, preserve and comfort the other...
It rests now to make some application of this discourse by the
present design, which gave the occasion of writing of it. Herein
are four things to be propounded: first, the persons; secondly,
the work; thirdly, the end; fourthly, the means.
First, for the persons. We are a company professing ourselves
fellow members of Christ, in which respect only though were
absent from each other many miles, and had our employments
as far distant, yet we ought to account ourselves knit together
by this bond of love, and live in the exercise of it, if we would
have comfort of our being in Christ. This was notorious in the
practice of the Christians in former times; as is testified of the
Waldenses, from the mouth of one of the adversaries Aeneas
Sylvius “mutuo [ament] pene antequam norunt”-they use[d] to
love any of their own religion even before they were acquainted
with them.
Secondly, for the work we have in hand. It is by a mutual
consent through a special overvaluing providence and a more
than an ordinary approbation of the churches of Christ, to seek
out a place of cohabitation and consortship under a due form
of government both civil and ecclesiastical. In such cases as
this, the care of the public must oversay all private respects, by
which not only conscience, but mere civil policy, cloth bind us.
For it is a true rule that particular estates cannot subsist in the
ruin of the public.
24 fieldston american reader
First, in regard of the more near bond of marriage between him
and us, wherein he hath taken us to be his after a most strict
and peculiar manner, which will make him the more jealous
of our love and obedience. So he tells the people of Israel, you
only have I known of all the families of the earth, therefore
will I punish you for your transgressions. Secondly, because
the Lord will be sanctioned in them that come near him. We
know that there were many that corrupted the service of the
Lord, some setting up altars before his own, others offering
both strange fire and strange sacrifices also; yet there came
no fire from heaven or other sudden judgment upon them, as
did upon Nadab and Abihu, who yet we may think did not sin
presumptuously. Thirdly, when God gives a special commission
he looks to have it strictly observed in every article. When he
gave Saul a commission to destroy Amalek, he indented with
him upon certain articles, and because he failed in one of the
least, and that upon a fair pretense, it lost him the kingdom
which should have been his reward if he had observed his
commission.
Thus stands the cause between God and us. We are entered into
covenant with him for this work, we have taken out a commission,
the Lord hath given us leave to draw our own articles, we have
professed to enterprise these actions, upon these and those ends, we
have hereupon besought him of favor and blessing. Now if the Lord
shall please to hear us, and bring us in peace to the place we desire,
then hath he ratified this covenant and sealed our commission, [and]
will expect a strict performance of the articles contained in it. But if
we shall neglect the observation of these articles, which re the ends
we have propounded, and, dissembling with our God, shall fall
to embrace this present world and prosecute our carnal intentions,
volume i – fall 2007
seeking great things for ourselves and our posterity, the Lord will
surely break out in wrath against us, be revenged of such a perjured
people and make us know the price of the breach of such a covenant.
Now the only way to avoid this shipwreck, and to provide for our
posterity, is to follow the counsel of Micah: to do justly, to love
mercy, to walk humbly with our God. For this end, we must be knit
together in this work as one man, we must entertain each other in
brotherly affection, we must be willing to abridge ourselves of our
superfluities, for the supply of others’ necessities, we must uphold
a familiar commerce together in all meekness, gentleness, patience
and liberality; we must delight in each other, make others’ conditions
our own, rejoice together, mourn together, labor and suffer together,
always having before our eyes our commission and community in the
work, our community as members of the same body. So shall we keep
the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace. The Lord will be our God,
and delight to dwell among us as his own people, and will command
a blessing upon us in all our ways, so that we shall see much more of
his wisdom, power, goodness and truth, than formerly we have been
acquainted with. We shall find that the God of Israel is among us,
when ten of us shall be able to resist a thousand of our enemies: when
he shall make us a praise and glory that men shall say of succeeding
plantations: “the Lord make it like that of New England.” For we
must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill: The eyes of all
people are upon us, so that if we shall deal falsely with our God
in this work we have undertaken, and so cause him to withdraw
his present help from us, we shall be made a story and a by-word
through the world: we shall open the mouths of enemies to speak evil
of the ways of God and all professors for God’s sake. We shall shame
the faces of many of God’s worthy servants, and cause their prayers
to be turned into curses upon us, till we be consumed out of the good
land whither we are going.
And to shut up this discourse with that exhortation of Moses,
that faithfull servant of the Lord, in his last farewell to Israel,
Deuteronomy, 30: beloved, there is now set before us life and good,
death and evil, in that we are commanded this day to love the Lord
our God, and to love one another, to walk in his ways and to keep
his commandments and his ordinance and his laws, and the articles
of our covenant with him, that we may live and be multiplied, and
that the Lord our God may bless us in the land whither we go to
possess it. But if our hearts shall turn away, so that we will not
obey, but shall be seduced, and worship other God-our pleasures and
profits-and serve them , it is propounded unto us this day, we shall
surely perish out of the good land whither we pass over this vast sea
to possess it: Therefore let us choose life, that we and our seed may
live by obeying His voice and cleaving to Him, for He is our life,
and our prosperity.
Jonathan Edwards:
Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God
Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758)
Enfield, Connecticut
July 8, 1741
Application
The use of this awful subject may be for awakening unconverted
persons in this congregation. This that you have heard is the
case of every one of you that are out of Christ. -- That world of
misery, that take of burning brimstone, is extended
abroad under you. There is the dreadful pit of the glowing
flames of the wrath of God; there is hell’s wide gaping mouth
open; and you have nothing to stand upon, nor any thing to
take hold of; there is nothing between you and hell but the
air; it is only the power and mere pleasure of God that holds
you up.
You probably are not sensible of this; you find you are kept
out of hell, but do not see the hand of God in it; but look
at other things, as the good state of your bodily constitution,
your care of your own life, and the means you use for your
own preservation. But indeed these things are nothing; if God
should withdraw his hand, they would avail no more to keep
you from falling, than the thin air to hold up a person that is
suspended in it.
Your wickedness makes you as it were heavy as lead, and to
tend downwards with great weight and pressure towards hell;
and if God should let you go, you would immediately sink and
swiftly descend and plunge into the bottomless gulf, and your
healthy constitution, and your own care and prudence, and
best contrivance, and all your righteousness, would have no
more influence to uphold you and keep you out of hell, than a
spider’s web would have to stop a falling rock. Were it not for
the sovereign pleasure of God, the earth would not bear you
one moment; for you are a burden to it; the creation groans
with you; the creature is made subject to the bondage of your
corruption, not willingly; the sun does not willingly shine
upon you to give you light to serve sin and Satan; the earth
does not willingly yield her increase to satisfy your lusts; nor is
it willingly a stage for your wickedness to be acted upon; the air
does not willingly serve you for breath to maintain the flame
of life in your vitals, while you spend your life in the service of
God’s enemies. God’s creatures are good, and were made for
men to serve God with, and do not willingly subserve to any
other purpose, and groan when they are abused to purposes
so directly contrary to their nature and end. And the world
would spew you out, were it not for the sovereign hand of him
who hath subjected it in hope. There are the black clouds of
25
God’s wrath now hanging directly over your heads, full of the
dreadful storm, and big with thunder; and were it not for the
restraining hand of God, it would immediately burst forth
upon you. The sovereign pleasure of God, for the present, stays
his rough wind; otherwise it would come with fury, and your
destruction would come like a whirlwind, and you would be
like the chaff on the summer threshing floor.
The wrath of God is like great waters that are dammed for
the present; they increase more and more, and rise higher and
higher, till an outlet is given; and the longer the stream is
stopped, the more rapid and mighty is its course, when once it
is let loose. It is true, that judgment against your evil works has
not been executed hitherto; the floods of God’s vengeance have
been withheld; but your guilt in the mean time is constantly
increasing, and you are every day treasuring up more wrath;
the waters are constantly rising, and waxing more and more
mighty; and there is nothing but the mere pleasure of God,
that holds the waters back, that are unwilling to be stopped,
and press hard to go forward. If God should only withdraw his
hand from the flood-gate, it would immediately fly open, and
the fiery floods of the fierceness and wrath of God, would rush
forth with inconceivable fury, and would come upon you with
omnipotent power; and if your strength were ten thousand
times greater than it is, yea, ten thousand times greater than
the strength of the stoutest, sturdiest devil in hell, it would be
nothing to withstand or endure it.
The bow of God’s wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready
on the string, and justice bends the arrow at your heart, and
strains the bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God,
and that of an angry God, without any promise or obligation at
all, that keeps the arrow one moment from being made drunk
with your blood. Thus all you that never passed under a great
change of heart, by the mighty power of the Spirit of God upon
your souls; all you that were never born again, and made new
creatures, and raised from being dead in sin, to a state of new,
and before altogether unexperienced light and life, are in the
hands of an angry God. However you may have reformed your
life in many things, and may have had religious affections, and
may keep up a form of religion in your families and closets, and
in the house of God, it is nothing but his mere pleasure that
keeps you from being this moment swallowed up in everlasting
destruction. However unconvinced you may now be of the
truth of what you hear, by and by you will be fully convinced
of it. Those that are gone from being in the like circumstances
with you, see that it was so with them; for destruction came
suddenly upon most of them; when they expected nothing of
it, and while they were saying, Peace and safety: now they see,
that those things on which they depended for peace and safety,
were nothing but thin air and empty shadows.
The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds
a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you,
26 fieldston american reader
and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like
fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast
into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his
sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes,
than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours. You have
offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did
his prince; and yet it is nothing but his hand that holds you
from falling into the fire every moment. It is to be ascribed to
nothing else, that you did not go to hell the last night; that you
was suffered to awake again in this world, after you closed your
eyes to sleep. And there is no other reason to be given, why you
have not dropped into hell since you arose in the morning, but
that God’s hand has held you up. There is no other reason to
be given why you have not gone to hell, since you have sat here
in the house of God, provoking his pure eyes by your sinful
wicked manner of attending his solemn worship. Yea, there is
nothing else that is to be given as a reason why you do not this
very moment drop down into hell.
O sinner! Consider the fearful danger you are in: it is a great
furnace of wrath, a wide and bottomless pit, full of the fire of
wrath, that you are held over in the hand of that God, whose
wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you, as against
many of the damned in hell. You hang by a slender thread,
with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it, and ready
every moment to singe it, and burn it asunder; and you have
no interest in any Mediator, and nothing to lay hold of to save
yourself, nothing to keep off the flames of wrath, nothing of
your own, nothing that you ever have done, nothing that you
can do, to induce God to spare you one moment.
And let every one that is yet out of Christ, and hanging over
the pit of hell, whether they be old men and women, or middle
aged, or young people, or little children, now hearken to the
loud calls of God’s word and providence. This acceptable year
of the Lord, a day of such great favour to some, will doubtless
be a day of as remarkable vengeance to others. Men’s hearts
harden, and their guilt increases apace at such a day as this, if
they neglect their souls; and never was there so great danger of
such persons being given up to hardness of heart and blindness
of mind. God seems now to be hastily gathering in his elect
in all parts of the land; and probably the greater part of adult
persons that ever shall be saved, will be brought in now in a
little time, and that it will be as it was on the great out-pouring
of the Spirit upon the Jews in the apostles’ days; the election
will obtain, and the rest will be blinded. If this should be the
case with you, you will eternally curse this day, and will curse
the day that ever you was born, to see such a season of the
pouring out of God’s Spirit, and will wish that you had died
and gone to hell before you had seen it. Now undoubtedly it
is, as it was in the days of John the Baptist, the axe is in an
extraordinary manner laid at the root of the trees, that every
tree which brings not forth good fruit, may be hewn down and
cast into the fire.
volume i – fall 2007
Therefore, let every one that is out of Christ, now awake and fly
from the wrath to come. The wrath of Almighty God is now
undoubtedly hanging over a great part of this congregation.
Let every one fly out of Sodom: “Haste and escape for your
lives, look not behind you, escape to the mountain, lest you be
consumed.”
Excerpts from the Testimony of the Trial
of Anne Hutchinson, 1637
Court: This is a woman who has been the breeder and nourisher
of distempers, one Mistress Hutchinson, wife of Mr. William
Hutchinson of Boston, a very honest and peaceable man of
good estate, and the daughter of Mr. Marbury, sometimes a
Preacher in Lincolnshere, a woman of a haughty and fierce
carriage, of nimble wit and active spirit, and a very voluble
tongue, more bold than a man, though in understanding and
judgement, inferior to many women...Indeed it is a wonder
upon what a sudden the whole church of Boston (some few
excepted) were to become her new converts, and infected with
her opinions... and also may profane persons became of her
opinion, for it was a very easy, and acceptable way to heaven, to
see nothing, to have nothing, but wait for Christ to do all...
Hutchinson: Therefore take heed what ye go about do unto me.
You have power over my body, but the Lord Jesus hath power
over my body and soul; neither can you do me any harm, for I
am in the hands of the eternal Jehovah, my Savior. I am at his
appointment, for the bonds of my habitation are cat in heaven,
and not further do I esteem of any mortal man than creatures
in His hand. I fear none but the great Jehovah, which hath
foretold me of these things, and I do verily believe that He
will deliver me out of your hands. Therefore take heed how you
proceed against me; for I know that for this you go about do
unto me, God will ruin you and your posterity.
Mr. Nowell: How do you know that it was God that did reveal
things to you, and not Satan?
Hutchinson: How did Abraham know that it was God that bid
him offer his son, being a breach of the sixth Commandment?
Deputy-Governor Dudley: By an immediate voice.
Hutchinson: So to me by an immediate revelation.
Deputy Governor: How! An immediate revelation!
Hutchinson: By the voice of his own spirit to my soul.
Governor Winthrop: Daniel was delivered by a miracle. Do
you think to be delivered so too?
Hutchinson: I do here speak it before the court. I look that the
Lord should deliver me by his Providence...
Court: Have you countenanced, of will you justify those
seditious practices for which you have been censured here in
this court?
27
Hutchinson: Do you ask me on a point of conscience?
Court: No, your conscience you may keep to yourself, but if
in this cause you shall countenance and encourage those that
transgress the Law, you must be called into question for it, and
that is not for your conscience, but for your practice.
Hutchinson: What have they and I transgressed? The Law of
God?
Court: Yes, the fifth Commandment, which commands us
to honour Father and Mother, which includes all in authority,
but these seditious practices of yours have cast reproach and
dishonor upon the Fathers of the Commonwealth...
Governor Winthrop: The court hath already declared
themselves satisfied with the things you hear, concerning the
troublesomeness of her spirit, and the danger of her course
you hear among us, which is not to be suffered. Therefore, if
it be the mind of the Court, that Mrs. Hutchinson, for these
things that appear before us, is unfit for our society, and if it
be the mind of the Court that she shall be banished out of our
liberties, and imprisoned until she be sent away, let them hold
up their hands.
[All but three hold up their hands.]
Governor Winthrop: All that are contrary minded, hold up
yours.
[Two men hold up their hands.]
Mr. Jennisons: I cannot hold up my hand one way or another,
and I shall give my reason if the Court require it.
Governor Winthrop: Mrs. Hutchinson, you hear the sentence
of the Court. It is that you are banished from our jurisdiction
as being a woman not fit for our society. And you are to be
imprisoned till the Court send you away.
Hutchinson: I desire to know wherefore I am banished.
Governor Winthrop: Say no more. The Court knows wherefore,
and is satisfied.
28 fieldston american reader
Anne Bradstreet 1612—1672: Poems
Anne Bradstreet was the first notable poet in American literature,
an authentic Puritan voice with a simplicity and force rarely found
in her contemporaries. She was born in England, and raised in
comparative luxury on the estate of the Earl of Lincoln, where her
father, Thomas Dudley, was steward (manager of business affairs).
She had a childhood common to Puritan children seized by the force
of Calvinist doctrine, but Thomas Dudley saw to it that his highspirited young daughter was educated beyond the simple household
skills and the lessons in submission often given to women of her time
and station.
At sixteen, she married Simon Bradstreet, a sturdy Puritan and
a graduate of Cambridge University. Two years later, in 1630,
she left England with her husband and her parents on the ship
Arabella, sailing to the Massachusetts Bay Colony. In Massachusetts
her father became one of the Colony’s leaders and succeeded John
Winthrop as Governor. Anne and her husband settled on a farm
near the frontier village of Andover, on the Merrimac River. There
she confronted a primitive life at which her heart rebelled until she
“was convinced it was the way at God and submitted. She became a
dutiful housewife and raised eight children, and, in the most of her
household tasks, stole time to read and write poetry. Verifiers were
common enough in colonial New England, but few were women.
Anne Bradstreet recognized that a Puritan community frowned on
writing as unseemly behavior for a woman, especially the daughter
of the Governor:
I am oblivious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits.
In 1647 her brother-in-law, John Woodbrulge, pastor of the Andover
church, sailed to England taking copies of her poems with him. There,
in 1650, and without her knowledge, they were published under
the title The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America or Several
Poems, Compiled With a Great Variety of Wit and Learning, Full
of Delight . . . By a Gentlewoman of Those Parts. It was the first
published volume of poetry written by a settler in the English
colonies.
The Tenth Muse was obviously imitative, filled with well-worn
poetic stock. In laboring and tedious couplets it dwelt on the vanity
of worldly pleasures, the brevity of life, and resignation to God’s
will. It reflected the influence of the Bible and the translations of the
French poet Guillaume du Bartas (1544—1590), who had decorated
his scriptural epics with an overabundance of strained metaphors
and conceits. When Anne Bradstreet saw her own imperfect poetry
in print, she ca/led it an “ill-formed offspring,” “my rambling brat
in print,” but in London her volume of poems was a success and soon
was listed among “the most venerable books” of the age.
Little is known of the remaining years of her life except that in the
midst of her daily routine of caring for her family in an isolated
volume i – fall 2007
frontier village she revised her early work and composed new poems.
Published posthumously in 1678, they were her best work, showing
in greater depth the spiritual struggles of a Christian “on earth
perplexed,” confronting doubt and skepticism. She had moved from
a concern with historical events, philosophical lore, and fantastic
literary devices borrowed from Quarles, Herbert, and du Bartas,
and she had achieved a simpler, more lyrical poetry expressing a
mind whose emotionalism struggled with the Puritan conscience it
had inherited.
In the eighteenth century her poetry was considered, as Cotton
Mather noted, a “grateful entertainment unto the ingenious.” In the
nineteenth century it was dismissed as merely quaint and curious, a
“relic of the earliest literature of our country.” Today her work stands
with that of Edward Taylor as part of the true poetry of seventeenthcentury New England. She was one of the first women in America
to speak in her own behalf, and her lyrics remained unsurpassed
by an American woman writer for 200 years until the nineteenth
century and the coming of Emily Dickinson.
TO MY DEAR AND LOVING HUSBAND
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persevere
That when we live no more, we may live ever.
THE AUTHOR TO HER BOOK
Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobbling than is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save homespun cloth i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ‘mongst vulgars may’st thou roam.
In critic’s hands beware thou dost not come,
And take thy way where yet thou art not known;
If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.
BEFORE THE BIRTH OF ONE
OF HER CHILDREN
All things within this fading world hath end,
Adversity doth still our joys attend;
No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet,
But with death’s parting blow’ is sure to meet.
The sentence past is most irrevocable,
A common thing, yet oh, inevitable.
How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend,
How soon’t may be thy lot to lose thy friend,
We both are ignorant, yet love bids me
These farewell lines to recommend to thee,
That when that knot’s untied that made us one,
I may seem thine, who in effect am none.
And if I see not half my days that’s due,
What nature would, God grant to yours and you;
The many faults that well you know I have
Let be interred in my oblivious grave;
If any worth or virtue were in me,
Let that live freshly in thy memory
And when thou feel’st no grief, as I no harms,
Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms.
And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains
Look to my little babes, my dear remains.
And if thou love thyself, or loved’st me,
These O protect from step-dame’s’ injury.
And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse,
With some sad sighs honour my absent hearse;
And kiss this paper for thy love’s dear sake,
Who with salt tears this last farewell did take.
29
UPON THE BURNING OF OUR HOUSE
JULY 10th, 1661
In silent night when rest I took
For sorrow near I did not look
I wakened was with thund’ring noise
And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
That fearful sound of “Fire!” and “Fire!”
Let no man know is my desire.
I, starting up, the light did spy,
And to my God my heart did cry
To strengthen me in my distress
And not to leave me succorless.
Then, coming out, beheld a space
The flame consume my dwelling place.
And when I could no longer look,
I blest His name that gave and took,
That laid my goods now in the dust.
Yea, so it was, and so ‘twas just.
It was His own, it was not mine,
Far be it that I should repine;
Then straight I ‘gin my heart to chide,
And did thv wealth on earth abide?
Didst fix thy hope on mold’ring dust?
The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
Raise up thy thoughts above the sky
That dunghill mists away may fly.
Thou hast an house on high erect,
Framed by that mighty Architect,
With glory richly furnished.
Stands permanent though this be fled.
It’s purchased and paid for too
By Him who hath enough to do.
A price so vast as is unknown
Yet by His gift is made thine own.
There’s wealth enough, I need no more.
Farewell, my pelf, farewell my store.
The world no longer let me love,
My hope and treasure lies above.
He might of all justly bereft
But yet sufficient for us left.
When by the ruins oft I past
My sorrowing eyes aside did cast,
And here and there the places spy
Where oft I sat and long did lie:
Here stood that trunk, and there that chest,
There lay that store I counted best.
My pleasant things in ashes lie,
And them behold no more shall I.
Under thy roof no guest shall sit,
Nor at thy table eat a bit.
No pleasant tale shall e’er be told,
Nor things recounted done of old.
No candle e’er shall shine in thee,
Nor bridegroom’s voice e’er heard shall be.
In silence ever shall thou lie,
Adieu, Adieu, all’s vanity.
30 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Edward Taylor: Poems (1642—I729)
Little in the external life of Edward Taylor suggests his achievement
as a poet. He was an orthodox, even conservative, Puritan minister.
He believed in the sinfulness and damnation of man. He believed
in the salvation of an elect few who would be exalted in heaven. He
believed in the redeeming grace of an omnipotent God. He wanted
a church purified of the embellishments of the Roman Catholic and
Anglican liturgies. And, with other educated men of his time, he
accepted the existence of evil spirits, devils, and witches. A godly and
obscure frontier parson in western Massachusetts, he devoted his life
to a vain struggle against the weakening of church discipline and the
decline of the Puritan Way.
Taylor was born in England and grew up during the Puritan
Commonwealth and the Protectorate of Oliver Cromwell. It is possible
that he attended Cambridge University for a short time and served
as a schoolmaster. In his twenties, he left England and emigrated to
Massachusetts, where he entered Harvard College to prepare himself
for the ministry. After graduating in 1671, he accepted a call to
serve as pastor of the church at Westfield, a trading post and frontier
farming village 100 miles west of Boston. There, on the edge of a “vast
and roaring” wilderness, he spent the remaining fifty-eight years of
his life, serving both as minister and as town physician.
His poetry was largely unknown to his contemporaries. Only a
fragment of a single poem was printed in his lifetime. Perhaps because
he feared his poems would be considered too sensual for a clergyman,
Taylor never published the remainder of his writings. As a result, his
poetry was forgotten until his manuscripts were rediscovered in the
Yale University Library and finally published in the 1930’s.
The appearance of his poems, two centuries after his death, revealed
a mind radically different from that commonly ascribed to Puritan
preachers. Their religious views were thought to be stern and sober.
Their few artistic efforts seemed to smother in didactic purpose. But
Taylor had written in the tradition of such metaphysical poets as
Donne and Herbert, expressing divine and elevated ideas in unrelated,
homely terms that were sometimes erotic, even scatological. He had
created elaborate conceits and metaphors that used spinning wheels,
bowling balls, excrement, and insects to give ingenious and often
grotesque expression to his intense emotions.
Taylor thought his poems were “ragged rhymes, “ the product of
a “tattered fancy. “ Some critics have since judged them a botch of
needless archaisms, jigging meter, and clashing images. Others have
found them a frivolous union of lofty themes and earthy diction that
reveal an extravagant sense of sin and display a self- indulgent
emotionalism. Taylor’s best work was not intended as public art but
as a record of his private efforts to confirm a mystical union with
God, and at their best his poems have a tension, richness, and daring
beyond any other colonial American poetry. With their mystical,
even occult, intensity, with their detonating metaphors, and with
their expression of unity in divine diversity, they anticipate the
poetic art of Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman, and they stand
with the finest literature of early America.
HUSWIFERY
Make me, O Lord, Thy spinning wheel complete
Thy Holy Word my Distaff make for me
Make mine Affections Thy Swift Foleys neat
And make my Soul Thy holy Spool to be
My conversation make to be Thy Reel
And reel the yarn thereon spun of Thy Wheel.
Make me Thy Loom then, knit therein this Twine:
And make Thy Holy Spirit, Lord, wind quills:
Then weave the Web Thyself. The yarn is fine.
Thine Ordinances make my Fulling Mills.
Then dye the same in Heavenly Colors Choice,
All pinked with Varnished Flowers of Paradise.
Then clothe therewith mine Understanding, Will,
Affections, Judgment, Conscience, Memory,
My Words, and Actions, that their shine may fill
My ways with glory and Thee glorify.
Then mine apparel shall display before Ye
That I am Cothed in Holy robes for glory..
UPON A SPIDER CATCHING A FLY
Thou sorrow, venom elf. Is this thy play,
To spin a web out of thyself To catch a fly?
For why?
I saw a pettish wasp Fall foul therein,
Whom yet thy whorl pins did not clasp
Lest he should fling
His sting.
But as afraid, remote Didst stand hereat
And with thy little fingers stroke And gently tap
His back.
Thus gently him didst treat Lest he should pet,
And in a froppish waspish heat Should greatly fret
Thy net.
Whereas the silly fly, Caught by its leg,
Thou by the throat took’st hastily, And ‘hind the head
Bite dead.
This goes to pot, that not Nature doth call.
Strive not above what strength bath got, Lest in the brawl
Thou fall.
31
This fray seems thus to us:
Hell’s spider gets
His entrails spun to whipcords thus, And wove to nets
And sets,
To tangle Adam’s race In’s stratagems
To their destructions, spoiled, made base By venom things,
Damned sins.
But mighty, gracious Lord, Communicate
Thy grace to break the cord; afford Us glory’s gate
And state
But oh! the torture, vomit, screechings, groans;
And six weeks’ fever would pierce hearts like stones.
Grief o’er doth flow; and nature fault would find
Were not Thy will my spell, charm, joy, and gem;
That as I said, I say, take, Lord, they’re Thine;
I piecemeal pass to glory bright in them.
I joy, may I sweet flowers for glory breed,
Whether Thou get’st them green, or lets them seed.
We’ll Nightingales sing like, When perched on high
In glory’s cage. Thy Glory bright, and Thankfully,
For Joy.
UPON WEDLOCK AND DEATH OF
CHILDREN
A curious knot God made in paradise, And drew it out
enameled neatly fresh.
It was the true-love knot, more sweet than spice,
And set with all the flowers of grace’s dress.
It’s wedding’s knot, that ne’er can he untied.
No Alexander’s sword can it divide.’
The slips here planted, gay and glorious grow,
Unless an hellish breath do singe their plumes.
Here primrose, cowslips, roses, lillies blow,
With violets and pinks that void perfumes,
Whose beauteous leaves o’erlaid with honey dew..
And chanting birds chirp out sweet music true
When in this knot I planted was, my stock
Soon knotted, and a manly flower outbrake.
And after it my branch again did knot,
Brought out another flower, its sweet-breath’d mate.
One knot gave one tother the tother’s place.
Whence chuckling smiles fought in each other’s face.
But oh! a glorious hand from glory came
Guarded with angels, soon did crop this flower,
Which almost tore the root up of the same,
At that unlooked for, dolesome, darksome hour.
In prayer to Christ perfumed it did ascend,
And angels bright did it to heaven ‘tend
.
But pausing on’t, this sweet perfumed my thought,
Christ would in glory have a flower, choice, prime,
And having choice, chose this my branch forth brought.
Lord, take’t. I thank.Thee, Thou tak’st ought of mine;
It is my pledge in glory; part of me
Is now in it, Lord, glorified with Thee.
But praying o’er my branch, my branch did sprout
And bore another manly flower, and gay,
And after that another sweet broke out,
The which the former hand soon got away.
32 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
The Mayflower Compact
November 11, 1620
The Pilgrims who came on the Mayflower in 1620 accepted the rule
of James I, and the sovereignty of Great Britain. Why then did they
feel a need to write this document? What is the significance of this
document? Who signed it? Who didn’t sign?
In The Name of God, amen. We, whose names are underwritten,
the Loyal Subjects of our dread Sovereign Lord King James,
by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, France, and Ireland,
King, Defender of the Faith, &c. Having undertaken for the
Glory of God, and Advancement of the Christian Faith, and
the Honour of our King and Country, a Voyage to plant the
first colony in the northern Parts of Virginia; Do by these
Presents, solemnly and mutually in the Presence of God and
one another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a
civil Body Politick, for our better Ordering and Preservation,
and Furtherance of the Ends aforesaid; And by Virtue hereof
do enact, constitute, and frame, such just and equal Laws,
Ordinances, Acts, Constitutions, and Offices, from time to
time, as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the
general Good of the Colony; unto which we promise all due
Submission and Obedience. In Witness whereof we have
hereunto subscribed our names at Cape Cod the eleventh of
November, in the Reign of our Sovereign Lord King James of
England, France, and Ireland, the eighteenth and of Scotland,
the fifty-fourth. Anno Domini, 1620.
Mr. William White
Mr. Richard Warren
John Howland
Mr. Stephen Hopkins
Digery Priest
Thomas Williams
Gilbert Winslow
Edmund Margesson
Peter Brown
Richard Bitteridge
George Soule
Edward Tilly
John Tilly
Francis Cooke
Thomas Rogers
Thomas Tinker
John Ridgate
Edward Fuller
Richard Clark
Richard Gardiner
Mr. John Allerton
Thomas English
Edward Doten
Edward Liester
Mr. John Carver
Mr. William Bradford
Mr. Edward Winslow
Mr. William Brewster
Isaac Allerton
Miles Standish
John Alden
John Turner
Francis Eaton
James Chilton
John Craxton
John Billington
Joses Fletcher
John Goodman
Mr. Samuel Fuller
Mr. Christopher Martin
Mr. William Mullins
33
Washington Irving:
Rip Van Winkle
A posthumous writing of Diedrich Knickerbocker
By Woden, God of saxons,
From whence comes Wensday, that is Wodensday,
Truth is a thing that ever I will keep
Unto thylke day in which I creep into
My sepulchre -- Cartwright
The following Tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich
Knick­erbocker, an old gentleman of New York, who was very
curious in the Dutch history of the province, and the manners of
the descendants from its primi­tive settlers. His historical researches,
however, did not lie so much among books as among men; for the
former are lamentably scanty on his favorite topics; whereas he
found the old burghers, and still more their wives, rich in that
legendary lore so invaluable to true history. Whenever, therefore, he
happened upon a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut up in its lowroofed farmhouse under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as
a little clasped volume of black-letter, and studied it with the zeal
of a book-worm.
The result of all these researches was a history of the province during
the reign of the Dutch governors, which he published some years
since. There have been various opinions as to the literary character
of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whit better than it
should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed
was a little questioned on its first-ap­pearance, but has since been
completely established; and it is now admitted into all historical
collections as a book of unquestionable authority.
The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work,
and now that he is dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his
memory to say that his time might have been much better employed
in weightier labors. He, however, was apt to ride his hobby his own
way; and though it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the
eyes of his neighbors, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom
he felt the truest deference and affection; yet his errors and follies
are remembered “more in sorrow than in anger,” and it begins to be
suspected that he never intended to injure or offend. But however
his memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by
many folks whose good opinion is well worth having; particularly
by certain biscuit-bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint his
likeness on their new-year cakes; and have thus given him a chance
for immortality, almost equal to being stamped on a Waterloo Medal
or a Queen Anne’s Farthing.
Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember
the Kaatskill Mountains. They are a dismembered branch of
34 fieldston american reader
the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of
the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the
surrounding country. Every change of season, every change
of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some
change in the magical hues and shapes of these moun­tains,
and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as
perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they
are clothed in blue and purple and print their bold outlines
on the clear evening sky; but sometimes when the rest of the
landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors
about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun,
will glow and light up like a crown of glory.
At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have
descried the light smoke curling up from a village whose
shingle-roofs gleam among the trees just where the blue tints
of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer
landscape. It is a little village of great antiquity, having been
founded by some of the Dutch colonists in the early times of
the province, just about the beginning of the government of the
good Peter Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace!),and there were
some of the houses of the original settlers standing within a
few years, built of small yellow bricks brought from Holland,
having latticed windows and gable fronts, surmounted with
weather-cocks.
In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which,
to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weatherbeaten) there lived many years since, while the country was
yet a province of Great Britain, a simple good-natured fellow,
of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of
the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous
days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege
of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the
martial character of his ancestors. I have observed that he was
a simple good-natured man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor,
and an obedient, henpecked husband. Indeed, to the latter
circumstance might be owing that meekness of spirit which
gained him such universal popularity; for those men are most
apt to be obsequious and conciliating abroad who are under
the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are
rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic
tribulation; and a curtain lecture is worth all the sermons
in the world for teaching the virtues of patience and longsuffering. A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects
be considered a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle
was thrice blessed.
Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good
wives of the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took
his part in all family squabbles; and never failed, whenever
they talked those matters over in their evening gossipings, to
lay all the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the
village, too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. He
assisted at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to
volume i – fall 2007
fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts,
witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the
village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on
his skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a thousand
tricks on him with impunity; and not a dog would bark at him
throughout the neighborhood.
The great error in Rip’s composition was an insuperable aversion
to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of
assiduity or perseverance; for he would sit on a wet rock with a
rod as long and heavy as a Tartar’s lance and fish all day without
a murmur even though he should not be encouraged by a single
nibble. He would carry a fowling­piece on his shoulder for hours
together, trudging through woods and swamps and up hill and
down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. He would
never refuse to assist a neighbor, even in the roughest toil, and
was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking Indian
corn, or building stone-fences; the women of the village, too,
used to employ him to run their errands and do such little odd
jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for them. In
a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody’s business but his
own; but as to doing family duty, and keeping his family in
order, he found it impossible.
In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm; it was
the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole country;
every thing about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in spite
of him. His fences were continually falling to pieces; his cow
would either go astray or get among the cabbages; weeds were
sure to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere else; the rain
always made a point of setting in just as he had outdoor work
to do; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away
under his management, acre by acre, until there was little more
left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was
the worst-con­ditioned farm in the neighborhood.
His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged
to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness,
promised to inherit the habits, with the old clothes of his father.
He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his mother’s heels,
equipped in a pair of his father’s castoff galligaskins, which he
had much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her
train in bad weather.
Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals,
of foolish, welloiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat
white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought
or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a
pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in
perfect contentment; but his wife kept continually dinning in
his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was
bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue
was incessantly going, and everything he said or did was sure to
produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one way
of replying to all lectures of that kind, and that, by frequent use,
had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook his
head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always
provoked a fresh volley from his wife; so that he was fain to
draw off his forces, and take to the outside of the house, the
only side which, in truth, belongs to a henpecked husband.
Rip’s sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much
henpecked as his master; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them
as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf with
an evil eye, as the Cause of his master’s going so often astray.
True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he
was as courageous an animal as ever scoured the wood--but
what courage can withstand the ever-during and all-besettling
terrors of a woman’s tongue? The moment Wolf entered the
house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled
between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting
many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least
flourish of a broomstick or ladle, he would fly to the door with
yelping precipitation.
Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years
of matrimony rolled on; a tart temper never mellows with age,
and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener
with constant use. For a long while he used to console himself,
when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual
club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of
the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small
inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of His Majesty George
the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long
lazy summer day, talking listlessly over village gossip, or
telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have
been worth any statesman’s money to have heard the profound
discussions that sometimes took place when, by chance, an old
newspaper fell into their hands from some passing traveller.
How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out
by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper, learned
little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic
word in the dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate
upon public events some months after they had taken place.
The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by
Nicholas Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of
the inn, at the door of which he took his seat from morning
till night, just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in
the shade of a large tree; so that the neighbors could tell the
hour by his movements as accurately as by a sun-dial. It is true
he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly.
His adherents, however (for every great man has his adherents),
perfectly understood him and knew how to gather his opinions.
When anything that was read or related displeased him, he was
observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short,
frequent, and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale
35
the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid
clouds; and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and
letting the fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely
nod his head in token of perfect approbation.
From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length
routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break in
upon the tranquility of the assemblage and call the members
all to naught; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder
himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago,
who charged him outright with encourag­ing her husband in
habits of idleness.
Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair; and his
only alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm and
clamor of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away
into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the
foot of a tree and share the contents of his wallet with Wolf,
with whom he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution.
“Poor Wolf,” he would say, “thy mistress leads thee a dog’s life
of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never
want a friend to stand by thee!” Wolf would wag his tail, look
wistfully in his master’s face, and if dogs can feel pity, I verily
believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.
In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Rip had
unconsciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the
Kaatskill Mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel
shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and reechoed with
the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself,
late in the afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain
herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening
between the trees he could overlook all the lower country for
many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly
Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic
course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a
lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and
at last losing itself in the blue highlands.
On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen,
wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments
from the impend­ing cliffs and scarcely lighted by the reflected
rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this
scene; evening was gradually advanc­ing; the mountains began
to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys; he saw that
it would be dark long before he could reach the village, and
he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the
terrors of Dame Van Winkle.
As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance,
hallooing, “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!” He looked
round, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary
flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have
deceived him, and turned again to descend, when he heard the
same cry ring through the still evening air; “Rip Van Winkle!
Rip Van Winkle! “At the same time Wolf bristled up his back,
and giving a low growl, skulked to his master’s side, looking
fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension
36 fieldston american reader
stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the same direction,
and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and
bending under the weight of something he carried on his back.
He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and
unfrequented place; but supposing it to be someone of the
neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened down to
yield it.
On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity
of the stranger’s appearance. He was a short, square-built old
fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His dress
was of the antique Dutch fashion -- a cloth jerkin strapped
round the waist, several pair of breeches, the outer one of
ample volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides,
and bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout keg,
that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to approach
and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful
of this new acquain­tance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity;
and mutually relieving one another, they clambered up a
narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As
they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals,
like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine,
or rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged
path conducted. He paused for an instant, but supposing it to
be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers
which often take place in mountain heights, he proceeded.
Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow like a small
amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over
the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so
that you only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright
evening cloud. During the whole time Rip and his companion
had labored on in silence; for though the former marvelled
greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor
up this wild mountain, yet there was something strange and
incomprehensible about the unknown, that inspired awe and
checked familiarity.
On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented
themselves. On a level spot in the center was a company of oddlooking personages playing at ninepins. They were dressed in
a quaint outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, others
jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had
enormous breeches of similar style with that of the guide’s. Their
visages, too, were peculiar: one had a large beard, broad face,
and small piggish eyes: the face of another seemed to consist
entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugarloaf
hat, set off with a little red cock’s tail. They all had beards, of
various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be
the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weatherbeaten countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and
hanger, high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and highheeled shoes, with roses in them. The whole group reminded
Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting in the parlor of
volume i – fall 2007
Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson, and which had been
brought over from Holland at the time of the settlement.
What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these
folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained
the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal,
the most melancho­ly party of pleasure he had ever witnessed.
Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise
of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along
the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. As Rip and his
companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from
their play, and stared at him with such fixed, statue-like gaze,
and such strange, uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that his
heart turned within him, and his knees smote together. His
companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large
flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the company. He
obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the liquor in
profound silence, and then returned to their game.
By degrees Rip’s awe and apprehension subsided. He even
ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage,
which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hollands.
He was naturally a thirsty soul and was soon tempted to repeat
the draught. One taste provoked another; and he reiterated
his visits to the flagon so often that at length his senses were
overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually
declined, and he fell into a deep sleep.
On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he
had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes.
It was a bright, sunny morning. The birds were hopping and
twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft,
and breasting the pure mountain breeze. “Surely,” thought Rip,
“I have not slept here all night.” He recalled the occurrences
before he fell asleep -- the strange man with a keg of liquor,
the mountain ravine, the wild retreat among the rocks, the
woebegone party at ninepins, the flagon. “Oh! that flagon! that
wicked flagon!” thought Rip. “What excuse shall I make to
Dame Van Winkle?”
He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, welloiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the
barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock
worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roisterers of
the mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed
him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had
disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or
partridge. He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but
all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no
dog was to be seen.
He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening’s gambol,
and if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and
gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints,
and wanting in his usual activity. “Those mountain beds do not
agree with me,” thought Rip, “and if this frolic should lay me
up with a fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with
Dame Van Winkle.” With some difficulty he got down into
theglen: he found the gully up which he and his companion
had ascended the previous evening; but to his astonishment
a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leaping from
rock to rock, and filling the glen with babbling murmurs.
He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working his
toilsome way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witchhazel, and sometimes tripped up or entangled by the wild
grapevines that twisted their coils or tendrils from tree to tree,
and spread a kind of network in his path.
At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through
the cliffs to the amphitheatre; but no traces of such opening
remained. The rocks presented a high, impenetrable wall, over
which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam,
and fell into a broad, deep basin, black from the shadows of
the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought to
a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog; he was
only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting
high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice;
and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and
scoff at the poor man’s perplexities. What was to be done? The
morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want
of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he
dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to starve among
the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty
firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned
his steps homeward.
As he approached the village he met a number of people, but
none whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he
had thought himself acquainted with everyone in the country
round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to
which he was accustomed. They all stared at him with equal
marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him,
invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this
gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to
his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long!
He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange
children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at
his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized
for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very
village was altered; it was larger and more populous. There
were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those
which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange
names were over the doors—strange faces at the windows-everything was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began
to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not
bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he had left
but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill Mountains. There
37
ran the silver Hudson at a distance. There was every hill and
dale precisely as it had always been. Rip was sorely perplexed.
“That flagon last night,” thought he, “has addled my poor head
sadly!”
It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own
house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every
moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He
found the house gone to decay—the roof fallen in, the windows
shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog
that looked like Wolf was skulking about it.Rip called him by
name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on.
This was an unkind cut indeed. “My very dog,” sighed poor Rip,
“has forgotten me!”
He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van
Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn,
and apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his
connubial fears. He called loudly for his wife and children. The
lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then all
again was silence.
He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village
inn. But it, too, was gone. A large, rickety wooden building
stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them
broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the
door was painted, “The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.”
Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little
Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with
something on the top that looked like a red night-cap, and from
it was fluttering a flag on which was a singular assemblage of
stars and stripes. All this was strange and incomprehensible.
He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King
George, under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe;
but even this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was
changed for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand
instead of a sceptre, the head was decorated with a cocked
hat, and underneath was painted in large characters, General
Washington.
There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none
that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed
changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about
it, instead-of the accus­tomed phlegm and drowsy tranquility.
He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his
broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds
of tobacco smoke instead of idle speeches; or Van Bummel,
the schoolmaster, doling forth the contents of an ancient
newspaper. In place of these, a lean, bilious-looking fellow,
with his pockets full of handbills, was haranguing vehemently
about rights of citizens, elections, members of Congress,
liberty, Bunker’s Hill, heroes of Seventy-six, and other words,
which were a perfect Babylonian jargon to the bewildered Van
Winkle.
The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty
fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and
children at his heels. soon attracted the attention of the tavern
politicians. They crowded around him, eyeing him from head
38 fieldston american reader
to foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and,
drawing him partly aside, inquired “which side he voted?” Rip
stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but bus little fellow
pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear,
whether he was Federal or Democrat. Rip was equally at a loss
to comprehend the question; when a knowing, self-important
old gentleman in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through
the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as
he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one
arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and
sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded
in an austere tone, what brought him to the election with a gun
on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant
to breed a riot in the village.
“Alas! gentlemen,” cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, “I am a poor
quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the King.
God bless him!”
Here a general shout burst from the bystanders. “A Tory! a
Tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! away with him!” It was with
great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat
restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow,
demanded again of the unknown culprit what he came there
for, and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured
him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of
some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern.
“Well, who are they? Name them.”
Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, “Where’s
Nicholas Vedder?”
There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied,
in a thin, piping voice, “Nicholas Vedder! why, he is dead and
gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in
the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that’s rotten
and gone too.”
“Where’s Brom Dutcher?”
“Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; some
say he was killed at the storming of Stony Point. Others say he
was drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony’s Nose. I don’t
know. He never came back again.”
“Where’s Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?”
“He went off to the wars, too, was a great militia general, and
is now in Congress.”
Rip’s heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his
home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world.
Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating such enormous
lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand:
war, Congress, Stony Point; he had no courage to ask after
any more friends, but cried out in despair, “Does nobody here
know Rip Van Winkle?”
“Oh, Rip Van Winkle!” exclaimed two or three, “Oh, to be
sure! that’s Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree.”
Rip looked and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as
he went up the mountain, apparently as lazy and certainly
as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded.
He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or
volume i – fall 2007
another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the
cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name.
“God knows,” exclaimed he, at wit’s end; “I’m not myself. I’m
somebody else. That’s me yonder. No, that’s somebody else
got into my shoes. I was myself last night, but I fell asleep on
the mountain, and they’ve changed my gun, and everything’s
changed, and I’m changed, and I can’t tell what’s my name, or
who I am!”
The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink sig­
nificantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There
was a whisper, also, about securing the gun and keeping the
old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which
the self-important man in the cocked hat retired with some
precipitation. At this critical moment a fresh, comely woman
pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded
man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at
his looks, began to cry. “Hush, Rip,” cried she, “hush, you little
fool; the old man won’t hurt you.
The name of the child, the air of the mother, and tone of her
voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind. What
is your name, my good woman?” asked he.
“Judith Gardenier.”
“And your father’s name?”
“Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it’s twenty
years since he went away from home with his gun, and never
has been heard of since. His dog came home without him; but
whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians,
nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl.”
Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a
faltering voice, “Where’s your mother?”
“Oh, she too died but a short time since; she broke a blood
vessel in a fit of passion at a New England peddler.”
There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The
honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his
daughter and her child in his arms. “I am your father!” cried
he. “Young Rip Van Winkle once--old Rip Van Winkle now!
Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle. All stood amazed
until an old woman, tottering out from among the crowd, put
her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a
moment, exclaimed, “Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle. It
is himself! Welcome home again, old neighbor. Why, where
have you been these twenty long years?”
Rip’s story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had
been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared when they
heard it; some were seen to wink at each other and put their
tongues in their cheeks; and the self-important man in the
cocked hat,who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the
field, screwed down the corners of his mouth and shook his
head—upon which there was a general shaking of the head
throughout the assemblage.
It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter
Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He
was a descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote of
the earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most ancient
inhabitant of the village and well versed in all the wonderful
events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip
at once and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory
manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed
down from his ancestor the historian, that the Kaatskill Moun­
tains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was
affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer
of the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty
years with his crew of the Half Moon; being permitted in this
way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise and keep a guardian
eye upon the river and the great city called by his name. That
his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses
playing at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain; and that he
himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their
balls, like distant peals of thunder.
To make a long story short, the company broke up and returned
to the more important concerns of the election. Rip’s daughter
took him home to live with her; she had a snug, well-furnished
house, and a stout, cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip
recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his
back. As to Rip’s son and heir, who was the ditto of himself,
seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on
the farm, but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to
anything else but his business.
Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found
many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for
wear and tear of time, and preferred making friends among
the rising generation, with whom he soon grew into great
favor. Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at
that happy age when a man can be idle with impunity, he
took his place once more on the bench at the inn door and
was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the village and a
chronicler of the old times “before the war.” It was some time
before he could get into the regular track of gossip or could be
made to comprehend the strange events that had taken place
during his torpor. How that there had been a revolutionary
war, that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England,
and that, instead of being a subject of His Majesty George
the Third, he was now a free citizen of the United States. Rip,
in fact, was no politician; the changes of states and empires
made but little impression on him, but there was one species
of despotism under which he had long groaned, and that was
petticoat government. Happily that was at an end; he had got
his neck out of the yoke of matrimony, and could go in and out
whenever he pleased without dreading the tyranny of Dame
Van Winkle. Whenever her name was mentioned, however, he
39
shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast up his eyes;
which might pass either for an expression of resignation to his
fate, or joy at his deliverance.
He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr.
Doolittle’s hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some
points every time he told it, which was doubtless owing to his
having so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to
the tale I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the
neighborhood but knew it by heart. Some always pretended
to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out
of his head, and that this was one point on which he always
remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost
universal­ly gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear
a thunderstorm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but
they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of
ninepins; and it is a common wish of all henpecked husbands in
the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that
they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle’s
flagon.
Note
The foregoing Tale, one would suspect, had been suggested to Mr.
Knickerbocker by a little German superstition about the Emperor
Frederick der Rothbart, and the Kypphauser mountain: the
subjoined note, however, which he had appended to the tale, shows
that it is an absolute fact, narrated with his usual fidelity.
‘The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many, but
nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity of our old
Dutch settlements to have been very subject to marvellous events
and appearances. Indeed, I have heard many stranger stories than
this, in the villages along the Hudson, all of which were too well
authenticated to admit of a doubt. I have even talked with Rip Van
Winkle myself who, when last I saw him, was a very venerable
old man, and so perfectly rational and consistent on every other
point, that I think no conscientious person could refuse to take this
into the bargain; nay, I have seen a certificate on the subject taken
before a country justice and signed with a cross, in the justice’s own
handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond the possibility of doubt.
“D. K.”
ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be their mother. She dwelt on
the highest peak of the Catskills, and had charge of the doors of day
and night to open and shut them at the proper hour. She hung up the
new moons in the skies, and cut up the old ones into stars. In times of
drought, if properly propitiated, she would spin light summer clouds
out of cobwebs and morning dew, and send them off from the crest
of the mountain, flake by flake, like flakes of carded cotton, to float
in the air; until, dissolved by the heat of the sun, they would fall in
gentle showers, causing the grass to spring, the fruits to ripen, and
the corn to grow an inch an hour. If displeased, however, she would
brew up clouds black as ink, sitting in the midst of them like a bottlebellied spider in the midst of its web; and when these clouds broke,
woe betide the valleys!
In old times, say the Indian traditions, there was a kind of Manitou
or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses of the Catskill
Mountains, and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking all kinds
of evils upon the red men. Sometimes he would assume the form of a
bear, a panther, or a deer, lead the bewildered hunter a weary chase
through tangled forests and among ragged rocks; and then spring off
with a loud ho! ho! leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling
precipice or raging torrent.
The favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a great rock or
cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and, from the flowering
vines which clamber about it, and the wild flowers which abound
in its neighborhood, is known by the name of the Garden Rock. Near
the foot of it is a small cliff. The Indians held this place in great awe,
insomuch that the boldest hunter would not pursue his game within
its precincts. Once upon a time, however, a hunter who had lost his
way, penetrated to the Garden Rock, where he beheld a number of
gourds placed in the crotches of trees. One of these he seized and made
off with it, but in the hurry of his retreat he let it fall among the
rocks, when a great stream gushed forth, which washed him away
and swept him down precipices, where he was dashed to pieces, and
the stream made its way to the Hudson, and continues to flow to the
present day; being the identical stream known by the name of the
Kaaters Kill.
Rip Van Winkle
Postscript
The following are travelling notes from a memorandum-book of Mr.
Knick­erbocker.
The Kaatsberg, or Catskill Mountains, have always been a region
full of fable. The Indians considered them the abode of spirits, who
influenced the weather, spreading sunshine or clouds over the
landscape, and sending good or bad hunting-seasons. They were
40 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Washington Irving:
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent
the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of
the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators the
Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail,
and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed,
there lies a small market-town or rural port, which by some is
called Greensburgh, but which is more generally and properly
known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we
are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent
country, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to
linger about the village tavern on market days. Be that as it
may, I do not vouch for the fact, but merely advert to it, for the
sake of being precise and authentic. Not far from this village,
perhaps about two miles, there is a little valley, or rather lap
of land, among high hills, which is one of the quietest places
in the whole world. A small brook glides through it, with
just murmur enough to lull one to repose; and the occasional
whistle of a quail, or tapping of a woodpecker, is almost the
only sound that ever breaks in upon the uniform tranquillity.
I recollect that, when a stripling, my first exploit in squirrelshooting was in a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades one
side of the valley. I had wandered into it at noon time, when
all nature is peculiarly quiet, and was startled by the roar of
my own gun, as it broke the Sabbath stillness around, and
was prolonged and reverberated by the angry echoes. If ever I
should wish for a retreat, whither I might steal from the world
and its distractions, and dream quietly away the remnant of a
troubled life, I know of none more promising than this little
valley.
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
neighboring 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 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. The whole neighborhood abounds
with local tales, haunted spots, and twilight superstitions; stars
shoot and meteors glare oftener across the valley than in any
other part of the country, and the nightmare, with her whole
nine fold, seems to make it the favorite scene of her gambols.
The dominant spirit, however, that haunts this enchanted
region, and seems to be commander-in-chief of all the powers
of the air, is the apparition of a figure on horseback without a
head. It is said by some to be the ghost of a Hessian trooper,
whose head had been carried away by a cannon-ball, in some
nameless battle during the revolutionary war; and who is ever
and anon seen by the country folk, hurrying along in the
gloom of night, as if on the wings of the wind. His haunts are
not confined to the valley, but extend at times to the adjacent
roads, and especially to the vicinity of a church at no great
distance. Indeed, certain of the most authentic historians of
those parts, who have been careful in collecting and collating
the floating facts concerning this spectre, allege that the body
of the trooper, having been buried in the church-yard, the
ghost rides forth to the scene of battle in nightly quest of his
head; and that the rushing speed with which he sometimes
passes along the Hollow, like a midnight blast, is owing to his
being belated, and in a hurry to get back to the church-yard
before daybreak.
Such is the general purport of this legendary superstition,
which has furnished materials for many a wild story in that
region of shadows; and the spectre is known, at all the country
firesides, by the name of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy
Hollow.
It is remarkable that the visionary propensity I have
mentioned is not confined to the native inhabitants of the
valley, but is unconsciously imbibed by every one who resides
there for a time. However wide awake they may have been
before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little
time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to
grow imaginative- to dream dreams, and see apparitions.
I mention this peaceful spot with all possible laud; for it
is in such little retired Dutch valleys, found here and there
embosomed in the great State of New York, that population,
manners, and customs, remain fixed; while the great torrent of
migration and improvement, which is making such incessant
changes in other parts of this restless country, sweeps by them
unobserved. They are like those little nooks of still water
which border a rapid stream; where we may see the straw and
bubble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly revolving in their
mimic harbor, undisturbed by the rush of the passing current.
Though many years have elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades
of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question whether I should not still find
the same trees and the same families vegetating in its sheltered
bosom.
In this by-place of nature, there abode, in a remote period
of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a
41
worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane; who sojourned, or,
as he expressed it, “tarried,” in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose
of instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of
Connecticut; a State which supplies the Union with pioneers
for the mind as well as for the forest, and sends forth yearly
its legions of frontier woodsmen and country schoolmasters.
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.
His school-house was a low building of one large room,
rudely constructed of logs; the windows partly glazed, and
partly patched with leaves of old copy-books. It was most
ingeniously secured at vacant hours, by a withe twisted in the
handle of the door, and stakes set against the window shutters;
so that, though a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would
find some embarrassment in getting out; an idea most probably
borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery
of an eel-pot. 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 birch tree growing
at one end of it. From hence the low murmur of his pupils’
voices, conning over their lessons, might be heard of a drowsy
summer’s day, like the hum of a beehive; 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. Truth to say, he was a conscientious man,
and ever bore in mind the golden maxim, “Spare the rod and
spoil the child.”- Ichabod Crane’s scholars certainly were not
spoiled.
I would not have it imagined, however, that he was one
of those cruel potentates of the school, who joy in the smart
of their subjects; on the contrary, he administered justice with
discrimination rather than severity; taking the burden off the
backs of the weak, and laying it on those of the strong. Your
mere puny stripling, that winced at the least flourish of the rod,
was passed by with indulgence; but the claims of justice were
satisfied by inflicting a double portion on some little, tough,
wrong-headed, broad-skirted Dutch urchin, who sulked and
swelled and grew dogged and sullen beneath the birch. All
this he called “doing his duty by their parents;” and he never
inflicted a chastisement without following it by the assurance,
so consolatory to the smarting urchin, that “he would remember
42 fieldston american reader
it, and thank him for it the longest day he had to live.”
When school hours were over, he was even the companion
and playmate of the larger boys; and on holiday afternoons
would convoy some of the smaller ones home, who happened
to have pretty sisters, or good housewives for mothers, noted
for the comforts of the cupboard. Indeed it behooved him to
keep on good terms with his pupils. The revenue arising from
his school was small, and would have been scarcely sufficient
to furnish him with daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, and
though lank, had the dilating powers of an anaconda; but 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 neighborhood,
with all his worldly effects tied up in a cotton handkerchief.
That all this might not be too onerous on the purses of his
rustic patrons, who are apt to consider the costs of schooling
a grievous burden, and schoolmasters as mere drones, he had
various ways of rendering himself both useful and agreeable.
He assisted the farmers occasionally in the lighter labors of
their farms; helped to make hay; mended the fences; took the
horses to water; drove the cows from pasture; and cut wood for
the winter fire. He laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity and
absolute sway with which he lorded it in his little empire, the
school, and became wonderfully gentle and ingratiating. He
found favor in the eyes of the mothers, by petting the children,
particularly the youngest; and like the lion bold, which whilom
so magnanimously the lamb did hold, he would sit with a child
on one knee, and rock a cradle with his foot for whole hours
together.
In addition to his other vocations, he was the singingmaster of the neighborhood, and picked up many bright
shillings by instructing the young folks in psalmody. 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. Thus, by divers
little make-shifts in that ingenious way which is commonly
denominated “by hook and by crook,” the worthy pedagogue got
on tolerably enough, and was thought, by all who understood
nothing of the labor of headwork, to have a wonderfully easy
life of it.
The schoolmaster is generally a man of some importance
in the female circle of a rural neighborhood; being considered
volume i – fall 2007
a kind of idle gentlemanlike personage, of vastly superior
taste and accomplishments to the rough country swains, and,
indeed, inferior in learning only to the parson. His appearance,
therefore, is apt to occasion some little stir at the tea-table
of a farmhouse, and the addition of a supernumerary dish of
cakes or sweetmeats, or, peradventure, the parade of a silver
tea-pot. Our man of letters, therefore, was peculiarly happy
in the smiles of all the country damsels. How he would figure
among them in the church-yard, between services on Sundays!
gathering grapes for them from the wild vines that overrun
the surrounding trees; reciting for their amusement all the
epitaphs on the tombstones; or sauntering, with a whole bevy
of them, along the banks of the adjacent mill-pond; while the
more bashful country bumpkins hung sheepishly back, envying
his superior elegance and address.
From his half itinerant life, also, he was a kind of travelling
gazette, carrying the whole budget of local gossip from house
to house; so that his appearance was always greeted with
satisfaction. He was, moreover, esteemed by the women as a
man of great erudition, for he had read several books quite
through, and was a perfect master of Cotton Mather’s history
of New England Witchcraft, in which, by the way, he most
firmly and potently believed.
He was, in fact, an odd mixture of small shrewdness and
simple credulity. His appetite for the marvellous, and his
powers of digesting it, were equally extraordinary; and both
had been increased by his residence in this spellbound region.
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 farmhouse where he happened to
be quartered, every sound of nature, at that witching hour,
fluttered his excited imagination: the moan of the whip-poorwill 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 fire-flies, 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.
Another of his sources of fearful pleasure was, to pass long
winter evenings with the old Dutch wives, as they sat spinning
by the fire, with a row of apples roasting and spluttering along
the hearth, and listen to their marvellous tales of ghosts
and goblins, and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, and
haunted bridges, and haunted houses, and particularly of the
headless horseman, or galloping Hessian of the Hollow, as
they sometimes called him. He would delight them equally
by his anecdotes of witchcraft, and of the direful omens and
portentous sights and sounds in the air, which prevailed in
the earlier times of Connecticut; and would frighten them
woefully with speculations upon comets and shooting stars;
and with the alarming fact that the world did absolutely turn
round, and that they were half the time topsy-turvy!
But if there was a pleasure in all this, while snugly cuddling
in the chimney corner of a chamber that was all of a ruddy
glow from the crackling wood fire, and where, of course, no
spectre dared to show his face, it was dearly purchased by the
terrors of his subsequent walk homewards. What fearful shapes
and shadows beset his path amidst the dim and ghastly glare
of a snowy night!- With what wistful look did he eye every
trembling ray of light streaming across the waste fields from
some distant window!- How often was he appalled by some
shrub covered with snow, which, like a sheeted spectre, beset
his very path!- How often did he shrink with curdling awe at
the sound of his own steps on the frosty crust beneath his feet;
and dread to look over his shoulder, lest he should behold some
uncouth being tramping close behind him!- and how often
was he thrown into complete dismay by some rushing blast,
howling among the trees, in the idea that it was the Galloping
Hessian on one of his nightly scourings!
All these, however, were mere terrors of the night,
phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness; and though he
had seen many spectres in his time, and been more than once
beset by Satan in divers shapes, in his lonely perambulations,
yet daylight put an end to all these evils; and he would have
passed a pleasant life of it, in despite of the devil and all his
works, if his path had not been crossed by a being that causes
more perplexity to mortal man than ghosts, goblins, and the
whole race of witches put together, and that was--a woman.
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. She was withal a little
of a coquette, as might be perceived even in her dress, which
was a mixture of ancient and modern fashions, as most suited
to set off her charms. She wore the ornaments of pure yellow
43
gold, which her great-great-grandmother had brought over
from Saardam; the tempting stomacher of the olden time; and
withal a provokingly short petticoat, to display the prettiest
foot and ankle in the country round.
Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish heart towards the sex;
and it is not to be wondered at, that so tempting a morsel soon
found favor in his eyes; more especially after he had visited her
in her paternal mansion. Old Baltus Van Tassel was a perfect
picture of a thriving, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. He
seldom, it is true, sent either his eyes or his thoughts beyond
the boundaries of his own farm; but within those every thing
was snug, happy, and well-conditioned. He was satisfied with
his wealth, but not proud of it; and piqued himself upon the
hearty abundance, rather than the style in which he lived. His
stronghold was situated on the banks of the Hudson, in one
of those green, sheltered, fertile nooks in which the Dutch
farmers are so fond of nestling. 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 neighboring brook, that bubbled along among alders and
dwarf willows. Hard by the farm-house was a vast barn, that
might have served for a church; every window and crevice of
which seemed bursting forth with the treasures of the farm;
the flail was busily resounding within it from morning to
night; swallows and martins skimmed twittering about the
eaves; and rows of pigeons, some with one eye turned up, as if
watching the weather, some with their heads under their wings,
or buried in their bosoms, and others swelling, and cooing, and
bowing about their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the
roof. Sleek unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and
abundance of their pens; whence sallied forth, now and then,
troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately squadron
of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond, convoying
whole fleets of ducks; regiments of turkeys were gobbling
through the farm-yard, and guinea fowls fretting about it, like
ill-tempered housewives, with their peevish discontented cry.
Before the barn door strutted the gallant cock, that pattern
of a husband, a warrior, and a fine gentleman, clapping his
burnished wings, and crowing in the pride and gladness of
his heart- sometimes tearing up the earth with his feet, and
then generously calling his ever-hungry family of wives and
children to enjoy the rich morsel which he had discovered.
The pedagogue’s mouth watered, as he looked upon this
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 he saw carved out the future sleek side of bacon,
44 fieldston american reader
and juicy relishing ham; not a turkey but he beheld daintily
trussed up, with its gizzard under its wing, and, peradventure,
a necklace of savory sausages; 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 realized his hopes, and presented to him the blooming
Katrina, with a whole family of children, mounted on the top
of a wagon loaded with household 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.
When he entered the house the conquest of his heart was
complete. It was one of those spacious farmhouses, with highridged, but lowly-sloping roofs, built in the style handed
down from the first Dutch settlers; the low projecting eaves
forming a piazza along the front, capable of being closed up
in bad weather. Under this were hung flails, harness, various
utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishing in the neighboring
river. Benches were built along the sides for summer use; and
a great spinning-wheel at one end, and a churn at the other,
showed the various uses to which this important porch might
be devoted. From this piazza the wondering Ichabod entered
the hall, which formed the centre of the mansion and the place
of usual residence. Here, rows of resplendent pewter, ranged
on a long dresser, dazzled his eyes. In one corner
stood a huge bag of wool ready to be spun; in another a quantity
of linsey-woolsey just from the loom; ears of Indian corn, and
strings of dried apples and peaches, hung in gay festoons along
the walls, mingled with the gaud of red peppers; and a door
left ajar gave him a peep into the best parlor, where the clawfooted chairs, and dark mahogany tables, shone like mirrors;
andirons, with their accompanying shovel and tongs, glistened
from their covert of asparagus tops; mock-oranges and conchshells decorated the mantel-piece; strings of various colored
birds’ eggs were suspended above it: a great ostrich egg was
hung from the centre of the room, and a corner cupboard,
knowingly left open, displayed immense treasures of old silver
and well-mended china.
From the moment Ichabod laid his eyes upon these regions of
delight, the peace of his mind was at an end, and his only study
was how to gain the affections of the peerless daughter of Van
volume i – fall 2007
Tassel. In this enterprise, however, he had more real difficulties
than generally fell to the lot of a knight-errant of yore, who
seldom had any thing but giants, enchanters, fiery dragons,
and such like easily-conquered adversaries, to contend with;
and had to make his way merely through gates of iron and
brass, and walls of adamant, to the castle keep, where the lady
of his heart was confined; all which he achieved as easily as a
man would carve his way to the centre of a Christmas pie; and
then the lady gave him her hand as a matter of course. Ichabod,
on the contrary, had to win his way to the heart of a country
coquette, beset with a labyrinth of whims and caprices, which
were for ever presenting new difficulties and impediments;
and he had to encounter a host of fearful adversaries of real
flesh and blood, the numerous rustic admirers, who beset every
portal to her heart; keeping a watchful and angry eye upon
each other, but ready to fly out in the common cause against
any new competitor.
Among these the most formidable was a burly, roaring,
roystering blade, of the name of Abraham, or, according to the
Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van Brunt, the hero of the country
round, which rang with his feats of strength and hardihood.
He was broad-shouldered and double-jointed, with short curly
black hair, and a bluff, but not unpleasant countenance, having
a mingled air of fun and arrogance. From his Herculean frame
and great powers of limb, he had received the nickname of
BROM BONES, by which he was universally known. He was
famed for great knowledge and skill in horsemanship, being
as dexterous on horseback as a Tartar. He was foremost at all
races and cock-fights; and, with the ascendancy which bodily
strength acquires in rustic life, was the umpire in all disputes,
setting his hat on one side, and giving his decisions with an
air and tone admitting of no gainsay or appeal. 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 humor at
bottom. He had three or four boon companions, who regarded
him as their model, and at the head of whom he scoured
the country, attending every scene of feud or merriment for
miles round. In cold weather he was distinguished by a fur
cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox’s tail; and when the folks
at a country gathering descried this well-known crest at a
distance, whisking about among a squad of hard riders, they
always stood by for a squall. Sometimes his crew would be
heard dashing along past the farmhouses at midnight, with
whoop and halloo, like a troop of Don Cossacks; and the old
dames, startled out of their sleep, would listen for a moment
till the hurry-scurry had clattered by, and then exclaim, “Ay,
there goes Brom Bones and his gang!” The neighbors looked
upon him with a mixture of awe, admiration, and good will;
and when any madcap prank, or rustic brawl, occurred in the
vicinity, always shook their heads, and warranted Brom Bones
was at the bottom of it.
This rantipole hero had for some time singled out the
blooming Katrina for the object of his uncouth gallantries, and
though his amorous toyings were something like the gentle
caresses and endearments of a bear, yet it was whispered that
she did not altogether discourage his hopes. Certain it is, his
advances were signals for rival candidates to retire, who felt
no inclination to cross a lion in his amours; insomuch, that
when his horse was seen tied to Van Tassel’s paling, on a
Sunday night, a sure sign that his master was courting, or, as
it is termed, “sparking,” within, all other suitors passed by in
despair, and carried the war into other quarters.
Such was the formidable rival with whom Ichabod Crane
had to contend, and, considering all things, a stouter man than
he would have shrunk from the competition, and a wiser man
would have despaired. He had, however, a happy mixture of
pliability and perseverance in his nature; he was in form and
spirit like a supple-jack- yielding, but tough; though he bent,
he never broke; and though he bowed beneath the slightest
pressure, yet, the moment it was away- jerk! he was as erect,
and carried his head as high as ever.
To have taken the field openly against his rival would have
been madness; for he was not a man to be thwarted in his
amours, any more than that stormy lover, Achilles. Ichabod,
therefore, made his advances in a quiet and gently-insinuating
manner. Under cover of his character of singing-master, he
made frequent visits at the farmhouse; not that he had any
thing to apprehend from the meddlesome interference of
parents, which is so often a stumbling-block in the path of
lovers. Balt Van Tassel was an easy indulgent soul; he loved his
daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man
and an excellent father, let her have her way in everything. His
notable little wife, too, had enough to do to attend to her
housekeeping and manage her poultry; for, as she sagely
observed, ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be
looked after, but girls can take care of themselves. Thus while
the busy dame bustled about the house, or plied her spinningwheel at one end of the piazza, honest Balt would sit smoking
his evening pipe at the other, watching the achievements of a
little wooden warrior, who, armed with a sword in each hand,
was most valiantly fighting the wind on the pinnacle of the
barn. In the meantime, Ichabod would carry on his suit with
the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm, or
sauntering along in the twilight, that hour so favorable to the
lover’s eloquence.
I profess not to know how women’s hearts are wooed and won.
To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration.
Some seem to have but one vulnerable point, or door of access;
while others have a thousand avenues, and may be captured in
a thousand different ways. It is a great triumph of skill to gain
the former, but a still greater proof of generalship to maintain
possession of the latter, for the man must battle for his fortress
45
at every door and window. He who wins a thousand common
hearts is therefore entitled to some renown; but he who keeps
undisputed sway over the heart of a coquette, is indeed a hero.
Certain it is, this was not the case with the redoubtable Brom
Bones; and from the moment Ichabod Crane made his advances,
the interests of the former evidently declined; his horse was no
longer seen tied at the palings on Sunday nights, and a deadly
feud gradually arose between him and the preceptor of Sleepy
Hollow.
ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which he managed with a rope
by way of halter. He came clattering up to the school door with
an invitation to Ichabod to attend a merry-making or “quilting
frolic,” to be held that evening at Mynheer Van Tassel’s; and
having delivered his message with that air of importance, and
effort at fine language, which a negro is apt to display on petty
embassies of the kind, he dashed over the brook, and was seen
scampering away up the hollow, full of the importance and
hurry of his mission.
Brom, who had a degree of rough chivalry in his nature,
would fain have carried matters to open warfare, and have
settled their pretensions to the lady, according to the mode of
those most concise and simple reasoners, the knights-errant
of yore- by single combat; but Ichabod was too conscious of
the superior might of his adversary to enter the lists against
him: he had overheard a boast of Bones, that he would “double
the schoolmaster up, and lay him on a shelf of his own schoolhouse;” and he was too wary to give him an opportunity. There
was something extremely provoking in this obstinately pacific
system; it left Brom no alternative but to draw upon the funds
of rustic waggery in his disposition, and to play off boorish
practical jokes upon his rival. Ichabod became the object of
whimsical persecution to Bones, and his gang of rough riders.
They harried his hitherto peaceful domains; smoked out his
singing school, by stopping up the chimney; broke into the
school-house at night, in spite of its formidable fastenings of
withe and window stakes, and turned every thing topsy-turvy:
so that the poor schoolmaster began to think all the witches in
the country held their meetings there. But what was still more
annoying, Brom took all opportunities of turning him into
ridicule in presence of his mistress, and had a scoundrel dog
whom he taught to whine in the most ludicrous manner, and
introduced as a rival of Ichabod’s to instruct her in psalmody.
All was now bustle and hubbub in the late quiet school-room.
The scholars were hurried through their lessons, without
stopping at trifles; those who were nimble skipped over
half with impunity, and those who were tardy, had a smart
application now and then in the rear, to quicken their speed,
or help them over a tall word. Books were flung aside without
being put away on the shelves, inkstands were overturned,
benches thrown down, and the whole school was turned loose
an hour before the usual time, bursting forth like a legion of
young imps, yelping and racketing about the green, in joy at
their early emancipation.
In this way matters went on for some time, without
producing any material effect on the relative situation of the
contending powers. On a fine autumnal afternoon, Ichabod,
in pensive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty stool whence he
usually watched all the concerns of his little literary realm. In
his hand he swayed a ferrule, that sceptre of despotic power;
the birch of justice reposed on three nails, behind the throne,
a constant terror to evil doers; while on the desk before him
might be seen sundry contraband articles and prohibited
weapons, detected upon the persons of idle urchins; such as
half-munched apples, popguns, whirligigs, fly-cages, and
whole legions of rampant little paper gamecocks. Apparently
there had been some appalling act of justice recently inflicted,
for his scholars were all busily intent upon their books, or slyly
whispering behind them with one eye kept upon the master;
and a kind of buzzing stillness reigned throughout the schoolroom. It was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a negro,
in tow-cloth jacket and trowsers, a round-crowned fragment of
a hat, like the cap of Mercury, and mounted on the back of a
46 fieldston american reader
The gallant Ichabod now spent at least an extra half hour at his
toilet, brushing and furbishing up his best, and indeed only
suit of rusty black, and arranging his looks by a bit of broken
looking-glass, that hung up in the school-house. That he might
make his appearance before his mistress in the true style of a
cavalier, he borrowed a horse from the farmer with whom he
was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutchman, of the name of
Hans Van Ripper, and, thus gallantly mounted, issued forth,
like a knight-errant in quest of adventures. But it is meet I
should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give
some account of the looks and equipments of my hero and
his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-down ploughhorse, that had outlived almost every thing but his viciousness.
He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe neck and a head like
a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and knotted
with burrs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and
spectral; but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in
it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may
judge from the name he bore of Gunpowder. He had, in fact,
been a favorite steed of his master’s, the choleric Van Ripper,
who was a furious rider, and had infused, very probably, some
of his own spirit into the animal; for, old and broken-down as
he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in him than in
any young filly in the country.
Ichabod was a suitable figure for such a steed. He rode with
short stirrups, which brought his knees nearly up to the pommel
of the saddle; his sharp elbows stuck out like grasshoppers’; he
carried his whip perpendicularly in his hand, like a sceptre,
and, as his horse jogged on, the motion of his arms was not
unlike the flapping of a pair of wings. A small wool hat rested
volume i – fall 2007
on the top of his nose, for so his scanty strip of forehead might
be called; and the skirts of his black coat fluttered out almost
to the horse’s tail. Such was the appearance of Ichabod and his
steed, as they shambled out of the gate of Hans Van Ripper,
and it was altogether such an apparition as is seldom to be met
with in broad daylight.
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
neighboring stubble-field.
The small birds were taking their farewell banquets. In the
fullness 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 cockrobin, the favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud
querulous note; and the twittering blackbirds 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 underclothes; 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 in rich piles for the cider-press. Farther on he
beheld 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 he
passed the fragrant buckwheat fields, breathing the odor 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 hand 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 sun gradually wheeled his broad disk down into
the west. The wide bosom of the Tappan Zee lay motionless
and glassy, excepting that here and there a gentle undulation
waved and prolonged the blue shadow of the distant mountain.
A few amber clouds floated in the sky, without a breath of air
to move them. The horizon was of a fine golden tint, changing
gradually into a pure apple green, and from that into the deep
blue of the mid-heaven. A slanting ray lingered on the woody
crests of the precipices that overhung some parts of the river,
giving greater depth to the dark-gray and purple of their rocky
sides. A sloop was loitering in the distance, dropping slowly
down with the tide, her sail hanging uselessly against the mast;
and as the reflection of the sky gleamed along the still water, it
seemed as if the vessel was suspended in the air.
It was toward evening that Ichabod arrived at the castle
of the Herr Van Tassel, which he found thronged with the
pride and flower of the adjacent country. Old farmers, a spare
leathern-faced race, in homespun coats and breeches, blue
stockings, huge shoes, and magnificent pewter buckles. Their
brisk withered little dames, in close crimped caps, longwaisted shortgowns, homespun petticoats, with scissors and
pincushions, and gay calico pockets hanging on the outside.
Buxom lasses, almost as antiquated as their mothers, excepting
where a straw hat, a fine ribbon, or perhaps a white frock, gave
symptoms of city innovation. The sons, in short square-skirted
coats with rows of stupendous brass buttons, and their hair
generally queued in the fashion of the times, especially if they
could procure an eel-skin for the purpose, it being esteemed,
throughout the country, as a potent nourisher and strengthener
of the hair.
Brom Bones, however, was the hero of the scene, having come
to the gathering on his favorite steed Daredevil, a creature,
like himself, full of mettle and mischief, and which no one but
himself could manage. He was, in fact, noted for preferring
vicious animals, given to all kinds of tricks, which kept the
rider in constant risk of his neck, for he held a tractable wellbroken horse as unworthy of a lad of spirit.
Fain would I pause to dwell upon the world of charms that
burst upon the enraptured gaze of my hero, as he entered the
state parlor of Van Tassel’s mansion. Not those of the bevy of
buxom lasses, with their luxurious display of red and white;
but the ample charms of a genuine Dutch country tea-table,
in the sumptuous time of autumn. Such heaped-up platters
of cakes of various and almost indescribable kinds, known
only to experienced Dutch housewives! There was the doughty
doughnut, the tender oly koek, and the crisp and crumbling
cruller; sweet cakes and short cakes, ginger cakes and honey
cakes, and the whole family of cakes. And then there were
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; together with
bowls of milk and cream, all mingled higgledy-piggledy, pretty
47
much as I have enumerated them, with the motherly tea-pot
sending up its clouds of vapor from the midst- Heaven bless
the mark! I want breath and time to discuss this banquet as it
deserves, and am too eager to get on with my story. Happily,
Ichabod Crane was not in so great a hurry as his historian, but
did ample justice to every dainty.
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 splendor.
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!
Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about among his guests with
a face dilated with content and good humor, round and jolly
as the harvest moon. His hospitable attentions were brief, but
expressive, being confined to a shake of the hand, a slap on the
shoulder, a loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to “fall to, and
help themselves.”
And now the sound of the music from the common room, or
hall, summoned to the dance. The musician was an old grayheaded negro, who had been the itinerant orchestra of the
neighborhood for more than half a century. His instrument
was as old and battered as himself. The greater part of the
time he scraped on two or three strings, accompanying every
movement of the bow with a motion of the head; bowing
almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot whenever a
fresh couple were to start.
Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as upon
his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about him was idle;
and to have seen his loosely hung frame in full motion, and
clattering about the room, you would have thought Saint Vitus
himself, that blessed patron of the dance, was figuring before
you in person. He was the admiration of all the negroes; who,
having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from the farm and the
neighborhood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces
at every door and window, gazing with delight at the scene,
rolling their white eye-balls, and showing grinning rows of
ivory from ear to ear. How could the flogger of urchins be
otherwise than animated and joyous? the lady of his heart was
his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in reply to all
his amorous oglings; while Brom Bones, sorely smitten with
love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in one corner.
When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a
knot of the sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel, sat smoking
at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former times, and
48 fieldston american reader
drawing out long stories about the war.
This neighborhood, at the time of which I am speaking, was
one of those highly-favored places which abound with chronicle
and great men. The British and American line had run near it
during the war; it had, therefore, been the scene of marauding,
and infested with refugees, cow-boys, and all kinds of border
chivalry. Just sufficient time had elapsed to enable each storyteller to dress up his tale with a little becoming fiction, and, in
the indistinctness of his recollection, to make himself the hero
of every exploit.
There was the story of Doffue Martling, a large blue-bearded
Dutchman, who had nearly taken a British frigate with an old
iron nine-pounder from a mud breastwork, only that his gun
burst at the sixth discharge. And there was an old gentleman
who shall be nameless, being too rich a mynheer to be lightly
mentioned, who, in the battle of White Plains, being an
excellent master of defence, parried a musket ball with a small
sword, insomuch that he absolutely felt it whiz round the blade,
and glance off at the hilt: in proof of which, he was ready at any
time to show the sword, with the hilt a little bent. There were
several more that had been equally great in the field, not one
of whom but was persuaded that he had a considerable hand in
bringing the war to a happy termination.
But all these were nothing to the tales of ghosts and apparitions
that succeeded. The neighborhood is rich in legendary treasures
of the kind. Local tales and superstitions thrive best in these
sheltered long-settled retreats; but are trampled under foot by
the shifting throng that forms the population of most of our
country places. Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts
in most of our villages, for they have scarcely had time to finish
their first nap, and turn themselves in their graves, before their
surviving friends have travelled away from the neighborhood;
so that when they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they
have no acquaintance left to call upon. This is perhaps the
reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts except in our longestablished Dutch communities.
The immediate cause, however, of the prevalence of
supernatural stories in these parts, was doubtless owing to
the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. There was a contagion in the
very air that blew from that haunted region; it breathed forth
an atmosphere of dreams and fancies infecting all the land.
Several of the Sleepy Hollow people were present at Van
Tassel’s, and, as usual, were doling out their wild and wonderful
legends. Many dismal tales were told about funeral trains, and
mourning cries and wailings heard and seen about the great
tree where the unfortunate Major Andre was taken, and which
stood in the neighborhood. Some mention was made also of
the woman in white, that haunted the dark glen at Raven Rock,
and was often heard to shriek on winter nights before a storm,
having perished there in the snow. The chief part of the stories,
volume i – fall 2007
however, turned upon the favorite spectre of Sleepy Hollow,
the headless horseman, who had been heard several times of
late, patrolling the country; and, it was said, tethered his horse
nightly among the graves in the church-yard.
The sequestered situation of this church seems always to
have made it a favorite haunt of troubled spirits. It stands on a
knoll, surrounded by locust-trees and lofty elms, from among
which its decent whitewashed walls shine modestly forth, like
Christian purity beaming through the shades of retirement. A
gentle slope descends from it to a silver sheet of water, bordered
by high trees, between which, peeps may be caught at the
blue hills of the Hudson. To look upon its grass-grown yard,
where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think
that there at least the dead might rest in peace. On one side
of the church extends a wide woody dell, along which raves
a large brook among broken rocks and trunks of fallen trees.
Over a deep black part of the stream, not far from the church,
was formerly thrown a wooden bridge; the road that led to
it, and the bridge itself, were thickly shaded by overhanging
trees, which cast a gloom about it, even in the daytime; but
occasioned a fearful darkness at night. This was one of the
favorite haunts of the headless horseman; and the place where
he was most frequently encountered. The tale was told of old
Brouwer, a most heretical disbeliever in ghosts, how he met the
horseman returning from his foray into Sleepy Hollow, and
was obliged to get up behind him; how they galloped over bush
and brake, over hill and swamp, until they reached the bridge;
when the horseman suddenly turned into a skeleton, threw old
Brouwer into the brook, and sprang away over the tree-tops
with a clap of thunder.
This story was immediately matched by a thrice marvellous
adventure of Brom Bones, who made light of the galloping
Hessian as an arrant jockey. He affirmed that, on returning
one night from the neighboring village of Sing Sing, he had
been overtaken by this midnight trooper; that he had offered
to race with him for a bowl of punch, and should have won it
too, for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all hollow, but, just
as they came to the church bridge, the Hessian bolted, and
vanished in a flash of fire.
All these tales, told in that drowsy undertone with which
men talk in the dark, the countenances of the listeners only
now and then receiving a casual gleam from the glare of a pipe,
sank deep in the mind of Ichabod. He repaid them in kind
with large extracts from his invaluable author, Cotton Mather,
and added many marvellous events that had taken place in his
native State of Connecticut, and fearful sights which he had
seen in his nightly walks about Sleepy Hollow.
The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered
together their families in their wagons, and were heard
for some time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the
distant hills. Some of the damsels mounted on pillions
behind their favorite swains, and their light-hearted laughter,
mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent
woodlands, sounding fainter and fainter until they gradually
died away- and the late scene of noise and frolic was all silent
and deserted. Ichabod only lingered behind, according to the
custom of country lovers, to have a tete-a-tete with the heiress,
fully convinced that he was now on the high road to success.
What passed at this interview I will not pretend to say, for
in fact I do not know. Something, however, I fear me, must
have gone wrong, for he certainly sallied forth, after no very
great interval, with an air quite desolate and chapfallen.- Oh
these women! these women! Could that girl have been playing
off any of her coquettish tricks?- Was her encouragement of
the poor pedagogue all a mere sham to secure her conquest
of his rival?- Heaven only knows, not I!- Let it suffice to say,
Ichabod stole forth with the air of one who had been sacking
a henroost, rather than a fair lady’s heart. Without looking to
the right or left to notice the scene of rural wealth, on which
he had so often gloated, he went straight to the stable, and
with several hearty cuffs and kicks, roused his steed most
uncourteously from the comfortable quarters in which he was
soundly sleeping, dreaming of mountains of corn and oats, and
whole valleys of timothy and clover.
It was the very witching time of night that Ichabod, heavyhearted and crest-fallen, pursued his travel homewards, along
the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarry Town, and
which he had traversed so cheerily in the afternoon. The hour
was as dismal as himself. Far below him, the Tappan Zee spread
its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there
the tall mast of a sloop, riding quietly at anchor under the land.
In the dead hush of midnight, he could even hear the barking
of the watch dog from the opposite shore of the Hudson; but
it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his distance
from this faithful companion of man. Now and then, too, the
long-drawn crowing of a cock, accidentally awakened, would
sound far, far off, from some farm-house away among the hillsbut it was like a dreaming sound in his ear. No signs of life
occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of
a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog, from a
neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, and turning
suddenly in his bed.
All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had heard in the
afternoon, now came crowding upon his recollection. The night
grew darker and darker; the stars seemed to sink deeper in the
sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid them from his sight.
He had never felt so lonely and dismayed. He was, moreover,
approaching the very place where many of the scenes of the
ghost stories had been laid. In the centre of the road stood
an enormous tulip-tree, which towered like a giant above all
the other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a kind of
landmark. Its limbs were gnarled, and fantastic, large enough
49
to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the
earth, and rising again into the air. It was connected with the
tragical story of the unfortunate Andre, who had been taken
prisoner hard by; and was universally known by the name of
Major Andre’s tree. The common people regarded it with a
mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for
the fate of its ill-starred namesake, and partly from the tales of
strange sights and doleful lamentations told concerning it.
As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to whistle:
he thought his whistle was answered- it was but a blast
sweeping sharply through the dry branches. As he approached
a little nearer, he thought he saw something white, hanging in
the midst of the tree- he paused and ceased whistling; but on
looking more narrowly, perceived that it was a place where the
tree had been scathed by lightning, and the white wood laid
bare. Suddenly he heard a groan- his teeth chattered and his
knees smote against the saddle: it was but the rubbing of one
huge bough upon another, as they were swayed about by the
breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before
him.
About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed
the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly-wooded glen,
known by the name of Wiley’s swamp. A few rough logs, laid
side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. On that side
of the road where the brook entered the wood, a group of oaks
and chestnuts, matted thick with wild grape-vines, threw a
cavernous gloom over it. To pass this bridge was the severest
trial. It was at this identical spot that the unfortunate Andre
was captured, and under the covert of those chestnuts and vines
were the sturdy yeomen concealed who surprised him. This has
ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are
the feelings of the schoolboy who has to pass it alone after
dark.
As he approached the stream his heart began to thump; he
summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a
score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across
the bridge; but instead of starting forward, the perverse old
animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against
the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked
the reins on the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary
foot: it was all in vain; his steed started, it is true, but it was
only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket
of brambles and alder bushes. The schoolmaster now bestowed
both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder,
who dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a
stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness that had nearly
sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a
splashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear
of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of
the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black and
towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom,
50 fieldston american reader
like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller.
The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head with
terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now too late;
and besides, what chance was there of escaping ghost or goblin,
if such it was, which could ride upon the wings of the wind?
Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he demanded
in stammering accents- “Who are you?” He received no reply.
He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice. Still
there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides of the
inflexible Gunpowder, and, shutting his eyes, broke forth with
involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy
object of alarm put itself in motion, and, with a scramble and
a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road. Though
the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of the unknown
might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a
horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of
powerful frame. He made no offer of molestation or sociability,
but kept aloof on one side of the road, jogging along on the
blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright
and waywardness.
Ichabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight
companion, and bethought himself of the adventure of Brom
Bones with the Galloping Hessian, now quickened his steed, in
hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, quickened
his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a
walk, thinking to lag behind- the other did the same. His heart
began to sink within him; he endeavored to resume his psalm
tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and
he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody
and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion, that was
mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for.
On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his
fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and
muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck, on perceiving
that he was headless!- but his horror was still more increased,
on observing that the head, which should have rested on his
shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of the saddle:
his terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks and
blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movement, to
give his companion the slip- but the spectre started full jump
with him. Away then they dashed, through thick and thin;
stones flying, and sparks flashing at every bound. Ichabod’s
flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long
lank body away over his horse’s head, in the eagerness of his
flight.
They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy
Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon,
instead of keeping up it, made an opposite turn, and plunged
headlong down hill to the left. This road leads through a sandy
hollow, shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where it
crosses the bridge famous in goblin story, and just beyond swells
volume i – fall 2007
the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church.
As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskillful rider
an apparent advantage in the chase; but just as he had got half
way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and
he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by the pommel,
and endeavored to hold it firm, but in vain; and had just time to
save himself by clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when
the saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under
foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van
Ripper’s wrath passed across his mind- for it was his Sunday
saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was
hard on his haunches; and (unskillful rider that he was!) he had
much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side,
sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge
of his horse’s backbone, with a violence that he verily feared
would cleave him asunder.
An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes
that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection
of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was
not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dimly glaring
under the trees beyond. He recollected the place where Brom
Bones’s ghostly competitor had disappeared. “If I can but reach
that bridge,” thought Ichabod, “I am safe.” Just then he heard
the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he even
fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick
in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he
thundered over the resounding planks; he gained the opposite
side; and now Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer
should vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone.
Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very
act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored 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 breakfast- 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
which, 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 pair of
corduroy small-clothes; a rusty razor; a book of psalm tunes,
full of dogs’ ears; and a broken pitchpipe. As to the books and
furniture of the school-house, they belonged to the community,
excepting Cotton Mather’s History of Witchcraft, a New
England Almanac, and a book of dreams and fortune-telling;
in which last was a sheet of foolscap much scribbled and blotted
in several fruitless attempts to make a copy of verses in honor
of the heiress of Van Tassel. These magic books and the poetic
scrawl were forthwith consigned to the flames by Hans Van
Ripper; who from that time forward determined to send his
children no more to school; observing, that he never knew any
good come of this same reading and writing. Whatever money
the schoolmaster possessed, and he had received his quarter’s
pay but a day or two before, he must have had about his person
at the time of his disappearance.
The mysterious event caused much speculation at the church
on the following Sunday. Knots of gazers and gossips were
collected in the church-yard, at the bridge, and at the spot
where the hat and pumpkin had been found. The stories of
Brouwer, of Bones, and a whole budget of others, were called
to mind; and when they had diligently considered them all, and
compared them with the symptoms of the present case, they
shook their heads, and came to the conclusion that Ichabod
had been carried off by the galloping Hessian. As he was a
bachelor, and in nobody’s debt, nobody troubled his head any
more about him. The school was removed to a different quarter
of the hollow, and another pedagogue reigned in his stead.
It is true, an old farmer, who had been down to New York
on a visit several years after, and from whom this account
of the ghostly adventure was received, brought home the
intelligence that Ichabod Crane was still alive; that he had
left the neighborhood, partly through fear of the goblin and
Hans Van Ripper, and partly in mortification at having been
suddenly dismissed by the heiress; that he had changed his
quarters to a distant part of the country; had kept school and
studied law at the same time, had been admitted to the bar,
turned politician, electioneered, written for the newspapers,
and finally had been made a justice of the Ten Pound Court.
Brom Bones too, 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 he chose to tell.
The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of
these matters, maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited
51
away by supernatural means; and it is a favorite story often told
about the neighborhood 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
mill-pond. The school-house being deserted, soon fell to decay,
and was reported to be haunted by the ghost of the unfortunate
pedagogue; and the ploughboy, 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.
Diedrich Knickerbocker:
History of New York - Chapter V
Among many Surprising and Curious Matters, the
Unutterable Ponderings of WALTER THE DOUBTER,
the Disastrous Projects of WILLIAM THE TESTY,
and the Chivalric Achievements of PETER THE
HEADSTRONG,
the three Dutch Governors of NEW AMSTERDAM;
being the only Authentic History of the Times that ever
has been, or ever will be Published.
BOOK I, CHAPTER V.
In which the Author puts a mighty Question to the rout, by the
assistance of the Man in the Moon – which not only delivers
thousands of people from great embarrassment, but likewise
concludes this introductory book.
The writer of a history may, in some respects, be likened
unto an adventurous knight, who having undertaken a perilous
enterprize, by way of establishing his fame, feels bound in
honour and chivalry, to turn back for no difficulty nor hardship,
and never to shrink or quail whatever enemy he may encounter.
Under this impression, I resolutely draw my pen and fall to,
with might and main, at those doughty questions and subtle
paradoxes, which, like fiery dragons and bloody giants, beset
the entrance to nay history, and would Erin repulse me from
the very threshold. And at this moment a gigantic question has
started up, which I must take by the beard and utterly subdue,
before I can advance another step in my historick undertaking
– but I trust this will be the last adversary I shall have to contend
with, and that in the next book, I shall be enabled to conduct
my readers in triumph into the body of nay work.
The question which has thus suddenly arisen, is, what right had
the first discoverers of America to land, and take possession
of a country, without asking the consent of its inhabitants, or
yielding them an adequate compensation for their territory?
My readers shall now see with astonishment, how easily I will
vanquish this gigantic doubt, which has so long been the terror
of adventurous writers; which has withstood so many fierce
assaults, and has given such great distress of mind to multitudes
of kind-hearted folks. For, until this mighty question is totally
put to rest, the worthy people of America can by no means
enjoy the soil they inhabit, with clear right and title, and quiet,
unsullied consciences.
The first source of right, by which property is acquired in a
country, is DISCOVERY. For as all mankind have an equal
right to any thing, which has never before been appropriated,
52 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
so any nation, that discovers an uninhabited country, and takes
possession thereof, is considered as enjoying full property, and
absolute, unquestionable empire therein.* [* Grotius. Puffendoff,
b. 4. c. 4, Vattel, b. I. c. 18. et alii. – Irving’s note.]
This proposition being admitted, it follows clearly, that the
Europeans who first visited America, were the real discoverers
of the same; nothing being necessary to the establishment of
this fact, but simply to prove that it was totally uninhabited by
man. This would at first appear to be a point of some difficulty,
for it is well known, that this quarter of the world abounded with
certain animals, that walked erect on two feet, had something
of the human countenance, uttered certain unintelligible
sounds, very much like language, in short, had a marvellous
resemblance to human beings. But the host of zealous and
enlightened fathers, who accompanied the discoverers, for the
purpose of promoting the kingdom of heaven, by establishing
fat monasteries and bishopricks on earth, soon cleared up this
point, greatly to the satisfaction of his holiness the pope, and
of all Christian voyagers and discoverers.
They plainly proved, and as there were no Indian writers arose
on the other side, the fact was considered as fully admitted
and established, that the two legged race of animals before
mentioned, were mere cannibals, detestable monsters, and
many of them giants – a description of vagrants, that since
the times of Gog, Magog and Goliath, have been considered
as outlaws, and have received no quarter in either history,
chivalry or song; indeed, even the philosopher Bacon, declared
the Americans to be people proscribed by the laws of nature,
inasmuch as they had a barbarous custom of sacrificing men,
and feeding upon man’s flesh.
Nor are these all the proofs of their utter barbarism: among
many other writers of discernment, the celebrated Ulloa tells us
“their imbecility is so visible, that one can hardly form an idea
of them different from what one has of the brutes. Nothing
disturbs the tranquillity of their souls, equally insensible to
disasters, and to prosperity. Though half naked, they are as
contented as a monarch in his most splendid array. Fear makes
no impression on them, and respect as little.” – All this is
furthermore supported by the authority of M. Bouguer. “It is
not easy,” says he, “to describe the degree of their indifference
for wealth and all its advantages. One does not well know what
motives to propose to them when one would persuade them to
any service’ It is vain to offer them money, they answer that they
are not hungry.” And Vanegas confirms the whole, assuring us
that “ambition, they have none, and are more desirous of being
thought strong, than valiant. The objects of ambition with us,
honour, fame, reputation, riches, posts and distinctions are
unknown among them. So that this powerful spring of action,
the cause of so much seeming good and real evil in the world
has no power over them. In a word, these unhappy mortals
may be compared to children, in whom the developement of
reason is not completed.”
Now all these peculiarities, though in the unenlightened states
of Greece, they would have entitled their possessors to immortal
honour, as having reduced to practice those rigid and abstemious
maxims, the mere talking about which, acquired certain old
Greeks the reputation of sages and philosophers; – yet were
they clearly proved in the present instance, to betoken a
most abject and brutified nature, totally beneath the human
character. But the benevolent fathers, who had undertaken
to turn these unhappy savages into dumb beasts, by dint of
argument, advanced still stronger proofs; for as certain divines
of the sixteenth century, and among the rest Lullus affirm
– the Americans go naked, and have no beards! – “They have
nothing,” says Lullus, “of the reasonable animal, except the
mask.” –And even that mask was allowed to avail them but
lime, for it was soon found that they were of a hideous copper
complexion – and being of a copper complexion, it was all the
same as if they were negroes – and negroes are black, “and
black” said the pious fathers, devoutly crossing themselves, “is
the colour of the Devil? Therefore so far from being able to
own property, they had no right even to personal freedom, for
liberty is too radiant a deity, to inhabit such gloomy temples.
All which circumstances plainly convinced the righteous
followers of Cortes and Pizarro, that these miscreants had no
title to the soil that they infested – that they were a perverse,
illiterate, dumb, beardless, bare-bottomedblack-seed – mere
wild beasts of the forests, and like them should either be
subdued or exterminated.
From the foregoing arguments therefore, and a host of others
equally conclusive, which I forbear to enumerate, it was dearly
evident, that this fair quarter of the globe when first visited by
Europeans, was a howling wilderness, inhabited by nothing
but wild beasts; and that the trans-atlantic visitors acquired an
incontrovertable property therein, by the right of Discovery.
This right being fully established, we now come to the next,
which is the right acquired by cultivation. “The cultivation of
the soil” we are told “is an obligation imposed by nature on
mankind. The whole world is appointed for the nourishment
of its inhabitants; but it would be incapable of doing it, was it
uncultivated. Every nation is then obliged by the law of nature
to cultivate the ground that has fallen to its share. Those people
like the ancient Germans and modern Tartars, who having
fertile countries, disdain to cultivate the earth, and choose to
live by rapine, are wanting to themselves, and deserve to be
exterminated as savage and pernicious beasts.”* [* Vattel – B.i, ch.
17. See likewise Grotius, Puffendorff, et alii. – Irving’s note.]
Now it is notorious, that the savages knew nothing of
agriculture, when first discovered by the Europeans, but rived
a most vagabond, disorderly, unrighteous life, – rambling from
place to place, and prodigally rioting upon the spontaneous
53
luxuries of nature, without tasking her generosity to yield
them any thing more; whereas it has been most unquestionably
shewn, that heaven intended the earth should be ploughed and
sown, and manured, and laid out into cities and towns and
farms, and country seats, and pleasure grounds, and public
gardens, all which the Indians knew nothing about – therefore
they did not improve the talents providence had bestowed
on them – therefore they were careless stewards – therefore
they had no right to the soil – therefore they deserved to be
exterminated.
It is true the savages might plead that they drew all the benefits
from the land which their simple wants required – they found
plenty of game to hunt, which together with the roots and
uncultivated fruits of the earth, furnished a sufficient variety
for their frugal table; – and that as heaven merely designed
the earth to form the abode, and satisfy the wants of man; so
long as those purposes were answered, the will of heaven was
accomplished. – But this only proves how undeserving they
were of the blessings around them – they were so much the
more savages, for not having more wants; for knowledge is in
some degree an increase of desires, and it is this superiority both
in the number and magnitude of his desires, that distinguishes
the man from the beast. Therefore the Indians, in not having
more wants, were very unreasonable animals; and it was but
just that they should make way for the Europeans, who had
a thousand wants to their one, and therefore would turn
earth to more account, and by cultivating it, more truly fulfil
the will of heaven. Besides – Grotius and Lauterbach, and
Puffendorff and Titius and a host of wise men besides, who
have considered the matter properly, have determined, that the
property of a country cannot be acquired by hunting, cutting
wood, or drawing water in it – nothing but precise demarcation
of limits, and the intention of cultivation, can establish the
possession. Now as the savages (probably from never having
read the authors above quoted) had never complied with any of
these necessary forms, it plainly follows that they had no right
to the soil, but that it was completely at the disposal of the
first comers, who had more knowledge and more wants than
themselves – who would portion out the soil, with churlish
boundaries; who would torture nature to pamper a thousand
fantastic humours and capricious appetites; and who of course
were far more rational animals than themselves. In entering
upon a newly discovered, uncultivated country therefore, the
new comers were but taking possession of what, according
to the aforesaid doctrine, was their own property – therefore
in opposing them, the savages were invading their just fights,
infringing the immutable laws of nature and counteracting the
will of heaven – therefore they were guilty of impiety, burglary
and trespass on the case, – therefore they were hardened
offenders against God and man – therefore they ought to be
exterminated.
But a more irresistible right then either that I have mentioned,
54 fieldston american reader
and one which will be the most readily admitted by my reader,
provided he is blessed with bowels of charity and philanthropy,
is the right acquired by civilization. All the world knows the
lamentable state in which these poor savages were found. Not
only deficient in the comforts of life, but what is still Worse,
most piteously and unfortunately blind to the miseries of their
situation. But no sooner did the benevolent inhabitants of
Europe behold their sad condition than they immediately went
to work to ameliorate and improve it. They introduced among
them the comforts of life, consisting of rum, gin and brandy –
and it is astonishing to read how soon the poor savages learnt to
estimate these blessings – they likewise made known to them
a thousand remedies, by which the most inveterate diseases
are alleviated and healed, and that they might comprehend
the benefits and enjoy the comforts of these medicines, they
previously introduced among them the diseases, which they
were calculated to cure. By these and a variety of other methods
was the condition of these poor savages, wonderfully improved;
they acquired a thousand wants, of which they had before been
ignorant, and as he has most sources of happiness, who has
most wants to be gratified, they were doubtlessly rendered a
much happier race of beings.
But the most important branch of civilization, and which has
most strenuously been extolled, by the zealous and pious fathers
of the Roman Church, is the introduction of the Christian
faith. It was truly a sight that might well inspire horror, to
behold these savages, stumbling among the dark mountains of
paganism, and guilty of the most horrible ignorance of religion.
It is true, they neither stole nor defrauded, they were sober,
frugal, continent, and faithful to their word; but though they
acted right habitually, k was all in vain, unless they acted so
from precept. The new comers therefore used every method, to
induce them to embrace and practice the true religion – except
that of setting them the example.
But notwithstanding all these complicated labours for their
good, such was the unparalleled obstinacy of these stubborn
wretches, that they ungratefully refused, to acknowledge the
strangers as their benefactors, and persisted in disbelieving
the doctrines they endeavoured to inculcate; most insolently
alledging, that from their conduct, the advocates of Christianity
did not seem to believe in it themselves. Was not this too
much for human patience? – would not one suppose, that the
foreign emigrants from Europe, provoked at their incredulity
and discouraged by their stiff-necked obstinacy, would forever
have abandoned their shores, and consigned them to their
original ignorance and misery? – But no – so zealous were
they to effect the temporal comfort and eternal salvation of
these pagan infidels, that they even proceeded from the milder
means of persuasion, to the more painful and troublesome
one of persecution – Let loose among them, whole troops
of fiery monks and furious blood-hounds – purified them by
fire and sword, by stake and faggot; in consequence of which
volume i – fall 2007
indefatigable measures, the cause of Christian love and charity
were so rapidly advanced, that in a yen, few years, not one fifth
of the number of unbelievers existed in South America, that
were found there at the time of its discovery.
Nor did the other methods of civilization remain uninforced.
The Indians improved daily and wonderfully by their
intercourse with the whites. They took to drinking rum, and
making bargains. They learned to cheat, to lie, to swear, to
gamble, to quarrel, to cut each others throats, in short, to excel
in all the accomplishments that had originally marked the
superiority of their Christian Visitors. And such a surprising
aptitude have they shewn for these acquirements, that there is
very little doubt that in a century more, provided they survive
so long, the irresistible effects of civilization; they will equal
in knowledge, refinement, knavery, and debauchery, the most
enlightened, civilized and orthodox nations of Europe.
What stronger right need the European settlers advance to
the country than this. Have not whole nations of uninformed
savages been made acquainted with a thousand imperious
wants and indispensible comforts of which they were before
wholly ignorant – Have they not been literally;,, hunted and
smoked out of the dens and lurking places of ignorance and
infidelity, and absolutely scourged into the right path. Have
not the temporal things, the vain baubles and filthy lucre of this
world, which were too apt to engage their worldly and selfish
thoughts, been benevolently taken from them and have they
not in lieu thereof, been taught to set their affections on things
above – And finally, to use the words of a reverend Spanish
father, in a letter to his superior in Spain – “Can any one have
the presumption to say, that these savage Pagans, have yielded
any thing more than an inconsiderable recompense to their
benefactors; in surrendering to them a little pitiful tract of this
dirty sublunary planet, in exchange for a glorious inheritance
in the kingdom of Heaven!”
Here then are three complete and undeniable sources of right
established, any one of which was more than ample to establish
a property in the newly discovered regions of America. Now,
so it has happened in certain parts of this delightful quarter of
the globe, that the right of discovery has been so strenuously
asserted – the influence of cultivation so industriously extended,
and the progress of salvation and civilization so zealously
prosecuted, that, what with their attendant wars, persecutions,
oppressions, diseases, and other partial evils that often hang on
the skirts of great benefits – the savage aborigines have, some
how or another, been utterly annihilated – and this all at once
brings me to a fourth right, which is worth all the others put
together – For the original claimants to the soil being all dead
and buried, and no one remaining to inherit or dispute the
soil, the Spaniards as the next immediate occupants entered
upon the possession, as clearly as the hang-man succeeds to
the clothes of the malefactor – and as they have Blackstone,*
[*Black. Com. B. II, c. i. – Irving’s note.] and all the learned
expounders of the law on their side, they may set all actions of
ejectment at defiance – and this last right may be entitled, the
RIGHT BY EXTERMINATION, or in other words, the
RIGHT BY GUNPOWDER.
But lest any scruples of conscience should remain on this head,
and to settle the question of right forever, his holiness Pope
Alexander VI, issued one of those mighty bulls, which bear
down reason, argument and every thing before them; by which
he generously granted the newly discovered quarter of the globe,
to the Spaniards and Portuguese; who, thus having law and
gospel on their side, and being inflamed with great spiritual
zeal, shewed the Pagan savages neither favour nor affection,
but prosecuted the work of discovery, colonization, civilization,
and extermination, with ten times more fury than ever.
Thus were the European worthies who first discovered America,
clearly entitled to the soil; and not only entitled to the soil,
but likewise to file eternal thanks of these infidel savages,
for having come so far, endured so many perils by sea and
land, and taken such unwearied pains, for no other purpose
under heaven but to improve their forlorn, uncivilized and
heathenish condition – for having made them acquainted with
the comforts of life, such as gin, rum, brandy, and the smallpox; for having introduced among them the light of religion,
and finally – for having hurried them out of the world, to enjoy
its reward!
But as argument is never, so well understood by us selfish
mortals, as when it comes home to ourselves, and as I am
particularly anxious that this question should be put to rest
forever, I will suppose a parallel case, by way of arousing the
candid attention of my readers.
Let us suppose then, that the inhabitants of the moon, by
astonishing advancement in science, and by a profound insight
into that ineffable lunar philosophy, the mere flickerings of
which, have of late years, dazzled the feeble optics, and addled
the shallow brains of the good people of our globe – let us
suppose, I say, that the inhabitants of the moon, by these
means, had arrived at such a command of their energies, such
an enviable state of perfectability, as to controul the elements,
and navigate the boundless regions of space. Let us suppose a
roving crew of these soaring philosophers, in the course of an
ærial voyage’ of discovery among the stars, should chance to
alight upon this outlandish planet.
And here I beg my readers will not have the impertinence to
smile, as is too frequently the fault of volatile readers, when
perusing the grave speculations of philosophers. I am far from
indulging in any sportive vein at present, nor is the supposition
I have been making so wild as many may deem it. It has long
been a very serious and anxious question with me, and many
55
a time, and oft, in the course of my overwhelming cares .and
contrivances for the welfare and protection of this my native
planet, have I lain awake whole nights, debating in my mind
whether it was most probable we should first discover and
civilize the moon, or the moon discover and civilize our
globe. Neither would the prodigy of sailing in the air and
cruising among the stars be a whit more astonishing and
incomprehensible to us, than was the European mystery of
navigating floating castles, through the world of waters, to the
simple savages. We have already discovered the art of coasting
along the ærial shores of our planet, by means of balloons, as
the savages had, of venturing along their sea coasts in canoes;
and the disparity between the former, and the aerial vehides
of the philosophers from the moon, might not be greater, than
that, between the bark canoes of the savages, and the mighty
ships of their discoverers. I might here pursue an endless chain
of very curious, profound and unprofitable speculations; but as
they would be unimportant to my subject, I abandon them to
my reader, particularly if he is a philosopher, as matters well
worthy his attentive consideration.
To return then to my supposition – let us suppose that the
aerial visitants I have mentioned, possessed of vastly superior
knowledge to ourselves; that is to say, possessed of superior
knowledge in the art of extermination – riding on Hypogriffs,
defended with impenetrable armour – armed with concentrated
sun beams, and provided with vast engines, to hurl enormous
moon stones: in short, let us suppose them, if our vanity will
permit the supposition, as superior to us in knowledge, and
consequently in power, as the Europeans were to the Indians,
when they first discovered them. All this is very possible, it is
only our self-sufficiency, that makes us think otherwise; and
I warrant the poor savages, before they had any knowledge
of the white men, armed in all the terrors of glittering steel
and tremendous gun-powder, were as perfectly convinced
that they themselves, were the wisest, the most virtuous,
powerful and perfect of created beings, as are, at this present
moment, the lordly inhabitants of old England, the volatile
populace of France, or even the self-satisfied citizens of this
most enlightened republick.
Let us suppose, moreover, that the aerial voyagers, finding this
planet to be nothing but a howling wilderness, inhabited by us,
poor savages and wild beasts, shall take formal possession of
it, in the name of his most gracious and philosophic excellency,
the man in the moon. Finding however, that their numbers
are incompetent to hold it in complete subjection, on account
of the ferocious barbarity of its inhabitants, they shall take
our worthy President, the King of England, the Emperor of
Hayti, the mighty little Bonaparte, and the great King of
Bantam, and returning to their native planet, shall carry them
to court, as were file Indian chiefs led about as spectacles in the
courts of Europe.
Then making such obeisance as the etiquette of the court
56 fieldston american reader
requires, they shall address the puissant man in the moon, in,
as near as I can conjecture, the following terms:
“Most serene and mighty Potentate, whose dominions extend
as far as eye can reach, who rideth on the Great Bear, useth
the sun as a looking glass and maintaineth unrivalled controul
over tides, madmen and sea-crabs. We thy liege subjects have
just returned from a voyage of discovery, in the course of which
we have landed and taken possession of that obscure little
scurvy planet, which thou beholdest rolling at a distance. The
five uncouth monsters, which we have brought into this august
presence, were once very important chiefs among their fellow
savages; for the inhabitants of the newly discovered globe
are totally destitute of the common attributes of humanity,
inasmuch as they cart’), their heads upon their shoulders,
instead of under their arms – have two eves instead of one
– are utterly destitute of tails, and of a variety of unseemly
complexions, particularly of a horrible white-ness – whereas
all the inhabitants of the moon are pea green!
We have moreover found these miserable savages sunk into a state
of the utmost ignorance and depravity, every man shamelessly
living with his own wife, and rearing his own children,
instead of indulging in that community of wives, enjoined by
the law of nature, as expounded by the philosophers of the
moon. In a word they have scarcely a gleam of true philosophy
among them, but are in fact, utter heretics, ignoramuses and
barbarians. Taking compassion therefore on the sad condition
of these sublunary wretches, we have endeavoured, while we
remained on their planet, to introduce among them the light
of reason – and the comforts of the moon. – We have treated
them to mouthfuls of moonshine and draughts of nitrous oxyde,
which they swallowed with incredible voracity, particularly
the females; and we have likewise endeavoured to instil into
them the precepts of lunar Philosophy. We have insisted upon
their renouncing the contemptible shackles of religion and
common sense, and adoring the profound, omnipotent, and
all perfect energy, and the extatic, immutable, immoveable
perfection. But such was the unparalleled obstinacy of these
wretched savages, that they persisted in cleaving to their wives
and adhering to their religion, and absolutely set at naught the
sublime doctrines of the moon – nay, among other abominable
heresies they even went so far as blasphemously to declare, that
this ineffable planet was made of nothing more nor less than
green cheese!”
At these words, the great man in the moon (being a very
profound philosopher) shall fall into a terrible passion, and
possessing equal authority over things that do not belong to
him, as did while his holiness the Pope, shall forthwith issue
a formidable bull, – specifying, “That – whereas a certain crew
of Lunatics have lately discovered and taken possession of that
little dirty planet, called the earth – and that whereas it is
inhabited by none but a race of two legged animals, that carry
volume i – fall 2007
their heads on their shoulders instead of under their arms;
cannot talk the lunatic language; have two eyes instead of one;
are destitute of tails, and of a horrible whiteness, instead of pea
green – therefore and for a variety of other excellent reasons –
they are considered incapable of possessing any property in the
planet they infest, and the right and title to it are confirmed to
its original discoverers. – And furthermore, the colonists who
are now about to depart to the aforesaid planet, are authorized
and commanded to use every means to convert these infidel
savages from the darkness of Christianity, and make them
thorough and absolute lunatics.”
In consequence of this benevolent bull, our philosophic
benefactors go to work with hearty zeal. They seize upon our
fertile territories, scourge us from our rightful possessions,
relieve us from our wives, and when we are unreasonable
enough to complain, they will turn upon us and say – miserable barbarians! ungrateful wretches! – have we not come
thousands of miles to improve your worthless planet – have
we not fed you with moon shine – have we not intoxicated
you with nitrous-oxide – does not our moon give you light
every night and have you the baseness to murmur, when we
claim a pitiful return for all these benefits? But finding that
we not only persist in absolute contempt to their reasoning and
disbelief in their philosophy, but even go so fir as daringly to
defend our property, their patience shall be exhausted, and
they shall resort to their superior powers of argument – hunt
us with hypogriffs, transfix us with concentrated sun-beams,
demolish our cities with moonstones; until having by main
force, converted us to the true faith, they shall graciously permit
us to exist in the torrid deserts of Arabia, or the frozen regions
of Lapland, there to enjoy the blessings of civilization and the
charms of lunar philosophy – in much the same manner as file
reformed and enlightened savages of this country, are kindly
suffered to inhabit the inhospitable forests of the north, or the
impenetrable wildernesses of South America.
Thus have I clearly proved, and I hope strikingly illustrated, the
right of the early colonists to file possession of this country – and
thus is this gigantic question, completely knocked in the head
– so having manfully surmounted all obstacles, and subdued all
opposition, what remains but that I should forthwith conduct
my impatient and way-worn readers, into the renowned city,
which we have so long been in a manner besieging. – But hold,
before I proceed another step, I must pause to take breath
and recover from the excessive fatigue I have undergone, in
preparing to begin this most accurate of histories. And in
this I do but imitate the example of the celebrated Hans Von
Dunderbottom, who took a start of three miles for the purpose
of jumping over a hill, but having been himself out of breath by
the time he reached the foot, sat himself quietly down for a few
moments to blow, and then walked over it at his leisure.
Phillis Wheatley: Poems
When she was a child, Phillis Wheatley was taken from her home
by African slave traders and brought to America, where she was
sold on the Boston slave market. Because she was shedding her front
teeth, she was judged to be about seven years old. She was bought as
a house servant for Susannah Wheatley, the wife of John Wheatley,
and a Boston tailor. Given the name Phillis Wheatley, she was
kindly treated in the Wheatley home, and under the tutoring of the
Wheatleys’ daughter, Phillis quickly learned to read the Bible and to
write. When she was about thirteen, she began to show a precocious
talent for versifying. The Wheatleys encouraged her to study
astronomy, geography, and history. She learned to read classical
writers, both in translation and in the original. She learned Latin
to be able to read Horace, Virgil, and Ovid. She read the Roman
Terence because he too was born in Africa.
In Boston the achievements of “the sooty prodigy” attracted much
attention, and she was often called upon to write public poems
recording the events of the day. Her first published poem appeared
in 1767, when she was little more than thirteen, and, thereafter,
many of her occasional poems appeared in popular broadside sheets
to be sold on the streets of Boston. In 1773 she accompanied one of
the Wheatleys on a trip to England. In London a collection of thirtynine of her poems was published as Poems on Various Subjects,
Religious and Moral (1773). It was probably the first book ever
published by a black American.
Phillis Wheatley’s work received favorable notice from British critics,
and she became the rage of London. Benjamin Franklin, America’s
colonial agent in Britain, came to visit her. The Lord Mayor of
London presented her with a copy of Paradise Lost, and even
Voltaire read her poems and praised them as “very good English
verse. Shortly afterward she returned to America, where she gained
her freedom, left the Wheatleys, and married John Peters, another
free Negro. Her last years, however, were marred by illness, family
disruptions, and the deaths of her children. She died in Boston in
obscure poverty when she was around thirty.
Phillis Wheatley’s poetic subjects were derived from the Bible, from
celebrated public events, and from the religion she had absorbed
from her pious owners. She dealt with the conventional themes
of neoclassicism and styled her poetic couplets after the Augustan
English poets—Pope’s translation of Homer was her favorite
secular English book. But, though her work was derivative and
limited, and though it relied on a repeated store of classical allusions,
it was remarkable in the eighteenth century when few women in the
colonies could read and write, and it was astonishing for a Negro
slave with no formal education.
Phillis Wheatley was the first important Afro-American poet, but
only rarely does her poetry reveal an awareness of the problems of
blackness. Her apparent concern was not for freedom from slavery
but for abstract liberty, the patriotic theme of the years before the
Revolution. She had firmly adopted the devout religion of New
England and thanked Christians for bringing her from “the heathen
shore, “ the “ dark abodes” of her native Africa, a “ land of errors
and Egyptian gloom. “It was the conventional wisdom of the day
in a New England society comforted by the glib assumption that
slavery brought the blessings of Christianity to pagans. Later, in the
nineteenth century, her work was reprinted. And during the rise of
the abolition movement in New England of the l830’s and l840’s,
her poems were used as strong evidence to bolster the emerging
philanthropic creed that Negroes possessed “intellectual powers by
no means inferior to any other portion of mankind, “ for she herself
had written:
57
Remember, Christians, Negroes black as Cain,
May be refin’d and join th’ angelic train.
ON BEING BROUGHT FROM AFRICA TO
AMERICA
Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
‘Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
“Their color is a diabolic dye.”
Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain.
May be refined and join the angelic train.
TO S. M., A YOUNG AFRICAN PAINTER, ON SEEING
HIS WORKS
To show the lab’ring bosom’s deep intent,
And thought in living characters to paint,
When first thy pencil did those beauties give,
And breathing figures learnt from thee to live,
How did those prospects give my soul delight,
A new creation rushing on my sight?
Still, wound’rous youth! each noble path pursue,
On deathless glories fix thine ardent view;
Still may the painter’s and the poet’s fire
To aid thy pencil, and thy verse conspire!
And may the charms of each seraphic theme
Conduct thy footsteps to Immortal fame!
High to the blissful wonder of the skies
Elate thy soul, and raise thy wishful eyes.
Thrice happy, when exalted to survey
That splendid city, crowned with endless day,
Whose twice six gates on radiant hinges ring:
Celestial Sa/em blooms in endless spring.
Calm and serene thy moments glide along,
And may the muse inspire each future song!
Still, with the sweets of contemplation bless’d,
May peace with balmy wings your soul invest!
But when these shades of time are chased awav,
And darkness ends in everlasting day,
On what seraphic pinions shall we move,
And view the landscapes in the realms above?
There shall thy tongue in heav’nly murmurs flow.
58 fieldston american reader
And there my muse with heav’nly transport glow:
No more to tell of Damon’s tender sighs,
Or rising radiance of Aurora’s eyes,
For nobler themes demand a nobler strain,
And purer language on th’ ethereal plain.
Cease, gentle muse! the solemn gloom of night
Now seals the fair creation from my sight.
HIS EXCELLENCY GENERAL WASHINGTON
Celestial choir! enthron’d in realms of light,
Columbia’s scenes of glorious toils I write.
While freedom’s cause her anxious breast alarms,
She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms.
See mother earth her offspring’s fate bemoan,
And nations gaze at scenes before unknown!
See the bright beams of heaven’s revolving light
involved in sorrows and the veil of night!
The goddess comes, she moves divinely fair,
Olive and laurel binds her golden hair:
Wherever shines this native of the skies,
Unnumber’d charms and recent graces rise.
Muse! bow propitious while my pen relates
How pour her armies through a thousand gates;
As when Eolus heaven’s fair face deforms,
Enwrapped in tempest and a night of storms;
Astonish’d ocean feels the wild uproar,
The refluent surges beat the sounding shore,
Or thick as leaves in Autumn’s golden reign,
Such, and so many, moves the warrior’s train.
In bright array they seek the work of war,
Where high unfurl’d the ensign waves in air.
Shall I to Washington their praise recite?
Enough thou know’st them in the fields of fight.
Thee, first in place and honors--we demand
The grace and glory of thy martial band.
Fam’d for thy valour, for thy virtues more,
Here every tongue thy guardian aid implore!
One century scarce performed its destin’d round,
When Gallic powers Columbia’s fury found;
And so may you, whoever dares disgrace
The land of freedom’s heaven-defended race!
Fix’d are the eyes of nations on the scales,
For in their hopes Columbia’s arm prevails.
Anon Britannia droops the pensive head,
While round increase the rising hills of dead.
Ah! cruel blindness to Columbia’s state!
Lament thy thirst of boundless power too late.
Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side,
Thy every action let the goddess guide.
A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine,
With gold unfading, WASHINGTON! be thine.
volume i – fall 2007
Metacomet Cries Out for Revenge
In the summer of l675, Metacomet, leader of the Wampanoag
Indians, attacked New England settlements to prevent the colonists
from occupying more land. The resulting conflict, called King Philip’s
War (from the name the colonists gave Metocomet), lasted until
1678 and was marked by great brutality on both sides. Estimates of
casualties vary widely, but clearly thousands of settlers and Indians
must hove died. Metacomet himself was ambushed and killed in
1676. The following two readings present the conflict from both the
Indians’ and the settlers’ perspectives. The first reading is composed
of two excerpts from on address in praise of Metacomet delivered
at Boston in 1836 by William Apes, a direct descendant of the
Indian leader. In the first excerpt, Apes reported a speech delivered
by Metacomet to rally his people; in the second excerpt, he described
the Indian leader’s death. What image of Metacomet emerges from
Apes’s speech?
AT COUNCIL IT APPEARS THAT PHILIP made the
following speech to his chiefs, counselors, and warriors:
“Brothers, you see this vast country before us, which the Great
Spirit gave to our fathers and us; you see the buffalo and deer
that now are our support. Brothers, you see these little ones,
our wives and children, who are looking to us for food and
raiment; and you now see the foe before you, that they have
grown insolent and bold; that all our ancient customs are
disregarded; the treaties made by our fathers and us are broken,
and all of us insulted; our council fires put out, our brothers
murdered before our eyes, and their spirits cry to us for revenge.
Brothers, these people from the unknown world will cut down
our groves, spoil our hunting and planting grounds, and drive
us and our children from the graves of our fathers, and our
women and children will be enslaved.”
This famous speech of Philip was calculated to rouse them to
arm, to do the best they could in protecting and defending their
rights. . . . Philip’s young men were eager to do exploits, and
to lead captive their haughty lords. It does appear that every
Indian heart had been lighted up at the council fires, at Philip’s
speech, and that the forest was literally alive with this injured
race. And now town after town fell before them. The Pilgrims
with their forces were ever marching in one direction, while
Philip and his forces were marching in another, burning all
before them, until Middleborough, Taunton, and Dartmouth
[towns in southeastern Massachusetts] were laid in ruins and
forsaken by their inhabitants...
it was now easy surrounding him. Therefore, upon the 12th of
August, Captain Church [settlers’ military leader] surrounded
the swamp where Philip and his men had encamped, early in the
morning, before they had risen, doubtless led on by an Indian
who was either compelled or hired to turn traitor. Church had
now placed his guard so that it was impossible for Philip to
escape without being shot. It is doubtful, however, whether
they would have taken him if he had not been surprised. Suffice
it to say, however, this was the case. A sorrowful morning to
the poor Indians, to lose such a valuable man. When coming
out of the swamp, he was fired upon by an Indian, and killed
dead upon the spot.
I rejoice that it was even so, that the Pilgrims did not have the
pleasure of tormenting him. The white man’s gun missing fire,
he lost the honor of killing the truly great man, Philip. The
place where Philip fell was very muddy. Upon this news, the
Pilgrims gave three cheers; then Church ordering his body to
be pulled out of the mud, while one of those tender-hearted
Christians exclaims, “What a dirty creature he looks like.”...
Captain Church now orders [Philip’s body] to be cut up.
Accordingly, he was quartered and hung up upon four trees; his
head and one hand given to the Indian who shot him, to carry
about to show. At which sight it so overjoyed the Pilgrims, that
they would give him money for it; and in this way obtained a
considerable sum. After which, his head was sent to Plymouth,
and exposed upon a gibbet....exhibited in savage triumph; and
his mangled body denied a resting place in the tomb.
I think that as a matter of honor, that I can rejoice that no
such evil conduct is recorded of the Indians; that they never
hung up any of the white warriors, who were head men. And
we add the famous speech of Dr. Increase Mather [famous
Puritan clergyman]: he says, during the bloody contest, the
pious fathers wrestled hard and long with their God, in prayer,
that he would prosper their arms, and deliver their enemies
into their hands. . . . The Doctor closes thus:
“Nor could they, the Pilgrims, cease crying to the Lord against
Philip, until they had prayed the bullet through his heart.”
However, if this is the way they pray, that is, bullets through
people’s hearts, I hope they will not pray for me; I should rather
be excused.
Philip’s FORCES HAD NOW BECOME VERY SMALL,
so many having been duped away by the whites, and killed, that
59
Mary Rowlinson
The second reading is an excerpt from A True History of the
Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlinson first published
at Boston in 1682. Mary Rowlinson was captured during an attack
on the English settlement of Lancaster, Massachusetts by a band of
Metacomet’s warriors on February 20, 1 676. Her baby, Sarah, was
wounded in the attack held prisoner by the Indians. Rowlinson was
released after a ransom was paid by her husband. Soon afterward
her children were also released. In the following passage, Rowlinson
described crossing the Connecticut River with her captors, entering
an area that lies today in southeastern Vermont. There she met with
Metacomet himself. How does Rowlinson’s and died soon after. Her
two other children were also taken captive, but she seldom saw them
during the 11 weeks she was captive of the Indian leader.
THEN I CAME ASHORE, [THE INDIANS] gathered all
about me, I sitting alone in their midst. I observed they asked
one another questions, and laughed, and rejoiced over their
gains and victories. Then my heart began to fail, and I fell a
weeping which was the first time to my remembrance, that I
wept before them. Although I had met with so much affliction,
and my heart was many times ready to break, yet could I not
shed one tear in their sight, but rather had been all this while
in a maze, and like one astonished. But now I may say as wept
when we remembered Zion [the Promised Land].
There one of them asked me, why I wept, I could hardly tell
what to say. Yet I answered, they would kill me. No, he said,
none will hurt you.
Then came one of them and gave me two spoonfuls of corn
[meal] to comfort me, and another gave me half a pint of pease,
which was more worth than many bushels at another time.
Then I went to see King Philip, he bade me come in and
sit down, and asked me whether I would smoke it (a usual
compliment nowadays amongst saints and sinners) but this no
way suited me.
[New England women often smoked pipes in colonial times.]
For though I had formerly used tobacco, yet I had left it ever
since I was first taken [prisoner]. It seems to be a bait, the devil
lays to make men lose their precious time. I remember with
shame, how formerly, when I had taken two or three pipes, I
was presently ready for another, such a bewitching thing it is.
But I thank God, he has now given me power over it. Surely
there are many who may be better employed than to lie sucking
a stinking tobacco-pipe.
Now the Indians gather their forces to go against NorthHampton [Massachusetts]. Overnight one went about yelling
and hooting to give notice of the design. Whereupon they fell
60 fieldston american reader
to boiling of groundnuts, and parching of corn (as many as had
it) for their provision, and in the morning away they went.
During my abode in this place, Philip spake to me to make a
shirt for his boy, which I did, for which he gave me a shilling. I
offered the money to my master [the Indian who had purchased
Rowlinson from those who captured her], but he bade me keep
it, and with it I bought a piece of horseflesh. Afterwards he
asked me to make a cap for his boy, for which he invited me
to dinner. I went, and he gave me a pancake, about as big as
two fingers; it was made of parched wheat, beaten, and fried
in bear’s grease, but I thought I never tasted pleasanter meat
[food] in my life.
There was a squaw who spake to me to make a shirt for her
[husband], for which she gave me a piece of bear. Another
asked me to knit a pair of stockings, for which she gave me a
quart of pease. I boiled my pease and bear together, and invited
my master and mistress to dinner, but the proud gossip because
I served them both in one dish, would eat nothing, except one
bit that he gave her upon the point of his knife.
volume i – fall 2007
Gustavus Vassa: The Interesting Narrative
of the Life of Oloudah Equiano
Gustavus Vassa (Oloudah Equiano) 1745—180l
Gustavus Vassa’s Narrative reminds us that not all colonial American
writings represent the New World as a pastoral Eden, as a New
English Israel of the chosen people, or (in John Adams’s term) as a
“grand Design in Providence for the illumination of all mankind.”
Vassa’s America is a slave state encountered through “the violence of
the African trader, the pestilential stench of a Guinea [slave] ship,
and the lash and lust of a brutal and unrelenting overseer. Vassa’s
Narrative, published in England, understandably was recognized
on both sides of the Atlantic as a valuable antislavery polemic.
Vassa was born in Benin, west of the lower Niger River in western
Africa. At age eleven he was kidnapped, enslaved, and sold
repeatedly to different African tribal families. Reaching the coast,
he saw “the sea and a slave ship” and succumbed to the most brutal
treatment of his young life as a captive of “nominal Christians”
transporting their human cargo to America. For a time Vassa served
on a Virginia plantation; from there he was sold to a British naval
officer, who helped to educate him. Subsequently he became the slave
of a Philadelphia merchant and worked on vessels bound for the West
Indies. His last owner helped him purchase his freedom, after which
Vassa traveled as a ship’s steward, became converted to Methodism,
and settled permanently in England to work for the abolition of
slavery. In 1790 Vassa presented to Parliament a petition calling for
the end of the slave trade. The Interesting Narrative of the Life of
Oloudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa was published in two volumes
in London in 1789. In the next five years, eight editions of this
successful work appeared. In its own day the Narrative interested
some readers as an exciting travel book, others as an antislavery
tract. In American literature it is a minority report on human rights.
Held for comparison against the Declaration of Independence and
Paine’s Common Sense, it becomes a scathing commentary on the
gulf between American ideals and actualities.
CHAPTER I
The author’s account of his country, and their manners and customs—
Administration of justice—Embrenche—Marriage ceremony, and
public entertainments— Mode of living—Dress—Manufactures
Buildings—Commerce—Agriculture— War and religion—
Superstition of the natives—Funeral ceremonies of the priests or
magicians—Curious mode of discovering poison—Some hints con­
cerning the origin of the author’s countrymen, with the opinions of
different writers on that subject.
I BELIEVE it is difficult for those who publish their own
memoirs to escape the imputation of vanity; nor is this the
only disadvantage under which they labour: it is also for their
misfortune, that what is uncommon is rarely, if ever, believed,
and what is obvious we are apt to turn from with disgust, and
to charge the writer with impertinence. People generally think
those memoirs only worthy to be read or remembered which
abound in great or striking events, those, in short, which in
a high degree excite either admiration or pity: all others they
consign to contempt and oblivion. It is therefore, I confess,
not a little hazardous in a pri­vate and obscure individual,
and a stranger too, thus to solicit the indulgent at­tention of
the public; especially when I own I offer here the history of
neither a saint, a hero, nor a tyrant. I believe there are few
events in my life, which have not happened to many: it is true
the incidents of it are numerous; and, did I con­sider myself an
European, I might say my sufferings were great: but when I
com­pare my lot with that of most o£ my countrymen, I regard
myself as a particular favourite of Heaven, and acknowledge the
mercies of Providence in every oc­currence of my life. If then
the following narrative does not appear sufficiently interesting
to engage general attention, let my motive be some excuse for
its pub­lication. I am not so foolishly vain as to expect from
it either immortality or lit­erary reputation. If it affords any
satisfaction to my numerous friends, at whose request it has
been written, or in the smallest degree promotes the interests
of hu­manity, the ends for which it was undertaken will be fully
attained, and every wish of my heart gratified. Let it therefore
be remembered, that, in wishing to avoid censure, I do not
aspire to praise.
That part of Africa, known by the name of Guinea, to which
the trade for slaves is carried on, extends along the coast above
3400 miles, from the Sene­gal to Angola, and includes a variety
of kingdoms. Of these the most consider­able is the kingdom
of Benen, both as to extent and wealth, the richness and cul­
tivation of the soil, the power of its king, and the number and
warlike disposition of the inhabitants. It is situated nearly under
the line, 87 and extends along the coast about 170 miles, but
runs back into the interior part of Africa to a distance hitherto I
believe unexplored by any traveller; and seems only ter­minated
at length by the empire of Abyssinia, 88 near 1500 miles from
its be­ginning.89 This kingdom is divided into many provinces
or districts: in one of the most remote and fertile of which,
called Eboe, 90 I was born, in the year 1745, in a charming
fruitful vale, named Essaka.9~ The distance of this province
from the capital of Benin and the sea coast must be very
considerable; for I had never heard of white men or Europeans,
nor of the sea: and our subjection to the king of Benin was little
more than nominal; for every transaction of the gov­ernment,
as far as my slender observation extended, was conducted by
the chiefs or elders of the place. The manners and government
of a people who have little commerce with other countries are
generally very simple; and the history of what passes in one
family or village may serve as a specimen of a nation. My fa­
61
ther was one of those elders or chiefs I have spoken of, and
was styled Em­brenche; a term, as I remember, importing the
highest distinction, and signify­ing in our language a mark of
grandeur. This mark is conferred on the person entitled to it, by
cutting the skin across at the top of the forehead, and drawing
it down to the eye‑brows; and while it is in this situation
applying a warm hand, and rubbing it until it shrinks up into
a thick weal across the lower part of the forehead. Most of
the judges and senators were thus marked; my father had long
born it: I had seen it conferred on one of my brothers, and I
was also destined to receive it by my parents. Those Embrenche,
or chief men, decided disputes and punished crimes; for which
purpose they always assembled together. The pro­ceedings
were generally short; and in most cases the law of retaliation
prevailed. I remember a man was brought before my father,
and the other judges, for kid­napping a boy; and, although he
was the son of a chief or senator, he was con­demned to make
recompense by a man or woman slave. Adultery, however,
was sometimes punished with slavery or death; a punishment
which I believe is in­flicted on it throughout most of the nations
of Africa, so sacred among them is the honour of the marriage
bed, and so jealous are they of the fidelity of their wives. Of
this I recollect an instance -- a woman was convicted before
the judges of adultery, and delivered over, as the custom was,
to her husband to be pun­ished. Accordingly he determined to
put her to death: but it being found, just before her execution,
that she had an infant at her breast; and no woman being
prevailed on to perform the part of a nurse, she was spared on
account of the child. The men, however, do not preserve the
same constancy to their wives, which they expect from them;
for they indulge in a plurality, though seldom in more than
two. Their mode of marriage is thus: —both parties are usually
be­trothed when young by their parents, (though I have known
the males to be­troth themselves). On this occasion a feast is
prepared, and the bride and bride­groom stand up in the midst
of all their friends, who are assembled for the purpose, while
he declares she is thenceforth to be looked upon as his wife,
and that no other person is to pay any addresses to her. This
is also immediately pro­claimed in the vicinity, on which the
bride retires from the assembly. Sometime after she is brought
home to her husband, and then another feast is made, to which
the relations of both parties are invited: her parents then
deliver her to the bridegroom, accompanied with a number
of blessings, and at the same time they tie round her waist a
cotton string of the thickness of a goose‑quill, which none but
married women are permitted to wear: she is now considered
as com­pletely his wife; and at this time the dowry is given to
the new married pair, which generally consists of portions of
land, slaves, and cattle, household goods, and implements of
husbandry. These are offered by the friends of both parties;
besides which the parents of the bridegroom present gifts to
those of the bride, whose property she is looked upon before
marriage; but after it she is es­teemed the sole property of her
husband. The ceremony being now ended the festival begins,
62 fieldston american reader
which is celebrated with bonfires, and loud acclamations of joy,
accompanied with music and dancing.
We are almost a nation of dancers, musicians, and poets. Thus
every great event, such as a triumphant return from battle, or
other cause of public rejoic­ing is celebrated in public dances,
which are accompanied with songs and music suited to the
occasion. The assembly is separated into four divisions, which
dance either apart or in succession, and each with a character
peculiar to itself. The first division contains the married men,
who in their dances frequently exhibit feats of arms, and
the representation of a battle. To these succeed the married
women, who dance in the second division. The young men
occupy the third; and the maidens the fourth. Each represents
some interesting scene of real life, such as a great achievement,
domestic employment, a pathetic story, or some rural sport;
and as the subject is generally founded on some recent event, it
is therefore ever new. This gives our dances a spirit and variety
which I have scarcely seen elsewhere. We have many musical
instruments, particularly drums of different kinds, a piece of
music which resembles a guitar, and another much like a stick­
ado.93 These last are chiefly used by betrothed virgins, who
play on them on all grand festivals.
As our manners are simple, our luxuries are few. The dress of
both sexes is nearly the same. It generally consists of a long
piece of calico, or muslin, wrapped loosely round the body,
somewhat in the form of a highland plaid. This is usually dyed
blue, which is our favourite colour. It is extracted from a berry,
and is brighter and richer than any I have seen in Europe.
Besides this, our women of distinction wear golden ornaments;
which they dispose with some pro­fusion on their arms and legs.
When our women are not employed with the men in tillage,
their usual occupation is spinning and weaving cotton, which
they af­terwards dye, and make it into garments. They also
manufacture earthen vessels, of which we have many kinds.
Among the rest tobacco pipes, made after the same fashion,
and used in the same manner, as those in Turkey.
Our manner of living is entirely plain; for as yet the natives are
unac­quainted with those refinements in cookery which debauch
the taste: bullocks, goats, and poultry, supply the greatest part
of their food. These constitute like­wise the principal wealth of
the country, and the chief articles of its commerce. The flesh is
usually stewed in a pan; to make it savoury we sometimes use
also pepper, and other spices, and we have salt made of wood
ashes. Our vegetables are mostly plantains, eadas, yams, beans,
and Indian corn. The head of the fam­ily usually eats alone; his
wives and slaves have also their separate tables. Before we taste
food we always wash our hands: indeed our cleanliness on all
occasions is extreme; but on this it is an indispensable ceremony.
After washing, libation is made, by pouring out a small portion
of the food,95 in a certain place, for the spirits of departed
relations, which the natives suppose to preside over their con­
volume i – fall 2007
duct, and guard them from evil. They are totally unacquainted
with strong or spirituous liquours; and their principal beverage
is palm wine. This is gotten from a tree of that name by tapping
it at the top, and fastening a large gourd to it; and sometimes
one tree will yield three or four gallons in a night. When just
drawn it is of a most delicious sweetness; but in a few days it
acquires a tarnish and more spirituous flavour: though I never
saw any one intoxicated by it. The same tree also produces nuts
and oil. Our principal luxury is in perfumes; one sort of these is
an odoriferous wood of delicious fragrance: the other a kind of
earth; a small portion of which thrown into the fire diffuses a
most powerful odour. We beat this wood into powder, and mix
it with palm oil; with which both men and woman perfume
themselves.
In our buildings we study convenience rather than ornament.
Each master of a family has a large square piece of ground,
surrounded with a moat or fence, or enclosed with a wall
made of red earth tempered; which, when dry, is as hard
as brick. Within this are his houses to accommodate his
family and slaves; which, if numerous, frequently present the
appearance of a village. In the middle stands the principal
building, appropriated to the sole use of the master, and
consisting of two apartments; in one of which he sits in the
day with his family, the other is left apart for the reception
of his friends. He has besides these a distinct apart­ment in
which he sleeps, together with his male children. On each side
are the apartments of his wives, who have also their separate
day and night houses. The habitations of the slaves and their
families are distributed throughout the rest of the enclosure.
These houses never exceed one story in height: they are always
built of wood, or stakes driven into the ground, crossed with
wattles, and neatly plastered within, and without. The roof is
thatched with reeds. Our day‑houses are left open at the sides;
but those in which we sleep are always covered, and plastered
in the inside, with a composition mixed with cow‑dung, to
keep off dif­ferent insects, which annoy us during the night.
The walls and floors also of these are generally covered with
mats. Our beds consist of a platform, raised three or four feet
from the ground, on which are laid skins, and different parts
of a spungy tree called plantain. Our covering is calico or
muslin, the same as our dress. The usual seats are a few logs
of wood; but we have benches, which are generally per­fumed,
to accommodate strangers: these compose the greater part of
our house­hold furniture. Houses so constructed and furnished
require but little skill to erect them. Every man is a sufficient
architect for the purpose. The whole neigh­bourhood afford
their unanimous assistance in building them and in return re­
ceive, and expect no other recompense than a feast.
As we live in a country where nature is prodigal of her
favours, our wants are few and easily supplied; of course we
have few manufactures. They consist for the most part of
calicoes, earthenware, ornaments, and instruments of war
and husbandry. But these make no part of our commerce, the
principal articles of which, as I have observed, are provisions.
In such a state money is of little use; however we have some
small pieces of coin, if I may call them such. They are made
something like an anchor; but I do not remember either their
value or de­nomination. We have also markets, at which I have
been frequently with my mother. These are sometimes visited
by stout mahogany‑coloured men from the south west of us:
we call them Oye‑Eboe, which term signifies red men living
at a distance. They generally bring us fire‑arms, gunpowder,
hats, beats and dried fish. The last we esteemed a great rarity,
as our waters were only brooks and springs. These articles they
barter with us for odoriferous woods and earth, and our salt
of wood ashes. They always carry slaves through our land; but
the strictest account is exacted of their manner of procuring
them before they are suffered to pass. Sometimes indeed we
sold slaves to them, but they were only prisoners of war, or such
among us as had been convicted of kidnapping, or adul­tery, and
some other crimes, which we esteemed heinous. This practice
of kid­napping induces me to think, that, notwithstanding
all our strictness, their prin­cipal business among us was to
trepan96 our people. I remember too they carried great sacks
along with them, which not long after I had an opportunity of
fatally seeing applied to that infamous purpose.
Our land is uncommonly rich and fruitful, and produces all
kinds of veg­etables in great abundance. We have plenty of
Indian corn, and vast quantities of cotton and tobacco. Our
pineapples grow without culture; they are about the size of
the largest sugar‑loaf, and finely flavoured. We have also spices
of differ­ent kinds, particularly pepper; and a variety of delicious
fruits which I have never seen in Europe; together with gums
of various kinds, and honey in abundance. All our industry is
exerted to improve those blessings of nature. Agriculture is
our chief employment; and every one, even the children and
women, are engaged in it. Thus we are all habituated to labour
from our earliest years. Every one con­tributes something to
the common flock; and as we are unacquainted with idle­ness,
we have no beggars. The benefits of such a mode of living are
obvious. The West India planters prefer the slaves of Benin or
Eboe to those of any other part of Guinea, for their hardiness,
intelligence, integrity, and zeal. Those benefits are felt by us
in the general healthiness of the people, and their vigour and
activity; I might have added too in their comeliness. Deformity
is indeed unknown almost us, I mean that of shape. Numbers
of the natives of Eboe now in London might be brought in
support of this assertion: for, in regard to complexion, ideas of
beauty are wholly relative. I remember while in Africa to have
seen three negro children, who were tawny, and another quite
white, who were universally re­garded by myself, and the natives
in general, as far as related to their complex­ions, as deformed.
Our women too were in my eyes at least uncommonly grace­
ful, alert, and modest to a degree of bashfulness; nor do I
remember to have ever heard of an instance of incontinence
63
amongst them before marriage. They are also remarkably
cheerful. Indeed cheerfulness and affability are two of the lead­
ing characteristics of our nation.
Our tillage is exercised in a large plain or common, some hours
walk from our dwellings, and all the neighbors resort thither
in a body. They use no beasts of husbandry; and their only
instruments are hoes, axes, shovels, and beaks, or pointed iron
to dig with. Sometimes we are visited by locusts, which come
in large clouds, so as to darken the air, and destroy our harvest.
This however happens rarely, but when it does, a famine is
produced by it. I remember an in­stance or two wherein this
happened. This common is often the theatre of war; and
therefore when our people go out to till their land, they not
only go in a body, but generally take their arms with them
for fear of a surprise; and when they apprehend an invasion
they guard the avenues to their dwellings, by dri­ving sticks
into the ground, which are so sharp at one end as to pierce
the foot, and are generally dipt in poison. From what I can
recollect of these battles, they appear to have been irruptions
of one little state or district on the other, to ob­tain prisoners or
booty. Perhaps they were incited to this by those traders who
brought the European goods I mentioned amongst us. Such a
mode of obtain­ing slaves in Africa is common; and I believe
more are procured this way, and by kidnapping, than any other.
When a trader wants slaves, he applies to a chief for them, and
tempts him with his wares. It is not extraordinary, if on this
occasion he yields to the temptation with as little firmness, and
accepts the price of his fellow creatures liberty with as little
reluctance as the enlightened merchant. Accordingly he falls
on his neighbours, and a desperate battle en­sures. If he prevails
and takes prisoners, he gratifies his avarice by selling them;
but, if his party be vanquished, and he falls into the hands
of the enemy, he is put to death: for, as he has been known
to foment their quarrels, it is thought dangerous to let him
survive, and no ransom can save him, though all other prisoners
may be redeemed. We have firearms, bows and arrows, broad
two-­edged swords and javelins; we have shields also which
cover a man from head to foot. All are taught the use of these
weapons; even our women are warriors, and march boldly out
to fight along with the men. Our whole district is a kind of
militia; on a certain signal given, such as the firing of a gun
at night, they all rise in arms and rush upon their enemy. It is
perhaps something remarkable, that when our people march to
the field a red flag or banner is borne before them. I was once
a witness to a battle in our common. We had been all at work
in it one day as usual, when our people were suddenly attacked.
I climbed a tree at some distance, from which I beheld the
fight. There were many women as well as men on both sides;
among others my mother was there, and armed with a broad
sword. After fighting for a considerable time with great fury,
and after many had been killed our people obtained the victory,
and took their en­emy’s Chief prisoner. He was carried off in
great triumph, and, though he of­fered a large ransom for his
64 fieldston american reader
life, he was put to death. A virgin of note among our enemies
had been slain in the battle, and her arm was exposed in our
mar­ket‑place, where our trophies were always exhibited. The
spoils were divided according to the merit of the warriors.
Those prisoners which were not sold or redeemed we kept as
slaves: but how different was their condition from that of the
slaves in the West Indies! With us they do no more work than
other mem­bers of the community, even their masters; their
food, clothing and lodging were nearly the same as theirs,
(except that they were not permitted to eat with those who
were free‑born); and there was scarce any other difference
between them, than a superior degree of importance which
the head of a family pos­sesses in our state, and that authority
which, as such, he exercises over every part of his household.
Some of these slaves have even slaves under them as their own
property, and for their own use.
As to religion, the natives believe that there is one Creator of all
things, and that he lives in the sun, and is girted round with a
belt that he may never eat or drink; but, according to some, he
smokes a pipe, which is our own favourite luxury. They believe
he governs events, especially our deaths or cap­tivity; but, as for
the doctrine of eternity, I do not remember to have ever heard
of it; some however believe in the transmigration of souls in a
certain degree. Those spirits,
which are not transmigrated, such as our dear friends or rela­
tions, they believe always attend them, and guard them from
the bad spirits or their foes. For this reason they always before
eating, as I have observed, put some small portion of the
meat, and pour some of their drink, on the ground for them;
and they often make oblations of the blood of beasts or fowls
at their graves. I was very fond of my mother, and almost
constantly with her. When she went to make these oblations at
her mother’s tomb, which was a kind of small solitary thatched
house, I sometimes attended her. There she made her li­bations,
and spent most of the night in cries and lamentations. I have
been of­ten extremely terrified on these occasions. The loneliness
of the place, the dark­ness of the night, and the ceremony of
libation, naturally awful and gloomy, were heightened by my
mother’s lamentations; and these, concurring with the cries of
doleful birds, by which these places were frequented, gave an
inex­pressible terror to the scene.
We compute the year from the day on which the sun crosses
the line, and on its setting that evening there is a general
shout throughout the land; at least I can speak from my own
knowledge throughout our vicinity. The people at the same
time make a great noise with rattles, not unlike the basket
rattles used by children here, though much larger, and hold
up their hands to heaven for a bless­ing. It is then the greatest
offerings are made; and those children whom our wise men
foretell will be fortunate are then presented to different people.
I remember many used to come to see me, and I was carried
about to others for that purpose. They have many offerings,
volume i – fall 2007
particularly at full moons; generally two at harvest before
the fruits are taken out of the ground: and when any young
animals are killed, sometimes they offer up part of them as a
sacrifice. These offerings, when made by one of the heads of
a family, serve for the whole. I remember we often had them
at my father’s and my uncle’s, and their families have been
present. Some of our offerings are eaten with bitter herbs. We
had a saying among us to any one of a cross temper, ‘That if
they were to be eaten, they should be eaten with bitter herbs.’
We practiced circumcision like the Jews, and made offerings
and feasts on that occasion in the same manner as they did.
Like them also, our children were named from some event
some circumstance, or fancied foreboding at the time of their
birth. I was named Olaudah, which, in our language, signifies
vicissitude or fortune also, one favoured, and having a loud
voice and well spoken. I re­member we never polluted the name
of the object of our adoration; on the con­trary, it was always
mentioned with the greatest reverence; and we were totally
unacquainted with swearing, and all those terms of abuse and
reproach which find their way so readily and copiously into
the languages of more civilized peo­ple. The only expressions of
that kind I remember were ‘May you rot, or may you swell, or
may a beast take you.’
I have before remarked that the natives of this part of Africa
are extremely cleanly. This necessary habit of decency was with
us a part of religion, and there­fore we had many purifications
and washings, indeed almost as many, and used on the same
occasions, if my recollection does not fail me, as the Jews.
Those that touched the dead at any time were obliged to wash
and purify themselves before they could enter a dwelling‑house.
Every woman too, at certain times, was forbidden to come into
a dwelling‑house, or touch any person, or any thing we ate. I
was so fond of my mother I could not keep from her, or avoid
touching her at some of those periods, in consequence of which
I was obliged to be kept out with her, in a little house made
for that purpose, till offering was made, and then we were
purified.
Though we had no places of public worship, we had priests
and magi­cians, or wise men. I do not remember whether
they had different offices, or whether they were united in
the same persons, but they were held in great rev­erence by
the people. They calculated our time, and foretold events, as
their name imported, for we called them Ah‑affoe‑way‑cah,
which signifies calcula­tors or yearly men, our year being called
Ah‑affoe. They wore their beards, and when they died they
were succeeded by their sons. Most of their implements and
things of value were interred along with them. Pipes and
tobacco were also put into the grave with the corpse, which was
always perfumed and orna­mented, and animals were offered in
sacrifice to them. None accompanied their funerals but those
of the same profession or tribe. These buried them after sun­set,
and always returned from the grave by a different way from
that which they went.
These magicians were also our doctors or physicians. They
practiced bleeding by cupping; and were very successful in
healing wounds and expelling poisons. They had likewise
some extraordinary method of discovering jeal­ousy, theft, and
poisoning; the success of which no doubt they derived from
their unbounded influence over the credulity and superstition
of the people. I do not remember what those methods were,
except that as to poisoning: I rec­ollect an instance or two,
which I hope it will not be deemed impertinent here to insert,
as it may serve as a kind of specimen of the rest, and is still
used by the negroes in the West Indies. A virgin had been
poisoned, but it was not known by whom: the doctors ordered
the corpse to be taken up by some per­sons, and carried to the
grave. As soon as the bearers had raised it on their shoulders,
they seemed seized with some^99 sudden impulse, and ran to
and fro unable to stop themselves. At last, after having passed
through a number of thorns and prickly bushes unhurt, the
corpse fell from them close to a house, and defaced it in the
fall; and, the owner being taken up, he immediately con­fessed
the poisoning
The natives are extremely cautious about poison. When
they buy any eat­able the seller kisses it all round before the
buyer, to shew him it is not poisoned; and the same is done when
any meat or drink is presented, particularly to a stranger. We
have serpents of different kinds, some of which are esteemed
omi­nous when they appear in our houses, and these we never
molest. I remember two of those ominous snakes, each of
which was as thick as the calf of a man’s leg, and in colour
resembling a dolphin in the water, crept at different times into
my mother’s night‑house, where I always lay with her, and
coiled themselves into folds, and each time they crowed like
a cock. I was desired by some of our wise men to touch these,
that I might be interested in the good omens, which I did, for
they were quite harmless, and would tamely suffer themselves
to be handled; and then they were put into a large open earthen
pan, and set on one side of the highway. Some of our snakes,
however, were poisonous: one of them crossed the road one
day when I was standing on it, and passed between my feet
without of­fering to touch me, to the great surprise of many
who saw it; and these incidents were accounted by the wise
men, and therefore by my mother and the rest of the people, as
remarkable omens in my favour.
Such is the imperfect sketch my memory has furnished me with
of the man­ners and customs of a people among whom I first
drew my breath. And here I cannot forbear suggesting what has
long struck me very forcibly, namely, the strong analogy which
even by this sketch, imperfect as it is, appears to prevail in the
manners and customs of my countrymen and those of the Jews,
before they reached the Land of Promise, and particularly the
65
patriarchs while they were yet in that pastoral state which is
described in Genesis—an analogy, which alone would induce
me to think that the one people had sprung from the other.
Indeed this is the opinion of Dr. Gill, who, in his commentary
on Genesis, very ably deduces the pedigree of the Africans
from Afer and Afra, the descendants of Abraham by Keturah
his wife and concubine (for both these titles are applied to her).
It is also conformable to the sentiments of Dr. John Clarke,
formerly Dean of Sarum, in his Truth of the Christian Religion
both these authors concur in ascribing to us this original. The
reasoning of these gentlemen are still further confirmed by
the scripture chronology; and if any further corroboration
were required, this resemblance in so many respects is a strong
evidence in support of the opinion. Like the Israelites in their
primitive state, our government was con­ducted by our chiefs
or judges, our wise men and elders; and the head of a fam­ily
with us enjoyed a similar authority over his household with
that which is as­cribed to Abraham and the other patriarchs.
The law of retaliation obtained almost universally with us as
with them: and even their religion appeared to have shed upon
us a ray of its glory, though broken and spent in its passage, or
eclipsed by the cloud with which time, tradition, and ignorance
might have en­veloped it; for we had our circumcision (a rule I
believe peculiar to that people:) we had also our sacrifices and
burnt‑offerings, our washings and purlfications, on the same
occasions as they had.
As to the difference of colour between the Eboan Africans and
the modern Jews, I shall not presume to account for it. It is
a subject which has engaged the pens of men of both genius
and learning, and is far above my strength. The most able and
Reverend Mr. T. Clarkson, however, in his much admired
Essay on the Slavery and Commerce of the Human Species,
has ascertained the cause, in a manner that at once solves
every objection on that account, and, on my mind at least, has
produced the fullest conviction. I shall therefore refer to that
perfor­mance for the theory, contenting myself with extracting
a fact as related by Dr. Mitchell. “The Spaniards, who have
inhabited America, under the torrid zone, for any time, are
become as dark coloured as our native Indians of Vir­ginia;
of which I myself have been a witness.” There is also another
instance of a Portuguese settlement at Mitomba, a river in
Sierra Leona; where the inhabi­tants are bred from a mixture
of the first Portuguese discoverers with the natives, and are
now become in their complexion, and in the wooly quality of
their hair, perfect negroes, retaining however a smattering of the
Portuguese language.
These instances, and a great many more which might be
adduced, while they shew how the complexions of the same
persons vary in different climates, it is hoped may tend also to
remove the prejudice that some conceive against the natives of
Africa on account of colour. Surely the minds of the Spaniards
did not change with their complexions! Are there not causes
66 fieldston american reader
enough to which the ap­parent inferiority of an African may be
ascribed, without limiting the goodness of God, and supposing
he forbore to stamp understanding on certainly his own image,
because “carved in ebony.” Might it not naturally be ascribed to
their sit­uation? When they come among Europeans, they are
ignorant of their language, religion, manners, and customs. Are
any pains taken to teach them these? Are they treated as men?
Does not slavery itself depress the mind, and extinguish all its
fire and every noble sentiment? But, above all, what advantages
do not a re­fined people possess over those who are rude and
uncultivated. Let the polished and haughty European recollect
that his ancestors were once, like the Africans, uncivilized, and
even barbarous. Did Nature make them inferior to their sons?
and should they too have been made slaves? Every rational
mind answers, No. Let such reflections as these melt the pride
of their superiority into sympathy for the wants and miseries
of their sable brethren, and compel them to acknowledge, that
understanding is not confined to feature or colour. If, when they
look round the world, they feel exultation, let it be tempered
with benevolence to others, and gratitude to God, “who hath
made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the
face of the earth and whose wisdom is not our wisdom, neither
are our ways his ways.”’
Chapter II - Kidnapping and Enslavement
I hope the reader will not think I have trespassed on his
patience in introducing myself to him, with some account
of the manners and customs of my country. They had been
implanted in me with great care, and made an impression
on my mind which time could not erase, and which all the
adversity and variety of fortune I have since experienced served
only to rivet and record; for, whether the love of one’s country
be real or imaginary, or a lesson of reason, or an instinct of
nature, I still look back with pleasure on the first scenes of my
life, though that pleasure has been for the most part mingled
with sorrow.
I have already acquainted the reader with the time and place
of my birth. My father, besides many slaves, had a numerous
family, of which seven lived to grow up, including myself and a
sister, who was the only daughter. As I was the youngest of the
sons, I became, of course, the greatest favorite with my mother,
and was always with her; and she used to take particular pains
to form my mind. I was trained up from my earliest years in
the arts of agriculture and war: my daily exercise was shooting
and throwing javelins; and my mother adorned me with
emblems, after the manner of our greatest warriors. In this
way I grew up till I was turned the age of eleven, when an end
was put to my happiness in the following manner: Generally,
when the grown people in the neighborhood were gone far in
the fields to labour, the children assembled together in some
of the neighbors’ premises to play; and commonly some of us
used to get up a tree to look out for any assailant or kidnapper
volume i – fall 2007
that might come upon us; for they sometimes took those
opportunities of our parents absence, to attack and carry off as
many as they could seize. One day, as I was watching at the top
of a tree in our yard, I saw one of those people come into the
yard of our next neighbor but one, to kidnap, there being many
stout young people in it. Immediately, on this, I gave the alarm
of the rogue, and he was surrounded by the stoutest of them,
who entangled him with cords, so that he could not escape till
some of the grown people came and secured him.
But alas, ere long, it was my turn to be attacked and to be
carried off when none of our grown people were nigh. One day,
when all our people were gone out to their works as usual, and
only I and my dear sister were left to mind the house, two men
and a woman got over our walls, and in a moment seized us
both; and without giving us time to cry out, or make resistance,
they stopped our mouths and ran off with us into the nearest
wood. Here they tied our hands, and continued to carry us as
far as they could, till night came on, when we reached a small
house, where the robbers halted for refreshment, and spent
the night. We were then unbound, but were unable to take
any food; and, being quite overpowered by fatigue and grief,
our only relief was some sleep, which allayed our misfortune
for a short time. The next morning we left the house, and
continued traveling all the day. For a long time we had kept
the woods, but at last we came into a road which I believed
I knew. I now had some hopes of being delivered; for we had
advanced but a little way when I discovered some people at a
distance, on which I began to cry out for their assistance; but
my cries had no other effect than to make them tie me faster
and stop my mouth, and then they put me into a large sack.
They also stopped my sister’s mouth and tied her hands; and in
this manner we proceeded till we were out of the sight of these
people. When we went to rest the following night they offered
us some victuals, but we refused them; and the only comfort
we had was in being in one another’s arms all that night, and
bathing each other with our tears.
But alas! we were soon deprived of even the small comfort of
weeping together. The next day proved a day of greater sorrow
than I had yet experienced; for my sister and I were then
separated, while we lay clasped in each other’ s arms: it was in
vain that we besought them not to part us; she was torn from
me, and immedi­ately carried away, while I was left in a state of
distraction not to be described. I cried and grieved continually;
and for several days did not eat any thing but what they forced
into my mouth. At length, after many days traveling, during
which I had often changed masters, I got into the hands of a
chieftain, in a very pleasant country. This man had two wives
and some children, and they all used me ex­tremely well, and
did all they could to comfort me; particularly the first wife,
who was something like my mother. Although I was a great
many days journey from my father’s house, yet these people
spoke exactly the same language with us. This first master
of mine, as I may call him, was a smith...They were in some
respects not unlike the stoves here in gentlemen’s kitchens;
and were covered over with leather; and in the middle of that
leather a stick was fixed, and a person stood up, and worked
it, in the same manner as is done to pump water out of a cask
with a hand pump. I believe it was gold he worked, for it was
of a lovely bright yellow colour, and was worn by the women
on their wrists and ankles. I was there I suppose about a month,
and they at last used to trust me some little distance from the
house. This liberty I used in embracing every opportunity to
inquire the way to my own home: and I also sometimes, for
the same purpose, went with the maidens, in the cool of the
evenings, to bring pitchers of water from the springs for the
use of the house.
I had also remarked where the sun rose in the morning, and
set in the evening, as I had travelled along; and I had observed
that my father’s house was towards the rising of the sun. I
therefore determined to seize the first opportunity of making
my escape, and to shape my course for that quarter; for I was
quite oppressed and weighed down by grief after my mother
and friends; and my love of liberty, ever great, was strengthened
by the mortifying circumstance of not daring to eat with the
free-born children, although I was mostly their companion.—
While I was projecting my escape one day, an unlucky event
happened, which quite disconcerted my plan, and put an end
to my hopes. I used to be sometimes employed in assisting an
elderly woman slave to cook and take care of the poultry; and
one morning while I was feeding some chickens, I happened to
toss a small pebble at one of them, which hit it on the middle,
and directly killed it. The old
slave, having soon after missed the chicken, inquired after
it; and on my relating the accident, (for I told her the truth,
because my mother would never suffer me to tell a lie), she
flew into a violent passion, threatened that I should suffer for
it; and, my master being out, she immediately went and told
her mistress what I had done. This alarmed me very much, and
I expected an instant flogging, which to me was uncommonly
dreadful; for I had seldom been beaten at home.
I therefore resolved to fly; and accordingly I ran into a thicket
that was hard by, and hid myself in the bushes. Soon afterwards
my mistress and the slave returned, and, not seeing me, they
searched all the house, but not finding me, and I not making
answer when they called to me, they thought I had run away,
and the whole neighborhood was raised in the pursuit of me. In
that part of the country (as well as ours) the houses and villages
were skirted with woods or shrubberies, and the bushes were
so thick, that a man could readily conceal himself in them,
so as to elude the strictest search. The neighbors continued
the whole day looking for me, and several times many of
them came within a few yards of the place where I lay hid. I
expected every moment, when I heard a rustling among the
trees, to be found out, and punished by my master; but they
never discovered me, though they were often so near that I
67
even heard their conjectures as they were looking about for me;
and I now learned from them that any attempt to return home
would be hopeless. Most of them supposed I had fled towards
home; but the distance was so great, and the way so intricate,
that they thought I could never reach it, and that I should be
lost in the woods. When I heard this I was seized with a violent
panic, and aban­doned myself to despair. Night too began to
approach, and aggravated all my fears. I had before entertained
hopes of getting home, and had determined when it should be
dark to make the attempt; but I was now convinced that it was
fruitless, and began to consider that, if possibly I could escape
all other animals, I could not those of the human kind; and
that, not knowing the way, I must perish in the woods.— Thus
was I like the hunted deer:
“Ev’ry leaf, and e’v’ry whisp’ring breath “Convey’d a foe, and
ev’ry foe a death.”
I heard frequent rustlings among the leaves; and being pretty
sure they were snakes, I expected every instant to be stung
by them. This increased my anguish; and the horror of my
situation became now quite insupportable. I at length quitted
the thicket, very faint and hungry, for I had not eaten or drank
anything all the day, and crept to my master’s kitchen, from
whence I set out at first, and which was an open shed, and
laid myself down in the ashes with an anxious wish for death
to relieve me from all my pains. I was scarcely awake in the
morning, when the old woman slave, who was the first up,
came to light the fire, and saw me in the fireplace. She was very
much surprised to see me, and could scarcely believe her own
eyes. She now promised to intercede for me, and went for her
master, who soon after came, and having lightly reprimanded
me, ordered me to be taken care of, and not ill treated.
Soon after this my master’s only daughter and child by his first
wife sickened and died, which affected him so much that for
some time he was almost frantic, and really would have killed
himself, had he not been watched and prevented. However, in a
small time afterwards he recovered and I was again sold. I was
now carried to the left of the sun’s rising, through many dreary
wastes and dismal woods, amidst the hideous roaring of wild
beasts.—The people I was sold to used to carry me very often,
when I was tired, either on their shoulders or on their backs. I
saw many convenient well-built sheds along the road, at proper
distances, to accommodate the merchants and travellers, who
lay in those buildings along with their wives, who often accom­
pany them; and they always go well armed.
From the time I left my own nation I always found somebody
that understood me till I came to the sea coast. The languages
of different nations did not totally differ, nor were they so
copious as those of the Europeans, particularly the English.
They were therefore easily learned; and while I was journeying
thus through Africa, I acquired two or three different tongues.
In this manner I had been travelling for a considerable time,
when one evening to my great surprise, whom should I see
68 fieldston american reader
brought to the house where I was but my dear sister? As soon
as she saw me she gave a loud shriek, and ran into my arms.
I was quite overpowered: neither of us could speak, but, for
a considerable time, clung to each other in mutual embraces,
unable to do anything but weep. Our meeting affected all who
saw us; and indeed I must acknowl­edge, in honour of those
sable destroyers of human rights, that I never met with any ill
treatment, or saw any offered to their slaves, except tying them,
when necessary to keep them from running away. When these
people knew we were brother and sister, they indulged us to be
together; and the man, to whom I supposed we belonged, lay
with us, he in the middle, while she and I held one another by
the hands across his breast all night; and thus for awhile we
forgot our misfortunes in the joy of being together; but even
this small comfort was soon to have an end; for scarcely had the
fatal morning appeared, when she was again torn from me for
ever! I was now more miserable, if possible, than before. The
small relief which her presence gave me from pain was gone,
and the wretchedness of my situation was redoubled by my
anxiety after her fate, and my apprehensions lest her sufferings
should be greater than mine, when I could not be with her to
alleviate them. Yes, thou dear partner of my childish sports!
thou sharer of my joys and sorrows! happy should I have ever
esteemed myself to encounter every misery for you, and to
procure your freedom by the sacrifice of my own! Though you
were early forced from my arms, your image has been always
riveted in my heart, from which neither time nor fortune have
been able to remove it: so that, while the thoughts of your
suffering have dampened my prosperity, they have mingled
with adversity and increased its bitterness.—To that Heaven
which protects the weak from the strong, I commit the care
of your innocence and virtue, if they have not already received
their full reward, and if your youth and delicacy have not long
since fallen
victims to the violence of the African trader, the pestilential
stench of a Guinea ship, the seasoning in the European colonies,
or the lash and lust of a brutal and unrelenting overseer.
I did not long remain after my sister. I was again sold, and
carried through a number of places, till after travelling a
considerable time, I came to a town called TinmTh, in the most
beautiful country I had yet seen in Africa. It was extremely
rich, and there were many rivulets which flowed through it,
and supplied a large pond in the centre of the town, where the
people washed. Here I first saw and tasted cocoa nuts, which
I thought superior to any nuts I had ever tasted before; and
the trees which were loaded were also interspersed among the
houses, which had commodious shades adjoining, and were in
the same manner as ours, the insides being neatly plastered
and white­washed. Here I also saw and tasted for the first time,
sugar cane. Their money consisted of little white shells, the
volume i – fall 2007
size of the finger nail. I was sold here for one hundred and
seventy-two of them, by a merchant who lived and brought me
there. I had been about two or three days at his house, when a
wealthy widow, a neighbor of his, came there one evening, and
brought with her an only son, a young gentleman about my
own age and size. Here they saw me; and having taken a fancy
to me, I was bought of the merchant, and went home with
them. Her house and premises were situated close to one of
those rivulets I have mentioned, and were the finest I ever saw
in Africa: they were very extensive, and she had a number of
slaves to attend her. The next day I was washed and perfumed,
and when meal time came, I was led into the presence of my
mistress, and ate and drank before her with her son. This filled
me with astonishment; and I could scarce help expressing
my surprise that the young gentleman should suffer me, who
was bound, to eat with him who was free; and not only so but
that he would not at any time either eat or drink till I had
taken first, because I was the eldest, which was agreeable to
our custom. Indeed, everything here, and all their treatment of
me, made me forget that I was a slave. The language of these
people resembled ours so nearly, that we understood each other
perfectly. They had also the same customs as we. There were
likewise slaves daily to attend us, while my young master and I,
with other boys, sported with our darts and bows and arrows,
as I had been used to do at home. In this resemblance to my
former happy state, I passed about two months; and I now
began to think I was to be adopted into the family, and was
beginning to be reconciled to my situation, and to forget by
degrees my misfortunes, when all at once the delusion vanished;
for, without the least previous knowledge, one morning early,
while my dear master and companion was still asleep, I was
awakened out of my reverie to fresh sorrow, and hurried away
even amongst the uncircumcised.
Thus at the very moment I dreamed of the greatest happiness,
I found myself most miserable; and it seemed as if fortune
wished to give me this taste of joy only to render the reverse
more poignant.—The change I now experienced, was as painful
as it was sudden and unexpected. It was a change indeed, from
a state of bliss to a scene which is inexpressible by me, as it
discovered to me an element I had never before beheld, and till
then had no idea of, and wherein such instances of hardship
and cruelty occurred, as I can never reflect on but with horror.
All the nations and people I had hitherto passed through,
resembled our own in their manners, customs and language;
but I came at length to a country, the inhabitants of which
differed from us in all those particulars. I was very much struck
with this difference, especially when I came among a people
who did not circumcise, and ate without washing their hands.
They cooked also in iron pots, and had European cutlasses
and cross bows, which were unknown to us, and fought with
their fists among themselves. Their women were not so modest
as ours, for they ate and drank, and slept with their men.
But, above all, I was amazed to see no sacrifices or offerings
among them. In some of these places the people ornamented
themselves with scars, and likewise filed their teeth very sharp.
They wanted sometimes to ornament me in the same manner,
but I would not suffer them; hoping that I might some time
be among a people who did not thus disfigure themselves,
as I thought they did. At last I came to the banks of a large
river which was covered with canoes, in which the people
appeared to live with their household utensils, and provisions
of all kinds. I was beyond measure astonished at this, as I had
never before seen any water larger than a pond or a rivulet: and
my surprise was mingled with no small fear when I was put
into one of these canoes, and we began to paddle and move
along the river. We continued going on thus till night, when
we came to land, and made fires on the banks, each family by
themselves; some dragged their canoes on shore, others stayed
and cooked in theirs, and laid in them all night. Those on the
land had mats, of which they made tents, some in the shape
of little houses; in these we slept; and after the morning meal,
we embarked again and proceeded as before. I was often very
much astonished to see some of the women, as well as the men,
jump into the water, dive to the bottom, come up again, and
swim about.—Thus I continued to travel, some­times by land.
sometimes by water, through different countries and various
nations, till, at the end of six or seven months after I had been
kidnapped, I arrived at the sea coast. It would be tedious and
uninteresting to relate all the incidents which befell me during
this journey, and which I have not yet forgotten; of the various
hands I passed through, and the manners and customs of all
the different people among whom I lived. I shall therefore
only observe, that in all the places where I was, the soil was
exceedingly rich; the pumpkins, eadas, plaintains, yams, etc.,
were in great abundance, and of incredible size. There were
also vast quantities of different gums, though not used for any
purpose, and every where a great deal of tobacco. The cotton
even grew quite wild, and there was plenty of red-wood. I saw
no mechanics whatever in all the way, except such as I have
mentioned. The chief employment in all these countries was
agriculture, and both the males and females, as with us, were
brought up to it, and trained in the arts of war.
The first object which saluted my eyes when I arrived on the
coast, was the sea, and a slave ship, which was then riding
at anchor, and waiting for its cargo. These filled me with
astonishment, which was soon converted into terror, when I
was carried on board. I was immediately handled, and tossed
up to see if I were sound, by some of the crew; and I was now
persuaded that I had gotten into a world of bad spirits, and that
they were going to kill me. Their complexions, too, differing so
much from ours, their long hair, and the language they spoke,
(which was very different from any I had ever heard) united
to confirm me in this belief. Indeed, such were the horrors
69
of my views and fears at the moment, that, if ten thousand
worlds had been my own, I would have freely parted with them
all to have exchanged my condition with that of the meanest
slave in my own country. When I looked round the ship too,
and saw a large furnace of copper boiling, and a multitude of
black people of every description chained together, every one
of their countenances expressing dejection and sorrow, I no
longer doubted of my fate; and quite overpowered with horror
and anguish, I fell motionless on the deck and fainted. When
I recovered a little, I found some black people about me, who
I believed were some of those who had brought me on board,
and had been receiving their pay; they talked to me in order
to cheer me, but all in vain. I asked them if we were not to be
eaten by those white men with horrible looks, red faces and
long hair. They told me I was not: and one of the crew brought
me a small portion of spirituous liquor in a wine glass, but,
being afraid of him, I would not take it out of his hand. One of
the blacks, therefore, took it from him and gave it to me, and I
took a little down my palate, which, instead of reviving me, as
they thought it would, threw me into the greatest consternation
at the strange feeling it produced, having never tasted any such
liquor before. Soon after this, the blacks who brought me on
board went off, and left me abandoned to despair.
I now saw myself deprived of all chance of returning to my
native country, or even the least glimpse of hope of gaining the
shore, which I now considered as friendly; and I even wished
for my former slavery in preference to my present situation,
which was filled with horrors of every kind, still heightened by
my ignorance of what I was to undergo. I was not long suffered
to indulge my grief, I was soon put down under the decks,
and there I received such a salutation in my nostrils as I had
never experienced in my life: so that, with the loathsomeness
of the stench and crying together, I became so sick and low
that I was not able to eat, nor had I the least desire to taste
any thing. I now wished for the last friend, death, to relieve
me; but soon, to my grief, two of the white men offered me
eatables; and, on my refusing to eat, one of them held me fast
by the hands, and laid me across, I think the windlass, and
tied my feet, while the other flogged me severely. I had never
experienced any thing of this kind before, and although not
being used to the water, I naturally feared that element the
first time I saw it, yet, nevertheless, could I have got over the
nettings, I would have jumped over the side, but I could not;
and besides, the crew used to watch us very closely who were
not chained down to the decks, lest we should leap into the
water; and I have seen some of these poor African prisoners
most severely cut, for attempting to do so, and hourly whipped
for not eating. This indeed was often the case with myself. In a
little time after, amongst the poor chained men, I found some
of my own nation, which in a small degree gave ease to my
70 fieldston american reader
mind. I inquired of these what was to be done with us? They
gave me to understand, we were to be carried to these white
people’s country to work for them. I then was a little revived,
and thought, if it were no worse than working, my situation
was not so desperate; but still I feared I should be put to death,
the white people looked and acted, as I thought, in so savage a
manner; for I had never seen among any people such instances
of brutal cruelty; and this not only shown towards us blacks,
but also to some of the whites themselves. One white man
in particular I saw, when we were permitted to be on deck,
flogged so unmercifully with a large rope near the foremast,
that he died in consequence of it; and they tossed him over the
side as they would have done a brute. This made me fear these
people the more; and I expected nothing less than to be treated
in the same manner. I could not help expressing my fears and
apprehensions to some of my countrymen; I asked them if
these people had no country, but lived in this hollow place? (the
ship) they told me they did not, but came from a distant one.
“Then,” said I, “how comes it in all our country we never heard
of them?” They told me because they lived so very far off. I then
asked where were their women? had they any like themselves?
I was told they had. “And why,” said I, “do we not see them?”
They answered, because they were left behind. I asked how the
vessel could go? they told me they could not tell; but that there
was cloth put upon the masts by the help of the ropes I saw,
and then the vessel went on; and the white men had some spell
or magic they put in the water when they liked in order to
stop the vessel. I was exceedingly amazed at this account, and
really thought they were spirits. I therefore wished much to be
from amongst them, for I expected they would sacrifice me;
but my wishes were vain, for we were so quartered that it was
impossible for any of us to make our escape.
While we stayed on the coast I was mostly on deck; and one day,
to my great astonishment, I saw one of these vessels coming in
with the sails up. As soon as the whites saw it, they gave a great
shout, at which we were amazed; and the more so, as the vessel
appeared larger by approaching nearer. At last, she came to an
anchor in my sight, and when the anchor was let go, I and my
countrymen who saw it, were lost in astonishment to observe
the vessel stop, and were now convinced it was done by magic.
Soon after this the other ship got her boats out, and they came
on board of us, and the people of both ships seemed very glad
to see each other.—Several of the strangers also shook hands
with us black people, and made motions with their hands,
signifying, I suppose, we were to go to their country, but we
did not understand them.
At last, when the ship was loaded with all her cargo, they made
ready with many fearful noises, and we were all put
under deck, so that we could not see how they managed the
vessel. But this disappointment was the least of my sorrow.
The stench of the hold while we were on the coast was so
volume i – fall 2007
intolerably loathsome, that it was dangerous to remain there
for any time, and some of us had been permitted to stay on
the deck for the fresh air; but now that the whole ship’s cargo
were confined together, it became absolutely pestilential. The
closeness of the place, and the heat of the climate, added to the
number in the ship, which was so crowded that each had scarcely
room to turn himself, almost suffocated us. This produced
copious perspira­tions, so that the air soon became unfit for
respiration, from a variety of loathsome smells, and brought on
a sickness among the slaves, of which many died, thus falling
victims to the improvident avarice, as I may call it, of their
purchasers. This wretched situation was again aggravated by
the falling of the chains, now become insupportable; and the
filth of the necessary tubs, into which the children often fell,
and were almost suffocated. The shrieks of the women, and
the groans of the dying, rendered the whole a scene of horror
almost inconceivable. Happily perhaps, for myself, I was soon
reduced so low here that it was thought necessary to keep me
almost always on deck; and from my extreme youth I was not
put in fetters. In this situation I expected every hour to share
the fate of my companions, some of whom were almost daily
brought upon the deck at the point of death, which I began
to hope would soon put an end to my miseries. Often did I
think many of the inhabitants of the deep much more happy
than myself. I envied them the freedom they enjoyed, and as
often wished I could change my condition for theirs. Every
circumstance I met with, served only to render my state more
painful, and heightened my apprehensions, and my opinion of
the cruelty of the whites.
One day they had taken a number of fishes; and when they had
killed and satisfied themselves with as many as they thought
fit, to our astonishment, who were on deck, rather than give
any of them to us to eat, as we expected, they tossed the
remaining fish into the sea again, although we begged and
prayed for some as well as we could, but in vain; and some
of my countrymen, being pressed by hunger, took an opportu­
nity, when they thought no one saw them, of trying to get
a little privately; but they were discovered, and the attempt
procured them some very severe floggings. One day, when
we had a smooth sea and moderate wind, two of my wearied
countrymen who were chained together, (I was near them at the
time,) preferring death to such a life of misery, somehow made
through the nettings and jumped into the sea: immediately,
another quite dejected fellow, who, on account of his illness,
was suffered to be out of irons, also followed their example;
and I believe many more would very soon have done the same,
if they had not been prevented by the ship’s crew, who were
instantly alarmed. Those of us that were the most active, were
in a moment put down under the deck, and there was such a
noise and confusion amongst the people of the ship as I never
heard before, to stop her and get the boat out to go after the
slaves. However, two of the wretched were drowned, but they
got the other, and afterwards flogged him unmercifully, for
thus attempting to prefer death to slavery. In this manner we
continued to undergo more hardships than I can now relate,
hardships which are inseparable from this accursed trade.
Many a time we were near suffocation from the want of fresh
air, which we were often without for whole days together. This
and the stench of the necessary tubs, carried off many.
During our passage, I first saw flying fishes, which surprised
me very much; they used frequently to fly across the ship, and
many of them fell on the deck. I also now first saw the use of
the quadrant; I had often with astonishment seen the mariners
make observations with it, and I could not think what it meant.
They at last took notice of my surprise; and one of them,
willing to increase it, as well as to gratify my curiosity, made
me one day look through it. The clouds appeared to me to be
land, which disappeared as they passed along. This heightened
my wonder; and I was now more persuaded than ever, that
I was in another world, and that every thing about me was
magic. At last, we came in sight of the island of Barbadoes,
at which the whites on board gave a great shout, and made
many signs of joy to us. We did not know what to think of this;
but as the vessel drew nearer, we plainly saw the harbor, and
other ships of different kinds and sizes, and we soon anchored
amongst them, off Bridgetown. Many merchants and planters
now came on board, though it was in the evening. They put
us in separate parcels, and examined us attentively. They also
made us jump, and pointed to the land, signifying we were to
go there. We thought by this, we should be eaten by these ugly
men, as they appeared to us; and, when soon after we were all
put down under the deck again, there was much dread and
trembling among us, and nothing but bitter cries to be heard
all the night from these apprehen­sions, insomuch that at last
the white people got some old slaves from the land to pacify
us. They told us we were not to bc eaten, but to work, and were
soon to go on land, where we should see many of our country
people. This report eased us much. And sure enough, soon after
we were landed, there came to us Africans of all languages.
We were conducted immediately to the merchant’s yard, where
we were all pent up together, like so many sheep in a fold,
without regard to sex or age. As every object was new to me,
everything I saw filled me with surprise. What struck me first,
was that the houses were built with bricks and stories, and in
every other respect different from those I had seen in Africa;
but I was still more astonished on seeing people on horseback.
I did not know what this could mean; and, indeed, I thought
these people were full of nothing but magical arts. While I
was in this astonishment, one of my fellow—prisoners spoke
to a countryman of his, about the horses, who said they were
the same kind they had in their country. I understood them,
though they were from a distant part of Africa; and I thought
it odd I had not seen any horses there; but afterwards, when
71
I came to converse with different Africans, I found they had
many horses amongst them, and much larger than those I
then saw. We were not many days in the merchant’s custody,
before we were sold after their usual manner, which is
this:—On a signal given, (as the beat of a drum,) the buyers
rush at once into the yard where the slaves are confined, and
make choice of that parcel they like best. The noise and clamor
with which this is attended, and the eagerness visible in the
countenance of the buyers, serve not a little to increase the
apprehension of terrified Africans, who may well be supposed
to consider them as the ministers of that destruction to which
they think themselves devoted. In this manner, without
scruple, are relations and friends separated, most of them never
to see each other again. I remember in the vessel in which I
was brought over, in the men’s apartment, there were several
brothers, who, in the sale, were sold in different lots; and it
was very moving on this occasion, to see and hear their cries
at parting. 0, ye nominal Christians! might not an African ask
you—Learned you this from your God, who says unto you, Do
unto all men as you would men should do unto you? Is it not
enough that we are torn from our country and friends, to toil
for your luxury and lust of gain? Must every tender feeling be
likewise sacrificed to your avarice? Are the dearest friends and
relations, now rendered more dear by their separation from
their kindred, still to be parted from each other, and thus
prevented from cheering the gloom of slavery, with the small
comfort of being together, and mingling their sufferings and
sorrows? Why are parents to lose their children, brothers their
sisters, or husbands their wives? Surely, this is a new refinement
in cruelty, which, while it has no advantage to atone for it,
thus aggravates distress, and adds fresh horrors even to the
wretchedness of slavery.
72 fieldston american reader
Crèvecoeur: Letter IX Description of
Charles-Town; Thoughts on Slavery
The following scene will I hope account for these melancholy
reflections, and apologize for the gloomy thoughts with which
I have filled this letter: my mind is, and always has been,
oppressed since I became a witness to it. I was not long since
invited to dine with a planter who lived three miles from-----,
where he then resided. In order to avoid the heat of the sun, I
resolved to go on foot, sheltered in a small path, leading through
a pleasant wood. I was leisurely travelling along, attentively
examining some peculiar plants which I had collected, when
all at once I felt the air strongly agitated; though the day was
perfectly calm and sultry. I immediately cast my eyes toward
the cleared ground, from which I was but at a small distance,
in order to see whether it was not occasioned by a sudden
shower; when at that instant a sound resembling a deep rough
voice, uttered, as I thought, a few inarticulate monosyllables.
Alarmed and surprised, I precipitately looked all round, when
I perceived at about six rods distance something resembling a
cage, suspended to the limbs of a tree; all the branches of which
appeared covered with large birds of prey, fluttering about, and
anxiously endeavoring to perch on the cage. Actuated by an
involuntary motion of my hands, more than by any design of
my mind, I fired at them; they all flew to a short distance, with
a most hideous noise: when, horrid to think and painful to
repeat, I perceived a negro, suspended in the cage, and left there
to expire! I shudder when I recollect that the birds had already
picked out his eyes, his cheek bones were bare; his arms had
been attacked in several places, and his body seemed covered
with a multitude of wounds. From the edges of the hollow
sockets and from the lacerations with which he was disfigured,
the blood slowly dropped, and tinged the ground beneath. No
sooner were the birds flown, than swarms of insects covered
the whole body of this unfortunate wretch, eager to feed on his
mangled flesh and to drink his blood. I found myself suddenly
arrested by the power of affright and terror; my nerves were
convulsed; I trembled, I stood motionless, involuntarily
contemplating the fate of this negro, in all its dismal latitude.
The living spectre, though deprived of his eyes, could still
distinctly hear, and in his uncouth dialect begged me to give
him some water to allay his thirst. Humanity herself would have
recoiled back with horror; she would have balanced whether to
lessen such reliefless distress, or mercifully with one blow to
end this dreadful scene of agonizing torture! Had I had a ball
in my gun, I certainly should have dispatched him; but finding
myself unable to perform so kind an office, I sought, though
trembling, to relieve him as well as I could. A shell ready fixed
to a pole, which had been used by some negroes, presented
itself to me; I filled it with water, and with trembling hands I
guided it to the quivering lips of the wretched sufferer. Urged
by the irresistible power of thirst, he endeavoured to meet it,
volume i – fall 2007
as he instinctively guessed its approach by the noise it made
in passing through the bars of the cage. “Tanke’, you white’
man, tanke’ you, pute’ some’ poyson and give’ me.” How long
have you been hanging there? I asked him. “Two days, and
me no die; the birds, the birds; aaahh me!” Oppressed with
the reflections which this shocking spectacle afforded me, I
mustered strength enough to walk away, and soon reached the
house at which I intended to dine. There I heard that the reason
for this slave being thus punished, was on account of his having
killed the overseer of the plantation. They told me that the laws
of self-preservation rendered such executions necessary; and
supported the doctrine of slavery with the arguments generally
made use of to justify the practice; with the repetition of which
I shall not trouble you at present.
Adieu.
DBQ: Comparing the New England and
Chesapeake Regions
Although New England and the Chesapeake region were
both settled largely by people of English origin, by 1700 the
regions had evolved into two distinct societies. Why did this
difference in development occur?
Use the documents AND your knowledge of the colonial
period up to 1700 to develop your answer.
Document A
Source: John Winthrop, A Model of Christian Charity (Written
on board the Arabela on the Atlantic Ocean, 1630)
God Almighty in his most holy and wise providence hath
so disposed of the condition of mankind, [that] in all times
some must be rich, some poor, some high and eminent power
and dignity, other mean and in subjection.... [Yet] we must
be knit together in this work as one man. We must entertain
each other in brotherly affection, we must be willing to
abridge ourselves of our superfluities, for the supply of others’
necessities. We must uphold a familiar commerce together in
all meekness, gentleness, patience, and liberality. We must
delight in each other, make others’ conditions our own, rejoice
together, mourn together, labor and suffer together, always
having before our eyes our commission and community in the
work, our community as members of the same body. So shall
we keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.... We
must consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill. The eyes
of all people are upon us, so that if we shall deal falsely with
our God in this work we have under­taken, and so cause him
to withdraw his present help from us, we shall be made a story
and a by-word through the world. We shall open the mouths
of enemies to speak evil of the ways of God, . . . shall shame
the faces of many of God’s worthy servants, and cause their
prayers to be turned into curses upon us.
73
Document B
Document C
Source: Ship’s List of Emigrants Bound for New England
Weymouth, the 20th of March, 1635
Source: Ship’s List of Emigrants Bound for Virginia Ultimo
July 1635
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
These underwritten names are to be transported to Virginia,
embarked in the Merchant’s Hope, Hugh Weston, Master,
per examination by the minister of Gravesend touching their
conformity to the Church discipline of England, and have
taken the oaths of allegiance and supremacy:
Joseph Hull, of Somerset, a minister, aged 40 years
Agnes Hull, his wife, aged 25 years
Joan Hull, his daughter, aged 15 years
Joseph Hull, his son, aged 13 years
Tristram, his son, aged I I years
Efinbeth Hull, his daughter, aged 7 years
Temperance, his daughter, aged 9 years
Grissel Hull, his daughter, aged 5 years
Dorothy Hull, his daughter, aged 3 years
Judith French, his servant, aged 20 years
John Wood, his servant, aged 20 years
Robert Dabyn, his servant, aged 28 years
Musachiell Bernard, of Batcombe, clothier in the county
of Somerset, 24
Mary Bernard, his wife, aged 28 years
John Bernard, his son, aged 3 years
Nathaniel, his son, aged I year
21. Timothy Tabor, in Somerset of Batcombe, tailor,
aged 35 years
22. Jane Tabor, his wife, aged 35 years
23. Jane Tabor, his daughter, aged 10 years
24. Anne Tabor, his daughter, aged 8 years
25. Sarah Tabor, his daughter, aged 5 years
26. William Fever, his servant, aged 20 years
27. John Whitmarke, aged 39 years
28. Alice Whitmarke, his wife, aged 35 years
29. James Whitmarke, his son, aged 5 years
30. Jane, his daughter, aged 7 years
31. Onseph Whitmarke, his son, aged 5 years
32. Rich. Whitmarke, his son, aged 2 years
74. Robert Lovell, husbandman, aged 40 years
75. Elizabeth Lovell, his wife, aged 35 years
76. Zacheus Lovell, his son, aged 15 years
77. Anne Lovell, his daughter, aged 16 years
78. John Lovell, his son, aged 8 years
79. Ellyn, his daughter, aged I year
80. James, his son, aged I year
81. Joseph Chickin, his servant, 16 years
82. Alice Kinham, aged 22 years
83. Angell Hollard, aged 21 years
84. Katheryn, his wife, 22 years
85. George Land, his servant, 22 years
86. Sarah Land, his kinswoman, 18 years
103.John Hoble, husbandman, 13
104.Robert Huste, husbandman, 40
John Porter, Deputy Clerk (o Edward Thoroughgood
74 fieldston american reader
Edward Towers
Henry Woodman
Richard Seems
Vyncent Whatter
James Whithedd
Jonas Watts
Peter Loe
Geo. Brocker
Henry Eelcs
Jo. Dennis
Tho. Swayne
Charles Rinsden
Jo. Exston
Wm. Luck
Jo. Thomas
Jo. Archer
Richard Williams
Francis Hutton
Savill Gascoyne
Rich. Bulfell
Rich. Jones
Tho. Wynes
Humphrey Williams
Edward Roberts
Martin Atkinson
Edward Atkinson
Wm. Edwards
Nathan Braddock
Jeffrey Gurrish
Henry Carrell
Tho. Tyle
Gamahel White
Richard Marks
Tho. Clever
Jo. Kitchin
Edmond Edwards
Lewes Miles
Jo. Kennedy
Sam Jackson
26
22
26
17
14
21
22
17
26
22
23
27
17
14
19
21
25
20
29
29
26
30
22
20
32
28
30
31
23
16
24
24
19
16
16
20
19
20
24
Allin King
19
Rowland Sadler 19
Jo. Phillips
28
Daniel Endick
16
Jo. Chalk
25
Jo. Vynall
20
Edward Smith
20
Jo. Rowfidge
19
Wm. Westlie
40
Jo. Smith
18
Jo. Saunders
22
Tho. Bartcherd
16
Tho. Dodderidge 19
Richard Williams 18
Jo. Ballance
19
Wm. Baidin
21
Wm. Pen
26
Jo. Gerie
24
Henry Baylie
18
Rich. Anderson 50
Robert Kelum
51
Richard Fanshaw 22
Tho. Bradford
40
Wm. Spencer
16
Martnaduke Ella 22
Women
Ann Swayne
Eliz. Cote
Ann Rice
Kat. Wilson
Maudlin Lloyd
Mabell Busher
Annis Hopkins
Ann Mason
Bridget Crompe
Mary Hawkes
Ellin Hawkes
22
22
23
23
24
14
24
24
18
19
18
volume i – fall 2007
Document D
Document F
Source: Articles of Agreement, Springfield, Massachusetts,
1636
Source: Captain John Smith, History of Virginia, 1624
We whose names are underwritten, being by God’s providence
engaged together to make a
plantation ... do mutually agree to certain articles and orders to
be observed and kept by us and by our successors....
1. We intend by God’s grace, as soon as we can, with all
convenient speed, to procure some Godly and faithful minister
with whom we purpose to join in church covenant to walk in
all the ways of Christ.
2. We intend that our town shall be composed of forty
families.... rich and poor.
3. That every inhabitant shall have a convenient proportion
for a house lot, as we shall see [fit] for everyone’s quality and
estate....
5. That everyone shall have a share of the meadow or planting
ground....
Documemt E
Source: Wage and Price Regulations in Connecticut, 1676
Whereas a great cry of oppression is heard among us, and that
principally pointed at workmen and traders, which is hard
to regulate without a standard for pay, it is therefore ordered
that ... [prices and wages] be duly set at each of our General
Courts annually, . . . [All breaches of this order to be punished
proportional to the value of the oppression.... This court ... in the
interim recommends [that] all tradesmen and laborers consider
the religious end of their callings, which is that receiving such
moderate profit as may enable them to serve God and their
neighbors with their arts and trades comfortably, they do not
enrich themselves suddenly and inordinately (by oppressing
prices and wages to the impoverishing [of] their neighbors ...
live in the practice of that crying sin of oppression, but avoid it.
When the [large ship] departed, . . . those of us that had money,
spare clothes, credit to give bills of payment, gold rings, fur,
or any such commodities, were ever welcome to [purchase
supplies. The rest of us patiently obeyed our] vile commanders
and [bought] our provisions at fifteen times the value, . . . yet
did not repine but fasted, lest we should incur the censure of
[being] factious and seditious persons.... Our ordinary [food]
was but meal and water so that this ... little relieved our wants,
whereby with the extremity of the bitter cold frost ... more
than half of us died.
The worst [among us were the gold seekers who] with their
golden promises made all men their slaves in hope of
recompenses. There was no talk ... but dig gold, wash gold,
refine gold, load gold.... Smith, perceiving [we lived] from
hand to mouth, caused the pinnace [small ship] to be provided
with things fitting to get provision for the year following.
[Two councilors] Wingfield and Kendall, . . . strengthened
themselves with the sailors and other confederates [and
planned to go] aboard the pinnace to alter her course and to
go for England.
Smith had the plot discovered to him. Much trouble he had to
prevent it, till with store of musket shot he forced them to
stay or sink in the river; which action cost the life of Captain
Kendall. These brawls are so disgusting, as some will say, they
were better forgotten.
Document G
Source: Governor Berkeley and His Council on Their Inability
to Defend Virginia Against a Dutch Attack, December 1673
We thought it our duty ... to set forth in this our Declaration,
the true state and condition of this country in general and
our particular ... disability to ... [engage in] war at the time
of this invasion [by the Dutch].... [We] therefore do most
humbly beseech your majesty and your most honorable council
to consider that Virginia is intersected by so many vast rivers
as makes more miles to defend than we have men of trust to
defend them. For by our nearest computation we leave at our
backs as many servants (besides Negroes) as there are freemen
to defend the shores and all our frontiers [against] the Indians....
[This] gives men fearful apprehensions of the danger they leave
their estates and families in, while they are drawn from their
houses to defend the borders. Also at least one third [of the
freemen available for defense] are single freemen (whose labor
will hardly maintain them) or men much in debt, . . . [whom] we
75
may reasonably expect upon any small advantage the enemy may
gain upon us, . . . [to defect] to them in hopes of bettering their
condition by sharing the plunder of the country with them.
Document H
Source: Bacon’s “Manifesto,” justifying his rebellion against
Virginia Governor Berkeley in 1676
We (cannot in our hearts find one single spot of rebellion or
treason or that we have in any manner aimed at subverting
the settled government.... All people in all places where we
have yet been can attest our civil, quiet, peaceable behavior far
different from that of rebellion.... Let truth be bold and all the
world know the real foundations of pretended guilt.... Let us
trace ... [the] men in authority and favor to whose hands the
dispensation of the country’s] wealth has been committed. Let
us observe the sudden rise of their estates ... [compared] with
the quality in which they first entered this country. Let us
consider their sudden advancement. And let us also consider
whether any public work for our safety and defense or for the
advancement and propagation of trade, liberal arts or sciences
is in any [way) adequate to our vast charge. Now let us compare
these things together and see what sponges have sucked up the
public treasure and whether it has not been privately contrived
away by unworthy favorites and juggling parasites whose
tottering fortunes have been repaired and supported at the
public charge.
The Quest for Gentility in
Pre-Revolutionary America
Document A - Excerpts from John Locke, “Some Thoughts
Concerning Education”
...The other part of ill-breeding lies in the appearance of too
little care of pleasing or showing respect to those we have to do
with. To avoid this two things are requisite: first, a disposition
of mind not to offend others; and secondly, the most acceptable
and agreeable way of expressing that disposition. From the one,
men are called civil; from the other, well-fashioned. The latter
of these is that decency and gracefulness of looks, voice, words,
motions, gestures, and of all the whole outward demeanor,
which takes in company, and makes those with whom we
converse easy and well pleased. This is, as it were, the language
whereby that internal civility of the mind is expressed; which,
as other languages are, being much governed by the fashion
and custom of every country, must, in the rules and practice of
it, be learned chiefly of observation, and the carriage of those
who are allowed to be exactly well-bred. ...I shall take note of
four qualities, that are most directly opposite to this first and
most taking of all the social virtues...
The first is, a natural roughness, which makes a man
uncomplaisant to others, so that he has not deference for their
inclinations, tempers, or conditions. It is the sure badge of a
clown, not to mind what pleases those he is with; and yet one
may often find a man, in fashionable clothes, give an unbounded
swing to his own humor, and suffer it to jostle or over-run
anyone that stands in his way, with a perfect indifference how
they take it. This is a brutality that everyone sees and abhors,
and nobody can be easy with: and therefore this finds no place
in anyone, who would be thought to have the least tincture of
good breeding. For the end and the business of good breeding
is to supple the natural stiffness, and so soften men’s tempers,
that they may bend to a compliance, and accommodate
themselves to those they have to do with.(§143)
I say that, when you consider the breeding of your son, and are
looking for a schoolmaster, or tutor, you would not have (as is
usual) Latin and logic only in your thoughts. Learning must
be had, but in the second place, as subservient only to greater
qualities. Seek out somebody, that may know how discreetly
to frame his manners: place him in hands, where you may, a
much as possible, secure his innocence, cherish and nurse up
the good, and gently correct and weed out any bad inclinations,
and settle him in good habits....(§147)
Document B - Earl of Chesterfield, “Letters to His Son on the
Fine Art of Becoming a Man of the World and a Gentleman,”
an etiquette book popular in 18th Century America
76 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Next to manners are the exterior graces of person and address,
which adorn manners, as manners adorn knowledge. To say
that they please, engage, and charm, as they most indisputably
do, is saying that one should do everything possible to acquire
them. The graceful manner of speaking is, particularly, what I
shall always holler in your ears, as Hotspur hollered Mortimer
to Herny IV, and, like him too, I have simmer to have a starling
taught to say, speak distinctly and gracefully...(p. 86)
If care and applications are necessary are necessary to the
acquiring of those qualifications, without which you can never
be considerable, or make a figure in the world, they are not less
necessary with regard to the lesser accomplishments, which
are requisite to making you agreeable and pleasing in society.
In truth, whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well;
and nothing can be done well without attention; I therefore
carry the necessity of attention down to the lowest things, even
to dancing and to dress. Custom has made dancing sometimes
necessary for a young man,; therefore, mind it while you learn
it that you may learn to do it well, and not be ridiculous, though
in a ridiculous act. Dress is of the same nature; you must dress;
therefore attend to it; not in order to rival or to excel a fop in
it, but in order to avoid singularity, and consequently ridicule.
Take great care to be dressed like reasonable people of your
own age, in the place where you are; whose dress is never
spoken of in one way or another, as either too negligent or too
much studied.(p 2-3)
I am most affected to letters upon your subject; the one from
Madame St. Germain, and the other from Monsieur Pampigne;
they both give so good an account of you...They write that you
are not only decorous, but tolerably well-bred, and that the
English crust of awkward bashfulness, shyness, and roughness
(of which , by the bye, you had your share) is pretty well rubbed
off. I am most heartily glad of it, for, as I have often told you,
those lesser talents, of an engaging, insinuating manner, an
easy good breeding, a genteel behavior and address, are of
infinitely more advantage than they are generally thought to
be...Virtue and learning, like gold, have their intrinsic value,
but if they are not polished, they certainly lose a great deal
of their luster; and even polished brass will pass upon more
people than rough gold.( p. 10)
I send you here enclosed the draft of the letter which I would
have you write to her. I would hope that you will not be offended
at my offering you my assistance upon this occasion; because
I presume, as yet, you are not much used to write to ladies. A
propos of letter writing, the best models that you can form
yourself upon are, Cicero, Cardinal D’Ossar, Madame Sevigne,
and Comte Bussy Rebutin. Cicero’s epistles to Atticus, and to
his familiar friends, are the nest examples that you can imitate,
in the friendly and familiar style. The simplicity and clearness
of Cardinal D’Ossat’s letters show how letters of business
ought to be written; no affected turns, no attempts at wit...
For gay and amusing letters, there are none that equal Compte
Bussy’s and Madame Sevigne’s. They are so natural, that they
seem to be the extempore conversations of two people of wit,
rather than letters which are commonly studied.(p. 17 )
. . . I remind you, that it will be to a very little purpose for
you to frequent good company, if you do not conform to, and
learn their manners; if you are not attentive to please, and well
bred, with the easiness of a man of fashion. As you must attend
to your manners, you must not neglect your person; but take
care to be very clean, well-dressed, and genteel; to have no
disagreeable attitudes, nor awkward tricks...Do take care to
keep your teeth very clean, by washing them constantly every
morning, and after every meal?...Do you dress well, and not
too well? Do you consider your air and manner of presenting
yourself enough, and not too much? Neither negligent or stiff?
All these things deserve a degree of care; they give an additional
lustre to real merit...A pleasing figure is the perpetual letter
of recommendation. It certainly is an agreeable forerunner of
merit, and smoothes the way for it. (p. 18)
Have a real reserve with almost everybody; have a seeming
reserve with almost nobody; for it is very disagreeable to seem
reserved, and very dangerous not to be so. Few people find the
true medium; many are ridiculously mysterious and reserved
upon trifles; and many imprudently communicative of all
they know. The next thing to your choice of friends, is the
choice of your company. Endeavor, as much as you can, to keep
company with those above you: there you rise, as much as you
sink with people below you; for you are whatever the company
you keep is...What I mean by low company, which should by
all means be avoided, is the company of those, who, absolutely
insignificant and contemptible in themselves, think they are
being honored by being in your company, an who flatter every
vice and every folly that you have, in order to engage you to
converse with them. . . (p. 25)
The art of pleasing is a very necessary one to possess, but a very
difficult one to acquire. It can hardly be reduced to rules; and
your own good sense and observation will teach you more of it
than I can...Observe carefully what pleases you in others. and
probably the same thing in you will please others...Take the
tone of the company you are in, and do not pretend to give it;
be serious, gay, or even trifling, as you find the present humor
of your company; this is an attention due from every individual
to the majority. Do not tell stories in company; there is nothing
more tedious and disagreeable; if by chance you know a short
story, and exceedingly applicable to the present subject of
conversation, tell it in as few words as possible; and even then,
throw out that you do not love to tell stories; but that the
shortness of it tempted you. Of all things, banish egotism out
of your conversation, and never think of entertaining people
with your own personal concerns, or private affairs; though
they are interesting to you, they are tedious and impertinent
77
to everybody else...Avoid the silly preamble, ‘I will tell you an
excellent thing,’ or, ‘I will tell you the best thing in the world.’
This raises expectations, which when absolutely disappointed,
make the relater of this excellent thing look, very deservedly,
like a fool. If you would particularly people, whether men or
women, endeavor to find the predominant excellency, if they
have one, and their prevailing weakness, which everybody has,
and do justice to the one, and something more than justice to
the other. Men have various objects in which they may excel,
or at least would be thought to excel, and though they love to
hear justice done to them, where they know that they excel,
yet they are most and best flattered upon those points where
they wish to excel, and yet are doubtful whether they do or
not...Women have but one object in general, which is their
beauty; upon which, scarce any flattery is too gross for them to
swallow. Nature has hardly formed a woman ugly enough to be
insensible to flattery upon her person. . .( p. 28)
There is another species of learned men, whom though less
dogmatical and supercilious, are not less impertinent. These
are the communicative and shining pedants, who adorn their
conversation by happy quotations of Greek and Latin, and who
have contracted such a familiarity with Greek and Roman
authors, that they call them by certain names or epithets
denoting intimacy...These can be imitated by coxcombs, which
have no learning at all, but who have got some names and some
scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they improperly and
impertinently retail in all companies, in hopes of passing for
scholars. If, therefore, you hope to avoid the accusation of
pedantry on the one hand, or the suspicion of ignorance on the
other, abstain from learned ostentation. Speak the language
of the company that you are in; speak it purely, and unlarded
with any other. Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the
people you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a
private pocket: and do not pull it and strike it, merely to show
that you have one. If you are asked what o’clock it is, tell it; but
do not proclaim it hourly and unasked, like the watchman.(p.
53)
Having mentioned laughing, I must particularly warn you
against it; and I could heartily wish, they you may often be
seen to smile, but never heard to laugh while you live. Frequent
and loud laughter is the characteristic of folly and in manners;
it is the manner in which the mob express their silly joy at
silly things, and they call it being merry. In my mind, there is
nothing so illiberal, and so ill bred, as audible laughter. True
wit, or sense, never yet made anybody laugh; they are above it...
I know a man of very good parts, Mr. Waller, who cannot say
the commonest thing without laughing; which makes those
who do not know him, take him at first for a natural fool...They
are ashamed in his company, and so disconcerted that they do
not know what to do...These (vulgar habits and awkwardness),
though not criminal indeed, are most carefully to be guarded
78 fieldston american reader
against, as they are great bars in the way of the art of pleasing.
Remember that to please is almost to prevail, or at least a
necessary pervious step to it. You, who have your fortune to
make, should more particularly study this art.( p. 58)
I do not doubt that you are improved in your manners by the
short visit that you have made at Dresden, and the other courts,
which I intend that you should be better acquainted with, will
gradually smooth you up to the highest polish...The manner of
doing things is often more important than the things themselves;
and the very same thing may either be pleasing or offensive, by
the manner of your saying or doing it. Materiam superabat opus,
is often said of works of sculpture...(p. 72)
People of low, obscure education cannot stand the rays of
greatness, they are frightened out of their wits when kings and
great men speak to them; they are awkward, ashamed, and
don’t know what to answer; whereas les honnetes gens are not
dazzled by superior rank: they know, and pay all the respect
that is due to it, but they do it without being disconcerted, and
can converse just as easily with a king as with any one of his
subjects...The characteristic of a well-bred man is to converse
with his inferiors without insolence, and with his superiors with
respect and ease. He talks to kings without concern, without the
least concern of mind or awkwardness of body. Awkwardness of
carriage is very alienating; and a total negligence of dress and air
is an impertinent insult to custom and fashion. Your exercises
of riding, fencing, and dancing, will civilize and fashion your
bodies and limbs, and give you, an air of the gentlemen. (p. 74)
Document C - Excerpt from Edmund Burke, “A Philosophical
Enquiry into the Origins of Our Ideas of the Sublime and the
Beautiful”
The next property constantly observable in such objects is
Smoothness. A quality so essential to beauty, that I do not now
recollect anything beautiful that is not smooth. In trees and
flowers, smooth leaves are beautiful; smooth slopes of earth in
gardens; smooth streams in the landscape; smooth coats of birds
and beasts, in fine women, in smooth skins; and in several sorts
of ornamental furniture, in its smooth and polished surfaces. A
very considerable part of the effect of beauty is owing to this
quality; indeed the most considerable. For take any beautiful
object, and give it a broken and rugged surface, and however well
formed it may be in other respects, it pleases no longer. Whereas
let it want ever so many of the other constituents, if it wants not
this, it becomes more pleasing than almost all others without
it. This seems to me so evident, that I am a good deal surprised,
that not who have handled the subject have made any mention
of the quality of smoothness in the enumeration of those that
go to the forming of beauty. For indeed any ruggedness, any
sudden projection, any sharp angle, is in the highest degree
contrary to that idea.
volume i – fall 2007
Howard Zinn: Columbus, the Indians, and
Human Progress
Arawak men and women, naked, tawny, and full of wonder,
emerged from their villages onto the island’s beaches and
swam out to get a closer look at the strange big boat. When
Columbus and his sailors came ashore, carrying swords,
speaking oddly, the Arawaks ran to greet them, brought them
food, water, gifts. He later wrote of this in his log:
They . . . brought us parrots and balls of cotton and spears and many
other things, which they exchanged for the glass beads and hawks’
bells. They willingly traded everything they owned.... They were
well-built, with good bodies and handsome features. . . . They do
not bear arms, and do not know them, for I showed them a sword,
they took it by the edge and cut themselves out of ignorance. They
have no iron. Their spears are made of cane. They would make fine
servants. With fifty men we could subjugate them all and make
them do whatever we want.
These Arawaks of the Bahama Islands were much like Indians
on the mainland, who were remarkable (Europeans observers
were to say again and again) for their hospitality, their belief
in sharing. These traits did not stand out in the Europe of
the Renaissance, dominated as it was by the religion of popes,
the government of kings, the frenzy for money that marked
Western civilization and its first messenger to the Americas,
Christopher Columbus.
Columbus wrote:
As soon as I arrived in the Indies, on the first Island which I
found, I took some of the natives by force in order that they
might learn and might give me information of whatever there
is in these parts.
The information that Columbus wanted most was: Where is
the gold? He had persuaded the king and queen of Spain to
finance an expedition to the lands, the wealth, he expected
would be on the other side of the Atlantic--the Indies and Asia,
gold and spices. For, like other informed people of his time, he
knew the world was round and he could sail west in order to
get to the Far East.
Spain was recently unified, one of the new modern nation-states,
like France, England, and Portugal. Its population, mostly
poor peasants, worked for the nobility, who were 2 percent of
the population and owned 95 percent of the land. Spain had
tied itself to the Catholic Church, expelled all the Jews, driven
out the Moors. Like other states of the modern world, Spain
sought gold, which was becoming the new mark of wealth,
more useful than land because it could buy anything.
There was gold in Asia, it was thought, and certainly silks and
spices, for Marco Polo and others had brought back marvelous
things from their overland expeditions centuries before. Now
that the Turks had conquered Constantinople and the eastern
Mediterranean, and con­trolled the land routes to Asia, a sea
route was needed. Portuguese sailors were working their way
around the southern tip of Africa. Spain decided to gamble on
a long sail across an unknown ocean.
In return for bringing back gold and spices, they promised
Colum­bus 10 percent of the profits, governorship over newfound lands, and the fame that would go with a new title:
Admiral of the Ocean Sea. He was a merchant’s clerk from
the Italian city of Genoa, part-time weaver (the son of a skilled
weaver), and expert sailor. He set out with three sailing ships,
the largest of which was the Santa Maria. perhaps 100 feet
long, and thirty-nine crew members.
Columbus would never have made it to Asia, which was
thousands of miles farther away than he had calculated,
imagining a smaller world. He would have been doomed by
that great expanse of sea. But he was lucky. One-fourth of the
way there he came upon an unknown, uncharted land that lay
between Europe and Asia--thc Americas. It was early October
1492, and thirty-three days since he and his crew had left the
Canary Islands, off the Atlantic coast of Africa. Now they saw
branches and sticks floating in the water. They saw flocks of
birds. These were signs of land. Then, on October 12, a sailor
called Rodrigo saw the early morning moon shining on white
sands, and cried out. It was an island in the Bahamas, the
Caribbean sea. The first man to sight land was supposed to
get a yearly pension of 10,000 maravedis for life, but Rodrigo
never got it. Columbus claimed he had seen a light the evening
before. He got the reward.
So, approaching land, they were met by the Arawak Indians,
who swam out to greet them. The Arawaks lived in village
communes, had a developed agriculture of corn, yams, cassava.
They could spin and weave, but they had no horses or work
animals. They had no iron, but they wore tiny gold ornaments
in their ears.
This was to have enormous consequences: it led Columbus to
take some of them aboard ship as prisoners because he insisted
that they guide him to the source of the gold. He then sailed
to what is now Cuba, then to Hispaniola (the island which
today consists of Haiti and the Dominican Republic). There,
bits of visible gold in the rivers, and a gold mask presented to
Columbus by a local Indian chief, led to wild visions of gold
fields.
On Hispaniola, out of timbers from the Santa Maria, which
had run aground, Columbus built a fort, the first European
military base in the Western Hemisphere. He called it Navidad
(Christmas) and left thirty-nine crewmembers there, with
instructions to find and store the gold. He took more Indian
Prisoners and put them aboard his two remaining ships. At
one part of the island he got into a fight with Indians who
refused to trade as many bows and arrows as he and his men
wanted. Two were run through with swords and bled to death.
79
Then the Nina and the Pinta set sail for the Azores and Spain.
When the weather turned cold, the Indian prisoners began to die.
Columbus’s report to the Court in Madrid was extravagant.
He insisted he had reached Asia (it was Cuba) and an island
off the coast of China (Hispaniola). His descriptions were part
fact, part fiction:
Hispaniola is a miracle. Mountains and hills, plains and
pastures, are both fertile and beautiful, the harbors are
unbelievably good and there are many wide rivers of which the
majority contain gold. . . . There are many spices, and great
mines of gold and other metals.
The Indians, Columbus reported, “are so naive and so free
with their Possessions that no one who has not witnessed them
would believe it. When you ask for something they have, they
never say no. To the contrary, they offer to share with anyone.. .
.“ He concluded his report by asking for a little help from their
Majesties, and in return he would bring them from his next
voyage “as much gold as they need and as many slaves as they
ask.” He was full of religious talk: “Thus the eternal God, our
Lord, gives victory to those who follow His way over apparent
impossibilities.”
Because of Columbus’s exaggerated report and promises, his
Second expedition was given seventeen ships and more than
twelve hundred men. The aim was clear: slaves and gold. They
went from island to island in the Caribbean, taking Indians
as captives. But as word spread of the Europeans’ intent they
found more and more empty villages. On Haiti, they found
that the sailors left behind at Fort Navidad had been killed in
a battle with the Indians, after they had roamed the island in
gangs looking for gold, taking women and children as slaves
for sex and labor.
Now, from his base on Haiti, Columbus sent expedition after
expe­dition into the interior. They found no gold fields, but
had to fill up the ships returning to Spain with some kind
of dividend. In the year 1495, they went on a great slave raid,
rounded up fifteen hundred An­awak men, women, and children,
put them in pens guarded by Spaniards and dogs, then picked
the five hundred best specimens to load onto ships. Of those
five hundred, two hundred died en route. The rest arrived alive
in Spain and were put up for sail by the archdeacon of the town,
who reported that, although the slaves were “naked as the day
they were born,” they showed “no more embarrassment than
animals. Columbus later wrote: “Let us in the name of the
Holy Trinity go on sending all the slaves that can be sold.”
But too many of the slaves died in captivity. And so Columbus,
desperate to pay back dividends to those who had invested, had
to make good his promise to fill the ships with gold. In the
province of Cicao on Haiti, where he and his men imagined
huge gold fields to exist, they ordered all persons fourteen
years or older to collect a certain quantity of gold every three
months. When they brought it, they were given copper tokens
to hang around their necks. Indians found without a copper
token had their hands cut off and bled to death.
The Indians had been given an impossible task. The only gold
80 fieldston american reader
around was bits of dust garnered from the streams. So they
fled, were hunted down with dogs, and were killed.
Trying to put together an army of resistance, the Arawaks faced
Spaniards who had armor, muskets, swords, horses. When the
Spaniards took prisoners they hanged them or burned them to
death. Among the Arawaks, mass suicides began, with cassava
poison. Infants were killed to save them from the Spaniards.
In two years, through mur­der, mutilation, or suicide, half of
the 250,000 Indians on Haiti were dead.
When it became clear that there was no gold left, the Indians
were taken as slave labor on huge estates, known later as
encomiendas. They were worked at a ferocious pace, and died
by the thousands.
By the year 1515, there were perhaps fifty thousand Indians
left. By 1550, there were five hundred. A report of the year
1650 shows none of the original Arawaks or their descendants
left on the island.
The chief source and, on many matters the only source
of information about what happened on the islands after
Columbus came is Bartolome de las Casas, who, as a young
priest, participated in the conquest of Cuba. For a time he
owned a plantation on which Indian slaves worked, but he gave
that up and became a vehement critic of Spanish cruelty. Las
Casas transcribed Columbus’s journal and, in his fifties, began
a multi-volume History of the Indies. In it he describes the
Indians. They are agile, he says, and can swim long distances,
especially the women. They are not completely peaceful,
because they do battle from time to time with other tribes,
but their casualties seem small, and they fight when they are
individually moved to do so because of some grievance, not on
the Orders of captains or kings.
Women in Indian society were treated so well as to startle the
Spaniards Las Casas describes sex relations:
Marriage laws are non-existent: men and women alike
choose their mates and leave them as they please without
offense, jealousy or anger. They multiply in great abundance,
pregnant women work to the last minute and give birth almost
painlessly; up the next day, they bathe in the river and are as
clean and healthy as before giving birth. If they tire of their
men, they give themselves abortions with herbs that force
stillbirths, covering their shameful parts with leaves or cotton
cloth; although on the whole, Indian men and women look
upon total nakedness with as much casualness as we look upon
a man’s head or at his hands.
The Indians, Las Casas says, have no religion, at least no
temples. They live in large communal bell-shaped buildings,
housing up to 600 people at one time ... made of very strong
wood and roofed with palm leaves.... They prize bird feathers
of various colors, beads made of fishbones, and green and white
Stones with which they adorn their ears and lips, but they
put no value on gold and other precious things. They lack all
manner of commerce, neither buying nor selling, and rely
exclusively on their natural environment for maintenance.
They are extremely generous with their possessions and by the
volume i – fall 2007
same token covet the possessions of their friend: and expect
the same degree of liberality.
In Book Two of his History of the Indies, Las Casas (who at first
urged replacing Indians by black slaves, thinking they were
stronger and would survive, but later relented when he saw the
effects on blacks) tells about the treatment of the Indians by
the Spaniards. It is a unique account and deserves to be quoted
at length:
Endless testimonies. . prove the mild and pacific temperament
of the natives. . . But our work was to exasperate, ravage, kill,
mangle and destroy; small wonder, then, if they tried to kill
one of us now and then. . The admiral, it is true, was blind as
those who came after him, and he was so anxious to please the
King that he committed reparable crimes against the Indians.
Las Casas tells how the Spaniards “grew more conceited every
day” and after a while refused to walk any distance. They “rode
the back of Indians if they were in a hurry” or were carried on
hammocks by Indians running in relays. “In this case they also
had Indians carry large leaves to shade them from the sun and
often to fan them with goose wings.”
Total control led to total cruelty. The Spaniards “thought
nothing of knifing Indians by tens and twenties and of cutting
slices off them to test the sharpness of their blades.’ Las Cassas
tells how “two of these so-called Christians met two Indian
boys one day, each carrying
a parrot; they took the parrots and for fun beheaded the boys.”
The Indians’ attempts to defend themselves failed. And when
they ran off into the hills they were found and killed. So, Las
Cassas reports, “they suffered and died in the mines and other
labors in desperate silence, knowing not a soul in the world to
whom they could turn for help.” He describes their work in
the mines:
Mountains are stripped from top to bottom and bottom to top
a thousand times; they dig & split rocks, move stones and carry
dirt on their backs to wash it in the rivers, while those who
wash gold stay in the water all the time with their backs bent
so constantly it breaks them; and when water invades the mines,
the most arduous task of all is to dry the mines by scooping up
pans-full of water and throwing it up outside.
After each six or eight months’ work in the mines, which was
the time required of each crew to dig enough gold for melting,
up to a third of the men died.
While the men were sent many miles away to the mines, the
wives remained to work the soil, forced into the excruciating job
of digging and making thousands of hills for cassava plants.
Thus husbands and wives were together only once every eight
or ten months and when they met they were so exhausted and
depressed on both sides . . . they ceased to procreate. As for the
newly born, they died early because their mothers, overworked
and famished, had no milk to nurse them, and for this reason,
while I was in Cuba, 7000 children died in three months. Some
mothers even drowned their babies from sheer desperation. . .
In this way, husbands died in the mines, wives died at work,
and children died from lack of milk. . . and in a short time
this land which was so great, so powerful and fertile. . . was
depopulated.. . . My eyes have seen these acts so foreign to
human nature, and now I tremble as I write.
When he arrived on Hispaniola in 1508, Las Casas says,
“there were 60,000 people living on this island, including
the Indians; so that from 1494 to 1508, over three million
people had perished from war, slavery, and the mines. Who
in future generations will believe this? I myself writing it as a
knowledgeable eyewitness can hardly believe it...
Thus began the history, five hundred years ago, of the
European invasion of the Indian settlements in the Americas.
That beginning, when you read Las Casas -- even if his figures
are exaggerations (were there 3 million Indians to begin with,
as he says, or 250,000, as modern historians calculate?)--is
conquest, slavery, death. When we read the history books
given to children in the United States, it all starts with heroic
adventure--there is no bloodshed—and Columbus Day is a
cele­bration.
Past the elementary and high schools, there are only occasional
hints of something else. Samuel Eliot Morison, the Harvard
historian, was the most distinguished writer on Columbus, the
author of a multi-volume biography, and was himself a sailor
who retraced Columbus’s route across the Atlantic. In his
popular book Christopher Columbus, Mariner, written in 1954,
he tells about the enslavement and the killing:
“The cruel policy initiated by Columbus and pursued by his
successors resulted in complete genocide.”
That is on one page, buried halfway into the telling of a grand
romance. In the book’s last paragraph, Morison sums up his
view of Columbus:
He had his faults and his defects, but they were largely the
defects of the qualities that made him great—his indomitable
will, his superb faith in God and in his own mission as the
Christ-bearer to lands beyond the seas, his stubborn persistence
despite neglect, poverty and discouragement. But there was no
flaw, no dark side to the most outstanding and essential of all
his qualities --his seamanship.
One can lie outright about the past. Or one can omit facts
which might lead to unacceptable conclusions. Morison does
neither. He refuses to lie about Columbus. He does not omit
the story of mass murder; indeed he describes it with the
harshest word one can Use: genocide.
But he does something else--he mentions the truth quickly
and goes on to other things more important to him.
Outright lying or quiet omission takes the risk of discovery
which, when made, might arouse the reader to rebel against the
writer. To state the facts, however, and then to bury them in a
mass of other information is to say to the reader with a certain
infectious calm: yes, mass murder took place, but it’s not that
important-it should weigh very little in our final judgments; it
should affect very little what we do in the world.
81
It is not that the historian can avoid emphasis of some facts and
not of others. This is as natural to him as to the mapmaker, who,
in order to produce a usable drawing for practical purposes,
must first flatten and distort the shape of the earth, then
choose out of the bewilder­ing mass of geographic information
those things needed for the purpose of this or that particular
map. My argument cannot be against selection. Simplification,
emphasis, which are inevitable for both cartographers and
historians. But the mapmaker’s distortion is a technical
necessity for a common purpose shared by all people who need
maps. The historian’s distortion is more than technical, it is
ideological; it is released into a world of contending interests,
where any chosen emphasis supports (whether the historian
means to or not) some kind of interest, whether economic or
political or racial or national or sexual.
Furthermore, this ideological interest is not openly expressed
in the way a mapmaker’s technical interest is obvious (“This
is a Mercator projection for long-range navigation—for
short-range, you’d better use a different projection”). No, it is
presented as if all readers of history had a common interest
which historians serve to the best of their ability. This is not
intentional deception; the historian has been trained in a
society in which education and knowledge are put forward as
technical problems of excellence and not as tools for contending
social classes, races, nations.
To emphasize the heroism of Columbus and his successors as
navi­gators and discoverers, and to de-emphasize their genocide,
is not a technical necessity but an ideological choice. It serves-unwittingly— to justify what was done.
My point is not that we must, in telling history, accuse,
judge, condemn Columbus in absenia. It is too late for that;
it would be a useless scholarly exercise in morality. But the
easy acceptance of atrocities as a deplorable but necessary price
to pay for progress (Hiroshima and Vietnam, to save Western
civilization; Kronstadt and Hungary, to save socialism; nuclear
proliferation, to save us all)--that is still with us. One reason
these atrocities are still with us is that we have learned to bury
them in a mass of other facts, as radioactive wastes are buried
in containers in the earth. We have learned to give them
exactly the same proportion of attention that teachers and
writers often give them in the most respectable of classrooms
and textbooks. This learned sense of moral proportion, coming
from the apparent objectivity of the scholar, is accepted more
easily than when it comes from politi­cians at press conferences.
It is therefore more deadly.
The treatment of heroes (Columbus) and their victims (the Ara­
waks)--the quiet acceptance of conquest and murder in the
name of progress--is only one aspect of a certain approach to
history, in which the past is told from the point of view of
governments, conquerors, diplomats, leaders. It is as if they,
like Columbus, deserve universal acceptance, as if they—the
Founding Fathers, Jackson, Lincoln, Wilson, Roosevelt,
Kennedy, the leading members of Congress, the famous Jus­
tices of the Supreme Court—represent the nation as a whole.
82 fieldston american reader
The pre­tense is that there really is such a thing as “the United
States,” subject to occasional conflicts and quarrels, but
fundamentally a community--people with common interests.
It is as if there really is a “national interest” represented in
the Constitution, in territorial expansion, in the laws passed
by Congress, the decisions of the courts, the development of
capitalism, the culture of education and the mass media.
“History is the memory of states,” wrote Henry Kissinger in his
first book, A World Restored, in which he proceeded to tell the
history of nineteenth-century Europe from the viewpoint of
the leaders of Aus­tria and England, ignoring the millions who
suffered from those states­men’s policies. From his standpoint,
the “peace” that Europe had before the French Revolution
was “restored” by the diplomacy of a few na­tiornal leaders. But
for factory workers in England, farmers in France, old people
in Asia and Africa, women and children everywhere in the
upper classes, it was a world of conquest, violence, hunger,
exploitation--a world not restored but disintegrated.
My viewpoint, in telling the history of the United States, is
different: that we must not accept the memory of states as our
own. Nations are not communities and never have been. The
history of any country, presented as the history of a family,
conceals fierce conflicts of interest (sometimes exploding,
most often repressed) between conquerors and conquered,
masters and slaves, capitalists and workers, dominators and
dominated in race and sex. And in such a world of conflict,
a world of victims and executioners, it is the job of thinking
people, as Albert Camus suggested, not to be on the side of
the executioners.
Thus, in that inevitable taking of sides which comes from
selection and emphasis in history, I prefer to try to tell the
story of the discovery of America from the viewpoint of the
Arawaks, of the Constitution from the standpoint of the slaves,
of Andrew Jackson as seen by the Cherokees, of the Civil War
as seen by the New York Irish, of the Mexican war as seen by
the deserting soldiers of Scott’s army, of the rise of industrialism
as seen by the young women in the Lowell textile mills, of the
Spanish-American war as seen by the Cubans, the conquest of
the Philippines as seen by black soldiers on Luzon, the Gilded
Age as seen by southern farmers, the First World War as seen
by socialists, the Second World War as seen by pacifists, the
New Deal as seen by blacks in Harlem, the postwar American
empire as seen by peons in Latin America. And so on, to the
limited extent that any one person, however he or she strains,
can “see” history from the standpoint of others.
My point is not to grieve for the victims and denounce the
execu­tioners. Those tears, that anger, cast into the past, deplete
our moral energy for the present. And the lines are not always
clear. In the long run, the oppressor is also a victim. In the
short run (and so far, human history has consisted only of short
runs), the victims, themselves desper­ate and tainted with the
culture that oppresses them, turn on other victims.
Still, understanding the complexities, this book will be
skeptical of governments and their attempts, through politics
volume i – fall 2007
and culture, to ensnare ordinary people in a giant web of
nationhood pretending to a common interest. I will try not
to overlook the cruelties that victims inflict on one another
as they are jammed together in the boxcars of the system. I
don’t want to romanticize them. But I do remember (in rough
paraphrase) a statement I once read: “The cry of the poor is not
always just, but if you don’t listen to it, you will never know
what justice is.”
I don’t want to invent victories for people’s movements. But
to think that history-writing must aim simply to recapitulate
the failures that dominate the past is to make historians
collaborators in an endless cycle of defeat. If history is to
be creative, to anticipate a possible future without denying
the past, it should, I believe, emphasize new possibilities by
disclosing those hidden episodes of the past when, even if
in brief flashes, people showed their ability to resist, to join
together, occasionally to win. I am supposing, or perhaps only
hoping, that our future may be found in the past’s fugitive
moments of compassion rather than in its solid centuries of
warfare.
That, being as blunt as I can, is my approach to the history of
the United States. The reader may as well know that before
going on what Columbus did to the Arawaks of the Bahamas,
Cortes did to the Aztecs of Mexico, Pizarro to the Incas of
Peru, and the English settlers of Virginia and Massachusetts
to the Powhatans and the Pequots.
The Aztec civilization of Mexico came out of the heritage
of Mayan, Zapotec, and Toltec cultures. It built enormous
constructions from stone tools and human labor, developed
a writing system and a priest­hood. It also engaged in (let us
not overlook this) the ritual killing of thousands of people as
sacrifices to the gods. The cruelty of the Aztecs, however, did
not erase a certain innocence, and when a Spanish armada
appeared at Vera Cruz, and a bearded white man came ashore,
with strange beasts (horses), clad in iron, it was thought
that he was the legendary Aztec man-god who had died
three hundred years before, with the promise to return—the
mysterious Quetzalcoatl. And so they welcomed him, with
munificent hospitality.
That was Hernando Cortes, come from Spain with an
expedition financed by merchants and landowners and blessed
by the deputies of God, with one obsessive goal: to find gold.
In the mind of Montezuma, the king of the Aztecs, there must
have been a certain doubt about whether Cortes was indeed
Quetzalcoatl, because he sent a hundred runners to Cortes,
bearing enormous treasures, gold and silver wrought Into
objects of fantastic beauty, but at the same time begging him
to go back. (The painter Dürer a few years later described what
he saw just arrived in Spain from that expedition—a sun of
gold, a moon of silver, worth a fortune.)
Cortes then began his march of death from town to town,
using deception, turning Aztec against Aztec, killing with
the kind of deliberateness that accompanies a strategy—to
paralyze the will of the population by a sudden frightful deed.
And so, in Cholulu, he invited the headmen of the Cholula
nation to the square. And when they came, with thousands
of unarmed retainers, Cortes’s small army of Spaniards,
posted around the square with cannon, armed with crossbows,
mounted on horses, massacred them, down to the last man.
Then they looted the city and moved on. When their cavalcade
of murder was over they were in Mexico City, Montezuma was
dead, and the Aztec civilization, shattered, was in the hands
of the Spaniards.
All this is told in the Spaniards’ own accounts.
In Peru, that other Spanish conquistador Pizarro, used the
same tactics, and for the same reason--the frenzy in the early
capitalist states of Europe for gold, for slaves, for products
of the soil, to pay the bondholders and stockholders of the
expeditions, to finance the monarchical bureaucracies rising
in Western Europe, to spur the growth of the new money
economy rising out of feudalism, to participate in what Karl
Marx would later call “the primitive accumulation of capi­tal.”
These were the violent beginnings of an intricate system of
technol­ogy, business, politics, and culture that would dominate
the world for the next five centuries.
In the North American English colonies, the pattern was set
early, as Columbus had set it in the islands of the Bahamas.
In 1585, before there was any permanent English settlement
in Virginia, Richard Gren­ville landed there with seven ships.
The Indians he met were hospitable, but when one of them
stole a small silver cup, Grenville sacked and burned the whole
Indian village.
Jamestown itself was set up inside the territory of an Indian
confed­eracy, led by the chief, Powhatan. Powhatan watched
the English settle on his people’s land, but did not attack,
maintaining a posture of coolness. When the English were
going through their “starving time” in the winter of 1610, some
of them ran off to join the Indians, where they would at least be
fed. When the summer came, the governor of the colony sent a
messenger to ask Powhatan to return the runaways, whereupon
Powhatan, according to the English account, replied with “noe
other than prowde and disslaynefull Answers.” Some soldiers
were therefore sent out “to take Revendge.” They fell upon an
Indian settle­ment, killed fifteen or sixteen Indians, burned the
houses, cut down the corn growing around the village, took
the queen of the tribe and her children into boats, then ended
up throwing the children overboard “and shoteinge owtt their
Braynes in the water.” The queen was later
taken off and stabbed to death.
Twelve years later, the Indians, alarmed as the English
settlements kept growing in numbers, apparently decided to
try to wipe them out for good. They went on a rampage and
massacred 347 men, women, and children. From then on it
was total war.
Not able to enslave the Indians, and not able to live with them,
the English decided to exterminate them. Edmund Morgan
83
writes, in his history of early Virginia, American Slavery,
American Freedom:
Since the Indians were better woodsmen than the English and
virtually impossible to track down, the method was to feign
peaceful intentions, let them settle down and plant their corn
wherever they chose, and then, just before harvest, fall upon
them, killing as many as possible and burning the corn.... .
Within two or three years of the massacre the English had
avenged the deaths of that day many times over.
In that first year of the white man in Virginia, 1607, Powhatan
had addressed a plea to John Smith that turned out prophetic.
How authentic it is may be in doubt, but it is so much like
so many Indian statements that it may be taken as, if not the
rough letter of that first plea, the exact spirit of it:
I have seen two generations of my people die.. . .I know the difference
between peace and war better than any man in my country. I am
now grown old, and must die soon; my authority must descend to
my brothers, Opitchapan, Opechancanough and Catatough—then
to my two sisters, and then to my two daughters. I wish them to
know as much as I do, and that your love to them may be like mine
to you. Why will you take by force what you may have quietly by
love? Why will you destroy us who supply you with food? What can
you get by war? We can hide our provisions and run into the woods;
then you will starve for wronging your friends. Why are you jealous
of us? We are unarmed, and willing to give you what you ask, if you
come in a friendly manner, and not so simple as not to know that it
is much better to eat good meat, sleep comfortably, live quietly with
my wives and children, laugh and be merry with the English, and
trade for their copper and hatchets, than to run away from them,
and to lie cold in the woods, feed on acorns, roots and such trash, and
be so hunted that I can neither eat nor sleep. In these wars, my men
must sit up watching, and if a twig break, they all cry out “Here
comes Captain Smith!” So I must end my miserable life. Take away
your guns and swords, the cause of all our jealousy, or you may all
die in the same manner.
When the Pilgrims came to New England they too were
coming not to vacant land but to territory inhabited by tribes
of Indians. The governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony,
John Winthrop, created the excuse to take Indian land by
declaring the area legally a “vacuum.” The Indians, he said, had
not “subdued” the land, and therefore had a “natural” right to
it, but not a “civil right.” A “natural right” did not have legal
standing.
The Puritans also appealed the Bible, Psalms 2:8: “Ask of me,
84 fieldston american reader
and I shall give thee, the heathen for thine inheritance, and
the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession.” And to
justify their use of force to take the land, they cited Romans
13:2: “Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth
the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to
themselves damnation.”
The Puritans lived in uneasy truce with the Pequot Indians,
who occupied what is now southern Connecticut and Rhode
Island. But they wanted them out of the way; they wanted
their land. And they seemed to want also to establish their
rule firmly over Connecticut settlers in that area. The murder
of a white trader, Indian-kidnapper, and troublemaker became
an excuse to make war on the Pequots in1636.
A punitive expedition left Boston to attack the Narragansett
Indians on Block Island, who were lumped with the Pequots.
As Governor Winthrop Wrote:
They had Commission to put to death the men of Block Island,
but to spare the women and children, and to bring them away,
and to take possession of the island; and from thence to go
to the Pequods to demand the murderer of Captain Stone
and other English, and one thousand fathom of wampom for
damages, etc and some of their children as hostages, which if
they should refuse, they were to Obtain by force.
The English landed and killed some Indians, but the rest hid
in the thick forests of the island and the English went from
one deserted village to the next, destroying crops. Then they
sailed back to the mainland and raided Pequot villages along
the coast, destroying crops again. One of the officers of that
expedition, in his account, gives some insight into the Pequots
they encountered: “The Indians spying of us came running in
multitudes along the water side, crying, What cheer, Englishmen, what cheer, what do you come for? They not thinking we
intended war, went on cheerfully. . .”
So, the war with the Pequots began. Massacres took place
on both sides. The English developed a tactic of warfare used
earlier by Cortes and later, in the twentieth century, even more
systematically: deliberate attacks on noncombatants for the
purpose of terrorizing the enemy. This is ethnohistorian Francis
Jennings’s interpretation of Captain John Mason’s attack on a
Pequot village on the Mystic River near Long Island Sound:
“Mason proposed to avoid attacking Pequot warriors, which
would have overtaxed his unseasoned, unreliable troops. Battle,
as such, was not his purpose. Battle is only one of the ways
to destroy an enemy’s will to fight. Massacre can accomplish
the same end with less risk, and Mason had determined that
massacre would be his objec­tive.”
So the English set fire to the wigwams of the village. By their
own account: “The Captain also said, We must Burn Them;
and immedi­ately stepping into the Wigwam . . . brought out a
volume i – fall 2007
Fire Brand, and putting it into the Matts with which
they were covered, set the Wigwams on Fire.” William
Bradford, in his History of the Plymouth Plantation written at
the time, describes John Mason’s raid on the Pequot village:
Those that scaped the fire were slaine with the sword; some hewed
to peeces, others rune throw with their rapiers, so as they were
quickly dispatchte, and very few escaped. It was conceived they
thus destroyed about 400 at this time. It was a fearful sight to see
them thus frying in the fyer, and the streams of blood quenching
the same, and horrible was the stincke and sente there of, but the
victory seemed a sweete sacrifice, and they gave the prayers thereof
to God, who had wrought so wonderfully for them, thus to inclose
their enemise in their hands, and give them so speedy a victory over
so proud and insulting an enimie.
As Dr. Cotton Mather, Puritan theologian, put it: “It was
supposed that no less than 600 Pequot souls were brought
down to hell that day.”
The war continued. Indian tribes were used against one another,
and never seemed able to join together in fighting the English.
Jennings sums up:
The terror was very real among the Indians, but in time they
came to meditate upon its foundations. They drew three lessons
from the Pequot War:
(1) that the Englishmen’s most solemn pledge would be broken
whenever obligation confficted with advantage; (2) that the
English way of war had no limit of scruple or mercy; and (3)
that weapons of Indian making were almost useless against
weapons of European manufacture. These lessons the Indians
took to hcart.
A footnote in Virgil Vogel’s book This Land Was Ours (1972)
says: “The official figure on the number of Pequots now in
Connecticut is twenty-one persons.”
Forty years after the Pequot War, Puritans and Indians fought
again. This time it was the Wampanoags, occupying the south
shore of Massachusetts Bay, who were in the way and also
beginning to trade some of their land to people outside the
Massachusetts Bay Colony.
Their chief, Massasoit, was dead. His son Wamsutta had been
killed by Englishmen and Wamsutta’s brother Metacom (later
to be called King Philip by the English) became chief. The
English found their excuse, a murder which they attributed
to Metacom, and they began a war of conquest against the
Wampanoags, a war to take their land. They were clearly the
aggressors, but claimed they attacked for preven­tive purposes.
As Roger Williams, more friendly to the Indians than most,
put it: “All men of conscience or prudence ply to windward, to
maintain their wars to be defensive.”
Jennings says the elite of the Puritans wanted the war; the
ordinary white Englishman did not want it and often refused
to fight. The Indians certainly did not want war, but they
matched atrocity with atrocity. When it was over, in 1676,
the English had won, but their resources were drained; they
had lost six hundred men. Three thousand Indians were dead
including Metacom himself. Yet the Indian raids did not stop.
For a while, the English tried softer tactics. But ultimately, it
was back to annihilation. The Indian population of 10 million
that was in North America when Columbus came would
ultimately be reduced to less than a million. Huge numbers
of Indians would die from diseases, introduced by the whites.
A Dutch traveler in New Netherland wrote in 1656 that “the
Indians ....affirm, that before the arrival of the Christians and
before the smallpox broke out amongst them, they were ten
times as numerous as they now are, and that their population
had been melted down by this disease, whereof nine-tenths
of them have died.” When the English first settled Martha’s
Vineyard in 1642, the Wampanoags there numbered perhaps
three thousand. There were no wars on that island, but by 1764,
only 313 Indians were left there.
Block Island Indians numbered perhaps 1,200 to 1,500 in
1662, and by 1774 were reduced to fifty-one.
Behind the English invasion of North America, behind their
massa­cre of Indians, their deception, their brutality, was that
special power­ful drive born in civilizations based on private
property. It was a morally ambiguous drive; the need for
space, for land, was a real human need. But in conditions of
scarcity, in a barbarous epoch of history ruled by competition,
this human need was transformed into the murder of whole
peoples. Roger Williams said, “it was a depraved appetite after
the great vanities, dreams and shadows of this vanishing life,
great portions of land, land in this wilderness, as if men were
in as great necessity and danger for want of great portions of
land, as poor, hungry, thirsty seamen have, after a sick and
stormy, a long and starving passage. This is one of the gods
of New England, which the living and most high Eternal will
destroy and famish.”
Was all this bloodshed and deceit—from Columbus to Cortes,
Pi­zarro, the Puritans—a necessity for the human race to
progress from savagery to civilization? Was Morison right in
burying the story of genocide inside a more important story of
human progress? Perhaps a persuasive argument can be made
as it was made by Stalin when he killed peasants for industrial
progress in the Soviet Union, as it was made by Churchill
explaining the bombings of Dresden and Hamburg, and
Truman explaining Hiroshima. But how can the judgment be
made if the benefits and losses cannot be balanced because the
losses are either unmentioned or mentioned quickly?
That quick disposal might be acceptable (“Unfortunate, yes,
but it had to be done”) to the middle and upper classes of the
conquering and “advanced” countries. But is it acceptable to
the poor of Asia, Africa, Latin America, or to the prisoners
in Soviet labor camps, or the blacks in urban ghettos, or the
Indians on reservation to the victims of that progress which
85
benefits a privileged minority in the world? Was it acceptable (or
just inescapable?) to the miners and rail­roaders of America, the
factory hands, the men and women who died by the hundreds
of thousands from accidents or sickness, where they worked or
where they lived--casualties of progress? And even the privi­
leged minority—must it not reconsider, with that practicality
which even privilege cannot abolish, the value of its privileges,
when they become threatened by the anger of the sacrificed,
whether in organized rebellion, unorganized riot, or simply
those brutal individual acts of desperation labeled crimes by
law and the state?
If there are necessary sacrifices to be made for human progress,
is it not essential to hold to the principle that those to be
sacrificed must make the decision themselves? We can all
decide to give up something of ours, but do we have the right
to throw into the pyre the children of others, or even our own
children, for a progress which is not nearly as clear or present
as sickness or health, life or death?
What did people in Spain get out of all that death and brutality
visited on the Indians of the Americas? For a brief period in
history, there was the glory of a Spanish Empire in the Western
Hemisphere. As Hans Koning sums it up in his book Columbus:
His Enterprise:
For all the gold and silver stolen and shipped to Spain did not
make the Spanish people richer. It gave their kings an edge
in the balance of power for a time, a chance to hire more
mercenary soldiers for their wars. They ended up losing those
wars anyway, and all that was left was a deadly inflation, a
starving population, the rich richer, the poor poorer, and a
ruined peasant class.
Beyond all that, how certain are we that what was destroyed
was inferior? Who were these people who came out on the
beach and swam to bring presents to Columbus and his
crew, who watched Cortes and Pizarro ride through their
countryside, who peered out of the forests at the first white
settlers of Virginia and Massachusetts?
Columbus called them Indians, because he miscalculated the
size of the earth. In this book we too call them Indians, with
some reluctance, because it happens too often that people are
saddled with names given them by their conquerors.
And yet, there is some reason to call them Indians, because
they did come, perhaps 25,000 years ago, from Asia, across
the land bridge of the Bering Straits (later to disappear under
water) to Alaska. Then they moved southward, seeking warmth
and land, in a trek lasting thousands of years that took them
into North America, then Central and South America. In
Nicaragua, Brazil, and Ecuador their petrified footprints can
still be seen, along with the print of bison, who disap­peared
about five thousand years ago, so they must have reached South
America at least that far back.
Widely dispersed over the great land mass of the Americas,
they numbered 15 or 20 million people by the time Columbus
86 fieldston american reader
came, perhaps 5 million in North America. Responding to
the different environments of soil and climate, they developed
hundreds of different tribal cultures, perhaps two thousand
different languages. They perfected the art of agriculture, and
figured out how to grow maize (corn), which cannot grow by
itself and must be planted, cultivated, fertilized, harvested,
husked, shelled. They ingeniously developed a variety of other
vege­tables and fruits, as well as peanuts and chocolate and
tobacco and rubber.
On their own, the Indians were engaged in the great
agricultural revolution that other peoples in Asia, Europe,
and Africa were going through about the same time. While
many of the tribes remained nomadic hunters and food gath­
erers in wandering, egalitarian communes, others began to
live in more settled communities where there was more food,
larger populations, more divisions of labor among men and
women, more surplus to feed chiefs and priests, more leisure
time for artistic and social work, for building houses. About a
thousand years before Christ, while compara­ble constructions
were going on in Egypt and Mesopotamia, the Zuni and Hopi
Indians of what is now New Mexico had begun to build villages
consisting of large terraced buildings, nestled in among cliffs
and mountains for protection from enemies, with hundreds
of rooms in each village. Before the arrival of the European
explorers, they were using irrigation canals, dams, were doing
ceramics, weaving baskets, making cloth out of cotton.
By the time of Christ and Julius Caesar, there had developed
in the Ohio River Valley a culture of so-called Moundbuilders,
Indians who constructed thousands of enormous sculptures
out of earth, sometimes in the shapes of huge humans, birds, or
serpents, sometimes as burial sites, sometimes as fortifications.
One of them was 3 miles long, enclosing 100 acres. These
Moundbuilders seem to have been part of a complex trading
system of ornaments and weapons from as far off as the Great
Lakes, the Far West, and the Gulf of Mexico.
About A.D. 500, as this Moundbuilder culture of the Ohio
Valley was beginning to decline, another culture was developing
westward, in the valley of the Mississippi, centered on what
is now St. Louis. It had an advanced agriculture, included
thousands of villages, and also built huge earthen mounds as
burial and ceremonial places near a vast Indian metropolis that
may have had thirty thousand people. The largest mound was
100 feet high, with a rectangular base larger than that of the
Great Pyramid of Egypt. In the city, known as Cahokia, were
toolmakers, hide dressers, potters, jewelrymakers, weavers,
saltmakers, copper engravers, and magnificent ceramists. One
funeral blanket was made of twelve thousand shell beads.
From the Adirondacks to the Great Lakes, in what is now
Pennsyl­vania and upper New York, lived the most powerful
of the northeastern tribes, the League of the Iroquois, which
volume i – fall 2007
included the Mohawks (People Of the Flint), Oneidas (People
of the Stone), Onondagas (People of the Mountain), Cayugas
(People at the Landing), and Senecas (Great Hill People),
thousands of people bound together by a common Iroquois
language.
In the vision of the Mohawk chief Hiawatha, the legendary
Dekaniwidah spoke to the Iroquois: “We bind ourselves together
by taking hold of each other’s hands so firmly and forming a
circle so strong that If a tree should fall upon it, it could not
shake nor break it, so that our people and grandchildren shall
remain in the circle in security, peace and happiness.”
In the villages of the Iroquois, land was owned in common
and worked in common. Hunting was done together, and
the catch was divided among the members of the village.
Houses were considered common property and were shared
by several families. The concept of private ownership of land
and homes was foreign to the Iroquois. A French Jesuit priest
who encountered them in the 1650s wrote: “No poorhouses are
needed among them, because they are neither mendicants nor
paupers.... . Their kindness, humanity and courtesy not only
makes them liberal with what they have, but causes them to
possess hardly anything except in common.”
Women were important and respected in Iroquois society.
Families were matrilineal. That is, the family line went
down through the female members, whose husbands joined
the family, while sons who married then joined their wives’
families. Each extended family lived in a “long house.” When
a woman wanted a divorce, she set her husband’s things outside
the door.
Families were grouped in clans, and a dozen or more clans
might make up a village. The senior women in the village
named the men who represented the clans at village and tribal
councils. They also named the forty-nine chiefs who were the
ruling council for the Five Nation confederacy of the Iroquois.
The women attended clan meetings, stood behind the circle of
men who spoke and voted, and removed the men from office if
they strayed too far from the wishes of the women.
The women tended the crops and took general charge of village
affairs while the men were always hunting or fishing. And since
they supplied the moccasins and food for warring expeditions,
they had some control over military matters. As Gary B. Nash
notes in his fascinating study of early America, Red, White,
and Black: “Thus power was shared between the sexes and the
European idea of male dominancy and female subordination in
all things was conspicuously absent in Iroquois society.”
Children in Iroquois society, while taught the cultural heritage
of their people and solidarity with the tribe, were also taught to
be independent, not to submit to overbearing authority. They
were taught equality in status and the sharing of possessions.
The Iroquois did not use harsh punishment on children; they
did not insist on early weaning or early toilet training, but
gradually allowed the child to learn self-care.
All of this was in sharp contrast to European values as brought
over by the first colonists, a society of rich and poor, controlled
by priests, by governors, by male heads of families. For
example, the pastor of the Pilgrim colony, John Robinson, thus
advised his parishioners how to deal with their children: “And
surely there is in all children a stubbornness, and stoutness
of mind arising from natural pride, which must, in the first
place, be broken and beaten down; that so the foundation of
their education being laid in humility and tractable-ness, other
virtues may, in their time, be built thereon.”
Gary Nash describes Iroquois culture:No laws and ordinances,
sheriffs and constables, judges and juries, or courts or jails—
the apparatus of authority in European societies—were to be
found in the northeast woodlands prior to European arrival.
Yet boundaries of acceptable behavior were firmly set. Though
priding themselves on the autonomous individual, the Iroquois
maintained a strict sense of right and wrong. . . . He who stole
another’s food or acted invalourously in war was “shamed” by
his people and ostracized from their company until he had
atoned for his actions and demonstrated to their satisfaction
that he had morally purified himself.
Not only the Iroquois but other Indian tribes behaved the same
way. In 1635, Maryland Indians responded to the governor’s
demand that if any of them killed an Englishman, the guilty
one should be delivered up for punishment according to
English law. The Indians said:
It is the manner amongst us Indians, that if any such accident
happen, wee doe redeeme the life of a man that is so slaine,
with a 100 armes length of Beades and since that you are heere
strangers, and come into our Countrey, you should rather
conform yourselves to the Customes of our Countrey, than
impose yours upon us. .
So, Columbus and his successors were not coming into an
empty wilderness, but into a world which in some places was
as densely popu­lated as Europe itself, where the culture was
complex, where human relations were more egalitarian than in
Europe, and where the relations among men, women, children,
and nature were more beautifully worked out than perhaps any
place in the world.
They were people without a written language, but with their
own laws, their poetry, their history kept in memory and
passed on, in an oral vocabulary more complex than Europe’s,
accompanied by song, dance, and ceremonial drama. They paid
careful attention to the devel­opment of personality, intensity
of will, independence and flexibility, passion and potency, to
their partnership with one another and with nature.
87
John Collier, an American scholar who lived among Indians in
the 1920s and l930s in the American Southwest, said of their
spirit:“ Could we make it our own, there would be an eternally
inexhaustible earth and a forever lasting peace.”
Perhaps there is some romantic mythology in that. But the
evidence from European travelers in the sixteenth, seventeenth,
and eighteenth centuries, put together recently by an American
specialist on Indian life, William Bruadon, is overwhelmingly
supportive of much of that myth.” Even allowing for the
imperfection of myths, it is enough to make us question, for
that time and ours, the excuse of progress in the annihilation
of races, and the telling of history from the standpoint of the
conquerors and leaders of Western civilization.
Edmund Morgan: Slavery and Freedom
- The American Paradox (1972)
The following are excerpts from an article by historian and professor
Edmund Morgan published in 1972. In the article, Morgan
discusses the relationship between the rise of slavery and the rise
of democracy in the colonial Chesapeake. As you read, notice what
factors Morgan highlights as leading to the rise of racial slavery
in the Chesapeake. And, think about how the conditions of the
Chesapeake region during colonial times could have simultaneously
given rise to both slavery and democracy. American historians interested in tracing the rise of liberty,
democracy, and the common man have been challenged in the
past two decades by other historians, interested in tracing the
history of oppression, exploitation, and racism. The challenge...
made us examine more directly than historians hitherto have
been willing to do, the role of slavery in our early history.
Colonial historians, in particular, when writing about the
origin and development of American institutions have found
it possible until recently to deal with slavery as an exception
to everything they had to say...We owe a debt of gratitude to
those who have insisted that slavery was something more than
an exception, that one fifth of the American population at the
time of the Revolution is too many people to be treated as an
exception.
We shall not have met the challenge simply by studying the history of that one fifth, fruitful as such studies may be,
urgent as they may be. Nor shall we have met the challenge
if we merely execute the familiar maneuver of turning our
old interpretations on their heads. The temptation is already
apparent to argue that slavery and oppression were the dominant
features of American history and that efforts to advance liberty
and equality were the exception, indeed no more than a device
to divert the masses while their chains were being fastened. To
dismiss the rise of liberty and equality in American history
as a mere sham is not only to ignore hard facts, it is also to
evade the problem presented by those facts. The rise of liberty
and equality in this country was accompanied by the rise of
slavery. That two such contradictory developments were taking
place simultaneously over a long period of history, from the
seventeenth century to the nineteenth, is the central paradox
of American history.
The challenge, for a colonial historian at least, is to explain how
a people could have developed the dedication to human liberty
and dignity exhibited by the leaders of the American Revolution
and at the same time have developed and maintained a system
of labor that denied human liberty and dignity every hour of
the day...
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It has been tempting to dismiss Jefferson and the whole Virginia
dynasty as hypocrites. But to do so is to deprive the term
hypocrisy of useful meaning. If hypocrisy means, as I think
it does, deliberately to affirm a principle without believing it,
then hypocrisy requires a rare quality of mind combined with
an unscrupulous intention to deceive. To attribute such an
intention, even to attribute such clarity of mind in the matter,
to Jefferson, Madison, or Washington is to once again evade
the challenge. What we need to explain is how such men could
have arrived at beliefs and actions so full of contradiction...
Put the challenge another way: how did England, a country
priding itself on the liberty of its citizens, produce colonies
where most of the inhabitants enjoyed still greater liberty,
greater opportunities, greater control over their own lives
than most men in the mother country, while the remainder,
one fifth of the total, were deprived of virtually all liberty,
all opportunities, all control over their own lives? We may
admit that the Englishmen who colonized America and
their revolutionary descendants were racists, that consciously
or unconsciously they believed liberties and rights should be
confined to persons of light complexion. When we have said as
much, even when we have probed the depths of racial prejudice,
we will not have fully accounted for the paradox. Racism
was certainly an essential element in it, but I should like to
suggest another element, that I believe to have influenced the
development of both slavery and freedom as we have known
them in the United States...
Virginians poor had reason to be envious and angry and against
the men who owned the land and imported the servants and
ran the government... The nervousness of those who had
property worth plundering continued throughout the century...
[One solution] was to extend the terms of service for servants
entering the colony... but [as] the ranks of freedmen grew, so
did poverty and discontent...[But, there was a] solution which
allowed Virginiains magnates to keep their lands, yet arrested
the discontent and the repression of other Englishmen [living
in Virginia]... the rights of Englishmen were preserved by
destroying the rights of Africans.
Slaves could be deprived of the opportunity for association and
rebellion. They could be kept unarmed and unorganized... And
since color disclosed their probable status, the rest of society
could keep close watch on them...
[The freedman] was no longer a man to be feared. This fact,
together with the presence of a growing mass of alien slaves,
tended to draw the white settlers closer together and to reduce
the importance of class difference between yeoman farmer and
large plantation owner.
One development was crucial, and that was the appearance
in Virginia of a growing number of freemen who had served
their terms but who were now unable to afford land of their
own except on the frontiers... By 1676 it was estimated that
one fourth of Virginia’s freemen were without land of their
own... The presence of this growing class of poverty-stricken
Virginians was not a little frightening to the planters who
had made it to the top...They wanted the [indentured servant]
immigrants who kept pouring in every year. Indeed, they
needed them...but as more [indentured servants] turned free
every year Virginia seemed to have inherited the problem that
she was helping England to solve. Virginia, complained...[the]
secretary of the colony, was sinke to drayen England of her
filth and scum.
The men who worried the uppercrust looked even more
dangerous in Virginia than they had in England. They were,
to begin with, young...and the young have always seemed
impatient of control by their elders and superiors, if not
downright rebellious. They were also predominantly single
men...Finally, what made these wild young men particularly
dangerous was that they were armed and had to be armed...
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Carol F. Karlsen: Excerpts – Devil in the
Shape of a Woman
Eunice Cole was first tried for witchcraft crimes in Boston in
the fall of 1656. It was not her first court appearance; she had
been brought before local magistrates in Essex and Norfolk
counties on several occasions for lesser crimes, the first time
in 1645, when she was charged with making “slanderous
speeches.” Her reckless speech also figured strongly in the
evidence presented in her witchcraft trial. Goodwife Marston
and Susanna Palmer testified “that goodwife Cole said shee
was sure there was a witche in the towne, and she knew where
hee dwelt” and that Cole had also said that she had known
somebody years before who was “bewitched as good-wife
marston’s childe was.” Thomas Philbrick, who had lost two
calves, deposed that Goody Cole had let him know that if his
calves ate “any of hir grass she wished it might poyson them or
choke them.” Richard Ormsby, constable of Salisbury, said that
when he had stripped Cole for whipping he saw “under one of
hir brests... a bleu thing like unto a teate hanging downeward
about thre quarters of an inche longe ... [with] some blood with
other moystness [which she said] was a sore.”
On this and other like testimony, Cole was apparently convicted.
The magistrates were reluctant to execute her, however. Instead,
they sentenced her to what she afterwards called a “duble”
punishment: both to be whipped and to be imprisoned “during
[her] life or the pleasure of the court.” She spent most of the
next twelve to fifteen years incarcerated in the Boston jail.
Probably within the first year of her imprisonment, Eunice
Cole petitioned the General Court for her release, pleading
her own “aged and weake ...condition” and the infirmities of
her husband, William Cole, who, “being 88 yeeres of Age,”
needed the kind of care that “none but a wife would” provide.
She also asked the magistrates to consider the condition
of “that little estate” she and her husband had accumulated
in Hampton, which, she averred, she had been “the greatest
instrument under God to get us” but which “all goes to ruine”
in her absence. Alluding to the criminal behavior that had
brought her to her present straits, she promised “for the future
... to behave [herself] both in word and deed towards those
amongst whom” she dwelt. Although the magistrates’ response
to Cole’s plea has not survived, they were evidently unwilling
to release her at this time.
In 1659, William Cole sent a petition of his own to the
General Court, describing the predicament both he and the
town of Hampton were in because of his wife’s imprisonment,
and asking the magistrates for “some relief in the case.” He
could not farm the land alone, he said, and could not afford
to hire someone to assist him because he had signed his estate
90 fieldston american reader
over to his wife sometime previously, “to keep her from going
away from him.” Unable to eke out a subsistence and on the
verge of perishing, he had had to call upon the town for relief,
which had been supplied. But, he added, “without recourse to
a lawsuit..., the town could recover nothing for the assistance
rendered.”
Goodman Cole does not seem to have been disingenuous about
his or the town’s plight. He and his wife had no children to
assist them with the farm labor, and in 1658, at least the town
apparently provided him with some aid. In 1656, moreover,
the same year that Goodwife Cole was tried for witchcraft, he
had signed a deed of gift, transferring “all his estate” to his
wife -- though years later witnesses testified that the transfer
was to occur “at his death.” Whatever significance this 1656
deed had for William Cole or his community, the General
Court invalidated it in 1659. In response to William Cole’s
petition, they ordered “that the town of Hampton should take
into their possession all the estate belonging to the said Cole,
or his wife -- as was pretended -- and out of said estate, or
otherwise, as they should see cause, supply the said Cole’s and
his wife’s necessities during their lives.”
If William Cole specifically requested his wife’s liberty in
his 1659 petition, his words went unrecorded. But within a
year, Eunice Cole was back in Hampton. Despite her earlier
promise to watch her tongue, she was soon presented at the
county court for “unseemly speeches.” By 1662 , whether for
this reason or some other, she had been returned to the Boston
prison. In that year, her husband died and she petitioned again
for her freedom.
Shortly before his death, William Cole had written a will that
voided his earlier transfer of his property to his wife and left his
£59 estate [minus debts] to his neighbor Thomas Webster, with
the stipulation that Webster provide for him “Comfortably”
for the duration of his life. The Hampton selectmen, who
officially controlled the Cole estate, were not happy with this
will; nor were they pleased with the possibility that Eunice
Cole might be allowed to return again to their town. Boston
jailer William Salter, who had not been paid, at least not in
full, by the selectmen for Eunice Cole’s prison maintenance,
was also upset. When the General Court met on 8 October
1662, they had to consider not only Eunice Cole’s petition but
one from Salter and one from the town of Hampton. In answer
to all three, the magistrates ordered “that the said Unice Cole
pay what is due on arreares to the keeper, and be released the
prison, on condition that she depart, within one month after
her release, out of this jurisdiction, and not to returne againe
on poenalty of hir former sentence being executed against hir.”
Cole was released at this time, but she did not leave the colony
within the month. Almost immediately upon her return to
Hampton, witchcraft suspicions resurfaced and before long
volume i – fall 2007
she found herself back in prison. Meanwhile, William Cole’s
estate was being settled; by October 1663, the county court
had divided the remaining Cole property between Thomas
Webster and Eunice Cole, but arranged for Cole’s share - by
now only £8 - to be paid to the Hampton selectmen “for her use.”
Evidently, the town had still not completely paid the costs of
keeping her in prison, because in 1664 William Salter had one
of the Hampton selectmen arrested for ignoring his demand for
Cole’s fees. In 1665, Cole petitioned yet another time for her
release. And again the court consented, this time stipulating
only that she give security for her permanent departure from the
colony. With little or nothing left of her estate, she could not
meet the requirements and remained in jail.
At some point between 1668 and 1671, Eunice Cole was
discharged from the Boston prison, but by 1671 she was back
in Hampton, completely destitute. The selectmen arranged for
her maintenance by providing her with what, according to the
folklore of the region, was a “hut” along the Hampton River,
and by requiring that a different family supply her with food
and fuel each week. In 1673, however, she was back in front of
the Boston court facing another witchcraft charge. This time
she was accused of appearing in various human and animal
shapes to entice a young girl “to come to live with her,” of
“inchanting [the] oven” of the constable who was responsible
for bringing her the provisions her neighbors supplied, and of
commiting many other crimes, both recent and longstanding.
She was acquitted of all specific charges, but with the strong
reservations of the court: “in the case of unis cole now prisoner
att the Bar -- not Legally guilty according to Inditement
butt just ground of vehement suspissyon of her having had
famillyarryty with the devill.” In spite of the court’s reluctance,
Cole was allowed to return again to Hampton.
There is little information on how Cole fared the next several
years, but clearly her reputation as a witch did not diminish.
By 1680, she was in prison again, awaiting the decision of
the Hampton court as to whether she should be tried a third
time. After hearing testimony, the court decided the evidence
was insufficient for indictment -- but not for punishment. The
presiding magistrate allowed that there was “not full proofe”
that she was a witch, but, he added, “the Court vehemently
suspects her so to be.” He ordered her imprisoned again “until
this Court take further order,” this time “with a lock to be kept
on her legg” to prevent her escape.
Little else about Cole’s life can be verified. According to local
legend, she was released from prison one more time and lived
out her last days in the hovel by the river, completely ostracized
by the community. When she died, it is said, her body was
dragged outdoors, pushed into a shallow grave, and a stake
driven through it “in order to exorcise the baleful influence she
was supposed to have possessed.”
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3
11.
the struggle for
independence
1763-1783
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John Locke: of Civil Government (1688)
John Locke was a Scot who wrote “Of Civil Government” in 1688
in response to the Glorious Revolution in Britain. In this bloodless
coup, the authoritarian King James II was deposed and replaced by
King William and Queen Mary who agreed to grant Parliament
sovereignty over some matters. Locke wrote in support of the
Glorious Revolution – he opposed absolute monarchy and favored
government by a representative legislature. Nearly a century
later, Americans would use Locke’s words to justify their revolution
against British rule.
As you read, think about what Locke means by a “state of nature.”
Why would man leave such a state of “perfect freedom”? What is the
purpose of society according to Locke? What recourse do individuals
have if the leaders of a society abuse their power or fail to fulfill
those goals for which the society was established. Also, think about
why Americans would have found Locke’s words in support of the
British government useful in their eventual rebellion against the
British government.
Chapter II: Of the State of Nature
We must consider what state all men are naturally [originally]
in, and that is, a state of perfect freedom to order their actions
and dispose of their possessions and persons, as they think fit...
without depending on the will of any other man.
A state also of equality wherein all the power and jurisdiction
is reciprocal, no one having more than another....
Chapter VII: Of Political or Civil Society
Whenever... any number of men are so united into one society,
as to quit everyone his executive power of the law of nature,
and to resign it to the public, there and there only is a political,
or civil society. And this is done, wherever any number of men,
in the state of nature, enter into society to make one people, one
body politic, under one supreme government; or else when any
one join himself to... any government already made: for hereby
he authorizes the society [and its legislature]... to make laws for
him, as the public good of the society shall require.... And this
puts men out of a state of nature into that of a commonwealth,
by setting up a judge on earth, with authority to determine all
the controversies, and redress the injuries that may happen to
any member of the commonwealth....
Hence, it is evident, that absolute monarchy, which by some
men is counted the only government in the world, is indeed
inconsistent with civil society, and so can be no form of
civil government at all.... For he being supposed to have all,
both legislative and executive power in himself alone, there
is no judge to be found, no appeal lies open to any one, who
may fairly and indifferently, and with authority decide, and
from whose decision relief and redress may be expected of
any injury or inconveniency that may be suffered from the
[absolute monarch].... For whenever any two men... have no...
common judge [to] appeal to on earth, for the determination of
controversies of right betwixt them, there they are still in the
state of nature [and not part of a civil society].... [A common
man] the subject, or rather slave of an absolute prince... whenever
his property is invaded by the will and order of the [absolute]
monarch, he has not only no appeal, as those in society ought
to have... [but he is also] denied a liberty to... defend his right;
and so is exposed to all the misery and inconveniences, that a
man can fear....
Chapter VIII: Of the Beginning of Political Societies
Men being, as has been said, by nature [in a state of nature],
all free, equal and independent, no one can be put out of this
estate, and subjected to the political power of another, without
his own consent. The only way, whereby any one divests
himself of his natural liberty, and puts on the bond of civil
society, is by agreeing with other men to join and unite into a
community, for their comfortable, safe, and peaceable living
one amongst another, in a secure enjoyment of their properties,
and a greater security....
When any number of men have, by the consent of every
individual, made a community, they have thereby made that
community one body, with a power to act as one body, which
is only by the will and determination of the majority.... It
being necessary for that which is one body to move one way...;
it is necessary the body should move that way whither the
greater force [the majority] carries it.... And therefore we see...
the act of the majority passes for the act of the whole....
And thus every man, by consenting with others to make
one body politic under one government, puts himself under
an obligation, to every one of that society, to submit to the
determination of the majority....
Chapter IX: Of the Ends of Political Society and
Government
If man in the state of nature be so free, as has been said; if he
be absolute lord of his own person and possessions, equal to
the greatest and subject to nobody, why will he part with his
freedom? Why will he... subject himself to the dominion and
control of any other power? To which it is obvious to answer,
95
that though in a state of nature he hath such right, yet the
enjoyment of it is very uncertain, and constantly exposed to the
invasion of others; for... every man his equal, and the greater
part no strict observers of equity and justice, the enjoyment of
the property he has in this state [of nature] is very unsafe, very
insecure. This makes him willing to quit a condition, which
however free, is full of fears and continual dangers; and it is
not without reason, that he seeks out, and is willing to join
in society with others... for the mutual preservation of their
lives, liberties, and estates, which I call by the general name,
property.
Their great and chief end, therefore, of men’s uniting into
commonwealths, and putting themselves under government,
is the preservation of their property. To which in a state of
nature there are many things wanting.
First, [in a state of nature] there wants an established, settled,
known law, received and allowed by common consent to be
the standard of right and wrong, and the common measure to
decide all controversies between them....
Secondly, in the state of nature there wants a known and
indifferent judge, with authority to determine all differences
according to the established law: for every one in that state
being both judge and executioner of the law of nature, men
being partial to themselves, passion and revenge is very apt to
carry them too far, and with too much heat in their own cases;
as well as negligence and underconcernedness, to make them
too remiss in other men’s.
Thirdly, in the state of nature, there often wants power to
back and support the sentence when right, and to give it due
execution....
that made the state of nature so unsafe and uneasy....
Chapter XIX: Of the Dissolution of Government
The reason why men enter into society, is the preservation of
their property; and the end why they choose and authorize a
legislature is, that there may be laws made, and rules set, as
guards and fences to the property of all the members of society:
to limit the power, and moderate the dominion, of every part
and member of society.... Whenever the legislators endeavor to
take away and destroy the property of the people, or to reduce
them to slavery under arbitrary power, they put themselves
into a state of war with the people, who are thereupon absolved
from any farther obedience.... Whensoever therefore the
legislature shall transgress this fundamental rule of society;
and either by ambition, fear, folly or corruption, endeavor to
grasp themselves... an absolute power over the lives, liberties,
and estates of the people, by this breach of trust they forfeit the
power the people had put into their hands... and it devolves to
the people, who have a right to resume their original liberty,
and... provide for their own safety and security, which is the
end for which they are in society.... What I have said here,
concerning the legislative in general holds true also concerning
the [executive]... when he goes about to set up his own arbitrary
will as the law of the society.
Whosoever uses force without right, as every one does in
society who does it without law, puts himself into a state of
war with those against whom he so used it; and in that state all
former ties are canceled, all other rights cease, and every one
has a right to defend himself, and to resist the aggressor....
Thus mankind, notwithstanding all the privileges of the state of
nature... are quickly driven into society.... The inconveniences
that [men] are therein exposed to [in a state of nature], by the
irregular and uncertain exercise of the power every man has
of punishing the transgressions of others, make them take
sanctuary under the established laws of government, and
therein seek the preservation of their property.... And in this
we have the original right of... governments and societies
themselves....
But though men, when they enter into society, give up the
equality, liberty, and executive power they had in the state of
nature, into the hands of society, to be so far disposed of by the
legislature, as the good of society shall require; yet it being only
with an intention in every one the better to preserve himself,
his liberty and property... the power of the society, or legislative
constituted by them can never be supposed to extend farther
than the common good; but it is obliged to secure every one’s
property, by providing against those... defects above mentioned,
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Daniel Dulany: “Considerations” (1765)
... The notion of a virtual representation of the colonies must
fail, which, in Truth, is a mere cob-web, spread to catch the
unwary, and tangle the weak...
There is not that intimate and inseparable relation between the
colonies and Great Britain and the inhabitants of the colonies,
which may inevitably involve both in the same taxation; on
the contrary, not a single actual elector in England, might be
immediately affected by taxation in America, imposed by a
statute which would have a general effect on the properties
and inhabitants of the colonies...
It appears to me that there is a clear and necessary distinction
between an act imposing a tax for the simple purpose of revenue,
and those acts which have been made for the regulation of
trade, and have produced some revenue in consequence of their
effect and operation as regulations of trade.
The subordination of the colonies, and the authority of
Parliament to preserve it, have been fully acknowledged. Not
only the welfare, but perhaps the existence of the mother
country, as an independent kingdom, may depend on her trade
and navigation, and these so far upon her intercourse with her
colonies, that if this should be neglected, there would soon be
an end to that commerce whence her greatest wealth is derived.
From these considerations, the right of British Parliament to
regulate the trade of the colonies may be justly deduced... It is a
common, and frequently the most popular method to regulate
trade by duties on imports and exports... The authority of the
mother country to regulate the trade of the colonies being
unquestionable, what regulations are the most proper, are to
be of course to the determination of Parliament...
Resolutions of the Stamp Act Congress
(1765)
In response to the Stamp Act, issued by Parliament in March of 1765,
waves of protest swept the British
colonies, involving everyone from street mobs to civic leaders, often
organized by secret organizations
called the Sons of Liberty. In October, a Stamp Act Congress held in
New York City (representing nine
colonies) petitioned Parliament for repeal. What are the main
arguments made by the Stamp Act
Congress? How do the colonies perceive their relationship with
Great Britain? What is the tone of the
document?
THE members of this Congress, sincerely devoted with the
warmest sentiments of affection and duty to
His majesty’s person and Government, inviolably attached to
the present happy establishment of the
Protestant succession, and with minds deeply impressed by a
sense of the present and impending
misfortunes of the British colonies on this continent; having
considered as maturely as time will permit
the circumstances of the said colonies, esteem it our
indispensable duty to make the following
declarations of our humble opinion respecting the most
essential rights and liberties of the colonists,
and the grievances under which they labour, by reason of
several late Acts of Parliament.
I. That His Majesty’s subjects in theses colonies owe the
same allegiance to the Crown of Great
Britain that is owing from his subjects born within the realm,
and all due subordination to that august body the Parliament
of Great Britain.
II. That His Majesty’s liege subjects in these colonies are
instilled to all the inherent rights and
Liberties of his natural born subjects within the
kingdom of Great Britain.
III. That it is inseparably essential to the freedom of a
people, and the undoubted right of
Englishmen, that no taxes are imposed on them but
with their own consent, given personally or by their
representatives.
IV. That the people of these colonies are not, and from
their local circumstances cannot be,
represented in the House of Commons in Great
Britain.
V. That the only representatives of the people of these
colonies are persons chosen therein by
themselves, and that no taxes ever have been, or can be
97
constitutionally imposed on them, but by their respective
legislatures.
VI. That all supplies to the Crown being free gifts to the
people, it is unreasonable and
inconsistent with the principles and spirit of the British
Constitution, for the people of Great Britain to grant His
Majesty the property of the colonists.
VII. That trial by jury is the inherent and invaluable right
of every British subject in these
Colonies.
VIII. That the late Act of Parliament entitled An Act for
granting and applying certain stamp
duties, and other duties in the British colonies and
plantations in America, etc., by imposing taxes on
the inhabitants of these colonies; and the said Act, and several
other Acts, by extending the jurisdiction of the courts of
Admiralty beyond its ancient limits, have
a
manifest tendency to subvert the rights and liberties of the
colonists...
XI. That the restrictions imposed by several late Acts of
Parliament on the trade of these
colonies will render them unable to purchase the
manufactures of Great Britain.
XII. That the increase, prosperity, and happiness of these
colonies depend on the full and free
Enjoyments of their rights and liberties, and an
intercourse with Great Britain mutually affectionate and advantageous.
XIII. That it is the right of the British subjects in these
colonies to petition the King or either
House of Parliament.
Lastly, That it is the indispensable duty of these colonies to the
best of sovereigns, to the
mother country, and to themselves, to endeavor by a loyal and
dutiful address to His Majesty, and humble applications to
both Houses of Parliament, to procure the repeal of the Act
for granting and applying certain stamp duties, of all clauses of
any other Acts of Parliament, whereby the jurisdiction of the
Admiralty is extended as aforesaid, and of the other late Acts
for the restriction of American commerce.
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Declaratory Act
An act for the better securing the dependency of his Majesty’s
dominions in America upon the crown and parliament of
Great Britain.
WHEREAS several of the houses of representatives in his
Majesty’s colonies and plantations; and have of late, against
law, claimed themselves, or to the general assemblies of the
same, the sole and exclusive right of imposing duties and taxes
upon his Majesty’s subjects in the said colonies and plantations;
and have in pursuance of such claim, passed certain votes,
resolutions, and orders, derogatory to the legislative authority
of parliament, and inconsistent with the dependency of the said
colonies and plantations upon the crown of Great Britain…be
it declared…that the said colonies and plantations in America
have been, are, and of right out to be, subordinate unto, and
dependent upon the imperial crown and parliament of Great
Britain; and that the King’s majesty, by and with the advice
and consent of the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons
of Great Britain, in parliament assembled, had, hath, and of
right ought to have, full power and authority to make laws and
statutes of sufficient force and validity to bind the colonies and
people of America, subjects of the crown of Great Britain, in
all cases whatsoever.
II. And be it further declared…. That all resolutions, votes,
orders, and proceedings, in any of the said colonies or plantations,
whereby the power and authority of the parliament of Great
Britain, to make laws and statutes as aforesaid, is denied, or
drawn into questions, are hereby declared to be, utterly null
and void to all intents and purposes whatsoever.
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First Continental Congress, Declaration
and Resolves (1774)
Representatives of twelve of the thirteen colonies met in Philadelphia
in September and October of 1774 to develop a common response to
the Coercive (Intolerable) Acts. Play close attention to the grievances
that the Congress cites. Also note the tone of the document and the
relationship it outlines between the American colonies and Great
Britain.
Whereas, since the close of the [French and Indian] war, the
British Parliament, claiming a power to bind the people of
America, by statute in all cases whatsoever, hath, in some acts
expressly imposed taxes on them, and in others, under various
pretenses, but in fact for the purpose of raising a revenue, hath
imposed rates and duties payable in these colonies, established
a board of commissioners with unconstitutional powers, and
extended the jurisdiction of the courts of admiralty, not only
for collecting the said duties, but for the trial of causes merely
arising within the body of a county.... [and] colonists may be
transported to England, and there be tried upon accusations....
And whereas, in the last session of Parliament, three statutes were
made [The Boston Port Act, the Massachusetts Government
Act and the Administration of Justice Act] and another statute
was then made [The Quebec Act].... All of which statutes are
impolitic, unjust and cruel, as well as unconstitutional, and
most dangerous and destructive of American rights.
And whereas [colonial] Assemblies have been frequently
resolved, contrary to the rights of the people, when they
attempt to deliberate on their grievances; and their dutiful,
humble, loyal and reasonable petitions to the court for redress,
have been repeatedly treated with contempt...
The good people of the several colonies... justly alarmed at
these arbitrary proceedings of Parliament and administration,
have... appointed deputies [to this Congress] in order to obtain
such establishment, as that their religion, laws and liberties,
may not be subverted:
Whereupon the deputies [to this Congress]... in a full and free
representation of these Colonies, taking into their most serious
consideration, the best means of attaining the aforesaid, do, as
Englishmen, their ancestors in like cases have usually done, for
asserting and vindicating their rights and liberties, declare,
That the inhabitants of the English Colonies in North America,
by the immutable laws of nature, the principles of the English
Constitution, have the following rights:
1. That there are entitled to life, liberty and property, and they
have never ceded to any sovereign power whatever, a right to
dispose of either without their consent.
2. That our ancestors, who first settled these colonies, were
at the time of their emigration from their mother country,
entitled to all the rights, liberties and immunities of free and
natural-born subjects, within the realm of England.
3. That by such emigration they by no means forfeited,
surrendered or lost any of those rights and their descendants
now are, entitled to the exercise and enjoyment of all of them.
4. That the foundation of English liberty, and of all free
government, is a right in the people to participate in their
legislative council: and as the English colonists are not
represented, and from their local circumstances cannot be
properly represented in the British Parliament, they are
entitled to a free and exclusive power of legislation in their
several [Colonial] Legislatures. But, from the necessity of the
case, and a regard to the mutual interest of both countries,
we cheerfully consent to the operation of such acts of British
Parliament, as are bona fide, restrained to the regulation of
our external commerce, for the purposes of securing the
commercial advantages of the whole empire to the mother
country. excluding every idea of taxation, internal or external,
for the purposes of raising a revenue on the subjects of America,
without their consent.
5. That the respective colonies are entitled to the common law
of England, and more especially to the great privilege of being
tried by their peers, according to... that law....
8. That they have the right peaceably to assemble, consider
of their grievances, and petition the King and that all
prosecutions... and comments for the same, are illegal....
9. That the keeping of a standing army in these colonies, in
times of peace, without the consent of the legislature of that
colony, is against the law....
All... in behalf of themselves and their constituents, do
claim, demand, and insist on, [each of the aforesaid] as their
indubitable rights and liberties, which cannot be legally taken
away from them, altered or abridged by any power whatever,
without their consent....
In the course of our inquiry, we find many infringements
and violations of the foregoing rights, which, from an ardent
desire that harmony and mutual intercourse of affection and
interest may be restored... that the repeal of them is essentially
necessary in order to restore harmony between Great Britain
and the American colonies....
99
To these grievous acts and measures Americans cannot submit,
but in hopes that their fellow subjects in Great Britain will, on
a revision of them, restore us to a state in which both countries
found happiness and prosperity, we have for the present only
resolved to pursue the following measures: First, To enter into
a non-importation, non-consumption, and non-exportation
agreement or association; Second, To prepare an address to
the people of Great Britain... Third, To prepare a loyal address
to his Majesty....
Second Continental Congress,
“Declaration of the Causes of the Necessity
of Taking Up Arms,” (1775)
By the time the Second Continental Congress convened in
Philadelphia, fighting had already taken place at Lexington and
Concord. In this document, the Congress explains its reasons for
resorting to violence against the British, and the conditions under
which they would be willing to put down their arms. As you read,
see if you can pinpoint how this document differs, in tone and in
purpose, from previous petitions to the Crown. By July, 1775, how
do the colonists perceive themselves and their relationship with
Great Britain?
A reverence for our great Creator, principles of humanity, and
the dictates of common sense, must convince all who reflect
upon the subject, that government was instituted to promote
the welfare of mankind, and ought to be administered for
the attainment of that end. The legislature of Great Britain,
however, stimulated by an inordinate passion for power, not
only unjustifiable, but which they know to be peculiarly
reprobated by the very constitution of that kingdom, and
departure of success in any mode of contest, where regard
should be had to truth, law, or right, have at length, deserting
those, attempted to affect their cruel and impolitic purpose of
enslaving those colonies by violence, and have thereby rendered
it necessary for us to close with their last appeal from Reason
to Arms. Yet, however blinded that assembly may be, by their
intemperate rage for unlimited domination, so to slight justice
and the opinion of mankind, we esteem ourselves bound, by
obligations of respect to the rest of the world, to make known
the justice of our cause.
Our forefathers, inhabitants of the island of Great Britain,
left their native land, to seek on these shores a residence for
civil and religious freedom. At the expense of their blood, at
the hazard of their fortunes, without the least charge to the
country from which they removed, by unceasing labour, and an
unconquerable spirit, they effected settlements in the distant
and inhospitable wilds of America, then filled with numerous
warlike nations of barbarians. Societies or governments, vested
with perfect legislatures, were formed under charters from the
crown, and an harmonious intercourse was established between
the colonies and the kingdom from which they derived their
origin. The mutual benefits of this of this union became so
extraordinary, as to excite astonishment. It is universally
confessed, that the amazing increase of the wealth, strength,
and navigation of the realm, arose from this source, and the
minister, who so wisely and successfully directed the measures
of Great Britain in the late war, publicly declared, that these
100 fieldston american reader
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colonies enabled her to triumph over her enemies...
The uninterrupted tenor of their peaceable and respectful
behavior from the beginning of colonization, their dutiful,
zealous, and useful services during the war, though so recently
and amply acknowledged in the most honorable manner by the
late king, his Majesty, and by Parliament, could not save them
from the mediated innovations...
They have undertaken to give and grant our money without
our consent, though we have ever exercised an exclusive right
to dispose of our own property; statutes have been passed
for extending the jurisdiction of courts of Admiralty beyond
their ancient limits; for depriving us of the accustomed and
inestimable privilege of trial by jury, in cases affecting both
life and property; for suspending the legislature of one of the
colonies... for quartering soldiers upon the colonists in times
of peace. It has also been resolved in Parliament, that colonists
charged with certain offenses, shall be transported to England
to be tried.
But why should we enumerate our injuries in detail? By one
statute it is declared that Parliament can, “of right make laws
to bind us IN ALL CASES WHATSOEVER.” What is to
defend us against so enormous, so unlimited a power? Not a
single man of those who assume it, is chosen by us, or is subject
to our control or influence... We saw the misery to which such
despotism would reduce us. We for ten years incessantly and
ineffectually besieged the throne as supplicants; we reasoned,
we remonstrated with Parliament, in the most mild and decent
language. But administration... sent over fleets and armies
to enforce these oppressive measures. The indignation of the
Americans was roused, it is true; but it was
the indignation of a virtuous, loyal, and affectionate people...
We have pursued every temperate, every respectable measure;
we have even proceeded to break off our commercial intercourse
with our fellow subjects, as the last peaceable admonition, that
our attachment to no nation on earth should supplant our
attachment to liberty. This, we flattered ourselves... how vain
was this hope of finding moderation in our enemies...
the world, declare that, exerting the utmost energy of our
powers, with our beneficent Creator had graciously bestowed
upon us, the arms we have been compelled by our enemies to
assume, we will, in defiance of every hazard, with unabating
firmness and perseverance, employ for the preservation of our
liberties; being with our one mind resolved to die freemen
rather than to live like slaves.
Lest this declaration should disquiet the minds of our friends
and fellow-subjects in any part of the empire, we assure them
that we mean not to dissolve this Union which has so long and
happily subsisted between us, and, which we sincerely wish to
see restored. Necessity has not yet driven us to that desperate
measure, or induced us to excite any other nation to war against
them. We have not raised armies with ambitious designs of
separating from Great Britain, and establishing independent
states. We fight not for glory or for conquest. We exhibit to
mankind the remarkable spectacle of people
attacked by unprovoked enemies, without any imputation
or even suspicion of offense... We shall lay down [our arms]
when hostilities shall cease on the part of the aggressors, and
all danger of their being renewed shall be removed, and not
before...
Fruitless were all the entreaties, arguments, and eloquence of
an illustrious band of the most distinguished peers, who nobly
and strenuously asserted the justice of our cause, to mitigate the
heedless fury with which these accumulated and unexpected
outrages were hurried on...
Our cause is just. Our union is perfect. Our internal resources
are great, and, if necessary, foreign assistance is undoubtedly
attainable. We gratefully acknowledge, as signal instances of
the Divine favour towards us, that his Providence would not
permit us to be called into this severe controversy, until we were
grown up to our present strength... With hearts fortified with
these animating reflections, we most solemnly, before Godand
101
Thomas Paine, “Common Sense”
(January 10, 1776)
Thomas Paine (1737-1809) was born in England to a poor Quaker
father and Anglican mother. After meeting Benjamin Franklin
in London, he emigrated to the colonies late in 1774 and got a job
editing the Pennsylvania Magazine. Tensions between England
and the colonies were high, and Paine soon leapt into the fray. After
the Battle of Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775, Paine
concluded that the American colonial revolt should be aimed not
against unjust taxation but towards full independence from Great
Britain. Paine’s arguments were spelled out in Common Sense, a
fifty-page pamphlet that was published in January, 1776. It was
an immediate sensation. Close to 150,000 copies were sold within
three months. and possibly as many as 500,000 copies all together,
to a colonial population of but two and half million people. More
than any other single publication, Paine’s Common Sense persuaded
public opinion of the case for independence from Great Britain. What
are Paine’s main arguments for colonial independence? What kinds
of language and imagery does he use to express these arguments?
How do Paine’s ideas and tone differ from those expressed in the
Continental Congresses? Why might his pamphlet held such wide
appeal?
Volumes have been written on the subject of the struggle
between England and America. Men of all ranks have
embarked in the controversy, from different motives, and with
various designs: but all have been ineffectual...
I have heard it asserted by some, that as America hath flourished
under her former connection with Great Britain, the same
connection is necessary towards her future happiness, and will
always have the same effect. Nothing can be more fallacious
than this kind of argument. We may as well assert that because
a child has thriven upon milk, that it is never to have meat, or
that the first twenty years of our lives is to become a precedent
for the next twenty. But even this is admitting more than is
true; for I answer roundly, that America would have flourished
as much, and probably much more, had no European power
taken any notice of her. The commerce by which she hath
enriched herself are the necessaries of life, and will always
have a market while eating is the custom of Europe.
But she has protected us, say some. That she hath engrossed
us is true, and defended the continent at our expense as well
as her own is admitted; and she would have defended Turkey
from the same motive... for the sake of trade and dominion.
Alas! we have long led away by ancient prejudices, and made
large sacrifices to superstition. We have boasted the protection
of Great Britain without considering that her motive was
102 fieldston american reader
interest, not attachment; and that she did not protect us from
our enemies on our account, but from her enemies on her own
account, from those who had no quarrel with us on any other
account, but who will always be our enemies on the same
account. Let Britain waive her pretensions to the continent,
or the continent throw off her een , and we should be at peace
with France and Spain were they at war with Britain...
But Britain is the parent country, say some. Then the more
shame upon her conduct. Even brutes do not devour their
young, nor savages make war upon their families; wherefore,
the assertion, if true, turns to her reproach; but it happens not
to be true, or only partly so, and the phrase parent or mother
country hath been Jesuitically adopted by the king and his
parasites, with a low, papistical design of gaining an unfair bias
on the credulous weakness of our minds. Europe, not England,
is the parent country of America. This new world hath been the
asylum for the persecuted lovers of civil and religious liberty
from every part of Europe. Hither have they fled, not from the
tender embraces of a mother, but from
the cruelty of a monster; and it is so far true of England, that
the same tyranny which drove the first emigrants from home,
pursues their descendants still...
I challenge the warmest advocate for reconciliation to show
a single advantage that this continent can reap, by being
connected to Great Britain... Our corn will fetch its price in
any market in Europe, and our imported goods must be paid
for, buy them where we will.
But the injuries and disadvantages we sustain by that
connection are without number; and our duty to mankind
at large, as well as to ourselves, instructs us to renounce the
alliance: because any submission to, or dependence on, Great
Britain tends directly to involve this continent in European
wars and quarrels, and sets us at variance with nations who
would otherwise seek our friendship, and against whom we
have neither anger nor complaint. As Europe is our market for
trade, we ought to form no partial connection with any part of
it. ‘Tis the true interest of America to steer clear of European
contentions, which she never can do while by her dependence
on Britain she is made the makeweight in the scale of British
politics.
Europe is too thickly planted with kingdoms to be long at
peace, and whenever a war breaks out between England and a
foreign power, the trade of America goes to ruin, because of her
connection with Britain. The next war may not turn out like
the last, and should it not, the advocates for reconciliation now
will be wishing for separation then, because neutrality in that
case would be a safer convoy than a man of war. Everything
that is right or natural pleads for separation. The blood of the
slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, ‘TIS TIME TO PART.
Even the distance at which the Almighty hath placed England
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and America is a strong and natural proof that the authority of
one over the other was never the design of heaven...
the common order of nature, it is evident that they belong to
different systems. England to Europe: America to itself...
It is the good fortune of many to live distant from the scene of
present sorrow. The evil is not sufficiently brought to their doors
to make them feel the precariousness with which all American
property is possessed. But let our imaginations transport us for
a few moments to Boston; that seat of wretchedness will teach
us wisdom, and instruct us to forever renounce a power in whom
we can have no trust. The inhabitants of that unfortunate city,
who but a few months ago were in ease and affluence, have
now no other alternative than to stay and starve, or turn out
to beg. Endangered by the fire of their friends if they continue
within the city, and plundered by the soldiery if they leave it,
in their present situation they are prisoners without the hope
of redemption...
[The king] hath shown himself to be an inveterate enemy to
liberty, and discovered such a thirst for arbitrary power. Is he,
or is he not, a proper person to say to these colonies, You shall
make no laws but what I please! And is there any inhabitant
in America so ignorant as not to know, that according to what
is called the present constitution, this continent can make no
laws but what the King gives leave to; and there is any man so
unwise as not to see, that (considering what has happened) he
will suffer no law to be made but such as suits his purpose?...
[C]an there be any doubt but the whole power of the Crown
will be exerted to keep this continent as low and as humble as
possible? Instead of going forward we will go backward... We
are already greater than the King wishes us to be, and will he
not hereafter endeavor to make us less? To bring the matter
to one point, is the power jealous of our prosperity, a proper
power to govern us? Whosoever says No to this question is
an independent, for independency means no more than this,
whether we shall make our own laws, or whether the king, the
greatest enemy which this continent hath, or can have, shall
tell us, There shall be no laws but such as I like.
But if you say, you can still pass the violations over, then I
ask, Hath your house been burnt? Hath your property been
destroyed before your face? Are your wife and children
destitute of a bed to lie on, or bread to live on? Hath you lost
a parent or child by their hands, and yourself the ruined and
wretched survivor? If you have not, then you are not a judge of
those who have. But if you have, and can still shake hands with
the murderers, then you are unworthy of the name of husband,
father, friend, or lover; and whatever might be your rank or
title in life, you have the heart of a coward, and the spirit of a
sycophant...
Every quiet method for peace hath been ineffectual. Our
prayers have been rejected with disdain; and have tended to
convince us that nothing flatters vanity or confirms obstinacy
in kings more than repeated petitioning – and nothing hath
contributed more than that very measure to make the kings of
Europe absolute... Wherefore, since nothing but blows will do,
for God’s sake let us come to a final separation, and to leave
the next generation to be cutting throats under the violated
unmeaning names of parent and child...
As to government matters, it is not in the power of Britain to
do this continent justice... for if they cannot conquer us, they
cannot govern us. To be always running three or four thousand
miles with a tale or petition, waiting four or five months for an
answer, which, which, when obtained, requires five or six more
to explain it in, will in a few years be looked upon as folly and
childishness. There was a time when it was proper, and there is
a proper time for it to cease.
Small islands not capable of protecting themselves are the
proper objects for kingdoms to take under their care; but
there is something very absurd in supposing a continent to
be perpetually governed by an island. In no instance hath
nature made the satellite larger than its primary planet; and
as England and America, with respect to each other, reverse
But where, say some, is the king of America? I’ll tell you,
friend, he reigns above, and doth not make havoc of mankind
like the Royal Brute of Great Britain... [L]et it be brought
forth placed on the divine law, the Word of God; let a crown
be placed thereon, by which the world may know, that so far
as we approve of monarchy, that in America THE LAW IS
KING. For in absolute governments the king is law, so in free
countries the law ought to BE king, and there ought to be no
other. But lest any ill use should afterwards arise, let the crown
at the conclusion of the ceremony be demolished...
A government of our own is our natural right; and when a man
seriously reflects on the precariousness of human affairs, he
will become convinced, that it is infinitely wiser and safer to
form a constitution of our own in a cool deliberate manner,
while we have it in our power, than to trust such an interesting
event to time and chance...
Ye that tell us of harmony and reconciliation, can ye restore to
us the time that is passed? Can ye give to prostitution its former
innocence? Neither can ye reconcile Britain and America. The
last cord is now broken... There are injuries which nature
cannot forgive; she would cease to be nature if she did. As
well can the lover forgive the ravisher of his mistress, as the
continent forgive the murders of Britain. The Almighty hath
implanted in us these unextinguishable feelings for good and
wide purposes. They are the guardians of his image in our
hearts. They distinguish us from the herd of common animals.
The social compact would dissolve, and justice be extirpated
from the earth, or have only a casual existence, were we callous
103
to the touches of affection. The robber and the murderer
would often escape unpunished, did not the injuries which our
tempers sustain, provoke us into justice.
O ye that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose not only the
tyranny but the tyrant, stand forth! Every spot of the old
world is overrun with oppression. Freedom hath been hunted
round the globe. Asia and Africa have long expelled her.
Europe regards her like a stranger, and England hath given her
warning to depart. O receive the fugitive, and prepare in time
an asylum for all mankind.
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Ben Franklin:
Promoting the Abolition of Slavery
An Address to the Public
from the Pennsylvania Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery,
and the Relief of Free Negroes Unlawfully Held in Bondage
It is with peculiar satisfaction we assure the friends of
humanity, that, in prosecuting the design of our association,
our endeavours have proved successful, far beyond our most
sanguine expectations.
Encouraged by this success, and by the daily progress of that
luminous and benign spirit of liberty, which is diffusing itself
throughout the world, and humbly hoping for the continuance
of the divine blessing on our labours, we have ventured to make
an important addition to our original plan, and do therefore
earnestly solicit the support and assistance of all who can feel
the tender emotions of sympathy and compassion, or relish the
exalted pleasure of beneficence.
Slavery is such an atrocious debasement of human nature, that
its very extirpation, if not performed with solicitous care, may
sometimes open a source of serious evils.
The unhappy man, who has long been treated as a brute animal,
too frequently sinks beneath the common standard of the
human species. The galling chains, that bind his body, do also
fetter his intellectual faculties, and impair the social affec­tions
of his heart. Accustomed to move like a mere machine, by the
will of a master, reflection is suspended; he has not the power
of choice; and reason and conscience have but little influence
over his conduct, because he is chiefly governed by the passion
of fear. He is poor and friendless; perhaps worn out by extreme
labour, age, and disease.
Under such circumstances, freedom may often prove a
misfortune to himself, and prejudicial to society.
Attention to emancipated black people, it is therefore to be
hoped, will become a branch of our national policy; but, as
far as we contribute to promote this emancipation, so far that
attention is evidently a serious duty incumbent on us, and
which we mean to discharge to the best of our judgment and
abilities.
To instruct, to advise, to qualify those, who have been restored
to freedom, for the exercise and enjoyment of civil liberty,
to promote in them habits of industry, to furnish them with
employments suited to their age, sex, talents, and other circum­
stances, and to procure their children an education calculated
for their future situation in life; these are the great outlines
of the annexed plan, which we have adopted, and which we
conceive will essentially promote the public good, and the
happiness of these our hitherto too much neglected fellow
creatures.
A plan so extensive cannot be carried into execution without
volume i – fall 2007
considerable pecuni­ary resources, beyond the present ordinary
funds of the Society. We hope much from the generosity of
enlightened and benevolent freemen, and will gratefully receive
any donations or subscriptions for this purpose, which may be
made to our treasurer, James Starr, or to James Pemberton,
chairman of our committee of correspondence.
by Order of the Society,
of your Knuckle. At this Key the Phial may be charg’d; and
from Electric Fire thus obtain’d, Spirits may be kindled, and
all the other Electric Experiments be perform’d, which are
usually done by the Help of a rubbed Glass Globe or Tube;
and thereby the Sameness of the Electric Matter with that of
Lightning compleatly demonstrated.
B. FRANKLIN
B.FRANKLIN, President.
Philadelphia, 9th of
November, 1789.
Letters to Peter Collinson
[October 19, 1752: The Kite Experiment]
Philadelphia, October ‘9
As frequent Mention is made in the News Papers from Europe,
of the Success of the Philadelphia Experiment for drawing
the Electric Fire from Clouds by Means of pointed Rods of
Iron erected on high buildings, &c. it may be agreeable to
the Curious to be inform’d, that the same Experiment has
succeeded in Philadelphia, tho’ made in a different and more
easy Manner, which any one may try, as follows.
Make a small Cross of two light Strips of Cedar, the Arms
so long as to reach to the four Corners of a large thin Silk
Handkerchief when extended; tie the Corners of the
Handkerchief to the Extremities of the Cross, so you have the
Body of a Kite; which being properly accommodated with a
Tail, Loop and String, will rise in the Air, like those made of
Paper;
but this being of Silk is fitter to bear the Wet and Wind of a
Thunder Gust without tearing. To the Top of the upright Stick
of the Cross is to be fixed a very sharp pointed Wire, rising a
Foot or more above the Wood. To the End of the Twine, next
the Hand, is to be tied a silk Ribbon, and where the Twine
and the silk join, a Key may be fastened. This Kite is to be
raised when a Thunder Gust appears to be coming on, and
the Person who holds the String must stand within a Door,
or Window, or under some Cover, so that the Silk Ribbon
may not be wet; and Care must be taken that the Twine does
not touch the Frame of the Door or Window. As soon as any
of the Thunder Clouds come over the Kite, the pointed Wire
will draw the Electric Fire from them, and the Kite, with
all the Twine, will be electrified, and the loose Filaments of
the Twine will stand out every Way, and be attracted by an
approaching Finger. And when the Rain has wet the Kite and
Twine, so that it can conduct the Electric Fire freely, you will
find it stream out plentifully from the Key on the Approach
105
The Declaration of Independence
(July 4, 1776)
Thomas Jefferson wrote the first draft of the Declaration as part of a
committee that included Benjamin Franklin and John Adams. The
Continental Congress made significant revisions to Jefferson’s draft
and approved the document on July 4, 1776. In the Declaration, the
Continental Congress asserts American independence from Britain
and justifies its decision to do so by citing a series of alleged violations
of American rights. In its most famous passages, the Declaration
cites the natural rights of men and asserts that governments “ derive
their just powers from the consent of the governed.” The Declaration
also startlingly declares that “all men are created equal.” As you read,
think carefully about what these key phrases mean. And, think
about whether the Declaration is an extension of or a departure
from British tradition.
In Congress, July 4, 1776,
The Unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united
States of America,
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for
one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected
them with another, and to assume among the Powers of the
earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of
Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to
the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the
causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are
created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with
certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty
and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights,
Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just
powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any
Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is
the Right of the People to alter or abolish it, and to institute
new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and
organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most
likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed,
will dictate that Governments long established should not be
changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all
experience hath shown, that mankind are more disposed to
suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by
abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when
a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably
the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under
absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw
off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their
future security. – Such has been the patient suffering of these
106 fieldston american reader
Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them
to alter their former systems of Government. The history of the
present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries
and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment
of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let
Facts be submitted to a candid world.
He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and
necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate
and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation
till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he
has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of
large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish
the Right of Representation in the Legislature, a right
inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual,
uncomfortable, and distant from the depositories of their
Public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into
compliance with his measures.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause
others to be elected; whereby the Legislative Powers, incapable
of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their
exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all
the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavored to prevent the population of these States;
for that Purpose obstructing the Laws of Naturalization of
Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migration
hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of
Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing
his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary Powers.
He has made Judges dependent upon his Will alone, for the
tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their
salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither
swarms of Officers to harass our People, and eat out their
substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies
without the Consent of our legislature.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and
superior to the Civil Power.
volume i – fall 2007
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction
foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws;
giving his Assent to their acts of pretended legislation:
For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from Punishment for
any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of
these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by
Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended
offenses:
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a
neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary
government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at
once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same
absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable
Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our
Governments:
For suspending our own Legislature, and declaring themselves
invested with Power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his
Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our
towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large armies of foreign
mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation and
tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty and
perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and
totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the
high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the
executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves
by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has
endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the
merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an
undistinguished destruction of all ages sexes and conditions.
In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for
Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions
have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince, whose
character is thus marked by every act which may define a
Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free People.
Nor have We been wanting in attention to our British brethren.
We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their
legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We
have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration
and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice
and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our
common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would
inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They
too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity.
We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces
our Separation, and hold them, a we hold the rest of mankind,
Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.
We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of
America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the
Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions,
do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these
Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United
Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent
States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British
Crown, and that all political connection between them and the
State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and
that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy
War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce,
and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States
may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with
a firm reliance on the Protection of Divine Providence, we
mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our
sacred Honor.
John Hancock.
New Hampshire
Josiah Bartlett, Wm. Whipple, Matthew Thornton.
Massachusetts-Bay
Saml. Adams, John Adams, Robt. Treat Paine, Elbridge
Gerry.
Rhode Island
Step. Hopkins, William Ellery.
Connecticut
Roger Sherman, Sam’el Huntington, Wm. Williams, Oliver
Walcott.
New York
107
Wm. Floyd, Phil. Livingston, Frans. Lewis, Lewis Morris.
Pennsylvania
Robt. Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benja. Franklin, John Morton,
Geo. Clymer, Jas. Smith, Geo. Taylor, James Wilson, Geo.
Ross.
Delaware
Caesar Rodney, Geo. Read, Tho. M’Kean.
Georgia
Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, Geo. Walton.
Maryland
Samuel Chase, Wm. Paca, Thos. Stone, Charles Carroll of
Carrollton.
and carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to
incur miserable death in their transportation hither. This
piratical warfare, the opprobrium of infidel powers, is the
warfare of the Christian King of Great Britain. Determined
to keep open a market where MEN should be bought and sold,
he has prostituted his negative [royal veto] for suppressing
every legislative attempt to prohibit or to restrain this execrable
commerce.... He is now exciting those very people to rise in
arms among us, and to purchase that liberty of which he has
deprived them by murdering the people upon whom he also
obtruded them: thus paying off former crimes committed
against the liberties of one people with crimes which he urges
them to commit against the lives of another.
Virginia
George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Th. Jefferson, Benja.
Harrison, Ths. Nelson Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter
Braxton.
North Carolina
Wm. Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn.
South Carolina
Edward Rutledge, Thos. Heyward Junr., Thomas Lynch Junr.,
Arthur Middleton.
New Jersey
Richd. Stockton, Jno. Witherspoon, Fras. Hopkinson, John
Hart, Abra. Clark.
Thomas Jefferson, Paragraph from Jefferson’s
Original Draft of the Declaration of
Independence - Eliminated from the Final Draft
by the Continental Congress (1776)
The following paragraph on slavery was part of Jefferson’s draft of
the Declaration. The Continental Congress decided to omit it from
the final version. Think carefully about why the Congress chose to
exclude this paragraph.
He [George III] has waged cruel war against human nature
itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the
persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating
108 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Mary Beth Norton:
Women in the Revolution
Most narratives of the Revolutionary War concentrate upon
describing a se­ries of pitched battles between uniformed armies.
Yet the impact of the conflict can more accurately be assessed
if it is interpreted as a civil war with pro­found consequences
for the entire population. Every movement of troops through
the American countryside brought a corresponding flight of
refugees, an invasion of epidemic disease, the expropriation of
foodstuffs, firewood, and livestock, widespread plundering or
destruction of personal property, and occasional inci­dents of
rape. In addition to bearing these common burdens of warfare,
Ameri­cans who remained loyal to the Crown had to contend
with persecution, prop­erty confiscation, and forced exile, as did
patriots who lived in areas controlled by the British, although
for them such reverses were only temporary.
The disruption of normal patterns of life that resulted from all
these seldom­ studied aspects of the conflict had an especially
noticeable effect upon women, whose prewar experiences
had been confined largely to the domestic realm. With their
men folk away serving in the armies for varying lengths of
time, white fe­male Americans had to venture into new fields
of endeavor. In the midst of war­time trials, they alone had
to make crucial decisions involving not only house­hold and
family but also the “outdoor affairs” from which they had
formerly been excluded. After initially expressing hesitation
about their ability to assume these new responsibilities, many
white women gained a new appreciation of their own capacity
and of the capability of their sex in general as they learned to
han­dle unfamiliar tasks.
For black women, too, the war brought changes. Most notably,
the British policy of offering freedom to runaway slaves
encouraged a significant percent­age of them to abandon their
home plantation in order to seek refuge with the redcoats. In
times of peace, the vast majority of runaways were youthful
males, but ready access to the British army in the South during
the later years of the war enabled even mothers encumbered
with many children to take advantage of the opportunity to
win freedom for themselves and their offspring. Of the many
ironies of black‑white relations in the revolutionary era, one
of the most striking was the fact that while American whites
were struggling against British attempts to “enslave” them,
American blacks correctly regarded those same redcoats as
liberators.
1
White women’s experiences with wartime disruptions varied
according to the re­gion in which they lived, for the war did not
affect all Americans equally at all times. New Englanders had
to cope with turmoil first, but after the British evacu­ated Boston
in 1776, the northern section of the country was relatively free
of armed conflict, with the exception of coastal areas, which
remained continually open to attack from the sea. In the middle
states, by contrast, the continuing presence of the British army
in New York City and environs from July 1776 to November
1783 and the redcoats’ brief occupation of Philadelphia in
1777-­1778 meant that many families had no respite from the
dangers of warfare for a period of years. Although the South,
on the other hand, was little touched by the war before 1778,
subsequent British army movements and the internecine guer­
rilla conflict that raged incessantly through the backcountry
had a devastating impact on the economy and society. Each
of these regional patterns had different consequences for the
female population.
Yet there was also similarity among women’s experiences.
Northerners and southerners responded alike to such stimuli as
the looming threat of invasion by enemy troops, the incidence
of disease, or the opportunity to accompany their husbands to
the army....
When news of the British sortie from Boston spread rapidly
through New England towns on April 19, 1775, panic struck
a civilian population awakened from “benign Slumbers” by
the “beat of drum and ringing of Bell.” Sixty‑seven years later,
Susan Mason Smith, who was thirteen in 1775, still vividly
remem­bered that night of terror. Although her family decided
not to leave their Salem home because they did not know where
to find safety, she did not remove her shoes for several days
thereafter, afraid to be unprepared for the next alarm. Many
other families made the opposite choice, for on the morning
of April 20 an observer found the roads around Boston “filled
with frighted women and chil­dren, some in carts with their
tattered furniture, others on foot fleeing into the woods.” In
the months that followed such scenes became commonplace in
New England. After the battle of Bunker Hill, during which
much of Charlestown was destroyed by fire, James Warren
reported from Watertown that “it is Impossible to describe the
Confusion in this place, Women and Children flying into the
Country, armed Men Going to the field, and wounded Men
returning from there fill the Streets.”
Even though no other major clashes occurred in the area,
life did not soon return to normal, especially for those who
resided near the coast. “We live in continual Expectation of
Hostilities,” Abigail Adams told her husband shortly after the
destruction of Charlestown. A month earlier four British ships
had dropped anchor nearby in search of forage, creating
another panic. “People women children from the Iron Works
flocking down this way—every woman and child above or
from below my Fathers,” she wrote then, conveying a sense of
109
dis­traction even in her prose. “My Fathers family flying, the
Drs. in great dis­tress,. . . my Aunt had her Bed thrown into a
cart, into which she got herself, and ordered the boy to drive
her of[f].”
The same images of disorder reverberated through later
descriptions of simi­lar scenes. “I arrived here late last night
and found people in the utmost confu­sion, Familys, Women,
Children, & Luggage all along the road as I came, moov­ing
different ways,” reported a Georgian in 1776 after an Indian
raid. Rumors that the British were sailing up the Chesapeake
that same year elicited an identi­cal reaction in Annapolis, “what
with the darkness of the night, thunder, light­ning, and rain,
cries of women and children, people hurrying their effects into
the country, drums beating to arms, etc.” Many of the refugees
must have felt like Helena Kortwright Brasher, who, when she
and her family fled the British attack on Esopus, New York,
asked, “Where God can we fly from danger? All places appear
equally precarious,” or like Ann Eliza Bleecker of Tomhanick,
New York, whose friends and relatives “scattered like a flock of
frighted birds” before the “hurricane” of Burgoyne’s invasion
in the fall of 1777. Mrs. Bleecker, who never recovered her
emotional equilibrium after the death of her baby daughter on
that wild flight, wrote of how she and her children had wandered
“solitary through the dark woods, expecting every moment to
meet the bloody ally of Britain the Indians],” before reaching
the safety of Albany. Over two years later Mrs. Bleecker told
a friend, “Alas! the wilderness is within: I muse so long on
the dead until I am unfit for the company of the living.” The
eighty‑six‑year‑old widow of a revolutionary soldier obviously
spoke for many when she observed in 1840, “There was so
much Suffering, and so many alarms in our neighborhood in
those hard times, that it has always been painful for me to
dwell upon them.”
Faced with the uncertain dangers of flight, some, like the
Mason family of Salem before them, decided to remain where
they were. In 1777 a Pennsylvanian told John Adams resolutely
that “if the two opposite Armys were to come here alternately
ten times, she would stand by her Property until she should
be kill’d. If she must be a Beggar, it should be where she was
known.” Hannah Iredell’s sis­ter Jean Blair made the same
choice in 1781 when the redcoats neared her North Carolina
home. “The English are certainly at Halifax but I suppose they
will be every where & I will fix myself here it is as safe as any
where else & I can be no longer tossed about,” she declared.
The Philadelphian Elizabeth Farmer also de­cided to stay in
her house, despite the fact that it lay between the lines during
the occupation of the city in 1777‑1778. As a result, she, her
husband, and their daughter were endangered by frequent
gunfire, had difficulty obtaining adequate food supplies, and
suffered “manny cold days” that winter because the British
confiscated their firewood. “Notwithstanding we thought
ourselves well of[f] in comparison to some,” she remarked in
110 fieldston american reader
1783. “Most of the houses near us have been either burnt or
pulled down as would have been the case with us if we had not
stayed in it even at the hasard of our lives.”.
Even after the redcoats’ long‑awaited departure, Boston, said
one resident, was not “that agreeable place it once was—Almost
every thing here, appears Gloomy & Mallancholy.” One of the
chief reasons for the Bostonians’ gloom was the presence of
epidemic disease in their midst. The unhealthy conditions in
the besieged city had helped to incubate both smallpox and
dysentery, and an epidemic of the latter had already swept
the Massachusetts countryside the pre­ceding fall, killing
Abigail Adams’s mother and niece, among many others. “The
desolation of War is not so distressing as the Havock made by
the pestilence,” Abigail remarked then. She could do nothing
to prevent the deaths from dysen­tery, but smallpox was another
matter. After it became clear that the disease would probably
spread across New England, carried by soldiers returning from
the army that had invaded Canada as well as by Bostonians, she
began making arrangements to have herself and her children
inoculated.
Abigail Adams and other eighteenth‑century Americans could
not reach such a decision lightly, for inoculation required being
deliberately infected with the disease. Waiting to take smallpox
“in the natural way” was to court death, yet no parents wanted
to place their children knowingly into mortal danger or to
risk their serious disfigurement. Accordingly, adults usually
postponed inoculation for themselves and their offspring as
long as possible. The war forced them to face the issue directly,
since smallpox followed the armies so inevitably that some
Americans charged the British with the “hellish Pollicy” of
intentionally spread­ing the disease. Therefore, whenever a
large number of soldiers from either side arrived in a given
area, parents had to make life‑or‑death decisions. indeed,
like Abigail Adams, many wives were forced to reach those
decisions on their own in the absence of their husbands....
In addition to carrying smallpox, the armies brought a specific
terror to American women: the fear of rape. The only female
New Englanders who per­sonally confronted this problem on
a large scale were residents of Fairfield and New Haven, the
Connecticut towns raided by English and Hessian troops in
early July 1779. Shortly after the raid, the Continental Congress
collected deposi­tions from women who had been attacked by
the redcoats. Two local residents declared that they had fought
off sexual assaults with the help of passersby, but Christiana
Gatter was not so fortunate. Her
husband, who had been severely beaten by the British earlier
in the day, ran away when a group of soldiers broke into their
home at half past two in the morning. “Two of them laid hold
of me and threw me on the Bed and swore if I made any noise
or Resistance they would kill me in a moment,” Mrs. Gatter
volume i – fall 2007
testified, so “I was obliged to Submit” to each of them in
turn. Her fate was hardly enviable, yet far worse were the cir­
cumstances of girls living on Staten Island and in New Jersey,
who during the fall and winter of 1776 were subjected to
repeated rapes by British troops stationed in the area. Whereas
the Connecticut incidents and other similar occurrences took
place in the context of brief excursions in search of plunder, the
1776 rapes were both systematic and especially brutal....
Depositions collected by the Continental Congress gave the
most vivid ac­counts of the experiences of women in New Jersey
in late 1776. Particularly re­vealing are those that pertain to a
series of incidents at the home of Edmund Palmer, an elderly
Hunterdon County farmer. One December day, a number of
British soldiers from a nearby camp came to the house. One
of them dragged Palmer’s thirteen‑year‑old granddaughter,
Abigail, into a back room. She “Scream’d & begged of him
to let her alone, but some of Said Soldiers said they wou’d
knock her Eyes out if she did not hold her Tongue.” Over the
in­effectual pleas of her grandfather and her aunt Mary Phillips,
Abigail was raped three rimes. Abigail testified that “for three
Days successively, Divers Soldiers wou’d come to the House &
Treat her in the Same manner.” On one of those days, her aunt
Mary was raped in the barn and her friend Sarah Cain, who
had come to comfort her, was also assaulted. Finally, on the
evening of the third day two soldiers demanded that Abigail and
Sarah’s younger sister Elis­abeth, who was fifteen, accompany
them to their camp. “One of them Said he had come for his
Girl, & Swore he wou’d have her, & Seiz’d hold of her Hand
& told her to Bundle up her Cloaths for she shou’d go with
them,” Abigail re­counted. She and Elisabeth were then forced
into another room despite the ef­forts of Edmund Palmer and
Elisabeth’s father, Thomas. Elisabeth recalled that “the said
Soldiers Ravished them both and then took them away to their
Camp, where they was both Treated by some others of the
Soldiers in the same cruel manner,” until they were rescued by
an officer. After spending the night at a nearby farmhouse, the
girls went home—not to Palmer’s, but to Thomas Cain’s. And
there they were evidently safe, for they told the investigators of
no further attacks....
What distinguished the war in Virginia, Georgia, and the
Carolinas from that in the North was its length and ferocious
intensity. From the invasion of Georgia in 1778 to the ratification
of the peace treaty in 1783, the South was the main theater of
war, and there battles were not confined to the formal clashes
be­tween armies that had characterized the northern phase of
the conflict. A pro­longed guerrilla war, coupled with sporadic
nonpartisan plundering and the wan­derings of the British
army through North Carolina and Virginia in 1780‑1781, left
much of the South devastated. David Ramsay’s assessment of
South Carolina can accurately be applied to the entire region:
“]here was scarcely an inhabi­tant of the State, however obscure
in character or remote in situation, whether he remained firm
to one party or changed with the times, who did not partake
of the general distress.”
Thus Georgians and South Carolinians universally complained
of the “Ban­ditti” who raided, pillaged, and looted through
their states. “Property of every kind has been taken from us
Inhabitants, their Negroes, Horses & Cattle drove & carried
away,” declared a Georgian in 1779. That same year a South
Carolin­ian commented that the “Havoc” caused by the robbers
“is not to be described. Great Numbers of Women and Children
have been left without a 2nd Shift of Clothes. The furniture
which they could not carry off they wantonly broke, burnt, and
destroyed.” Fifteen months later Eliza Lucas Pinckney observed
that “the plantations have been some quite, some nearly wind
and all with very few exceptions great sufferers!. T]heir Crops,
stock, boats, Carts etc. all gone taken or destroyed and the
Crops made this year must be very small by the desertion of
the Negroes in planting and hoeing time.” Virginia was not
so seriously affected as its neighboring states to the south,
but there too the distress was great in the months before the
American victory at Yorktown. Eliza Wilkinson’s account of her
life in the South Carolina Sea Islands during the 1780 British
invasion dramatically conveys the sense of fear and uncertainty
she felt. The area was completely at the mercy of the redcoats,
she noted, with “nothing but women, a few aged gentlemen,
and (shame to tell) some skulking varlets” to oppose them. On
one “day of terror” in early June, she recounted, a British troop
accompanied by armed blacks robbed her home of clothes and
jew­elry, using “the most abusive language imaginable, while
making as if to hew us to pieces with their swords.” After the
looters had left, “I trembled so with terror, that I could not
support myself,” she wrote two years later, recalling that she
had “indulged in the most melancholy reflections. The whole
world appeared to me as a theatre, where nothing was acted
but cruelty, bloodshed, and oppression; where neither age
nor sex escaped the horrors of injustice and violence; where
the lives and property of the innocent and inoffensive were in
continual danger, and the lawless power ranged at large.” In
the aftermath of the attack, Mrs. Wilkin­son revealed, ‘’[We
could neither eat, drink, nor sleep in peace; for as we lay in
our clothes every night, we could not enjoy the little sleep we
got.... Our nights were wearisome and painful; our days spent
in anxiety and melancholy.”
But what to Eliza Wilkinson and her fellow whites was a
time of trouble and distress was for their slaves a period of
unprecedented opportunity. The continu­ing presence of the
British army in the South held out to black men and women
alike the prospect of winning their freedom from bondage,
for in an attempt to disrupt the Americans’ labor supply and
acquire additional manpower, British commanders offered
liberty to slaves who would flock to the royal standard. No sex
111
or age restrictions limited the offer to adult men alone, and so
women fled to the redcoat encampments, often taking their
children with them.
The detailed plantation records kept by Thomas Jefferson and
John Ball make it possible to identify the family relationships
of runaways from their lands. Among the twenty‑three slaves
who abandoned Jefferson’s Virginia hold­ings were ten adult
women and three girls. Of the five female adults who can be
traced with certainty, two left with their husbands, one of
them accompanied by children as well; another fled with three
of her four offspring; and the remaining two, one of whom was
married, ventured forth by themselves. The fifty‑three blacks
who fled John Ball’s plantation in 1780 included eighteen
women, among them eight mothers with children, some of the
latter still infants. Charlotte, a childless woman whose family
connections are unknown, probably led a mass es­cape from
Ball’s Kensington quarter. She originally left the plantation on
May 10, in company with Bessy and her three children, but
she was soon recaptured. A week later she ran away again, this
time along with (and perhaps as a guide for) what Ball termed
“Ping’s gang.” This fifteen‑member group, which escaped via
Ball’s flatboat, was composed of Pino, his wife, their youngest
daughter, and one of their two granddaughters; their daughter,
Jewel, her husband, Dicky, and son, Little Pino; Dicky’s sister,
her husband, and their daughter; and Eleanor Lawrence, her
husband, Brutus, and their two daughters. Although it is not
clear whether Eleanor was related to the Pino clan, her sister
Flora had also absconded to the British, along with an infant
son, two weeks previously.
The impressions one receives from such fragmentary evidence—
both of large numbers of female runaways and of families
leaving together—are confirmed by an examination of records
kept at the evacuation of New York City. Each time the British
left an American port in the later years of the war, they carried
large numbers of former slaves away with them, approximately
ten thousand from Sa­vannah and Charleston alone. Because the
preliminary peace terms accepted in November 1782 included
a clause requiring the British to return slaves to Ameri­can
owners, Sir Guy Carleton, the British commander, ordered the
enumeration of all blacks who claimed the protection of the
army. Crude biographical details were obtained from former
slaves then ˇ.within the lines in order to ascertain whether
they should be allowed to embark with the troops for England
and Nova Scotia. Blacks who had belonged to loyalists were
excluded from the promise of freedom offered by the British
during the war, as were any who had joined the British after
November 1782. But Carleton believed himself obliged to
ensure the liberty of all the others.
Of the 2,863 persons whose sex is specified on the surviving
embarkation lists (119 small children were not differentiated by
sex), 1,211 (or 42.3 percent) were female and 1,652 (57.7 percent)
112 fieldston american reader
were male. The substantial proportion of female runaways
reflects the ease with which even a woman with children could
seek freedom when the British army was encamped only a few
miles from her home. Further, the analysis of the age structure
of those on the New York City lists indicates that women often
brought children with them into the lines. Nearly 17 percent
of the refugees were nine years of age or younger, and fully 32
percent were under twenty. Slightly more than a quarter of the
mature women were ex­plicitly identified as being accompanied
by children, and the addition of other likely cases brings that
proportion to 40 percent. Disregarding the 96 children who
had been born free in British‑held territory, each mature
woman who joined the royal forces had an average of 1.6
children at her side.
An examination of familial relationships from the standpoint
of 605 children (503 of them nine years old or under) listed on
the embarkation rolls shows that 3 percent were accompanied
solely by fathers, 17 percent were with both par­ents, 56.2
percent with mothers alone, and 24.3 percent with other
relatives, some of whom may have been parents but who are not
explicitly noted as such on the occasionally incomplete records.
These families included such groups as Prince Princes, aged
fifty‑three, his forty‑year‑old wife, Margaret, their twentyyear‑old daughter, Elizabeth, and her “small child,” and their
son, Erick, who was eleven; “Jane Thompson 70 worn out wt
a grand child 5 y[r] old”; and Han­nah Whitten, thirty, with
her five children, ages eight, seven, six, five, and one. The
five‑member Sawyer clan of Norfolk, Virginia, evidently used
the opportu­nity to seek freedom with the British as a means
of reuniting. Before they all ran away in 1776, the family was
divided among three owners: the mother and a child in one
location, two children in another, and the father in a third. In
all, de­spite the preponderance among the refugees of young,
single adults, 40 percent of the total, like the Sawyers and the
others just noted, appear to have been accom­panied by relatives
of some kind.
To arrive at New York City, the blacks listed on the British
records had had to survive many dangers and hardships, not the
least of which was the prevalence of epidemic diseases in the
encampments to which they had fled. Yet they were not entirely
safe even in British‑occupied Manhattan. The minutes of the
joint Anglo‑American board established to adjudicate claims
under the peace treaty reveal liberty lost on legal technicalities
important to the presiding officers but of little meaning to the
blacks involved. Mercy and her three children were returned to
her master because, as a resident of Westchester County, New
York, she had not lived outside the British lines and so could
not have come within them volun­tarily to earn the protection
of the freedom proclamation. Elizabeth Truant re­mained the
property of a New Jerseyite because she had not joined the
British un­til April 1783, after the signing of the preliminary
volume i – fall 2007
peace terms. And, tragically, Samuel Doson, who in 1778 had
kidnapped his two children from the house of their owner in
order to bring them with him into New York, lost them to that
same man in 1783, after he and his youngsters had already
boarded a ship bound for Nova Scotia. He himself was likewise
reclaimed by his loyalist master.
When enslaved men and women decided whether to run away
they could not see into the future and understand the full
implications of British policy for their ultimate fate. But many
undoubtedly heard the tales of disease in the refugee camps,
and others (like some belonging to Eliza Lucas Pinckney)
were undoubt­edly so “attatched to their homes and the little
they have there [that they] have refused to remove.” Indeed,
amid the chaos of war, plantation life sometimes bore little
resemblance to that of peacetime. Remaining at home in a
known envi­ronment, surrounded by friends and relatives,
could seem an attractive alternate to an uncertain future as
a refugee, especially when white owners and overseers could
no longer control the situation. For her part, Mrs. Pinckney
simply surren­dered to the inevitable. Speaking of her slaves, she
observed to her son Thomas in the spring of 1779 that “they all
do now what they please every where.” The blacks on Thomas’s
Ashepoo plantation were no less troublesome. They “pay no
Attention” to the overseer’s orders, he told his mother; and the
pregnant women and small children were “now perfectly free
& live upon the best produce of the Plantation. “
If black women chose to run away to the redcoats, they risked
their lives and those of their children, but they gained the
possibility of freedom in Canada, the United States, or even
Africa as a reward. If they decided to stay at home, they
continued in bondage but kept all their family ties intact. It
must have been a wrenching decision, regardless of which
choice they made. The Revolutionary War brought blacks a
full share of heartbreak and pain, even as it provided them
with an unprecedented opportunity to free themselves from
servitude.
11
The experiences of white women during the Revolutionary
War were affected by the extent of their husbands’ political
activism as well as by the region in which their families lived.
Wives of ardent patriots and loyalists alike were left alone
for varying lengths of time while their spouses served in the
army or, in the case of loyalists, took refuge behind the British
lines. Although women could stay with their soldier husbands
and earn their own keep by serving as army cooks, nurses, or
laundresses, most did not find this an attractive alternative.
Life in the military camps was hard, and army commanders,
while recognizing that female laborers did essential work,
tended to regard them as a hindrance rather than an asset.
113
Clinton Rossiter: England in the Wilderness
- The Colonists and Their World
has been de­voted to thc question: What made this people
ripe for rebellion, or, more exactly, what was there about the
continental colonies in ‘76 that made them so willing to engage
in open defiance of a major imperial policy?
In the year 1765 there lived along the American sea­board
1,450,000 white and 400,000 Negro subjects of King George
III of England. The area of settlement stretched from the
Penobscot to the Altamaha and extended inland, by no means
solidly, to the Appa­lachian barrier. Within this area flourished
thirteen separate political communities, subject immediately
or ultimately to the authority of the Crown, but en­joying in but
large powers of self‑government. Life was predominantly rural,
the economy agrarian, re­ligion Protestant, descent English,
and politics the concern of men of property.
One answer, perhaps the best and certainly the best‑known,
was volunteered in 1818 by John Adams, himself a cause of
the American Revolution: “The Revolution was effected before
the war commenced. The Revolution was in the minds and
hearts of the people.... This radical change in the principles,
opinions, sentiments, and affections of the people, was the real
American Revolution.” What Adams seems to have argued
was that well before Lexington and Concord there existed a
collective outlook called the American mind, a mind whose
chief characteris­tics, so we learn in other parts of his writings,
were self‑reliance, patriotism, practicality, and love of liberty,
with liberty defined as freedom from alien dictation. It was the
alien dictation of North, Town­shend, Grenville, and the other
shortsighted minis­ters of a shortsighted king that forced the
American mind to assert itself boldly for the first time.
To the best of the average man’s knowledge, whether his point of
observation was in the colonies or England, all but a handful of
these Americans were contented subjects of George III. It was
hard for them to be continually enthusiastic about a sover­eign
or mother country so far away, yet there were few signs that the
imperial bonds were about to chafe so roughly. Occasionally
statements appeared in print or official correspondence accusing
the colonists of republicanism, democracy, and a hankering for
inde­pendence, but these could be written off as the scold­ings
of overfastidious travelers or frustrated agents of the royal will.
Among the ruling classes sentiments of loyalty to the Crown
were strongly held and elo­quently expressed, while the attitude
of the mass of men was not much different from thee of the
plain people of England: a curious combination of indiffer­ence
and obeisance. Benjamin Franklin, who had more firsthand
information about the colonies than any other man, could later
write in all sincerity, “I never had heard in any Conversation
from any Person drunk or sober, the least Expression of a wish
for a Separa­tion, or Hint that such a Thing would be advanta­
geous to America.”
Yet in the summer and fall of this same year the colonists
shook off their ancient habits of submission in the twinkling
of an eye and stood revealed as al­most an alien people. The
passage of the Stamp Act was greeted by an overwhelming
refusal to obey, es­pecially among colonial leaders who saw ruin
in its provisions—lawyers, merchants, planters, printers, and
ministers. Although the flame of resistance was smothered by
repeal of the obnoxious act, the next ten years were at best a
smoldering truce. In 1775 the policies of Lord North forced
a final appeal to arms, and enough Americans answered it to
bring off a successful war of independence.
Dozens of able historians have inquired into the events and
forces that drove this colonial people to armed rebellion.
Except among extreme patriots and equally extreme economic
determinists, fundamental agreement now prevails on the
immediate causes of the American Revolution. Less attention
114 fieldston american reader
Adams did not find it necessary to describe in detail the
long‑range forces that had produced this mind, perhaps because
that extraordinary student of political realities, Edmund
Burke, had already given so perceptive a description. In his
magnificent speech on conciliation with the colonies March
::, ‘75, Burke singled out “six capital sources” to account for the
American “love of freedom,” that “fierce spirit of liberty” which
was “stronger in the English colonies probably than in any
other people of the earth”: their English descent; their popular
forms of government; “religion in the northern provinces”;
“manners in the southern”; education, especially in the law;
and “the remoteness of the situation from the first mover of
government. Implicit in Burke’s praise of the American spirit of
liberty, as in Adams’s recollection of it, w as a recognition that
this liberty rested on firm and fertile ground, that the colonists
enjoyed in fact as well as in spirit a measure of opportunity and
self‑direction almost unique in the annals of mankind.
The grand thesis of American history toward which Adams
and Burke were groping, not altogether blindly, was rounded
off by Alexis de Tocqueville a half‑century after the Revolution.
With one of his most brilliant flashes of insight De Tocqueville
re­vealed the unique nature of the American Republic: “The
great advantage of the Americans is that they have arrived at
a state of democracy without having to endure a democratic
revolution” or, to state the thesis in terms of ‘76, the Americans,
unlike most revolutionists in history, already enjoyed the liberty
for which they were fighting. The “real American Revolution”
was over and done with before the Revo­lution began. The first
revolution alone made the sec­ond possible.
My purpose in writing this book is to provide an extended
commentary in support of Adams, Burke, and de Tocqueville—
volume i – fall 2007
not that this glorious three­some needs support from anyone.
I accept with prac­tically no reservations the notion that the
American Revolution was wholly different in character and
pur­pose from the French, Russian, and almost all other
revolutions, and I ascribe this difference largely to the plain
truth that the Americans had no need and thus no intention
to “make the world over.” By 1765 their world had already been
made over as thoroughly as most sensible men—most sensible
white men, to be sure—could imagine or expect. Americans
had never known or had long since begun to abandon feudal
tenures, a privilege‑ridden economy, centralized and despotic
government, religious intolerance, and he­reditary stratification.
Americans had achieved and were prepared to defend with their
blood a society more open, an economy more fluid, a religion
more tolerant, and a government more popular than any­thing
Europeans would know for decades to come. The goal of the
rebellious colonists was largely to consolidate, then expand by
cautious stages, the large measure of liberty and prosperity that
was already ‑part of their way of life.
This, then, is an account of the American way of life in 1765 and
a reckoning of the historical forces that had helped to create
a people devoted to liberty and qualified for independence.
I wish to make clear that I hold no unusual ideas about the
influence of environment on either the institutions or ethics
of human freedom. Certainly I would not attempt to weigh
each of the many physical and human‑directed forces that
shaped the destiny of the American colo­nies, or to establish
a precise cause‑and‑effect relation­ship between any one force
or set of forces and any one value or set of values. What I
plan to do is simply to describe the total environment as one
overwhelm­ingly favorable to the rise of liberty and to single
out those forces which seemed most influential in creat­ing this
environment. Before I proceed to examine these forces and the
new world they were shaping, I think it necessary to point to
four all‑pervading fea­tures of the colonial experience that were
hastening the day of liberty, independence, and democracy.
Over only one of these massive forces did the colo­nists or
English authorities have the slightest degree of control, and
the political wisdom that was needed to keep it in tight rein
simply did not exist in em­pires of that time.
I
The first ingredient of American liberty was the heritage from
England. Burke acknowledged this “capital source” in words
that his countrymen could understand but apparently not act
upon.
The people of the colonies are descendants of English­men.
England, Sir, is a nation which still I hope respects, and
formerly adored, her freedom. The colonists emigrated from
you when this part of your character was most pre­dominant;
and they took this bias and direction the moment they parted
from your hands. They are therefore not only devoted to liberty,
but to liberty according to English ideas, and on English
principles.
“Wee humbly pray,” wrote the General Assembly of Rhode
Island to the Board of Trade in ‘73, “that their Lordships will
believe wee have a Tincture of the ancient British Blood in our
veines.” The colonists had considerably more than a tincture:
at least seven in ten were English in blood, and virtually all
their institutions, traditions, ideas, and laws were English in
origin and inspiration. The first colonists had brought over
both the good and evil of seventeenth ­century England. The
good had been toughened and in several instances improved;
much of the bad had been jettisoned under frontier conditions.
As a result of this interaction of heredity and environment, the
eighteenth‑century American was simply a special brand of
Englishman. When it pleased him he could be more English
than the English, and when it pleased him most was any
occurrence in which questions of liberty and self‑government
were at issue. In a squab­ble over the question of a fixed salary
between Gover­nor Joseph Dudlev and the Massachusetts
Assembly, the latter could state without any sense of preten­
sion:
It hath been the Priviledge from Henry the third & con­firmed
by Edward the first, & in all Reigns unto this Day, granted,
& is now allowed to be the just & unquestionable Right of
the Subject, to raise when & dispose of how they see Cause,
any Sums of money by Consent of Parliament, the which
Priviledge We her Majesty’s Loyal and Dutiful Subjects have
lived in the Enjoymt of, & do hope always to enjoy the same,
under Our most gracious Queen Ann & Successors, & shall
ever endeavour to discharge the Duty incumbent on us; But
humbly conceive the Stating of per­petual Salaries not agreable
to her Majesty’s Interests in this Province, but prejudicial to
her Majesty’s good Subjects.
Southerners were, if anything, more insistent. In 1767 the
South Carolina legislature resolved:
That His Majesty’s subjects in this province are entitled to all
the liberties and privileges of Englishmen . . . [and] that the
Commons House of Assembly in South Carolina, by the laws
of England and South Carolina, and ancient usage and custom,
have all the rights and privileges pertaining to Money bills
that are enjoyed by the British House of Commons.
And the men of the frontier, who were having the same trouble
with assemblies that assemblies were hav­ing with governors,
made the echo ring.
1st. We apprehend, as Free‑Men and English Subjects, we have
an indisputable Title to the same Privileges and Im­munities
115
with his Majesty’s other Subjects, who reside in the interior
Counties of Philadelphia, Chester and Bucks, and therefore
ought not to be excluded from an equal Share with them in the
very important Privilege of Legislation.
These were the words of men who made much of the English
tie, even when, as in the last of these in­stances, most of them
were Scotch‑Irish or German. Their traditions—representative
government, suprem­acy of law, constitutionalism, liberty of the
subject— belonged to them as Englishmen. Their institutions,
especially the provincial assembly, were often looked upon as
sound to the extent that they conformed to English models,
or at least to colonial interpretations or recollections of those
models. The rights for which they contended were not the
natural rights of all men but the ancient rights of Englishmen.
“It is no Little Blessing of God,” said Cotton Mather to the
Massa­chusetts Assembly in ‘700, “that we are a part of the
English Nation.”
Throughout the colonial period the English de­scent and
attitudes of the great majority of Ameri­cans gave impetus to
their struggles for liberty. It is a momentous fact of American
history that until 1776 it was a chapter in English history as
well. Just as England in 1776 was ahead of the Continent in
the struggle for law and liberty, so America, this extraor­dinary
part of England, was even further ahead, not least because most
of its leading inhabitants thought of themselves as Englishmen.
Such men would not easily be cheated or argued out of their
heritage—a truth that Burke did his best to advertise:
The temper and character which prevail in our colonies are, I
am afraid, unalterable by any human art. We cannot, I fear,
falsify the pedigree of this fierce people, and persuade them
that they are nor sprung from a nation in whose veins the
blood of freedom circulates. The language in which they would
hear you tell them this tale would detect the imposition; your
speech would betray you. An Englishman is the unfitest person
on earth to argue another Englishman into slavery.
The clash of imperial policy and colonial self‑reli­ance is almost
always productive of the spirit of lib­erty. This is especially true
if the policy of the parent stare is conceived purely in its own
interests, and if the colonists are men of high political aptitude
and proud descent. Such was the pattern of Anglo‑American
re­lations in the colonial period. From the time of the earliest
settlement, which like all the important set­tlements was the
result of private initiative, English and American opinions on
the political and economic status of the colonies were in sharp
conflict.
The conduct of colonial affairs by the English gov­ernment
rested on these assumptions: The colonies were dependents
of the parent state. Since their interests were subordinate to
those of England, the welfare of the latter was to be the one
116 fieldston american reader
concern of all agencies charged with governing them. They
were therefore to serve, apparently forever, as a source of
wealth and support for the land out of which their inhabitants
had departed. If the English government had acted on these
assumptions consistently through­out the colonial period, the
contrasting ideas of the colonists would have had less chance
to strike deep root. But confusion at the beginning, domestic
trou­bles in the middle, and “salutary neglect” throughout most
of this period permitted thc colonists to build not only a theory
but a condition of self‑government. And it was this condition, of
course, as some percep­tive Englishmen were aware, that helped
the colonies develop into prizes worth retaining by force of arms.
The interests of England were, in this important sense, fatally
self‑contradictory.
The views of the colonists on their place in the imperial structure
were somewhat mixed, ranging from the arrogant independence
asserted by Massa­chusetts in the seventeenth century to the
abject dependence argued by a handful of Tory apologists in the
eighteenth. In general, the colonial attitude was one looking to
near‑equality in the present and some sort of full partnership in
the future, all within the confines of a benevolent and protecting
empire. The colonist acknowledged that for certain diplo­matic
and commercial purposes his destiny would rest for some time
to come in the hands of men in London. But in all other matters,
especially in that of political self‑determination, he considered
himself a “freeborn subject of the Crown of England.” Theories
of the origin and nature of the colonial assemblies are a good
example of these divergent views. In English eyes the assemblies
were founded by royal grant and existed at royal pleasure; in
American eyes they existed as a mat­ter of right. The Board of
Trade looked upon them as inferior bodies enjoying rule‑making
powers under the terms of their charters; the men of Virginia
and Massachusetts looked upon them as miniature Houses of
Commons with power to make all laws they could get away
with in practice. The struggle between these assemblies and the
royal governors sent to con­trol them was the focus of conflict of
colonial and im­perial interests.
Had Parliament not decided to intrude its author­ity into
colonial affairs, the old‑fashioned imperial views of the English
authorities and the prophetic self‑governing claims of the
American colonists might have coexisted for decades without
producing a vio­lent break. Thc tardy policies of stem control initi­
ated by the Grenville ministry brought this long­standing conflict
fully into the open. In the years before ‘76 the push‑and‑pull of
imperialism and home rule had been a spur to the growth of
liberty in the colonies. In the next decade it ignited a rebel­lion
II
Let us hear again from the member for Bristol.
The last cause of this disobedient spirit in the colonies is hardly
volume i – fall 2007
less powerful than the rest, as it is nor merely moral, but laid
deep in the natural constitution of things. Three thousand miles
of ocean lie between you and them. No con­trivance can prevent
the effect of this distance in weakening government. Seas roll,
and months pass, between the order and the execution; and
the want of a speedy explanation of a single point is enough
to defeat a whole system.... In large bodies, the circulation of
power must be less vigorous at the extremities. Nature has
said it.... This is the im­mutable condition, the eternal law, of
extensive and de­tached empire.
This harsh fact of geography, the remoteness of the colonies,
squared the difference between imperial purpose and colonial
aspiration. The early colonists thrown willy‑nilly on their
own devices, developed habits of self‑government and passed
them on to their descendants. The descendants, still just as
far if not farther from London, fell naturally into an attitude
of provincialism well suited to their condition but cor­rosive of
empire. The lack of contact between one colony and another, the
result of distance and unbe­lievably bad roads, allowed each to
develop on its own. The diversity in character of the key colonies
of Virginia, Massachusetts, New York, and Pennsylvania made
a mockery of any notion of uniform imperial policy.
Worst of all from the imperial point of view, the ill effects of the
inconsistency, inefficiency, corrup­tion, stupidity, arrogance, and
ignorance displayed to some degree at all times and to a perilous
degree at some times by the English authorities were doubled
and redoubled by the rolling seas and passing months. English
laxity in enforcing the Navigation Acts and colonial habits of
disobeying them were one instance of the extent to which three
thousand miles of ocean could water down a policy of strict
control. The technique of royal disallowance, which seemed so
perfectly designed to keep the colonial assemblies in check, was
likewise weakened by the mere fact of dis­tance. For example, the
disallowance in ‘76 of two New Hampshire judiciary acts passed
in ‘69 and ‘70 was never reported properly to the province, and
the judiciary in that colony continued to function under these
laws for a half century. And the royal governor, the linchpin
of empire, was a far more accommodating fellow in Boston or
Charleston than he appeared in his commissions and instructions
issued from London. A governor like Sir Matthew Johnson
of North Caro­lina, whose reports to the Board of Trade went
astray four years in a row, could not have been much of a buffer
against colonial urges to independence. When we realize that
no regular mail‑service of any kind existed until ‘75, and that
war disrupted communi­cations more than one‑third of the time
between ‘68 and ‘76, we can understand how the ocean was at
once a highway to freedom and a barrier to impe­rialism. Rarely
in history have the laws of geopolitics worked so powerfully for
liberty.
Had Burke ever lived in the colonies, he might have listed
still another “capital source” to explain the rise of liberty in
America, and thus have anticipated Fred­erick .Jackson Turner
and his celebrated thesis. We need not go all the way with
Turner—”American democracy is fundamentally the outcome
of the ex­periences of the American people in dealing with
the West”—to acknowledge the significance of the fron­tier in
early American history. Whatever the extent of that influence
in the nineteenth century, in the seventeenth and eighteenth
century - when Amer­ica was one vast frontier and perhaps one
in three Americans a frontiersman at some time in his life—it
was clearly of the first importance. If we may take the word
“frontier” to mean not only the line of far­thest settlement to
the west, but also the primitive conditions of life and thought
which extended throughout the colonies in the seventeenth
century and continued to prevail in many areas east of the
Appalachians during most of the eighteenth, we may point
to at least a half‑dozen indications of the influ­ence of the
American environment.
First, the frontier impeded the transfer to America of outworn
attitudes and institutions. The wilderness frustrated completely
such attempts to plant feudal­ism in America as the schemes
of Sir Ferdinando Georges and the stillborn Fundamental
Constitutions of Carolina, and everywhere archaic laws and
customs were simplified, liberalized, or rudely abandoned. In
the matter of church‑state relations the frontier was especially
influential as a decentralizing and democra­tizing force. The
positive result of this process of sloughing off the old ways
was an increase in mobility, experimentation, and self‑reliance
among the set­tlers.
The wilderness demanded of those who would conquer it that
they spend their lives in unremitting toil. Unable to devote
any sizable part of their ener­gies to government, the settlers
insisted that gov­ernment let them alone and perform its
severely lim­ited tasks at the amateur level. The early American
definition of liberty as freedom from government was given
added popularity and meaning by frontier con­ditions. It was
a new and invigorating experience for tens of thousands of
Englishmen, Germans, and Scotch‑lrish to be able to build a
home where they would at last be “let alone.”
The frontier produced, in ways that Turner and his followers
have made clear, a new kind of individual and new doctrines
of individualism. The wilderness did not of itself create
democracy; indeed, it often encouraged the growth of ideas
and institutions hos­tile to it. But it did help produce some of
the raw materials of American democracy—self‑reliance, so­
cial fluidity, simplicity, equality, dislike of privilege, optimism,
and devotion to liberty. At the same time, it emphasized the
importance of voluntary co‑opera­tion. The group, too, had
its uses on the frontier, whether for defense or barn‑raising
or cornhusking. The phrases “free association,” “mutual
subjection,” and “the consent of the governed” were given new
content in the wilderness.
117
Next, the fact that wages were generally higher and working
conditions better in the colonies than in England did much to
advance the cause of liberty. The reason for this happy condition
was a distinct shortage of labor, and a prime reason for the
shortage was land for the asking. The frontier population was
made up of thousands of men who had left the sea­board to toil
for themselves in the great forest. The results of this constant
migration were as important for the seaboard as they were for
the wilderness.
From the beginning the frontier was an area of protest and
thus a nursery of republican notions. Un­der‑represented in
assemblies that made a habit of overtaxing them, scornful of the
privileges and lead­ership assumed by the tidewater aristocracy,
resent­ful of attempts to saddle them with unwanted ministers
and officials, the men of the back country were in fact if not
in print the most determined radicals of the colonial period.
If their quaint and strangely deferential protests contributed
very little to the literature of a rising democracy, they never­
theless made more popular the arguments for liberty and
self‑government.
Finally, all these factors combined to give new force to the
English heritage of law, liberty, and self-­government. The
over‑refined and often archaic in­stitutions that the settlers
brought along as part of their intellectual baggage were
thrust once again into the crucible of primitive conditions. If
these in­stitutions emerged in shapes that horrified royal gov­
ernors, they were nevertheless more simple, workable, and
popular than they had been for several centuries in England.
The laws and institutions of early Rhode Island or North
Carolina would not have worked in more civilized societies,
but they had abandoned most of their outworn features and
were ready to develop along American lines. The hardworking,
long‑suffering men and women of the frontier—”Peo­ple a
lisle willful Inclined to doe when and how they please or not
at al” were themselves a primary force in the rise of colonial
self‑government.
The English descent and heritage of the colonists, the
conflict of imperial and colonial interests, the rolling
ocean, the all‑pervading frontier—these were the
“forces‑behind‑the‑forces” that shaped the his­tory of the
colonies and spurred the peaceful revolu­tion that preceded the
bloody one of ‘76. Of these forces we shall speak or think on
almost every page of this book.
III
The colonists were not completely at the mercy of their
environment. Much of the environment was of their own
making; and if circumstances were favor­able to the rise of
liberty, they did not relieve the colonists of the formidable task
of winning it for themselves. The condition of liberty in ‘76 was
118 fieldston american reader
in large part the work of men determined to be free, and the
questions thus arise: Who were these men who talked so much
of their rights and privileges? Whence came they to America,
and how did they fare?
The attempt of historians and genealogists to de­cipher the
national origins of the colonists has led to confusion and
controversy, first, because of a mani­fest lack of statistics, and
second, because of the temptation, apparently too strong even
for some of our best‑intentioned scholars, to magnify the num­
bers and accomplishments of one nationality at the expense
of all others. Nevertheless, the development of more reliable
historical techniques and a more equitable historical spirit
has created a broad area of consensus on the composition and
distribution of the population.
It is now generally agreed that almost all immi­grants to the
colonies came from the middle and lower classes. “The rich
stay in Europe,” wrote Crevecoeur; “is only the middling and
the poor that emigrate.” The myths of aristocratic lineage die
hard, especially in Cavalier country, but diaries, ship­ping lists,
and court minutes tell us in no uncertain terms of the simple
origins of even the most haughty families of New York and
Virginia. This does not mean that early America was a land
of rogues and poor servant‑girls. England and the Continent
sent over thousands upon thousands of substantial, intelli­gent,
propertied men and women. Yet fully half the people who
came to the colonies could not pay their own passage, and
gentleman immigrants, even in the seventeenth century, were
amazingly few.
As a matter of fact, those twentieth century Americans who
like to go searching for an ancestor among the gentry of East
Anglia may wind up with three or four among the riffraff of
Old Bailey. Prob­ably thirty to forty thousand convicts w ere
shipped from England to the colonies in the eighteenth cen­
tury, a fact that inspired Dr. Johnson’s famous growl: “Sir,
they are a race of convicts, and ought to be con­tent with
anything we allow them short of hanging.” Their behavior in
the colonies, especially in unhappy Virginia and Maryland,
moved Franklin to offer America’s rattlesnakes to England as
the only appro­priate return. Not only did transported convicts
commit a large proportion of the crimes in eight­eenth century
America, but their presence did much to degrade the servant
class and make a callous so­ciety even more callous. The mother
country’s insistence on dumping “the dregs, the excrescence
of England” in the colonies was a major item in the cat­alogue
of American grievances, especially since the Privy Council
vetoed repeatedly the acts through which the colonies sought
to protect themselves.
Well before 1976 the colonies had begun to take on a pattern of
national origins that was “characteristi­cally American”: They
looked to one country for their language, institutions, and
volume i – fall 2007
paramount culture, but to many for their population. Americans
were predominantly English in origin, but they were also
Scotch, Irish, German, French, Swiss, Dutch, Swed­ish, and
African. It is impossible to fix precisely the proportions of each
nationality in the total white population of 1976; the necessary
statistics are simply not available. These general percentages
are about as accurate as can be expected: English, 65 to 70 per
cent; Scots and Scotch‑lrish, 12 to 15 per cent; Ger­mans, 6 to
9 per cent; Irish, 3 to 5 per cent; Dutch 3 per cent; all others 3
to 5 per cent. Out of a total population of 1,850,000 probably
400,000 were Ne­groes and mulattoes.
What was the total effect on society, culture, and government
of this influx of nationalities into the American settlement?
First, the melting pot had only just begun to heat up in the latter
part of the eighteenth century. Crevecocur’s example of the
English‑French‑Dutch family “whose present four sons have
now four wives of four different nations” was a phenomenon
more prophetic of the Republic than typical of the col­onies.
The great process of national fusion had made little progress
by 1765. Assimilation into the English stock rather than the
creation of a new people was the result of such intermarriage
as took place in co­lonial times. Nor were all the ingredients yet
in the pot; the essential racial (Teutonic‑Celtic) and reli­gious
(Protestant) unity of the population must not be overlooked.
The arrival of non‑English immigrants did much to weaken
the hold of the mother country. The new­comer wanted to be
as loyal as anyone else, but his allegiance to the Crown could
have little real emo­tional content. The Germans were inclined
to be conservatively neutral about English dominion; the Scots
and Irish were, for all the loyal humility that oozed from their
petitions, innately hostile to the Georges and their agents.
They lacked, as one trav­eler put it, the “same filial attachment”
to England “which her own immediate offspring have.”
Next, the influx of aliens did much to strengthen the Protestant,
dissenting, individualistic character of colonial religion. The
Presbyterian, Lutheran, Bap­tist, and German Pietist churches
were the chief beneficiaries of this immigration. The numbers
and enthusiasm of these dissenting groups gave a tremen­dous
lift to the cause of religious liberty in the co­lonies south of
Pennsylvania.
The eighteenth‑century immigrants helped democ­ratize the
political institutions that had been brought over from England
and put to work in the wilderness. This was especially true of
the Scotch-­Irish, whose only quarrel with the representative
governments of their adopted colonies was that they were
not representative enough. The Germans were inclined to
be politically passive; their major contri­bution to the coming
democracy was the support they brought to the middle‑class
creed of industry, frugality, and self‑reliance. The Scotch‑Irish,
on the other hand, were more politically conscious. If the
controlling groups of the coastal counties refused to honor their
legitimate claims to participation in public life, this rebuff served
only to make their radi­calism more insistent. They had little
intention of altering the English‑American scheme of govern­
ment, but they did mean to show the world how democratic
it could be. The sentiments of “leveling republicanism” were
especially active on the Scotch-­Irish frontier; here the “real
American Revolution” went on apace.
Finally, the mere volume of immigration from Ger­many and
Ireland had a pronounced effect on colo­nial life. The swarming
of these industrious peoples made possible the remarkable
expansion in territory and population that marked the
eighteenth century in America. If the Scotch‑Irishman was
America’s typical frontiersman, the German was its typical
farmer; and between them they made it possible for cities like
Philadelphia and towns like Lancaster to grow and flourish.
Though they were men of differ­ent natures, both sought the
same blessing. “And what but LIBERTY, charming LIBERTY,
is the resistless Magnet that attracts so many different Nations
into that flourishing Colony?”
The Second American Revolution Succeeds the
First
On March 22, 1765, George III gave his royal assent to
the Stamp Act, a stick of imperial dynamite so harmless in
appearance that it had passed both houses of Parliament as
effortlessly as “a common Turnpike Bill.” Eleven years later,
July 2, 1776, the Continen­tal Congress resolved after “the
greatest and most solemn debate”:
That these United Colonies are, and, of right, ought to be,
Free and Independent States; that they are absolved from all
allegiance to the British crown, and that all political connection
between them, and the state of Great Britain, is, and ought to
be totally dissolved.
In the tumultuous years between these two fate­ful acts the
American colonists, at least a sufficient number of them,
stumbled and haggled their way to a heroic decision: to found a
new and independent nation upon political and social principles
that were a standing reproach to almost every other nation in
the world. Not for another seven y ears could they be certain that
their decision had been sound as well as bold; only then would
the mother country admit reluctantly that the new nation was
a fact of life rather than an act of treason. The colonists were
to learn at Brooklyn and Valley Forge that it was one thing to
resolve for independence and another to achieve it.
119
Yet the resolution for independence, the decision to fight as a
“separate and equal” people rather than as a loose association of
remonstrating colonials, was as much the climax of a revolution
as the formal be­ginning of one, and it is this revolution—the
“real American Revolution”—that I have sought to de­scribe in
this book. By way of conclusion, I would think it useful to
point briefly to those developments in the decade after 1765
that speeded up and brought to bloody conclusion “this radical
change in the prin­ciples, opinions, sentiments, and affections”
of the hitherto loyal American subjects of George III.
The progress of the colonies in these years was nothing short of
astounding. Thanks to the fecun­dity of American mothers and
the appeal of the American land, population increased from
1,850,000 in 1976 to more than 2,500,000 in 1776. America’s
troubles seemed only to make America more alluring;
immigrants arrived in especially large numbers be­tween 1770
and 1773. The westward pressure of 650,­000 new colonists was,
of course, enormous, and many new towns and settlements were
planted in frontier lands east of the proclamation line of 1763.
The sharp increase in population of the continental colonies
lent support to arguments, especially popular after 1774, that
Americans would some day outnumber English­men, and that
there was “something absurd in sup­posing a continent to be
perpetually governed by an island.” Signs of increased wealth
and well being in­spired other Americans to sing the glories of
“a com­merce out of all proportion to our numbers.”
Far more significant than this material progress was the
quickened influence of the “forces- behind‑the-­forces” I
singled out in Chapter I. The English herit­age, the ocean, the
frontier, and imperial tension never worked so positively for
political liberty as in this decade of ferment. Until the last
days before in­dependence the colonists continued to argue as
Eng­lishmen demanding English rights. The more they acted
like Americans, the more they talked like Eng­lishmen. Heirs
of a tradition that glorified resistance to tyranny, they moved
into political combat as English Whigs rather than American
democrats, re­minding the world that “it is the peculiar Right
of Englishman to complain when injured.” The other basic
forces were no less favorable to the swift advance of the spirit
of liberty. In a situation that called desperately for accurate
information, firm de­cisions, and resolute administration, the
very distance between London and Boston frustrated the
develop­ment of a viable imperial policy. In a situation that
called no less desperately for colonial understanding of the
imperial difficulties facing Crown and Parlia­ment, the push
to the frontier weakened the bonds of loyalty to an already
too‑distant land. And the Stamp Act and Townshend Acts
forced most articu­late colonists to reduce the old conflict of
English and American interests to the simplest possible terms.
Since some Englishmen proposed to consign other Englishmen
to perpetual inferiority, was it not sim­ply a question of liberty
or slavery?
120 fieldston american reader
The forces that had long been working for political freedom
underwent a sharp increase in influence. The ancient struggle
between royal governor and popular assembly took on new
vigor and meaning. The depths of ill feeling were plumbed
in the maneuvers and ex­changes of Governors Bernard and
Hutchinson and the Massachusetts legislature. The colonial
press en­gaged in more political reporting and speculation in the
single year between June 1765, and June 1, 1766, than in all thc
sixty‑odd years since the founding of the Boston News‑Letter. In
early 1765 there were twenty‑three newspapers in the colonies,
only two or three of which were politically conscious; in early
1775 there were thirty‑eight, only two or three of which were
not. The spirit of constitutionalism and the demand for written
constitutions also quickened in the course of the far‑ranging
dispute over the un­determined boundaries of imperial power
and colo­nial rights. The word “unconstitutional,” an essential
adjunct of constitutionalism, became one of Amer­ica’s favorite
words. Most important, the Stamp Act was a healthy spur
to political awareness among all ranks of men. Wrote John
Adams in 1766:
The people, even to the lowest ranks, have become more attentive
to their liberties, more inquisitive about them, and more
determined to defend them, than they were ever before known
or had occasion to be; innumerable have been the monuments
of Wit, humor, sense, learning, spirit, patriotism, and heroism,
erected in the several provinces in the course of this year. Their
counties, towns, and ever private clubs and sodalities have
voted and determined; their merchants have agreed to sacrifice
even their bread to the cause of liberty; their legislatures have
resolved; the united colonies have remonstrated; the presses
have every­where groaned; and the pulpits have thundered.
volume i – fall 2007
James Kirby Martin: Protest and Defiance
in the Continental Ranks
The following is a series of excerpts about class tensions in America
during the Revolutionary War from a book by James Kirby Martin,
an historian. According to Martin, how did the composition and
treatment of the Continental Army reflect class tensions in larger
society during the Revolutionary War? What might this suggest
about the Revolution and what it symbolized to Americans of
various classes?
A sequence of events inconceivable to Americans raised on
patriotic myths about the Revolution occurred in New Jersey
during the spring of 1779. For months the officers of the
Jersey brigade had been complaining loudly about everything
from lack of decent food and clothing to pay arrearages and
late payments in rapidly depreciating currency. They had
petitioned their assembly earlier, but nothing had happened.
They petitioned again in mid‑April 1779, acting on the belief
that the legislature “should be informed that our pay is now
only minimal, not real, that four months pay of a private will
not procure his wretched wife and children a single bushel of
wheat.” Using the most plain and unambiguous terms, they
stressed that “unless a speedy and ample remedy be provided,
the total dissolution of your troops is inevitable.” The Jersey
assembly responded to this plea in its usual fashion ‑‑it
forwarded the petition to the Continental Congress without
comment...
The assembly’s behavior only funkier angered the officers, and
some of them decided to demonstrate their resolve...They
again admonished the assembly about pay and supply issues.
While they stated that they would prepare the regiment for the
upcoming campaign, they themselves would resign as a group
unless the legislators addressed their demands. Complaints
had now turned into something more than gentlemanly protest.
Protest was on the verge of becoming nothing less that open
defiance of civil authority, and the Jersey officers were deadly
serious. They had resorted to their threatened resignations to
insure that the assembly would give serious attention to their
demands for a change.
When George Washington learned about the situation, he
was appalled. “Nothing, which has happened in the course of
the war, has given me so much pain,” the commander in chief
stated anxiously. It upset him that the officers seemingly had
lost sight of the “principles” that governed the cause. What
would happen, he asked rhetorically, “if their example should
be followed and become general?” The result would be the “ruin”
and “disgrace” of the rebel cause, all because these officers had
“reasoned wrong about the means of obtaining a good end.”
So developed a little known but highly revealing confrontation.
Washington told Congress that he would have acted
aggressively toward the recalcitrant officers, except that the
“causes of discontent are too great and too general and the
ties that bind the officers to the service too feeble” to force
the issue...The assembly thus provided an immediate payment
of £200 to each officer and $40 each soldier. Accepting the
compromises settlement as better than nothing, the brigade
moved out of their Jersey encampment...Seemingly, all now
had returned to normal.
The confrontation between the New Jersey officers and the state
assembly serves to illuminate some key points about protest and
defiance in the Continental ranks during the years 1776‑83.
Most important here, it underscores the mounting anger felt
by Washington’s regulars as a result of their perceived (and
no doubt very real) lack of material and psychological support
from the society that had spawned the Continental army. It
is common knowledge that Washington’s regulars suffered
from serious supply and pay shortages throughout the war.
Increasingly, historians are coming to realize that officers and
common soldiers alike received very little moral support from
the general populace...
The army’s command, as well as many delegates in Congress,
wanted soldiers who could stand up against the enemy with
more than notions of exalted virtue and moral superiority to
upgird them. They called for able‑bodied men who could and
would endure for the long‑term fight in a contest that all leaders
knew could not be sustained by feelings of moral superiority
and righteousness alone.
To assist in overcoming manpower shortages, Congress and
the states enhanced financial promises made to potential
enlistees. Besides guarantees about decent food and clothing,
recruiters handed out bounty money and promises of free land
at the war’s end (normally only for long‑term service). Despite
these great financial incentives, there was no great rush to the
Continental banner. For the remainder of the war, the army’s
command, Congress, and the states, struggled to maintain
minimal numbers of Continental soldiers in the ranks.
In fact, all began to search diligently for new recruits. Instead
of relying on propertied free‑holders and tradesmen of the
ideal soldier‑citizen type, they broadened the definition of
what constituted an “able-bodied and effective” recruit. For
example, New Jersey in early 1777 started granting exemptions
to all those who hired substitutes for long‑term Continental
service and to masters who would enroll indentured servants
and slaves. The following year Maryland permitted the virtual
impressment of vagrants for nine months of regular service...
The vast majority of Continentals who fought with Washington
after 1776 were representative of the very poorest and most
121
repressed persons in Revolutionary society. A number of
recent studies have verified that a large proportion of the
Continentals...represented ner-do-wells, drifters, unemployed
laborers, captured British soldiers, indentured servants, and
slaves. Some of these regulars were in such desperate economic
straits that states had to pass laws prohibiting creditors from
pulling them from the ranks and having them thrown in jail
for petty debts.
The most important point to be derived from this dramatic
shift in the social composition of the Continental army is that
few of these new common soldiers had enjoyed anything close
to the economic prosperity or full political (or legal) liberty
before the war. As a group, they had something to gain from
service. If they could survive the rigors of camp life, killing
diseases that so often ravaged the armies of their times, and
the carnage of skirmishes and full‑scale battles, they could look
forward to a better life for themselves at the end of the war...
Recruiters conveyed a message of personal upward mobility
through service...
To debate whether these new Continentals were motivated to
enlist because of crass materialism or benevolent patriotism is
to sidetrack the issue... We must understand that respectably
established citizens after 1775 and 1776 preferred to let others
perform the dirty work of regular, long‑term service on
their behalf... Their legislators promised bounties and many
other incentives. Increasingly, as the war lengthened, the
civilian population and its leaders did a less effective job of
keeping their pan of the agreement. One significant outcome
of this obvious civilian ingratitude, if not utter disregard for
contractual promises, was protest and defiance coming from
Washington’s beleaguered soldiers and officers.
are among the foremost to despise our poverty and laugh at
our distress....”
It must be remembered that middle and upper‑class civilians
considered Washington’s new regulars to be representative of
the “vulgar herd” in a society that still clung to deferential
values. The assumption was that the most fit in terms of wealth
and community social standing were to lead while the least fit
were to follow, even when that means becoming little more
than human cannon fodder...
As befit the deferential nature of their times as well as their
concern for maintaining sharp distinctions in rank as a key
to a disciplined fighting force, officers, many of whom were
drawn from the “better son” in society, expected nothing
less that steady, if not blind obedience to their will from the
rank and file. In their commitment to pursuing the goals of
the Revolution, the officers were anything but social levelers.
Indeed, many of them feared that the Revolution might get out
of hand and lead to actual internal social upheaval, particularly
if the “vulgar herd” gained too much influence and authority,
whether in or out of the army.
Private Joseph Plumb Manin captured the feelings of his
comrades when he reflected back on support for the army in
1780. He wrote: “We therefore kept upon our parade in groups,
venting our spleen at our country and government, then at our
officers, and then at ourselves for our imbecility in staying here
and starving... for an ungrateful people who did not care what
became of us, so they could enjoy themselves while we were
keeping a cruelty from them.” General John Paterson, who
spoke out in March 1780, summarized the feelings of many
officers when he said, “It really gives me great pain to think of
our public affairs; where is the public spirit of the year 1775?
Where are those flaming patriots who were ready to risk their
lives, their fortunes, their all, for the public?” Such thoughts
were not dissimilar from those of a “Jersey Soldier” who poured
his sentiments into an editorial during May 1779 in support of
those regimental officers who were trying to exact some form
of financial justice from their state legislature. [He wrote,] “It
must be truly mortifying to the virtuous soldier to observe
many, at this day, displaying their cash, and sauntering in
idleness and luxury,” he went on, including “the gentry... [who]
122 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
3
111.
developing a framework
for government:
from articles of confederation
to the constitution:
1777–1791
iii. developing a framework for government: from articles of confederation to
the constitution: 1777-1791
123
124 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
The Articles of Confederation (1777)
In 1777 with war raging between Britain and the United States,
the Continental Congress agreed to the Articles of Confederation, a
frame of government outlining the relationship between the thirteen
states. The Articles were ratified by each state individually. They
formally went into effect in 1781 after being ratified by all thirteen
states of the United States. As you read the document think about
how you might characterize the power of the central government
created by the Articles. Also think about the relationship the Articles
create between the central government and the several states.
We the undersigned Delegates of the States... agree to certain
articles of Confederation and perpetual Union....
engage in war... nor enter into any treaties or alliances, nor
coin money, nor regulate the value thereof, nor ascertain the
sums and expences necessary for the defence and welfare of the
united states, nor any of them, emit bills, nor borrow money
on the credit of the united states, nor appropriate money, nor
agree upon the vessels of war, to be built or purchased, or the
number of land and sea forces to be raised, unless nine states
ascent to the same...
Article XIII. Every state shall abide by the determinations of
the united states in congress assembled, on all questions which
by this confederation are submitted to them. And the articles
of this confederation shall be inviolably observed in every state,
and the union shall be perpetual; nor shall any alteration at any
time hereafter be made in any of them; unless such alteration be
agreed to in a congress of the united states, and be afterwards
confirmed by the legislatures of every state.
Article I. The Stile of this confederacy shall be “The United
States of America.”
Article II. Each state retains its sovereignty, freedom and
independence and every Power, Jurisdiction and right which
is not by this confederation expressly delegated to the United
States, in Congress assembled.
Article III. The said states hereby severally enter into a firm
league of friendship with each other, for their common defence,
the security of their Liberties, and their mutual and general
welfare, binding themselves to assist each other against all
force offered to, or attacks made upon them, or any of them,
on account of religion, sovereignty, trade or any other pretence
whatever.
Article V. For the more convenient management of the general
interests of the united states, delegates shall be annually
appointed in such manner as the legislature of each state shall
direct, to meet in Congress... with a power reserved to each
state to recall its delegates, or any of them, at any time within
the year, and to send others in their stead, for the remainder
of the year...
In determining questions in the united states, in Congress
assembled, each state shall have one vote.
Article VIII. All charges of war, and all other expenses that
shall be incurred for the common defence or general welfare,
and allowed by the united states in congress assembled, shall
be defrayed out of a common treasury, which shall be supplied
by the several states... The taxes for paying that proportion
shall be laid and levied by the authority and direction of the
legislatures of the several states...
Article IX. The united states in congress assembled shall never
125
Excerpts from the Iroquois Constitution
1. I am Dekanawidah and with the Five Nations Confederate
Lords I plant the Tree of Great Peace. I plant it in your territory,
Adodarhoh and the Onondaga Nation, in the territory of you
who are Firekeepers.
I name the tree the Tree of the Great Long Leaves. Under the
shade of this Tree of the Great Peace we spread the soft white
feathery down of the globe thistle as seats for you, Adodarhoh,
and your cousin Lords.
We place you upon those seats, spread soft with the feathery
down of the globe thistle, there beneath the shade of the
spreading branches of the Tree of Peace. There shall you sit and
watch the Council Fire of the Confederacy of the Five Nations,
and all the affairs of the Five Nations shall be transacted at this
place before you, Adodarhoh, and your cousin Lords, by the
Confederate Lords of the Five Nations.
2. Roots have spread out from the Tree of the Great Peace, one
to the north, one to the east, one to the south and one to the
west. The name of these roots is The Great White Roots and
their nature is Peace and Strength.
If any man or any nation outside the Five Nations shall obey
the laws of the Great Peace and make known their disposition
to the Lords of the Confederacy, they may trace the Roots to
the Tree and if their minds are clean and they are obedient and
promise to obey the wishes of the Confederate Council, they
shall be welcomed to take shelter beneath the Tree of the Long
Leaves.
We place at the top of the Tree of the Long Leaves an Eagle
who is able to see afar. If he sees in the distance any evil
approaching or any danger threatening he will at once warn
the people of the Confederacy.
3. To you Adodarhoh, the Onondaga cousin Lords, I and the
other Confederate Lords have entrusted the caretaking and
the watching of the Five Nations Council Fire.
When there is any business to be transacted and the Confederate
Council is not in session, a messenger shall be dispatched
either to Adodarhoh, Hononwirehtonh or Skanawatih, Fire
Keepers, or to their War Chiefs with a full statement of the
case desired to be considered. Then shall Adodarhoh call his
cousin (associate) Lords together and consider whether or not
the case is of sufficient importance to demand the attention
126 fieldston american reader
of the Confederate council If so, Adodarhoh shall dispatch
messengers to summon all the Confederate Lords to assemble
beneath the Tree of the Long Leaves.
When the Lords are assembled the Council Fire shall be
kindled, but not with chestnut wood, and Adodarhoh shall
formally open the Council.
[ed note: chestnut wood throws out sparks in burning, thereby
creating a disturbance in the council]
Then shall Adodarhoh and his cousin Lords, the Fire Keepers,
announce the subject for discussion. The Smoke of the
Confederate Council Fire shall ever ascend and pierce the sky
so that other nations who may be allies may see the Council
Fire of the Great Peace. Adodarhoh and his cousin Lords are
entrusted with the Keeping of the Council Fire.
4. You, Adodarhoh, and your thirteen cousin Lords, shall
faithfully keep the space about the Council Fire clean and you
shall allow neither dust nor dirt to accumulate. I lay a Long
Wing before you as a broom. As a weapon against a crawling
creature I lay a staff with you so that you may thrust it away
from the Council Fire. If you fail to cast it out then call the rest
of the United Lords to your aid.
5. The Council of the Mohawk shall be divided into three
parties as follows: Tekarihoken, Ayonhwhathah and
Shadekariwade are the first party; Sharenhowaneh,
Deyoenhegwenh and Oghrenghrehgowah are the second
party, and Dehennakrineh, Aghstawenserenthah and
Shoskoharowaneh are the third party. The third party is to
listen only to the discussion of the first and second parties and
if an error is made or the proceeding is irregular they are to
call attention to it, and when the case is right and properly
decided by the two parties they shall confirm the decision of
the two parties and refer the case to the Seneca Lords for their
decision. When the Seneca Lords have decided In accord with
the Mohawk Lords, the case or question shall be referred to the
Cayuga and Oneida Lords on the opposite side of the house.
6.1, Dekanawidah, appoint the Mohawk Lords the heads and
the leaders of the Five Nations Confederacy. The Mohawk
Lords are the foundation of the Great Peace and it shall,
therefore, be against the Great Binding Law to pass measures
in the Confederate Council after the Mohawk Lords have
protested against them.
No council of the Confederate Lords shall be legal unless all
the Mohawk Lords are present.
volume i – fall 2007
7. Whenever the Confederate Lords shall assemble for the
purpose of holding a council, the Onondaga Lords shall
open it by expressing their gratitude to their cousin Lords
and greeting them, and they shall make an address and offer
thanks to the earth where men dwell, to the streams of water,
the pools, the springs and the lakes to the maize and the fruits,
to the medicinal herbs and frees, to the forest trees for their
usefulness, to the animals that serve as food and give their
pelts for clothing, to the great winds and the lesser winds, to
the Thunderers, to the Sun, the mighty warrior, to the moon,
to the messengers of the Creator who reveal his wishes and to
the Great Creator who dwells in the heavens above, who gives
all the things useful to men, and who is the source and the
ruler of health and life.
Then shall the Onondaga Lords declare the council open. The
council shall not sit after darkness has set in.
8. The Firekeepers shall formally open and close all councils
of the Confederate Lords, and they shall pass upon all matters
deliberated upon by the two sides and render their decision.
Every Onondaga Lord (or his deputy) must be present at every
Confederate Council and must agree with the majority
without unwarrantable dissent, so that a unanimous decision
may be rendered.
If Adodarhoh or any of his cousin Lords are absent from a
Confederate Council, any other Firekeeper may open and
close the Council, but the Firekeepers present may not give
any decisions, unless the matter is of small importance.
9. All the business of the Five Nations Confederate Council
shall be conducted by the two combined bodies of Confederate
Lords First the question shall be passed upon by the Mohawk
and Seneca Lords, then it shall be discussed and passed by.
The next day the Council shall appoint another speaker, but
the first speaker may be reappointed if there is no objection,
but a speaker’s term shall not be regarded more than for the
day.
15. No individual or foreign nation interested in a case, question
or proposition shall have any voice in the Confederate Council
except to answer a question put to him or them by the speaker
for the Lords.
16. If the conditions which shall arise at any future time call for
an addition to or change of this law, the case shall be carefully
considered and if a new beam seems necessary or beneficial,
the proposed change shall be voted upon and if adopted it shall
be called, “Added to the Rafters.”
Rights, Duties and Qualifications of Lords
17. A bunch of a certain number of shell (wampum) strings
each two spans in length shall be given to each of the female
families in which the Lordship titles are vested. The right of
bestowing the title shall be hereditary in the family of the
females legally possessing the bunch of shell strings and the
strings shall be the token that the females of the family have
the proprietary right to the Lordship title for all time to come,
subject to certain restrictions hereinafter mentioned.
18. If any Confederate Lord neglects or refuses to attend the
Confederate Council, the other Lords of the Nation of which
he is a member shall require their War Chief to request the
female sponsors of the Lord so guilty of defection to demand
his attendance of the Council. If he refuses, the women
holding the title shall immediately select another candidate for
the title.
No Lord shall be asked more than once to attend the
Confederate Council.
19. If at any time It shall be manifest that a Confederate Lord
has not in mind the welfare of the people or disobeys the rules of
this Great Law, the men or women of the Confederacy, or both
jointly, shall come to the Council and upbraid the erring Lord
through his War Chief. If the complaint of the people through
the War Chief is not heeded the first time it shall be uttered
again and then if no attention is given a third complaint and
warning shall be given. If the Lord is contumacious the matter
shall go to the council of War Chiefs. The War Chiefs shall
then divest the erring Lord of his title by order of the Oneida
and Cayuga Lords, Their decisions shall then be referred to the
Onondaga Lords, (Fire Keepers) for final judgement.
The same process shall obtain when a question is brought before
the council by an individual or a War Chief
10. In all cases the procedure must be as follows: when the
Mohawk and Seneca Lords have unanimously agreed upon a
question, they shall report their decision to the Cayuga and
Oneida Lords who shall deliberate upon the question and
report a unanimous decision to the Mohawk Lords. The
Mohawk Lords will then report the standing of the case to the
Firekeepers, who shall render a decision as they see fit in case
of a disagreement by the two bodies, or confirm the decisions
of the two bodies if they are identical. The Fire Keepers shall
127
then report their decision to the Mohawk Lords who shall
announce it to the open council.
Edgar Allan Poe: Poems
11. If through any misunderstanding or obstinacy on the part
of the Fire Keepers, they render a decision at variance with that
of the Two Sides, the Two Sides shall reconsider the matter
and if their decisions are jointly the same as before they shall
report to the Fire Keepers who are then compelled to confirm
their joint decision.
Sonnet: To Science
12 When a case comes before the Onondaga Lords (Fire
Keepers) for discussion and decision, Adodarho shall introduce
the matter to his comrade Lords who shall then discuss it in
their two bodies. Every Onondaga Lord except Hononwiretonh
shall deliberate and he shall listen only. When a unanimous
decision shall have been reached by the two bodies of Fire
Keepers, Adodarho shall notify Hononwiretonh of the fact
when he shall confirm it He shall refuse to confirm a decision
if it is not unanimously agreed upon by both sides of the Fire
Keepers.
13. No Lord shall ask a question of the body of Confederate
Lords when they are discussing a case, question or
proposition He may only deliberate in a low tone with the
separate body of which he is a member.
14. When the Council of the Five Nation Lords shall convene
they shall appoint a speaker for the day. He shall be a Lord of
either the Mohawk, Onondaga or Seneca Nation.
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with an undaunted wing?
Hast thou not dragged Diana from her car?
And driven the Hamadryad from the wood
To seek a shelter in some happier star?
Hast thou not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the tamarind tree?
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 sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrows-sorrow for the lost
Lenore
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
Lenore
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me-filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“ ‘Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber doorSome 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;-
128 fieldston american reader
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Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream
before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness 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 somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said 1, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery exploreLet my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”
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 an instant stopped or
stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber
doorPerched upon a bust of Pallas’ just 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 me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian
shore!
Quoth 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 doorBird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber
door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the raven, sitting lonely on the 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
flutteredTill I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown
beforeOn the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown
before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
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
boreTill the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of Never-nevermore,
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 yoreWhat this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird
of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
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, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an
unseen
censer
Swung by angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted
floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee-by these angels he
hath
sent thee
Respite-respite and nepenthe’ from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost
Lenore!”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”
“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 enchantedOn this home by Horror haunted-tell me truly, I implore-
129
Is there is there balm in Gilead” tell me-tell me. I implore!”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil-prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us-by that God we both
adoreTell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,’
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name LenoreClasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name
Lenore?”
Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked,
up­
starting“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, “Nevermore.”
And the raven, never flitting, still is sifting, 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-nevermore!
My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and meYes! -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 we­Of many far wiser than weAnd 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, the all night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling,-my darling,-my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the side of the sea.
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 loveI 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
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volume i – fall 2007
Edgar Allen Poe:
The Fall of the House of Usher
Son coeur est un luth suspendu;
Sitot qu’on le touche il resonne.
DE BERANGER
During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the
autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in
the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through
a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found
myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of
the melancholy House of Usher . I know not how it was -- but,
with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable
gloom pervaded my spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling
was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasureable, because poetic,
sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the
sternest natural images of the desolate or terrible. I looked
upon the scene before me -- upon the mere house, and the
simple landscape features of the domain -- upon the bleak
walls--upon the vacant eye-like windows-- upon a few rank
sedges--and upon a few white trunks of decayed trees -- with
an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthly
sensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller
upon opium -- the bitter lapse into everyday life -- the hideous
dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, a sinking, a
sickening of the heart -- an unredeemed dreariness of thought
which no goading of the imagination could torture into aught
of the sublime. What was it -- I paused to think -- what was
it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of
Usher? It was a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with
the shadowy fancies that crowded upon me as I pondered. I
was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, that
while, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple
natural objects which have the power of thus affecting us, still
the analysis of this power lies among considerations beyond
our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different
arrangement of the particulars of the scene, of the details
of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or perhaps to
annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting
upon this idea, I reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a
black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustre by the dwelling,
and gazed down -- but with a shudder even more
thrilling than before -- upon the remodelled and inverted
images of the grey sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the
vacant and eye-like windows .
Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to
myself a sojourn of some weeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher,
had been one of my boon companions in boyhood; but many
years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had
lately reached me in a distant part of the country -- a letter from
him-- which, in its wildly importunate nature, had admitted
of no other than a personal reply. The MS gave evidence of
nervous agitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness-- of
a mental disorder which oppressed him -- and of an earnest
desire to see me, as his best, and indeed his only personal
friend, with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my
society, some alleviation of his malady. It was the manner in
which all this, and much more, was said -- it was the apparent
heart that went with his request -- which allowed me no room
for hesitation; and I accordingly obeyed forthwith what I still
considered a very singular summons.
Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet
I really knew little of my friend. His reserve had been always
excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, that his very
ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar
sensibility of temperament, displaying itself, through long
ages, in many works of exalted art, and manifested, of late, in
repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity, as well
as in a passionate devotion to the intricacies, perhaps even
more than to the orthodox and easily recognizable beauties,
of musical science. I had learned, too, the very remarkable
fact, that the stem of the Usher race, all time-honoured as
it was, had put forth, at no period, any enduring branch; in
other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of
descent, and had always, with very trifling and very temporary
variation, so lain. It was this deficiency, I considered, while
running over in thought the perfect keeping of the character
of the premises with the accredited character of the people,
and while speculating upon the possible influence which the
one, in the long lapse of centuries, might have exercised upon
the other -- it was this deficiency, perhaps, of collateral issue,
and the consequent undeviating transmission, from sire to
son, of the patrimony with the name, which had, at length,
so identified the two as to merge the original title of the
estate in the quaint and equivocal appellation of the ‘House
of Usher’ -- an appellation which seemed to include, in the
minds of the peasantry who used it, both the family and the
family mansion.
I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish
experiment -- that of looking down within the tarn--had been
to deepen the first singular impression. There can be no doubt
that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my suspersition
-- for why should I not so term it? -- served mainly to accelerate
the increase itself. Such, I have long known, is the paradoxical
law of all sentiments having decayed trees, and the grey wall,
and the silent tarn -- a pestilent and mystic vapour, dull,
sluggish, faintly discernible, and leaden-hued .
Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I
scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its
principal feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity.
131
The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi
overspread the whole exterior, hanging in a fine tangled
web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart from any
extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had
fallen; and there appeared to be a wild inconsistency between
its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumbling condition
of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded
me of the specious totality of old woodwork which has rotted
for long years in some neglected vault, with no disturbance
from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication
of extensive decay, however, the fabric gave little token of
instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizing observer might
have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending
from the roof of the building in front, made its way down the
wall in a zigzag direction, until it became lost in the sullen
waters of the tarn.
Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house.
A servant in waiting took my horse, and I entered the Gothic
archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step, thence conducted
me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my
progress to the studio of his master. Much that I encountered
on the way contributed, I know not how, to heighten the
vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the
objects around me -- while the carvings of the ceilings, the
sombre tapestries of the walls, the ebon blackness of the floors,
and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as I
strode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had
been accustomed from my infancy -- while I hesitated not to
acknowledge how familiar was all this -- I still wondered to
find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images
were stirring up. On one of the staircases, I met the physician
of the family. His countenance, I thought, wore a mingled
expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me
with trepidation and passed on. The valet now threw open a
door and ushered me into the presence of his master.
The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty.
The windows were long, narrow, and pointed, and at so vast
a distance from the black oaken floor as to be altogether
inaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light
made their way through the trellised panes, and served to
render sufficiently distinct the more prominent objects around;
the eye ,
however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the
chamber, or the recesses of the vaulted and fretted ceiling.
Dark draperies hung upon the walls. The general furniture
was profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many books
and musical instruments lay scattered about, but failed to give
any vitality to the scene. I felt that I breathed an atmosphere
of sorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung
over and pervaded all.
132 fieldston american reader
Upon my entrance, Usher rose from a sofa on which he had
been lying at full length, and greeted me with a vivacious
warmth which had much in it, I at first thought, of an overdone
cordiality -- of the constrained effort of the ennuyé man of the
world. A glance, however, at his countenance, convinced me
of his perfect sincerity. We sat down; and for some moments,
while he spoke not, I gazed upon him with a feeling half of
pity, half of awe. Surely, man had never before so terribly
altered, in so brief a period, as had Roderick Usher! It was
with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity
of the wan being before me with the companion of my early
boyhood. Yet the character of his face had been at all times
remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large,
liquid, and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin
and very pallid, but of a surpassing beautiful curve; a nose of a
delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth of nostril unusual
in similar formations; a finely-moulded chin, speaking, in its
want of prominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more
than web-like softness and tenuity; these features, with an
inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple, made up
altogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten. And now
in the mere exaggeration of the prevailing character of these
features, and of the expression they were wont to convey, lay
so much of change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now
ghastly pallor of the skin, and the now miraculous lustre of the
eye, above all things startled and even awed me. The silken
hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its
wild gossamer texture , it floated rather than fell about the face,
I could not, even with effort, connect its arabesque expression
with any idea of simple humanity.
In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an
incoherence -- an inconsistency; and I soon found this to
arise from a series of feeble and futile struggles to overcome
an habitual trepidancy -- an excessive nervous agitation. For
something of this nature I had indeed been prepared, no less by
his letter, than by reminiscences of certain boyish traits, and by
conclusions deduced from his peculiar physical conformation
and temperament. His action was alternately vivacious and
sullen . His voice varied rapidly from a tremulous indecision
(when the animal spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to that
species of energetic concision -- that abrupt, weighty, unhurried,
and hollow-sounding enunciation -- that leaden, self- balanced
and perfectly modulated guttural utterance, which may be
observed in the lost drunkard, or the irreclaimable eater of
opium, during the periods of his most intense excitement.
It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnest
desire to see me, and of the solace he expected me to afford
him. He entered, at some length, into what he conceived to be
the nature of his malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and
a family evil , and one for which he despaired to find a remedy
-- a mere nervous affection, he immediately added, which
would undoubtedly soon pass off. It displayed itself in a host
volume i – fall 2007
of unnatural sensations. Some of these, as he detailed them,
interested and bewildered me; although, perhaps, the terms,
and the general manner of the narration had their weight. He
suffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses ; the most
insipid food was alone endurable; he could wear only garments
of certain texture; the odours of all flowers were oppressive;
his eyes were tortured by even a faint light ; and there were but
peculiar sounds, and these from stringed instruments, which
did not inspire him with horror.
To an anomalous species of terror I found him a bounden
slave. ‘I shall perish,’ said he, ‘I must perish in this deplorable
folly. Thus, thus, and not otherwise, shall I be lost. I dread the
events of the future, not in themselves, but in their results. I
shudder at the thought of any, even the most trivial, incident,
which may operate upon this intolerable agitation of soul. I
have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute
effect -- in terror. In this unnerved--in this pitiable condition
-- I feel that the period will sooner or later arrive when I must
abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the
grim phantasm, FEAR.’
I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through broken and
equivocal hints, another singular feature of his mental condition.
He was enchained by certain superstitious impressions in regard
to the dwelling which he tenanted, and whence, for many years,
he had never ventured forth -- in regard to an influence whose
supposititious force was conveyed in terms too shadowy here
to be re-stated -- an influence which some peculiarities in the
mere form and substance of his family mansion, had, by dint
of long sufferance, he said, obtained over his spirit -- an effect
which the physique of the grey walls and turrets, and of the dim
tarn into which they all looked down, had, at length, brought
about upon the morale of his existence.
He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of
the peculiar gloom which thus afflicted him could be traced
to a more natural and far more palpable origin -- to the severe
and long-continued illness -- indeed to the evidently
approaching dissolution -- of a tenderly beloved sister--his sole
companion for long years -- his last and only relative on earth.
‘Her decease,’ he said, with a bitterness which I can never forget,
‘would leave him (him the hopeless and the frail) the last of the
ancient race of the Ushers.’ While he spoke, the Lady Madeline
(for so was she called) passed slowly through a remote portion
of the apartment, and, without having noticed my presence,
disappeared. I regarded her with an utter astonishment not
unmingled with dread -- and yet I found it impossible to
account for such feelings. A sensation of stupor oppressed
me, as my eyes followed her retreating steps. When a door, at
length, closed upon her, my glance sought instinctively and
eagerly the countenance of the brother -- but he had buried
his face in his hands, and I could only perceive that a far more
than ordinary wanness had overspread the emaciated fingers
through which trickled many passionate tears.
The disease of the Lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of
her physicians. A settled apathy, a gradual wasting away of the
person, and frequent although transient affections of a partially
cataleptical character, were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto
she had steadily borne up against the pressure of her malady,
and had not betaken herself finally to bed; but, on the closing
in of the evening of my arrival at the house, she succumbed (as
her brother told me at night with inexpressible agitation) to
the prostrating power of the destroyer ; and I learned that the
glimpse I had obtained of her person would thus probably be
the last I should obtain -- that the lady, at least while living,
would be seen by me no more.
For several days ensuing, her name was unmentioned by either
Usher or myself; and during this period I was busied in earnest
endeavours to alleviate the melancholy of my friend. We
painted and read together; or I listened, as if in a dream, to
the wild improvisations of his speaking guitar . And thus, as a
closer and still closer intimacy admitted me more unreservedly
into the recesses of his spirit, the more bitterly did I perceive
the futility of all attempt at cheering a mind from which
darkness, as if an inherent positive quality, poured forth upon
all objects of the moral and physical universe, in one unceasing
radiation of gloom.
I shall ever bear about me a memory of the many solemn hours
I thus spent alone with the master of the House of Usher . Yet I
should fail in any attempt to convey an idea of the exact character
of the studies, or of the occupations, in which he involved me,
or led me the way. An excited and highly distempered ideality
threw a sulphureous lustre over all. His long improvised
dirges will ring forever in my ears. Among other things, I
hold painfully in mind a certain singular perversion and
amplification of the wild air of the last waltz of Von Weber.
From the paintings over which his elaborate fancy brooded,
and which grew, touch by touch, into vagueness at which I
shuddered the more thrillingly, because I shuddered knowing
not why; -- from these paintings (vivid as their images now
are before me) I would in vain endeavour to educe more than
a small portion which should lie within the compass of merely
written words. By the utter simplicity, by the nakedness of his
designs, he arrested and overawed attention. If ever mortal
painted an idea, that mortal was Roderick Usher. For me at
least -- in the circumstances then surrounding me -- there
arose out of the pure abstractions which the hypochondriac
contrived to throw upon his canvas, an intensity of intolerable
awe, no shadow of which felt I ever yet in the contemplation of
the certainly glowing yet too concrete reveries of Fuseli.
One of the phantasmagoric conceptions of my friend,
partaking not so rigidly of the spirit of abstraction, may be
133
shadowed forth, although feebly, in words. A small picture
presented the interior of an immensely long and rectangular
vault or tunnel, with low walls, smooth, white, and without
interruption or device . Certain accessory points of the design
served well to convey the idea that this excavation lay at an
exceeding depth below the surface of the earth. No outlet was
observed in any portion of its vast extent, and no torch, or other
artificial source of light was discernible; yet a flood of intense
rays rolled throughout, and bathed the whole in a ghastly and
inappropriate splendour.
I have just spoken of that morbid condition of the auditory
nerve which rendered all music intolerable to the sufferer, with
the exception of certain effects of stringed instruments. It was,
perhaps, the narrow limits to which he thus confined himself
upon the guitar, which gave birth, in great measure, to the
fantastic character of the performances. But the fervid facility
of his impromptus could not be so accounted for. They must
have been, and were, in the notes, as well as in the words of his
wild fantasies (for he not unfrequently accompanied himself
with rhymed verbal improvisations), the result of that intense
mental collectedness and concentration to which I have
previously alluded as observable only in particular moments
of the highest artificial excitement. The words of one of these
rhapsodies I have easily remembered. I was, perhaps, the more
forcibly impressed with it, as he gave it, because, in the under
or mystic current of its meaning, I fancied that I perceived, and
for the first time, a full consciousness on the part of Usher, of
the tottering of his lofty reason upon her throne. The verses,
which were entitled ‘The Haunted Palace’ , ran very nearly, if
not accurately, thus:
I
In the greenest of our valleys,
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace -Radiant palace -- reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion -It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair.
II
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow;
(This — all this—was in the olden Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odour went away.
134 fieldston american reader
III
Wanderers in that happy valley
Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute’s well tuned law,
Round about a throne, where sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
IV
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
V
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And, round about his home, the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story,
Of the old time entombed.
VI
And travellers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh -- but smile no more.
I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad, led
us into a train of thought wherein there became manifest an
opinion of Usher’s which I mention not so much on account
of its novelty (for other men have thought thus), as on account
of the pertinacity with which he maintained it. This opinion,
in its general form, was that of the sentience of all vegetable
things. But, in his disordered fancy, the idea had assumed a
more daring character, and trespassed, under certain conditions,
upon the kingdom of inorganization. I lack words to express
volume i – fall 2007
the full extent, or the earnest abandon of his persuasion. The
belief, however, was connected (as I have previously hinted)
with the grey stones of the home of his forefathers. The
conditions of the sentience had been here, he imagined,
fulfilled in the method of collocation of these stones -- in the
order of their arrangement, as well as in that of the many fungi
which overspread them, and of the decayed trees which stood
around -- above all, in the long undisturbed endurance of this
arrangement, and in its reduplication in the still waters of the
tarn. Its evidence -- the evidence of the sentience--was to be
seen, he said, (and I here started as he spoke) in the gradual yet
certain condensation of an atmosphere of their own about the
waters and the walls. The result was discoverable, he added, in
that silent, yet importunate and terrible influence which for
centuries had moulded the destinies of his family, and which
made him what I now saw him -- what he was. Such opinions
need no comment, and I will make none.
At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in the
arrangements for the temporary entombment. The body having
been encoffined, we two alone bore it to its rest. The vault in
which we placed it (and which had been so long unopened
that our torches, half smothered in its oppressive atmosphere,
gave us little opportunity for investigation) was small, damp,
and entirely without means of admission for light; lying, at
great depth, immediately beneath that portion of the building
in which was my own sleeping apartment. It had been used,
apparently, in remote feudal times, for the worst purpose of a
donjon-keep, and, in later days, as a place of deposit for powder,
or some other highly combustible substance, as a portion of
its floor, and the whole interior of a long archway through
which we reached it, were carefully sheathed with copper. The
door, of massive iron, had been, also, similarly protected. Its
immense weight caused an unusually sharp grating sound, as it
moved upon its hinges.
Our books -- the books which, for years, had formed no
small portion of the mental existence of the invalid -- were,
as might be supposed, in strict keeping with this character of
phantasm. We pored together over such works as the Ververt et
Chartreuse of Gresset; the Belphegor of Machiavelli; the Heaven
and Hell of Swedenborg; the Subterranean Voyage of Nicholas
Klimm by Holberg; the Chiromancy of Robert Flud, of Jean
D’Indagine, and of De la Chambre; the Journey into the Blue
Distance of Tieck; and the City of the Sun by Campanella. One
favourite volume was a small octavo edition of the Directorium
Inquisitorum, by the Dominican Eymeric de Gironne; and
there were passages in Pomponius Mela, about the old African
Satyrs and Aegipans, over which Usher would sit dreaming
for hours. His chief delight, however, was found in the perusal
of an exceedingly rare and curious book in quarto Gothic -the manual of a forgotten church -- the Vigiliae Mortuorum
Chorum Ecclesiae Maguntinae.
Having deposited our mournful burden upon tressels within
this region of horror, we partially turned aside the yet
unscrewed lid of the coffin, and looked upon the face of the
tenant. A striking similitude between the brother and sister
now first arrested my attention; and Usher, divining, perhaps,
my thoughts, murmured out some few words from which I
learned that the deceased and himself had been twins, and that
sympathies of a scarcely intelligible nature had always existed
between them. Our glances, however, rested not long upon the
dead -- for we could not regard her unawed. The
I could not help thinking of the wild ritual of this work, and
of its probable influence upon the hypochondriac , when, one
evening, having informed me abruptly that the Lady Madeline
was no more, he stated his intention of preserving her corpse
for a fortnight (previously to its final interment), in one of the
numerous vaults within the main walls of the building. The
worldly reason, however, assigned for this singular proceeding,
was one which I did not feel at liberty to dispute. The brother
had been led to his resolution (so he told me) by consideration
of the unusual character of the malady of the deceased, of
certain obtrusive and eager inquiries on the part of her medical
men, and of the remote and exposed situation of the burialground of the family. I will not deny that when I called to
mind the sinister countenance of the person whom I met upon
the staircase, on the day of my arrival at the house, I had no
desire to oppose what I regarded as at best but a harmless, and
by no means an unnatural, precaution.
disease which had thus entombed the lady in the maturity of
youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a strictly cataleptical
character, the mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and the
face, and that suspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which
is so terrible in death. We replaced and screwed down the lid,
and, having secured the door of iron, made our way, with toil,
into the scarcely less gloomy apartments of the upper portion
of the house.
And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed, an
observable change came over the features of the mental
disorder of my friend. His ordinary manner had vanished.
His ordinary occupations were neglected or forgotten. He
roamed from chamber to chamber with hurried, unequal, and
objectless step. The pallor of his countenance had assumed, if
possible, a more ghastly hue -- but the luminousness of his eye
had utterly gone out. The once occasional huskiness of his tone
was heard no more; and a tremulous quaver, as if of extreme
terror, habitually characterized his utterance. There were
times, indeed, when I thought his unceasingly agitated mind
was labouring with some oppressive secret, to divulge which
he struggled for the necessary courage. At times, again, I was
obliged to resolve all into the mere inexplicable vagaries of
madness, for I beheld him gazing upon vacancy for long hours,
in an attitude of the profoundest attention, as if listening to
135
some imaginary sound?. It was no wonder that his condition
terrified -- that it infected me. I felt creeping upon me, by slow
yet certain degrees, the wild influences of his own fantastic yet
impressive superstitions.
It was, especially, upon retiring to bed late in the night of the
seventh or eighth day after the placing of the Lady Madeline
within the donjon, that I experienced the full power of
such feelings. Sleep came not near my couch -- while the
hours waned and waned away. I struggled to reason off the
nervousness which had dominion over me. I endeavoured
to believe that much, if not all of what I felt, was due to the
bewildering influence of the gloomy furniture of the room -of the dark and tattered draperies, which, tortured into motion
by the breath of a rising tempest, swayed fitfully to and fro
upon the walls, and rustled uneasily about the decorations of
the bed. But my efforts were fruitless. An irrepressible tremor
gradually pervaded my frame; and, at length, there sat upon
my very heart an incubus of utterly causeless alarm. Shaking
this off with a gasp and a struggle, I uplifted myself upon the
pillows, and, peering earnestly within the intense darkness
of the chamber, hearkened -- I know not why, except that an
instinctive spirit prompted me -- to certain low and indefinite
sounds which came, through the pauses of the storm, at long
intervals, I knew not whence. Overpowered by an intense
sentiment of horror, unaccountable yet unendurable, I threw
on my clothes with haste (for I felt that I should sleep no more
during the night), and endeavoured to arouse myself from the
pitiable condition into which I had fallen, by pacing rapidly to
and fro through the apartment.
I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step
on an adjoining staircase arrested my attention. I presently
recognized it as that of Usher. In an instant afterwards he
rapped, with a gentle touch, at my door, and entered, bearing
a lamp. His countenance was, as usual, cadaverously wan -but, moreover, there was a species of mad hilarity in his eyes
-- an evidently restrained hysteria in his whole demeanour. His
air appalled me -- but anything was preferable to the solitude
which I had so long endured, and I even welcomed his presence
as a relief.
‘And you have not seen it?’ he said abruptly, after having stared
about him for some moments in silence -- ‘you have not then
seen it? -- but, stay! you shall.’ Thus speaking, and having
carefully shaded his lamp, he hurried to one of the casements,
and threw it freely open to the storm.
The impetuous fury of the entering gust nearly lifted us from
our feet. It was, indeed, a tempestuous yet sternly beautiful
night, and one wildly singular in its terror and its beauty. A
whirlwind had apparently collected its force in our vicinity;
for there were frequent and violent alterations in the direction
of the wind; and the exceeding density of the clouds (which
136 fieldston american reader
hung so low as to press upon the turrets of the house) did not
prevent our perceiving the lifelike velocity with which they flew
careering from all points against each other, without passing
away into the distance. I say that even their exceeding density
did not prevent our perceiving this -- yet we had no glimpse
of the moon or stars -- nor was there any flashing forth of
the lightning. But the under surfaces of the huge masses of
agitated vapour, as well as all terrestrial objects immediately
around us, were glowing in the unnatural light of a faintly
luminous and distinctly visible gaseous exhalation which hung
about and enshrouded the mansion.
‘You must not -- you shall not behold this!’ said I, shudderingly,
to Usher, as I led him, with a gentle violence, from the window
to a seat. ‘These appearances, which bewilder you, are merely
electrical phenomena not uncommon -- or it may be that they
have their ghastly origin in the rank miasma of the tarn . Let
us close this casement; -- the air is chilling and dangerous to
your frame. Here is one of your favourite romances. I will read,
and you shall listen; -- and so we will pass away this terrible
night together. The antique volume which I had taken up was
the Mad Trist of Sir Launcelot Canning; but I had called it
a favourite of Usher’s more in sad jest than in earnest; for, in
truth, there is little in its uncouth and unimaginative prolixity
which could have had interest for the lofty and spiritual ideality
of my friend. It was, however, the only book immediately at
hand; and I indulged a vague hope that the excitement which
now agitated the hypochondriac , might find relief (for the
history of mental disorder is full of similar anomalies) even in
the extremeness of the folly which I should read. Could I have
judged, indeed, by the wild overstrained air of vivacity with
which he hearkened, or apparently hearkened, to the words
of the tale, I might well have congratulated myself upon the
success of my design.
I had arrived at that well-known portion of the story where
Ethelred, the hero of the Trist, having sought in vain for
peaceable admission into the dwelling of the hermit, proceeds
to make good an entrance by force. Here, it will be remembered,
the words of the narrative run thus:
‘And Ethelred, who was by nature of a doughty heart, and
who was now mighty withal, on account of the powerfulness
of the wine which he had drunken, waited no longer to hold
parley with the hermit, who, in sooth, was of an obstinate and
maliceful turn, but, feeling the rain upon his shoulders, and
fearing the rising of the tempest, uplifted his mace outright,
and, with blows, made quickly room in the plankings of the
door for his gauntleted hand; and now pulling therewith
sturdily, he so cracked, and ripped , and tore all asunder, that
the noise of the dry and hollow-sounding wood alarmed and
reverberated throughout the forest.’
At the termination of this sentence I started, and for a moment,
volume i – fall 2007
paused; for it appeared to me (although I at once concluded
that my excited fancy had deceived me) -- it appeared to me
that, from some very remote portion of the mansion, there
came, indistinctly, to my ears, what might have been, in its
exact similarity of character, the echo (but a stifled and dull
one certainly) of the very cracking and ripping sound which
Sir Launcelot had so particularly described. It was, beyond
doubt, the coincidence alone which had arrested my attention;
for, amid the rattling of the sashes of the casements, and the
ordinary commingled noises of the still increasing storm ,
the sound, in itself, had nothing, surely, which should have
interested or disturbed me. I continued the story:
‘But the good champion Ethelred, now entering within the
door, was sore enraged and amazed to perceive no signal of the
maliceful hermit; but, in the stead thereof, a dragon of a scaly
and prodigious demeanour, and of a fiery tongue, which sate in
guard before a palace of gold, with a floor of silver; and upon
the wall there hung a shield of shining brass with this legend
enwritten -
Who entered herein, a conquerer hath bin;
Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win;
and Ethelred uplifted his mace, and struck upon the head of
the dragon, which fell before him, and gave up his pesty breath,
with a shriek so horrid and harsh, and withal so piercing, that
Ethelred had fain to close his ears with his hands against the
dreadful noise of it, the like whereof was never before heard.’
Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wild
amazement -- for there could be no doubt whatever that, in
this instance, I did actually hear (although from what direction
it proceeded I found it impossible to say) a low and apparently
distant, but harsh, protracted, and most unusual screaming
or grating sound -- the exact counterpart of what my fancy
had already conjured up for the dragon’s unnatural shriek as
described by the romancer.
Oppressed, as I certainly was, upon the occurrence of the
second and most extraordinary coincidence, by a thousand
conflicting sensations, in which wonder and extreme terror
were predominant, I still retained sufficient presence of mind to
avoid exciting, by any observation, the sensitive nervousness of
my companion. I was by no means certain that he had noticed
the sounds in question; although, assuredly, a strange alteration
had, during the last few minutes, taken place in his demeanour.
From a position fronting my own, he had gradually brought
round his chair, so as to sit with his face to the door of the
chamber; and thus I could but partially perceive his features,
although I saw that his lips trembled as if he were murmuring
inaudibly. His head had dropped upon his breast -- yet I knew
that he was not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the
eye as I caught a glance of it in profile. The motion of his body,
too, was at variance with this idea -- for he rocked from side
to side with a gentle yet constant and uniform sway. Having
rapidly taken notice of all this, I resumed the narrative of Sir
Launcelot, which thus proceeded:
And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible
fury of the dragon, bethinking himself of the brazen shield,
and of the breaking up of the enchantment which was upon
it, removed the carcass from out of the way before him, and
approached valorously over the silver pavement of the castle
to where the shield was upon the wall; which in sooth tarried
not for his full coming, but fell down at his feet upon the silver
floor, with a mighty great and terrible ringing sound.
No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than - as if a
shield of brass had indeed, at the moment, fallen heavily
upon a floor of silver - I became aware of a distinct, hollow,
metallic, and clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation.
Completely unnerved, I leaped to my feet; but the measured
rocking movement of Usher was undisturbed. I rushed to the
chair in which he sat. His eyes were bent fixedly before him,
and throughout his whole countenance there reigned a stony
rigidity. But, as I placed my hand upon his shoulder, there came
a strong shudder over his whole person; a sickly smile quivered
about his lips; and I saw that he spoke in a low, hurried, and
gibbering murmur, as if unconscious of my presence. Bending
closely over him, I at length drank in the hideous import of
his words.
Not hear it ? - yes, I hear it, and -have- heard it. Long - long
- long - many minutes, many hours, many days, have I heard
it - yet I dared not - oh, pity me, miserable wretch that I am
! - I dared not - I -dared- not speak ! -We have put her living
in the tomb !- Said I not that my senses were acute ? I -nowtell you that I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow
coffin. I heard them - many, many days ago - yet I dared not
- -I dared not speak !- And now - to night - Ethelred - ha ! ha
! - the breaking of the hermit’s door, and the death-cry of the
dragon, and the clangor of the shield ! - say, rather, the rending
of her coffin, and the grating of the iron hinges of her prison,
and her struggles within the coppered archway of the vault
! Oh whither shall I fly ? Will she not be here anon ? Is she
not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste ? Have I not heard
her footstep on the stair ? Do I not distinguish that heavy and
horrible beating of her heart ? Madman ! - here he sprang
furiously to his feet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the
effort he were giving up his soul - -Madman ! I tell you that
she now stands without the door !As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had
been found the potency of a spell - the huge antique pannels
to which the speaker pointed, threw slowly back, upon the
instant, their ponderous and ebony jaws. It was the work of
137
the rushing gust - but then without those doors there -didstand the lofty and enshrouded figure of the lady Madeline of
Usher. There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence
of some bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated
frame. For a moment she remained trembling and reeling to
and fro upon the threshold - then, with a low moaning cry,
fell heavily inward upon the person of her brother, and in her
violent and now final death-agonies, bore him to the floor a
corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated.
From that chamber, and from that mansion, I fled aghast. The
storm was still abroad in all its wrath as I found myself crossing
the old causeway. Suddenly there shot along the path a wild
light, and I turned to see whence a gleam so unusual could have
issued; for the vast house and its shadows were alone behind me.
The radiance was that of the full, setting, and blood-red moon,
which now shone vividly through that once barely-discernible
fissure, of which I have before spoken as extending from the
roof of the building, in a zigzag direction, to the base. While I
gazed, this fissure rapidly widened - there came a fierce breath
of the whirlwind - the entire orb of the satellite burst at once
upon my sight - my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls
rushing asunder - there was a long tumultuous shouting sound
like the voice of a thousand waters - and the deep and dank
tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments
of the House of Usher.
138 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Walt Whitman:
Poetry Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
I
1 Flood-tide below me! I see you face to face!
2 Clouds of the west -- sun there half an hour high -- I see
you also face to face.
3 Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes,
how curious you are to me!
4 On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross,
returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
5 And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence
are more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might
suppose.
II
6 The impalpable sustenance of me from all things at all
hours of the day,
7 The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme, myself
disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part of the scheme,
8 The similitudes of the past and those of the future,
9 The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and
hearings, on the walk in the street and the passage over the
river,
10 The current rushing so swiftly and swimming with me
far away,
11 The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and
them,
12 The certainty of others, the life, love, sight, hearing of
others.
13 Others will enter the gates of the ferry and cross from
shore to shore,
14 Others will watch the run of the flood-tide,
15 Others will see the shipping of Manhattan north and
west, and the heights of Brooklyn to the south and east,
16 Others will see the islands large and small;
17 Fifty years hence, others will see them as they cross, the
sun half an hour high,
18 A hundred years hence, or ever so many hundred years
hence, others will see them,
19 Will enjoy the sunset, the pouring-in of the flood-tide,
the falling-back to the sea of the ebb-tide.
III
20 It avails not, time nor place -- distance avails not,
21 I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or
ever so many generations hence,
22 Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I
felt,
23 Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a
crowd,
24 Just as you are refresh’d by the gladness of the river and
the bright flow, I was refresh’d,
25 Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the
swift current, I stood yet was hurried,
26 Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the
thick-stemm’d pipes of steamboats, I look’d.
27 I too many and many a time cross’d the river of old,
28 Watched the Twelfth-month sea-gulls, saw them high
in the air floating with motionless wings, oscillating their
bodies,
29 Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies
and left the rest in strong shadow,
30 Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging
toward the south,
31 Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water,
32 Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams,
33 Look’d at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the
shape of my head in the sunlit water,
34 Look’d on the haze on the hills southward and southwestward,
35 Look’d on the vapor as it flew in fleeces tinged with
violet,
36 Look’d toward the lower bay to notice the vessels
arriving,
37 Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me,
38 Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships
at anchor,
39 The sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars,
40 The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the
slender serpentine pennants,
41 The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in
their pilot-houses,
42 The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous
whirl of the wheels,
43 The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset,
44 The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups,
the frolicsome crests and glistening,
45 The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray
walls of the granite storehouses by the docks,
46 On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely
flank’d on each side by the barges, the hay-boat, the belated
lighter,
47 On the neighboring shore the fires from the foundry
chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night,
48 Casting their flicker of black contrasted with wild red and
yellow light over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of
streets.
IV
49 These and all else were to me the same as they are to you,
50 I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid
river,
51 The men and women I saw were all near to me,
52 Others the same -- others who look back on me because I
look’d forward to them,
53 (The time will come, though I stop here to-day and tonight.)
139
V
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
What is it then between us?
What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?
Whatever it is, it avails not -- distance avails not, and place avails not,
I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine,
I too walk’d the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it,
I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me,
In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me,
In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me,
I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution,
I too had receiv’d identity by my body,
That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my body.
VI
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81
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84
85
It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall,
The dark threw its patches down upon me also,
The best I had done seem’d to me blank and suspicious,
My great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre?
Nor is it you alone who know what it is to be evil,
I am he who knew what it was to be evil,
I too knitted the old knot of contrariety,
Blabb’d, blush’d, resented, lied, stole, grudg’d,
Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak,
Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant,
The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me,
The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting,
Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting,
Was one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest,
Was call’d by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me approaching or passing,
Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat,
Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet never told them a word,
Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping,
Play’d the part that still looks back on the actor or actress,
The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like,
Or as small as we like, or both great and small.
VII
86 Closer yet I approach you,
87 What thought you have of me now, I had as much of you -- I laid in my stores in advance,
88 I consider’d long and seriously of you before you were born. 89 Who was to know what should come home to me?
90 Who knows but I am enjoying this?
91 Who knows, for all the distance, but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me?
VIII
92 Ah, what can ever be more stately and admirable to me than mast-hemm’d Manhattan?
93 River and sunset and scallop-edg’d waves of flood-tide?
94 The sea-gulls oscillating their bodies, the hay-boat in the twilight, and the belated lighter?
95 What gods can exceed these that clasp me by the hand, and with voices I love call me promptly and loudly by my nighest
name as I approach?
96 What is more subtle than this which ties me to the woman or man that looks in my face?
97 Which fuses me into you now, and pours my meaning into you?
98 We understand then do we not?
99 What I promis’d without mentioning it, have you not accepted?
100What the study could not teach -- what the preaching could not accomplish is accomplish’d, is it not?
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101 Flow on, river! flow with the flood-tide, and ebb with the ebb-tide!
102 Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves!
103 Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor me, or the men and women generations after me!
104Cross from shore to shore, countless crowds of passengers!
105 Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta! stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn!
106Throb, baffled and curious brain! throw out questions and answers!
107 Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of solution!
108 Gaze, loving and thirsting eyes, in the house or street or public assembly!
109 Sound out, voices of young men! loudly and musically call me by my nighest name!
110 Live, old life! play the part that looks back on the actor or actress!
111 Play the old role, the role that is great or small according as one makes it!
112 Consider, you who peruse me, whether I may not in unknown ways be looking upon you;
113 Be firm, rail over the river, to support those who lean idly, yet haste with the hasting current;
114 Fly on, sea-birds! fly sideways, or wheel in large circles high in the air;
115 Receive the summer sky, you water, and faithfully hold it till all downcast eyes have time to take it from you!
116 Diverge, fine spokes of light, from the shape of my head, or any one’s head, in the sunlit water!
117 Come on, ships from the lower bay! pass up or down, white-sail’d schooners, sloops, lighters!
118 Flaunt away, flags of all nations! be duly lower’d at sunset!
119 Burn high your fires, foundry chimneys! cast black shadows at nightfall! cast red and yellow light over the tops of the
houses!
120Appearances, now or henceforth, indicate what you are,
121You necessary film, continue to envelop the soul,
122About my body for me, and your body for you, be hung out divinest aromas,
123Thrive, cities -- bring your freight, bring your shows, ample and sufficient rivers,
124
Expand, being than which none else is perhaps more spiritual,
125Keep your places, objects than which none else is more lasting.
126You have waited, you always wait, you dumb, beautiful ministers,
127We receive you with free sense at last, and are insatiate henceforward,
128Not you any more shall be able to foil us, or withhold yourselves from us,
129We use you, and do not cast you aside -- we plant you permanently within us,
130We fathom you not -- we love you -- there is perfection in you also,
131 You furnish your parts toward eternity,
132 Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.
Beat! Beat! Drums!
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Beat! beat! drums! -- blow! bugles! blow!
Through the windows -- through doors -- burst like a ruthless force,
Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation,
Into the school where the scholar is studying;
Leave not the bridegroom quiet -- no happiness must he have now with his bride,
Nor the peaceful farmer any peace, ploughing his field or gathering his grain,
So fierce you whirr and pound you drums -- so shrill you bugles blow.
Beat! beat! drums! -- blow! bugles! blow!
Over the traffic of cities -- over the rumble of wheels in the streets;
Are beds prepared for sleepers at night in the houses? no sleepers must sleep in those beds,
No bargainers’ bargains by day -- no brokers or speculators -- would they continue?
Would the talkers be talking? would the singer attempt to sing?
Would the lawyer rise in the court to state his case before the judge?
Then rattle quicker, heavier drums -- you bugles wilder blow.
Beat! beat! drums! -- blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley -- stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid -- mind not the weeper or prayer,
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Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums -- so loud you bugles blow.
Song of Myself
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I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color’d sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belch’d words of my voice loos’d to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides,
The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun.
Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the
spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.
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38 I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end,
39 But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
40 There was never any more inception than there is now,
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41 Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
42 And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
43 Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
44 Urge and urge and urge,
45 Always the procreant urge of the world.
46 Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and increase, always sex,
47 Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life.
48 To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so.
49 Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams,
50 Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical,
51 I and this mystery here we stand.
52 Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
53 Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
54 Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.
55 Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age,
56 Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
57 Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean,
58 Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest.
59 I am satisfied -- I see, dance, laugh, sing;
60 As the hugging and loving bed-fellow sleeps at my side through the night, and withdraws at the peep of the day with
stealthy tread,
61 Leaving me baskets cover’d with white towels swelling the house with their plenty,
62 Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes,
63 That they turn from gazing after and down the road,
64 And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent,
65 Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead?
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Trippers and askers surround me,
People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and city I live in, or the nation,
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new,
My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues,
The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love,
The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill-doing or loss or lack of money, or depressions or exaltations,
Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news, the fitful events;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the Me myself.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary,
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.
Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.
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I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you,
And you must not be abased to the other.
Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valvèd voice.
I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
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How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn’d over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet.
Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love,
And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,
And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap’d stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed.
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99 A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
100How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
101 I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
102 Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
103 A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
104Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
105 Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.
106Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
107 And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
108 Growing among black folks as among white,
109 Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
110 And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
111 Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
112 It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
113 It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
114 It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers’ laps,
115 And here you are the mothers’ laps.
116 This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
117 Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
118 Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
119 O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
120And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
121I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
122And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
123What do you think has become of the young and old men?
124And what do you think has become of the women and children?
125They are alive and well somewhere,
126The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
127And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
128And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.
129All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
130And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
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131 Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
132 I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
133 I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash’d babe, and am not contain’d between my hat and boots,
134And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,
135 The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.
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136I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
137 I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself,
138(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)
139 Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and female,
140 For me those that have been boys and that love women,
141 For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be slighted,
142 For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the mothers of mothers,
143 For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears,
144 For me children and the begetters of children.
145 Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
146 I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
147 And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.
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148 The little one sleeps in its cradle,
149 I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.
150The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill,
151 I peeringly view them from the top.
152 The suicide sprawls on the bloody floor of the bedroom,
153 I witness the corpse with its dabbled hair, I note where the pistol has fallen.
154The blab of the pave, tires of carts, sluff of boot-soles, talk of the promenaders,
155 The heavy omnibus, the driver with his interrogating thumb, the clank of the shod horses on the granite floor,
156 The snow-sleighs, clinking, shouted jokes, pelts of snow-balls,
157 The hurrahs for popular favorites, the fury of rous’d mobs,
158 The flap of the curtain’d litter, a sick man inside borne to the hospital,
159 The meeting of enemies, the sudden oath, the blows and fall,
160 The excited crowd, the policeman with his star quickly working his passage to the centre of the crowd,
161 The impassive stones that receive and return so many echoes,
162 What groans of over-fed or half-starv’d who fall sunstruck or in fits,
163 What exclamations of women taken suddenly who hurry home and give birth to babes,
164 What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls restrain’d by decorum,
165 Arrests of criminals, slights, adulterous offers made, acceptances, rejections with convex lips,
166 I mind them or the show or resonance of them -- I come and I depart.
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167 The big doors of the country barn stand open and ready,
168 The dried grass of the harvest-time loads the slow-drawn wagon,
169 The clear light plays on the brown gray and green intertinged,
170 The armfuls are pack’d to the sagging mow.
171 I am there, I help, I came stretch’d atop of the load,
172 I felt its soft jolts, one leg reclined on the other,
173 I jump from the cross-beams and seize the clover and timothy,
174 And roll head over heels and tangle my hair full of wisps.
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175 Alone far in the wilds and mountains I hunt,
176 Wandering amazed at my own lightness and glee,
177 In the late afternoon choosing a safe spot to pass the night,
178 Kindling a fire and broiling the fresh-kill’d game,
179 Falling asleep on the gather’d leaves with my dog and gun by my side.
180The Yankee clipper is under her sky-sails, she cuts the sparkle and scud,
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181 My eyes settle the land, I bend at her prow or shout joyously from the deck.
182 The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me,
183 I tuck’d my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time;
184 You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
185 I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west, the bride was a red girl,
186 Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large thick
blankets hanging from their shoulders,
187 On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant beard and curls protected his neck, he held his
bride by the hand,
188 She had long eyelashes, her head was bare, her coarse straight locks descended upon her voluptuous limbs and reach’d to her
feet.
189 The runaway slave came to my house and stopt outside,
190 I heard his motions crackling the twigs of the woodpile,
191 Through the swung half-door of the kitchen I saw him limpsy and weak,
192 And went where he sat on a log and led him in and assured him,
193 And brought water and fill’d a tub for his sweated body and bruis’d feet,
194 And gave him a room that enter’d from my own, and gave him some coarse clean clothes,
195 And remember perfectly well his revolving eyes and his awkwardness,
196 And remember putting plasters on the galls of his neck and ankles;
197 He staid with me a week before he was recuperated and pass’d north,
198 I had him sit next me at table, my fire-lock lean’d in the corner.
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199 Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore,
200Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly;
201Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome.
202She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank,
203She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.
204Which of the young men does she like the best?
205Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her.
206Where are you off to, lady? for I see you,
207You splash in the water there, yet stay stock still in your room.
208Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather,
209The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them.
210The beards of the young men glisten’d with wet, it ran from their long hair,
211Little streams pass’d all over their bodies.
212An unseen hand also pass’d over their bodies,
213It descended tremblingly from their temples and ribs.
214 The young men float on their backs, their white bellies bulge to the sun, they do not ask who seizes fast to them,
215They do not know who puffs and declines with pendant and bending arch,
216They do not think whom they souse with spray.
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217 The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market,
218I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.
219Blacksmiths with grimed and hairy chests environ the anvil,
220Each has his main-sledge, they are all out, there is a great heat in the fire.
221From the cinder-strew’d threshold I follow their movements,
222The lithe sheer of their waists plays even with their massive arms,
223Overhand the hammers swing, overhand so slow, overhand so sure,
224They do not hasten, each man hits in his place.
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225The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses, the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain,
226The negro that drives the long dray of the stone-yard, steady and tall he stands pois’d on one leg on the string-piece,
227His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast and loosens over his hip-band,
228His glance is calm and commanding, he tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead,
229The sun falls on his crispy hair and mustache, falls on the black of his polish’d and perfect limbs.
230I behold the picturesque giant and love him, and I do not stop there,
231I go with the team also.
232In me the caresser of life wherever moving, backward as well as forward sluing,
233To niches aside and junior bending, not a person or object missing,
234Absorbing all to myself and for this song.
235Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain or halt in the leafy shade, what is that you express in your eyes?
236It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
237My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck on my distant and day-long ramble,
238They rise together, they slowly circle around.
239I believe in those wing’d purposes,
240And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
241And consider green and violet and the tufted crown intentional,
242And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else,
243And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut, yet trills pretty well to me,
244And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.
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245The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
246Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation,
247The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close,
248Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.
249The sharp-hoof ’d moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog,
250The litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats,
251The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings,
252I see in them and myself the same old law.
253The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,
254They scorn the best I can do to relate them.
255I am enamour’d of growing out-doors,
256Of men that live among cattle or taste of the ocean or woods,
257Of the builders and steerers of ships and the wielders of axes and mauls, and the drivers of horses,
258I can eat and sleep with them week in and week out.
259What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
260Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
261Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,
262Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
263Scattering it freely forever.
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264The pure contralto sings in the organ loft,
265The carpenter dresses his plank, the tongue of his foreplane whistles its wild ascending lisp,
266The married and unmarried children ride home to their Thanksgiving dinner,
267The pilot seizes the king-pin, he heaves down with a strong arm,
268The mate stands braced in the whale-boat, lance and harpoon are ready,
269The duck-shooter walks by silent and cautious stretches,
270The deacons are ordain’d with cross’d hands at the altar,
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271The spinning-girl retreats and advances to the hum of the big wheel,
272The farmer stops by the bars as he walks on a First-day loafe and looks at the oats and rye,
273The lunatic is carried at last to the asylum a confirm’d case,
274(He will never sleep any more as he did in the cot in his mother’s bed-room;)
275The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,
276He turns his quid of tobacco while his eyes blurr with the manuscript;
277The malform’d limbs are tied to the surgeon’s table,
278What is removed drops horribly in a pail;
279The quadroon girl is sold at the auction-stand, the drunkard nods by the bar-room stove,
280The machinist rolls up his sleeves, the policeman travels his beat, the gate-keeper marks who pass,
281The young fellow drives the express-wagon, (I love him, though I do not know him;)
282The half-breed straps on his light boots to compete in the race,
283The western turkey-shooting draws old and young, some lean on their rifles, some sit on logs,
284Out from the crowd steps the marksman, takes his position, levels his piece;
285The groups of newly-come immigrants cover the wharf or levee,
286As the woolly-pates hoe in the sugar-field, the overseer views them from his saddle,
287The bugle calls in the ball-room, the gentlemen run for their partners, the dancers bow to each other,
288The youth lies awake in the cedar-roof ’d garret and harks to the musical rain,
289The Wolverine sets traps on the creek that helps fill the Huron,
290The squaw wrapt in her yellow-hemm’d cloth is offering moccasins and bead-bags for sale,
291The connoisseur peers along the exhibition-gallery with half-shut eyes bent sideways,
292As the deck-hands make fast the steamboat the plank is thrown for the shore-going passengers,
293The young sister holds out the skein while the elder sister winds it off in a ball, and stops now and then for the knots,
294The one-year wife is recovering and happy having a week ago borne her first child,
295The clean-hair’d Yankee girl works with her sewing-machine or in the factory or mill,
296The paving-man leans on his two-handed rammer, the reporter’s lead flies swiftly over the note-book, the sign-painter is
lettering with blue and gold,
297The canal boy trots on the tow-path, the book-keeper counts at his desk, the shoemaker waxes his thread,
298The conductor beats time for the band and all the performers follow him,
299The child is baptized, the convert is making his first professions,
300The regatta is spread on the bay, the race is begun, (how the white sails sparkle!)
301The drover watching his drove sings out to them that would stray,
302The pedler sweats with his pack on his back, (the purchaser higgling about the odd cent;)
303The bride unrumples her white dress, the minute-hand of the clock moves slowly,
304The opium-eater reclines with rigid head and just-open’d lips,
305The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her tipsy and pimpled neck,
306The crowd laugh at her blackguard oaths, the men jeer and wink to each other,
307(Miserable! I do not laugh at your oaths nor jeer you;)
308The President holding a cabinet council is surrounded by the great Secretaries,
309On the piazza walk three matrons stately and friendly with twined arms,
310 The crew of the fish-smack pack repeated layers of halibut in the hold,
311 The Missourian crosses the plains toting his wares and his cattle,
312As the fare-collector goes through the train he gives notice by the jingling of loose change,
313The floor-men are laying the floor, the tinners are tinning the roof, the masons are calling for mortar,
314 In single file each shouldering his hod pass onward the laborers;
315Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gather’d, it is the fourth of Seventh-month, (what salutes of cannon
and small arms!)
316 Seasons pursuing each other the plougher ploughs, the mower mows, and the winter-grain falls in the ground;
317 Off on the lakes the pike-fisher watches and waits by the hole in the frozen surface,
318The stumps stand thick round the clearing, the squatter strikes deep with his axe,
319 Flatboatmen make fast towards dusk near the cotton-wood or pecan-trees,
320Coon-seekers go through the regions of the Red river or through those drain’d by the Tennessee, or through those of the
Arkansas,
321Torches shine in the dark that hangs on the Chattahooche or Altamahaw,
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322Patriarchs sit at supper with sons and grandsons and great-grandsons around them,
323In walls of adobie, in canvas tents, rest hunters and trappers after their day’s sport,
324The city sleeps and the country sleeps,
325The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time,
326The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife;
327And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,
328And such as it is to be of these more or less I am,
329And of these one and all I weave the song of myself.
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330I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
331Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
332Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
333Stuff’d with the stuff that is coarse and stuff’d with the stuff that is fine,
334One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the largest the same,
335A Southerner soon as a Northerner, a planter nonchalant and hospitable down by the Oconee I live,
336A Yankee bound my own way ready for trade, my joints the limberest joints on earth and the sternest joints on earth,
337A Kentuckian walking the vale of the Elkhorn in my deer-skin leggings, a Louisianian or Georgian,
338A boatman over lakes or bays or along coasts, a Hoosier, Badger, Buckeye;
339At home on Kanadian snow-shoes or up in the bush, or with fishermen off Newfoundland,
340At home in the fleet of ice-boats, sailing with the rest and tacking,
341At home on the hills of Vermont or in the woods of Maine, or the Texan ranch,
342Comrade of Californians, comrade of free North-Westerners, (loving their big proportions,)
343Comrade of raftsmen and coalmen, comrade of all who shake hands and welcome to drink and meat,
344A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
345A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,
346Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,
347A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,
348Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.
349I resist any thing better than my own diversity,
350Breathe the air but leave plenty after me,
351And am not stuck up, and am in my place.
352(The moth and the fish-eggs are in their place,
353The bright suns I see and the dark suns I cannot see are in their place,
354The palpable is in its place and the impalpable is in its place.)
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355These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me,
356If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next to nothing,
357If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they are nothing,
358If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing.
359This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is,
360This the common air that bathes the globe.
18
361With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums,
362I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches for conquer’d and slain persons.
363Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?
364I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
365I beat and pound for the dead,
366I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.
149
367Vivas to those who have fail’d!
368And to those whose war-vessels sank in the sea!
369And to those themselves who sank in the sea!
370And to all generals that lost engagements, and all overcome heroes!
371And the numberless unknown heroes equal to the greatest heroes known!
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372This is the meal equally set, this the meat for natural hunger,
373It is for the wicked just the same as the righteous, I make appointments with all,
374 I will not have a single person slighted or left away,
375The kept-woman, sponger, thief, are hereby invited,
376The heavy-lipp’d slave is invited, the venerealee is invited;
377There shall be no difference between them and the rest.
378This is the press of a bashful hand, this the float and odor of hair,
379This the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur of yearning,
380This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face,
381This the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again.
382Do you guess I have some intricate purpose?
383Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.
384Do you take it I would astonish?
385Does the daylight astonish? does the early redstart twittering through the woods?
386Do I astonish more than they?
387This hour I tell things in confidence,
388I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
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389Who goes there? hankering, gross, mystical, nude;
390How is it I extract strength from the beef I eat?
391What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?
392All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own,
393Else it were time lost listening to me.
394I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
395That months are vacuums and the ground but wallow and filth.
396Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for invalids, conformity goes to the fourth-remov’d,
397I wear my hat as I please indoors or out.
398Why should I pray? why should I venerate and be ceremonious?
399Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair, counsel’d with doctors and calculated close,
400I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
401In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barley-corn less,
402And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.
403I know I am solid and sound,
404To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow,
405All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.
406I know I am deathless,
407I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a carpenter’s compass,
408I know I shall not pass like a child’s carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night.
409I know I am august,
410 I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,
411 I see that the elementary laws never apologize,
412 (I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all.)
413 I exist as I am, that is enough,
414 If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
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415 And if each and all be aware I sit content.
416 One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself,
417 And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten million years,
418 I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.
419 My foothold is tenon’d and mortis’d in granite,
420I laugh at what you call dissolution,
421 And I know the amplitude of time.
21
422I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul,
423The pleasures of heaven are with me and the pains of hell are with me,
424The first I graft and increase upon myself, the latter I translate into a new tongue.
425I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,
426And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man,
427And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.
428I chant the chant of dilation or pride,
429We have had ducking and deprecating about enough,
430I show that size is only development.
431 Have you outstript the rest? are you the President?
432 It is a trifle, they will more than arrive there every one, and still pass on.
433I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,
434I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.
435 Press close bare-bosom’d night -- press close magnetic nourishing night!
436Night of south winds -- night of the large few stars!
437 Still nodding night -- mad naked summer night.
438Smile O voluptuous cool-breath’d earth!
439 Earth of the slumbering and liquid trees!
440Earth of departed sunset -- earth of the mountains misty-topt!
441Earth of the vitreous pour of the full moon just tinged with blue!
442Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!
443Earth of the limpid gray of clouds brighter and clearer for my sake!
444Far-swooping elbow’d earth -- rich apple-blossom’d earth!
445Smile, for your lover comes.
446Prodigal, you have given me love -- therefore I to you give love!
447O unspeakable passionate love.
22
448You sea! I resign myself to you also -- I guess what you mean,
449I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers,
450I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me,
451 We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land,
452 Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse,
453 Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
454Sea of stretch’d ground-swells,
455 Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths,
456 Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell’d yet always-ready graves,
457 Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea,
458 I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases.
459 Partaker of influx and efflux I, extoller of hate and conciliation,
460Extoller of amies and those that sleep in each others’ arms.
461 I am he attesting sympathy,
462(Shall I make my list of things in the house and skip the house that supports them?)
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463I am not the poet of goodness only, I do not decline to be the poet of wickedness also.
464What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?
465Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent,
466My gait is no fault-finder’s or rejecter’s gait,
467I moisten the roots of all that has grown.
468Did you fear some scrofula out of the unflagging pregnancy?
469Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work’d over and rectified?
470 I find one side a balance and the antipodal side a balance,
471 Soft doctrine as steady help as stable doctrine,
472 Thoughts and deeds of the present our rouse and early start.
473 This minute that comes to me over the past decillions,
474 There is no better than it and now.
475 What behaved well in the past or behaves well to-day is not such a wonder,
476 The wonder is always and always how there can be a mean man or an infidel.
23
477Endless unfolding of words of ages!
478 And mine a word of the modern, the word En-Masse.
479 A word of the faith that never balks,
480Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.
481It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all,
482That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all.
483I accept Reality and dare not question it,
484Materialism first and last imbuing.
485Hurrah for positive science! long live exact demonstration!
486Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac,
487This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches,
488These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas.
489This is the geologist, this works with the scalpel, and this is a mathematician.
490Gentlemen, to you the first honors always!
491 Your facts are useful, and yet they are not my dwelling,
492I but enter by them to an area of my dwelling.
493Less the reminders of properties told my words,
494And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and extrication,
495 And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor men and women fully equipt,
496And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with fugitives and them that plot and conspire.
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497Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son,
498Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding,
499No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them,
500No more modest than immodest.
501Unscrew the locks from the doors!
502Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!
503Whoever degrades another degrades me,
504And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
505Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index.
506I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy,
507By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their counterpart of on the same terms.
508Through me many long dumb voices,
509Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves,
510 Voices of the diseas’d and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs,
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511 Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion,
512And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the father-stuff,
513And of the rights of them the others are down upon,
514 Of the deform’d, trivial, flat, foolish, despised,
515Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.
516 Through me forbidden voices,
517 Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil’d and I remove the veil,
518 Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur’d.
519 I do not press my fingers across my mouth,
520I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart,
521Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.
522I believe in the flesh and the appetites,
523Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
524Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touch’d from,
525The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,
526This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
527If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it,
528Translucent mould of me it shall be you!
529Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you!
530Firm masculine colter it shall be you!
531 Whatever goes to the tilth of me it shall be you!
532You my rich blood! your milky stream pale strippings of my life!
533Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you!
534My brain it shall be your occult convolutions!
535Root of wash’d sweet-flag! timorous pond-snipe! nest of guarded duplicate eggs! it shall be you!
536Mix’d tussled hay of head, beard, brawn, it shall be you!
537Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be you!
538Sun so generous it shall be you!
539Vapors lighting and shading my face it shall be you!
540You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you!
541Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you!
542Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you!
543Hands I have taken, face I have kiss’d, mortal I have ever touch’d, it shall be you.
544I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious,
545Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy,
546I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish,
547Nor the cause of the friendship I emit, nor the cause of the friendship I take again.
548That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be,
549A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
550To behold the day-break!
551 The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows,
552 The air tastes good to my palate.
553 Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding,
554Scooting obliquely high and low.
555 Something I cannot see puts upward libidinous prongs,
556Seas of bright juice suffuse heaven.
557 The earth by the sky staid with, the daily close of their junction,
558The heav’d challenge from the east that moment over my head,
559 The mocking taunt, See then whether you shall be master!
25
560Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me,
561 If I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me.
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562We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun,
563We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
564My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach,
565With the twirl of my tongue I encompass worlds and volumes of worlds.
566Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself,
567It provokes me forever, it says sarcastically,
568Walt you contain enough, why don’t you let it out then?
569Come now I will not be tantalized, you conceive too much of articulation,
570Do you not know O speech how the buds beneath you are folded?
571Waiting in gloom, protected by frost,
572The dirt receding before my prophetical screams,
573I underlying causes to balance them at last,
574 My knowledge my live parts, it keeping tally with the meaning of all things,
575Happiness, (which whoever hears me let him or her set out in search of this day.)
576 My final merit I refuse you, I refuse putting from me what I really am,
577Encompass worlds, but never try to encompass me,
578I crowd your sleekest and best by simply looking toward you.
579Writing and talk do not prove me,
580I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face,
581With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic.
26
582Now I will do nothing but listen,
583To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it.
584I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals,
585I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice,
586I hear all sounds running together, combined, fused or following,
587Sounds of the city and sounds out of the city, sounds of the day and night,
588Talkative young ones to those that like them, the loud laugh of work-people at their meals,
589The angry base of disjointed friendship, the faint tones of the sick,
590The judge with hands tight to the desk, his pallid lips pronouncing a death-sentence,
591The heave’e’yo of stevedores unlading ships by the wharves, the refrain of the anchor-lifters,
592The ring of alarm-bells, the cry of fire, the whirr of swift-streaking engines and hose-carts with premonitory tinkles and
color’d lights,
593The steam whistle, the solid roll of the train of approaching cars,
594The slow march play’d at the head of the association marching two and two,
595(They go to guard some corpse, the flag-tops are draped with black muslin.)
596I hear the violoncello, (‘tis the young man’s heart’s complaint,)
597I hear the key’d cornet, it glides quickly in through my ears,
598It shakes mad-sweet pangs through my belly and breast.
599I hear the chorus, it is a grand opera,
600Ah this indeed is music -- this suits me.
601A tenor large and fresh as the creation fills me,
602The orbic flex of his mouth is pouring and filling me full.
603I hear the train’d soprano (what work with hers is this?)
604The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies,
605It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess’d them,
606It sails me, I dab with bare feet, they are lick’d by the indolent waves,
607I am cut by bitter and angry hail, I lose my breath,
608Steep’d amid honey’d morphine, my windpipe throttled in fakes of death,
609At length let up again to feel the puzzle of puzzles,
610And that we call Being.
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27
611To be in any form, what is that?
612(Round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither,)
613If nothing lay more develop’d the quahaug in its callous shell were enough.
614 Mine is no callous shell,
615I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,
616They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me.
617 I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy,
618To touch my person to some one else’s is about as much as I can stand.
28
619Is this then a touch? quivering me to a new identity,
620Flames and ether making a rush for my veins,
621Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them,
622My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly different from myself,
623On all sides prurient provokers stiffening my limbs,
624Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip,
625Behaving licentious toward me, taking no denial,
626Depriving me of my best as for a purpose,
627Unbuttoning my clothes, holding me by the bare waist,
628Deluding my confusion with the calm of the sunlight and pasture-fields,
629Immodestly sliding the fellow-senses away,
630They bribed to swap off with touch and go and graze at the edges of me,
631No consideration, no regard for my draining strength or my anger,
632Fetching the rest of the herd around to enjoy them a while,
633Then all uniting to stand on a headland and worry me.
634The sentries desert every other part of me,
635They have left me helpless to a red marauder,
636They all come to the headland to witness and assist against me.
637I am given up by traitors,
638I talk wildly, I have lost my wits, I and nobody else am the greatest traitor,
639I went myself first to the headland, my own hands carried me there.
640You villain touch! what are you doing? my breath is tight in its throat,
641Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for me.
29
642Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath’d hooded sharp-tooth’d touch!
643Did it make you ache so, leaving me?
644Parting track’d by arriving, perpetual payment of perpetual loan,
645Rich showering rain, and recompense richer afterward.
646Sprouts take and accumulate, stand by the curb prolific and vital,
647Landscapes projected masculine, full-sized and golden.
30
648All truths wait in all things,
649They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it,
650They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon,
651The insignificant is as big to me as any,
652(What is less or more than a touch?)
653Logic and sermons never convince,
155
654The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.
655(Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so,
656Only what nobody denies is so.)
657A minute and a drop of me settle my brain,
658I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps,
659And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or woman,
660And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for each other,
661And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson until it becomes omnific,
662And until one and all shall delight us, and we them.
31
663I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars,
664And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg of the wren,
665And the tree-toad is a chef-d’œuvre for the highest,
666And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,
667And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery,
668And the cow crunching with depress’d head surpasses any statue,
669And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.
670I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots,
671And am stucco’d with quadrupeds and birds all over,
672And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons,
673But call any thing back again when I desire it.
674 In vain the speeding or shyness,
675In vain the plutonic rocks send their old heat against my approach,
676In vain the mastodon retreats beneath its own powder’d bones,
677In vain objects stand leagues off and assume manifold shapes,
678In vain the ocean settling in hollows and the great monsters lying low,
679In vain the buzzard houses herself with the sky,
680In vain the snake slides through the creepers and logs,
681In vain the elk takes to the inner passes of the woods,
682In vain the razor-bill’d auk sails far north to Labrador,
683I follow quickly, I ascend to the nest in the fissure of the cliff.
32
684I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain’d,
685I stand and look at them long and long.
686They do not sweat and whine about their condition,
687They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,
688They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,
689Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,
690Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,
691Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.
692So they show their relations to me and I accept them,
693They bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession.
694I wonder where they get those tokens,
695Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?
696Myself moving forward then and now and forever,
697Gathering and showing more always and with velocity,
698Infinite and omnigenous, and the like of these among them,
699Not too exclusive toward the reachers of my remembrancers,
700Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms.
701A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses,
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702Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears,
703Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground,
704Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finely cut, flexibly moving.
705His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him,
706His well-built limbs tremble with pleasure as we race around and return.
707I but use you a minute, then I resign you, stallion,
708Why do I need your paces when I myself out-gallop them?
709Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you.
33
710Space and Time! now I see it is true, what I guess’d at,
711What I guess’d when I loaf ’d on the grass,
712What I guess’d while I lay alone in my bed,
713And again as I walk’d the beach under the paling stars of the morning.
714 My ties and ballasts leave me, my elbows rest in sea-gaps,
715I skirt sierras, my palms cover continents,
716I am afoot with my vision.
717 By the city’s quadrangular houses -- in log huts, camping with lumbermen,
718Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed,
719Weeding my onion-patch or hoeing rows of carrots and parsnips, crossing savannas, trailing in forests,
720Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees of a new purchase,
721Scorch’d ankle-deep by the hot sand, hauling my boat down the shallow river,
722Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead, where the buck turns furiously at the hunter,
723Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, where the otter is feeding on fish,
724Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,
725Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, where the beaver pats the mud with his paddle-shaped tail;
726Over the growing sugar, over the yellow-flower’d cotton plant, over the rice in its low moist field,
727Over the sharp-peak’d farm house, with its scallop’d scum and slender shoots from the gutters,
728Over the western persimmon, over the long-leav’d corn, over the delicate blue-flower flax,
729Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer and buzzer there with the rest,
730Over the dusky green of the rye as it ripples and shades in the breeze;
731Scaling mountains, pulling myself cautiously up, holding on by low scragged limbs,
732Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leaves of the brush,
733Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and the wheat-lot,
734Where the bat flies in the Seventh-month eve, where the great gold-bug drops through the dark,
735Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree and flows to the meadow,
736Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulous shuddering of their hides,
737Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen, where andirons straddle the hearth-slab, where cobwebs fall in festoons from
the rafters;
738Where trip-hammers crash, where the press is whirling its cylinders,
739Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes under its ribs,
740Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, (floating in it myself and looking composedly down,)
741 Where the life-car is drawn on the slip-noose, where the heat hatches pale-green eggs in the dented sand,
742 Where the she-whale swims with her calf and never forsakes it,
743 Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant of smoke,
744Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water,
745 Where the half-burn’d brig is riding on unknown currents,
746Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are corrupting below;
747 Where the dense-starr’d flag is borne at the head of the regiments,
748Approaching Manhattan up by the long-stretching island,
749 Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance,
750Upon a door-step, upon the horse-block of hard wood outside,
751 Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a good game of base-ball,
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752At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license, bull-dances, drinking, laughter,
753At the cider-mill tasting the sweets of the brown mash, sucking the juice through a straw,
754At apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find,
755At musters, beach-parties, friendly bees, huskings, house-raisings;
756Where the mocking-bird sounds his delicious gurgles, cackles, screams, weeps,
757Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard, where the dry-stalks are scatter’d, where the brood-cow waits in the hovel,
758Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where the stud to the mare, where the cock is treading the hen,
759Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with short jerks,
760Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless and lonesome prairie,
761 Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square miles far and near,
762Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the long-lived swan is curving and winding,
763Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughs her near-human laugh,
764Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hid by the high weeds,
765Where band-neck’d partridges roost in a ring on the ground with their heads out,
766Where burial coaches enter the arch’d gates of a cemetery,
767 Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees,
768Where the yellow-crown’d heron comes to the edge of the marsh at night and feeds upon small crabs,
769 Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon,
770Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree over the well,
771Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with silver-wired leaves,
772Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under conical firs,
773Through the gymnasium, through the curtain’d saloon, through the office or public hall;
774 Pleas’d with the native and pleas’d with the foreign, pleas’d with the new and old,
775Pleas’d with the homely woman as well as the handsome,
776Pleas’d with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks melodiously,
777Pleas’d with the tune of the choir of the whitewash’d church,
778Pleas’d with the earnest words of the sweating Methodist preacher, impress’d seriously at the camp-meeting;
779Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the whole forenoon, flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate glass,
780Wandering the same afternoon with my face turn’d up to the clouds, or down a lane or along the beach,
781My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and I in the middle;
782Coming home with the silent and dark-cheek’d bush-boy, (behind me he rides at the drape of the day,)
783Far from the settlements studying the print of animals’ feet, or the moccasin print,
784By the cot in the hospital reaching lemonade to a feverish patient,
785Nigh the coffin’d corpse when all is still, examining with a candle;
786Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure,
787Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and fickle as any,
788Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him,
789Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me a long while,
790Walking the old hills of Judæa with the beautiful gentle God by my side,
791Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars,
792Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and the diameter of eighty thousand miles,
793Speeding with tail’d meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest,
794Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother in its belly,
795Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning,
796Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing,
797I tread day and night such roads.
798I visit the orchards of spheres and look at the product,
799And look at quintillions ripen’d and look at quintillions green.
800I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul,
801My course runs below the soundings of plummets.
802I help myself to material and immaterial,
803No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me.
804I anchor my ship for a little while only,
805My messengers continually cruise away or bring their returns to me.
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806I go hunting polar furs and the seal, leaping chasms with a pike-pointed staff, clinging to topples of brittle and blue.
807I ascend to the foretruck,
808I take my place late at night in the crow’s-nest,
809We sail the arctic sea, it is plenty light enough,
810Through the clear atmosphere I stretch around on the wonderful beauty,
811The enormous masses of ice pass me and I pass them, the scenery is plain in all directions,
812The white-topt mountains show in the distance, I fling out my fancies toward them,
813We are approaching some great battle-field in which we are soon to be engaged,
814We pass the colossal outposts of the encampment, we pass with still feet and caution,
815Or we are entering by the suburbs some vast and ruin’d city,
816The blocks and fallen architecture more than all the living cities of the globe.
817I am a free companion, I bivouac by invading watchfires,
818I turn the bridegroom out of bed and stay with the bride myself,
819I tighten her all night to my thighs and lips.
820My voice is the wife’s voice, the screech by the rail of the stairs,
821They fetch my man’s body up dripping and drown’d.
822I understand the large hearts of heroes,
823The courage of present times and all times,
824How the skipper saw the crowded and rudderless wreck of the steam-ship, and Death chasing it up and down the storm,
825How he knuckled tight and gave not back an inch, and was faithful of days and faithful of nights,
826And chalk’d in large letters on a board, Be of good cheer, we will not desert you;
827How he follow’d with them and tack’d with them three days and would not give it up,
828How he saved the drifting company at last,
829How the lank loose-gown’d women look’d when boated from the side of their prepared graves,
830How the silent old-faced infants and the lifted sick, and the sharp-lipp’d unshaved men;
831All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine,
832I am the man, I suffer’d, I was there.
833The disdain and calmness of martyrs,
834The mother of old, condemn’d for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her children gazing on,
835The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence, blowing, cover’d with sweat,
836The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the murderous buckshot and the bullets,
837All these I feel or am.
838I am the hounded slave, I wince at the bite of the dogs,
839Hell and despair are upon me, crack and again crack the marksmen,
840I clutch the rails of the fence, my gore dribs, thinn’d with the ooze of my skin,
841I fall on the weeds and stones,
842The riders spur their unwilling horses, haul close,
843Taunt my dizzy ears and beat me violently over the head with whip-stocks.
844Agonies are one of my changes of garments,
845I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person,
846My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.
847I am the mash’d fireman with breast-bone broken,
848Tumbling walls buried me in their debris,
849Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades,
850I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels,
851They have clear’d the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth.
852I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my sake,
853Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy,
854White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared of their fire-caps,
855The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches.
856Distant and dead resuscitate,
857They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.
858I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort’s bombardment,
859I am there again.
159
860Again the long roll of the drummers,
861Again the attacking cannon, mortars,
862Again to my listening ears the cannon responsive.
863I take part, I see and hear the whole,
864The cries, curses, roar, the plaudits for well-aim’d shots,
865The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip,
866Workmen searching after damages, making indispensable repairs,
867The fall of grenades through the rent roof, the fan-shaped explosion,
868The whizz of limbs, heads, stone, wood, iron, high in the air.
869Again gurgles the mouth of my dying general, he furiously waves with his hand,
870He gasps through the clot Mind not me -- mind -- the entrenchments.
34
871Now I tell what I knew in Texas in my early youth,
872(I tell not the fall of Alamo,
873Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo,
874The hundred and fifty are dumb yet at Alamo,)
875‘Tis the tale of the murder in cold blood of four hundred and twelve young men.
876Retreating they had form’d in a hollow square with their baggage for breastworks,
877Nine hundred lives out of the surrounding enemy’s, nine times their number, was the price they took in advance,
878Their colonel was wounded and their ammunition gone,
879They treated for an honorable capitulation, receiv’d writing and seal, gave up their arms and march’d back prisoners of war.
880They were the glory of the race of rangers,
881Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship,
882Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate,
883Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters,
884Not a single one over thirty years of age.
885The second First-day morning they were brought out in squads and massacred, it was beautiful early summer,
886The work commenced about five o’clock and was over by eight.
887None obey’d the command to kneel,
888Some made a mad and helpless rush, some stood stark and straight,
889A few fell at once, shot in the temple or heart, the living and dead lay together,
890The maim’d and mangled dug in the dirt, the new-comers saw them there,
891Some half-kill’d attempted to crawl away,
892These were despatch’d with bayonets or batter’d with the blunts of muskets,
893A youth not seventeen years old seiz’d his assassin till two more came to release him,
894The three were all torn and cover’d with the boy’s blood.
895At eleven o’clock began the burning of the bodies;
896That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.
35
897Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
898Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?
899List to the yarn, as my grandmother’s father the sailor told it to me.
900Our foe was no skulk in his ship I tell you, (said he,)
901His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be;
902Along the lower’d eve he came horribly raking us.
903We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch’d,
904My captain lash’d fast with his own hands.
905We had receiv’d some eighteen pound shots under the water,
906On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead.
907Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark,
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908Ten o’clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported,
909The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.
910The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels,
911They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust.
912Our frigate takes fire,
913The other asks if we demand quarter?
914If our colors are struck and the fighting done?
915Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,
916We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part of the fighting.
917Only three guns are in use,
918One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy’s mainmast,
919Two well serv’d with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks.
920The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top,
921They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.
922Not a moment’s cease,
923The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine.
924One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking.
925Serene stands the little captain,
926He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low,
927His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns.
928Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us.
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929Stretch’d and still lies the midnight,
930Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness,
931Our vessel riddled and slowly sinking, preparations to pass to the one we have conquer’d,
932The captain on the quarter-deck coldly giving his orders through a countenance white as a sheet,
933Near by the corpse of the child that serv’d in the cabin,
934The dead face of an old salt with long white hair and carefully curl’d whiskers,
935The flames spite of all that can be done flickering aloft and below,
936The husky voices of the two or three officers yet fit for duty,
937Formless stacks of bodies and bodies by themselves, dabs of flesh upon the masts and spars,
938Cut of cordage, dangle of rigging, slight shock of the soothe of waves,
939Black and impassive guns, litter of powder-parcels, strong scent,
940A few large stars overhead, silent and mournful shining,
941Delicate sniffs of sea-breeze, smells of sedgy grass and fields by the shore, death-messages given in charge to survivors,
942The hiss of the surgeon’s knife, the gnawing teeth of his saw,
943Wheeze, cluck, swash of falling blood, short wild scream, and long, dull, tapering groan,
944These so, these irretrievable.
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945You laggards there on guard! look to your arms!
946In at the conquer’d doors they crowd! I am possess’d!
947Embody all presences outlaw’d or suffering,
948See myself in prison shaped like another man,
949And feel the dull unintermitted pain.
950For me the keepers of convicts shoulder their carbines and keep watch,
951It is I let out in the morning and barr’d at night.
952Not a mutineer walks handcuff’d to jail but I am handcuff’d to him and walk by his side,
953(I am less the jolly one there, and more the silent one with sweat on my twitching lips.)
954Not a youngster is taken for larceny but I go up too, and am tried and sentenced.
955Not a cholera patient lies at the last gasp but I also lie at the last gasp,
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956My face is ash-color’d, my sinews gnarl, away from me people retreat.
957Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in them,
958I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.
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959Enough! enough! enough!
960Somehow I have been stunn’d. Stand back!
961Give me a little time beyond my cuff’d head, slumbers, dreams, gaping,
962I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.
963That I could forget the mockers and insults!
964That I could forget the trickling tears and the blows of the bludgeons and hammers!
965That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and bloody crowning.
966I remember now,
967I resume the overstaid fraction,
968The grave of rock multiplies what has been confided to it, or to any graves,
969Corpses rise, gashes heal, fastenings roll from me.
970I troop forth replenish’d with supreme power, one of an average unending procession,
971Inland and sea-coast we go, and pass all boundary lines,
972Our swift ordinances on their way over the whole earth,
973The blossoms we wear in our hats the growth of thousands of years.
974Eleves, I salute you! come forward!
975Continue your annotations, continue your questionings.
39
976The friendly and flowing savage, who is he?
977Is he waiting for civilization, or past it and mastering it?
978Is he some Southwesterner rais’d out-doors? is he Kanadian?
979Is he from the Mississippi country? Iowa, Oregon, California?
980The mountains? prairie-life, bush-life? or sailor from the sea?
981Wherever he goes men and women accept and desire him,
982They desire he should like them, touch them, speak to them, stay with them.
983Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass, uncomb’d head, laughter, and naivetè,
984Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and emanations,
985They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers,
986They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly out of the glance of his eyes.
40
987Flaunt of the sunshine I need not your bask -- lie over!
988You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.
989Earth! you seem to look for something at my hands,
990Say, old top-knot, what do you want?
991Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot,
992And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot,
993And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days.
994Behold, I do not give lectures or a little charity,
995When I give I give myself.
996You there, impotent, loose in the knees,
997Open your scarf ’d chops till I blow grit within you,
998Spread your palms and lift the flaps of your pockets,
999I am not to be denied, I compel, I have stores plenty and to spare,
1000 And any thing I have I bestow.
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1002
1003
1004
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1007
1008
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1010
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I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me,
You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.
To cotton-field drudge or cleaner of privies I lean,
On his right cheek I put the family kiss,
And in my soul I swear I never will deny him.
On women fit for conception I start bigger and nimbler babes.
(This day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics.)
To any one dying, thither I speed and twist the knob of the door.
Turn the bed-clothes toward the foot of the bed,
Let the physician and the priest go home.
I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will,
O despairer, here is my neck,
By God, you shall not go down! hang your whole weight upon me.
I dilate you with tremendous breath, I buoy you up,
Every room of the house do I fill with an arm’d force,
Lovers of me, bafflers of graves.
Sleep -- I and they keep guard all night,
Not doubt, not decease shall dare to lay finger upon you,
I have embraced you, and henceforth possess you to myself,
And when you rise in the morning you will find what I tell you is so.
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1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
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1041
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1043
1044
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1049
1050
I am he bringing help for the sick as they pant on their backs,
And for strong upright men I bring yet more needed help.
I heard what was said of the universe,
Heard it and heard it of several thousand years;
It is middling well as far as it goes -- but is that all?
Magnifying and applying come I,
Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters,
Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah,
Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson,
Buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha,
In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah on a leaf, the crucifix engraved,
With Odin and the hideous-faced Mexitli and every idol and image,
Taking them all for what they are worth and not a cent more,
Admitting they were alive and did the work of their days,
(They bore mites as for unfledg’d birds who have now to rise and fly and sing for themselves,)
Accepting the rough deific sketches to fill out better in myself, bestowing them freely on each man and woman I see,
Discovering as much or more in a framer framing a house,
Putting higher claims for him there with his roll’d-up sleeves driving the mallet and chisel,
Not objecting to special revelations, considering a curl of smoke or a hair on the back of my hand just as curious as
any revelation,
Lads ahold of fire-engines and hook-and-ladder ropes no less to me than the gods of the antique wars,
Minding their voices peal through the crash of destruction,
Their brawny limbs passing safe over charr’d laths, their white foreheads whole and unhurt out of the flames;
By the mechanic’s wife with her babe at her nipple interceding for every person born,
Three scythes at harvest whizzing in a row from three lusty angels with shirts bagg’d out at their waists,
The snag-tooth’d hostler with red hair redeeming sins past and to come,
Selling all he possesses, traveling on foot to fee lawyers for his brother and sit by him while he is tried for forgery;
What was strewn in the amplest strewing the square rod about me, and not filling the square rod then,
The bull and the bug never worshipp’d half enough,
Dung and dirt more admirable than was dream’d,
The supernatural of no account, myself waiting my time to be one of the supremes,
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1052
1053
The day getting ready for me when I shall do as much good as the best, and be as prodigious;
By my life-lumps! becoming already a creator,
Putting myself here and now to the ambush’d womb of the shadows.
42
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1055
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1057
1058
1059
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1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
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1080
1081
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1083
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A call in the midst of the crowd,
My own voice, orotund sweeping and final.
Come my children,
Come my boys and girls, my women, household and intimates,
Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass’d his prelude on the reeds within.
Easily written loose-finger’d chords -- I feel the thrum of your climax and close.
My head slues round on my neck,
Music rolls, but not from the organ,
Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine.
Ever the hard unsunk ground,
Ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward sun, ever the air and the ceaseless tides,
Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real,
Ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorn’d thumb, that breath of itches and thirsts,
Ever the vexer’s hoot! hoot! till we find where the sly one hides and bring him forth,
Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life,
Ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death.
Here and there with dimes on the eyes walking,
To feed the greed of the belly the brains liberally spooning,
Tickets buying, taking, selling, but in to the feast never once going,
Many sweating, ploughing, thrashing, and then the chaff for payment receiving,
A few idly owning, and they the wheat continually claiming.
This is the city and I am one of the citizens,
Whatever interests the rest interests me, politics, wars, markets, newspapers, schools,
The mayor and councils, banks, tariffs, steamships, factories, stocks, stores, real estate and personal estate.
The little plentiful manikins skipping around in collars and tail’d coats,
I am aware who they are, (they are positively not worms or fleas,)
I acknowledge the duplicates of myself, the weakest and shallowest is deathless with me,
What I do and say the same waits for them,
Every thought that flounders in me the same flounders in them.
I know perfectly well my own egotism,
Know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less,
And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself.
Not words of routine this song of mine,
But abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring;
This printed and bound book -- but the printer and the printing-office boy?
The well-taken photographs -- but your wife or friend close and solid in your arms?
The black ship mail’d with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets -- but the pluck of the captain and engineers?
In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture -- but the host and hostess, and the look out of their eyes?
The sky up there -- yet here or next door, or across the way?
The saints and sages in history -- but you yourself?
Sermons, creeds, theology -- but the fathomless human brain,
And what is reason? and what is love? and what is life?
43
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1097
1098
I do not despise you priests, all time, the world over,
My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths,
Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern,
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Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five thousand years,
Waiting responses from oracles, honoring the gods, saluting the sun,
Making a fetich of the first rock or stump, powowing with sticks in the circle of obis,
Helping the llama or brahmin as he trims the lamps of the idols,
Dancing yet through the streets in a phallic procession, rapt and austere in the woods a gymnosophist,
Drinking mead from the skull-cup, to Shastas and Vedas admirant, minding the Koran,
Walking the teokallis, spotted with gore from the stone and knife, beating the serpent-skin drum,
Accepting the Gospels, accepting him that was crucified, knowing assuredly that he is divine,
To the mass kneeling or the puritan’s prayer rising, or sitting patiently in a pew,
Ranting and frothing in my insane crisis, or waiting dead-like till my spirit arouses me,
Looking forth on pavement and land, or outside of pavement and land,
Belonging to the winders of the circuit of circuits.
One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang I turn and talk like a man leaving charges before a journey.
Down-hearted doubters dull and excluded,
Frivolous, sullen, moping, angry, affected, dishearten’d, atheistical,
I know every one of you, I know the sea of torment, doubt, despair and unbelief.
How the flukes splash!
How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood!
Be at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers,
I take my place among you as much as among any,
The past is the push of you, me, all, precisely the same,
And what is yet untried and afterward is for you, me, all, precisely the same.
I do not know what is untried and afterward,
But I know it will in its turn prove sufficient, and cannot fail.
Each who passes is consider’d, each who stops is consider’d, not a single one can it fail.
It cannot fail the young man who died and was buried,
Nor the young woman who died and was put by his side,
Nor the little child that peep’d in at the door, and then drew back and was never seen again,
Nor the old man who has lived without purpose, and feels it with bitterness worse than gall,
Nor him in the poor house tubercled by rum and the bad disorder,
Nor the numberless slaughter’d and wreck’d, nor the brutish koboo call’d the ordure of humanity,
Nor the sacs merely floating with open mouths for food to slip in,
Nor any thing in the earth, or down in the oldest graves of the earth,
Nor any thing in the myriads of spheres, nor the myriads of myriads that inhabit them,
Nor the present, nor the least wisp that is known.
44
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It is time to explain myself -- let us stand up.
What is known I strip away,
I launch all men and women forward with me into the Unknown.
The clock indicates the moment -- but what does eternity indicate?
We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers,
There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.
Births have brought us richness and variety,
And other births will bring us richness and variety.
I do not call one greater and one smaller,
That which fills its period and place is equal to any.
Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister?
I am sorry for you, they are not murderous or jealous upon me,
All has been gentle with me, I keep no account with lamentation,
(What have I to do with lamentation?)
I am an acme of things accomplish’d, and I an encloser of things to be.
My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs,
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On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps,
All below duly travel’d, and still I mount and mount.
Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me,
Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there,
I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist,
And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon.
Long I was hugg’d close -- long and long.
Immense have been the preparations for me,
Faithful and friendly the arms that have help’d me.
Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen,
For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings,
They sent influences to look after what was to hold me.
Before I was born out of my mother generations guided me,
My embryo has never been torpid, nothing could overlay it.
For it the nebula cohered to an orb,
The long slow strata piled to rest it on,
Vast vegetables gave it sustenance,
Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited it with care.
All forces have been steadily employ’d to complete and delight me,
Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul.
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1170 O span of youth! ever-push’d elasticity!
1171 O manhood, balanced, florid and full.
1172 My lovers suffocate me,
1173 Crowding my lips, thick in the pores of my skin,
1174
Jostling me through streets and public halls, coming naked to me at night,
1175 Crying by day Ahoy! from the rocks of the river, swinging and chirping over my head,
1176 Calling my name from flower-beds, vines, tangled underbrush,
1177 Lighting on every moment of my life,
1178 Bussing my body with soft balsamic busses,
1179 Noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine.
1180 Old age superbly rising! O welcome, ineffable grace of dying days!
1181 Every condition promulges not only itself, it promulges what grows after and out of itself,
1182 And the dark hush promulges as much as any.
1183 I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems,
1184 And all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the rim of the farther systems.
1185 Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding,
1186 Outward and outward and forever outward.
1187 My sun has his sun and round him obediently wheels,
1188 He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit,
1189 And greater sets follow, making specks of the greatest inside them.
1190 There is no stoppage and never can be stoppage,
1191 If I, you, and the worlds, and all beneath or upon their surfaces, were this moment reduced back to a pallid float, it
would not avail in the long run,
1192 We should surely bring up again where we now stand,
1193 And surely go as much farther, and then farther and farther.
1194 A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues, do not hazard the span or make it impatient,
1195 They are but parts, any thing is but a part.
1196 See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that,
1197 Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that.
1198 My rendezvous is appointed, it is certain,
1199 The Lord will be there and wait till I come on perfect terms,
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The great Camerado, the lover true for whom I pine will be there.
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1201 I know I have the best of time and space, and was never measured and never will be measured.
1202 I tramp a perpetual journey, (come listen all!)
1203 My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods,
1204 No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair,
1205 I have no chair, no church, no philosophy,
1206 I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange,
1207 But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll,
1208 My left hand hooking you round the waist,
1209 My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road.
1210 Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you,
1211 You must travel it for yourself.
1212 It is not far, it is within reach,
1213 Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know,
1214 Perhaps it is everywhere on water and on land.
1215 Shoulder your duds dear son, and I will mine, and let us hasten forth,
1216 Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go.
1217 If you tire, give me both burdens, and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip,
1218 And in due time you shall repay the same service to me,
1219 For after we start we never lie by again.
1220 This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look’d at the crowded heaven,
1221 And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them,
shall we be fill’d and satisfied then?
1222 And my spirit said No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.
1223 You are also asking me questions and I hear you,
1224 I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself.
1225 Sit a while dear son,
1226 Here are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink,
1227 But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes, I kiss you with a good-by kiss and open the gate for your
egress hence.
1228 Long enough have you dream’d contemptible dreams,
1229 Now I wash the gum from your eyes,
1230 You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life.
1231 Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore,
1232 Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
1233 To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.
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I am the teacher of athletes,
He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own,
He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.
The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived power, but in his own right,
Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear,
Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak,
Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp steel cuts,
First-rate to ride, to fight, to hit the bull’s eye, to sail a skiff, to sing a song or play on the banjo,
Preferring scars and the beard and faces pitted with small-pox over all latherers,
And those well-tann’d to those that keep out of the sun.
I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me?
I follow you whoever you are from the present hour,
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My words itch at your ears till you understand them.
I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat,
(It is you talking just as much as myself, I act as the tongue of you,
Tied in your mouth, in mine it begins to be loosen’d.)
I swear I will never again mention love or death inside a house,
And I swear I will never translate myself at all, only to him or her who privately stays with me in the open air.
If you would understand me go to the heights or water-shore,
The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or motion of waves a key,
The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words.
No shutter’d room or school can commune with me,
But roughs and little children better than they.
The young mechanic is closest to me, he knows me well,
The woodman that takes his axe and jug with him shall take me with him all day,
The farm-boy ploughing in the field feels good at the sound of my voice,
In vessels that sail my words sail, I go with fishermen and seamen and love them.
The soldier camp’d or upon the march is mine,
On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not fail them,
On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me seek me.
My face rubs to the hunter’s face when he lies down alone in his blanket,
The driver thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon,
The young mother and old mother comprehend me,
The girl and the wife rest the needle a moment and forget where they are,
They and all would resume what I have told them.
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I have said that the soul is not more than the body,
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul,
And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one’s self is,
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud,
And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth,
And to glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds the learning of all times,
And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it may become a hero,
And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheel’d universe,
And I say to any man or woman, Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes.
And I say to mankind, Be not curious about God,
For I who am curious about each am not curious about God,
(No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about death.)
I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.
Why should I wish to see God better than this day?
I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four, and each moment then,
In the faces of men and women I see God, and in my own face in the glass,
I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign’d by God’s name,
And I leave them where they are, for I know that wheresoe’er I go,
Others will punctually come for ever and ever.
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And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.
To his work without flinching the accoucheur comes,
I see the elder-hand pressing receiving supporting,
I recline by the sills of the exquisite flexible doors,
And mark the outlet, and mark the relief and escape.
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And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me,
I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing,
I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish’d breasts of melons.
And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths,
(No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.)
I hear you whispering there O stars of heaven,
O suns -- O grass of graves -- O perpetual transfers and promotions,
If you do not say any thing how can I say any thing?
Of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest,
Of the moon that descends the steeps of the soughing twilight,
Toss, sparkles of day and dusk -- toss on the black stems that decay in the muck,
Toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs.
I ascend from the moon, I ascend from the night,
I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected,
And debouch to the steady and central from the offspring great or small.
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There is that in me -- I do not know what it is -- but I know it is in me.
Wrench’d and sweaty -- calm and cool then my body becomes,
I sleep -- I sleep long.
I do not know it -- it is without name -- it is a word unsaid,
It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.
Something it swings on more than the earth I swing on,
To it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes me.
Perhaps I might tell more. Outlines! I plead for my brothers and sisters.
Do you see O my brothers and sisters?
It is not chaos or death -- it is form, union, plan -- it is eternal life -- it is Happiness.
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The past and present wilt -- I have fill’d them, emptied them,
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.
Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.
Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?
Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?
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The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
The last scud of day holds back for me,
It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow’d wilds,
It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.
I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.
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I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
O Captain! My Captain!
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O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up -- for you the flag is flung -- for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths -- for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
I Hear America Singing
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it would be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The woodcutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day --- at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.
170 fieldston american reader
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James Madison:
The Federalist Papers #10 (1787)
To promote the ratification of the new Constitution, Alexander
Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison teamed up to write a
series of newspaper articles under the name, “Publius.” These articles,
eighty-five in all, are known together as The Federalist Papers and
have become justly famous not only as high-class propaganda, but as
brilliant commentary on the principles underlying the Constitution.
Among the numerous advantages promised by a wellconstructed union, none deserves to be more accurately
developed than its tendency to break and control the violence
of faction. The friend of popular governments never finds
himself so much alarmed for their character and fate as when
he contemplates their propensity to this dangerous vice. He
will not fail, therefore, to set a due value on any plan, which,
without violating the principles to which he is attached,
provides a proper cure for it. The instability, injustice, and
confusion introduced into the public councils have, in truth,
been the diseases under which popular governments have
everywhere perished... Complaints are everywhere heard from
our most considerate and virtuous citizens, equally friends
of public and private faith and of public and personal liberty,
that our governments are too unstable, that the public good is
disregarded in the conflicts of rival parties, and that measures
are too often decided, not according to the rules of justice and
the rights of the minor party, but by the superior force of an
interested and overbearing majority... [I]t will be found... that
prevailing and increasing distrust of our public engagements
and alarm for private rights are echoed from one end of the
continent to the other. These must be chiefly, if not wholly,
effects of the unsteadiness and injustice with which a factious
spirit has tainted our public administration...
As long as the reason of man continues to be fallible, and he
is at liberty to exercise it, different opinions will be formed.
As long as the connection subsists between his reason and his
self-love, his opinions and his passions will have a reciprocal
influence on each other; and the former will be objects to which
the latter will attach themselves. The diversity in the faculties
of men, from which the rights of property originate, is not
less an insuperable obstacle to a uniformity of interests. The
protection of these faculties is the first object of government.
From the protection of different and unequal faculties of
acquiring property, the possession of different degrees and
kinds of property immediately results; and from the influence of
these on the sentiments and views of the respective proprietors
ensues a division of society into different interests and parties.
The latent causes of faction are thus sown into the nature of man;
and we see them everywhere brought into different degrees of
activity, according to the different circumstances of civil society.
A zeal for different opinions concerning religion, concerning
government, and many other points... an attachment to
different leaders ambitiously contending for preeminence and
power; or to persons of other descriptions whose fortunes have
been interesting to the human passions, have, in turn, divided
mankind into parties, inflamed them with mutual animosity,
and rendered them much more disposed to vex and oppress each
other than to cooperate for the common good. So strong is this
propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities that...
most frivolous and fanciful distinctions have been sufficient to
kindle their unfriendly passions and excite their most violent
conflicts. But the most common and durable source of factions
has been the various and unequal distribution of property.
Those who hold and those who are without property have ever
formed distinct interests in society. Those who are creditors,
and those who are debtors, fall under a like discrimination. A
landed interest, a manufacturing interest, a mercantile interest,
a moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, grow up of
necessity in civilized nations, and divided them into different
classes, actuated by different sentiments
and views. The regulation of these various and interfering
interests forms the principal task of modern legislation and
involves the spirit of party and faction in the necessary and
ordinary operations of government.
No man is allowed to be a judge in his own cause, because his
interest would certainly bias his judgment, and, not improbably,
corrupt his integrity. With greater reason, a body of men are
unfit to be both judges and parties at the same time; yet, what
are many of the most important acts of legislation but so many
judicial determinations, not indeed concerning the rights of
single persons, but concerning the rights of large bodies of
citizens? And what are the different classes of legislators but
advocates and parties to the causes which they determine?
Is a law proposed concerning private debts? It is a question
to which creditors are parties on one side and debtors on the
other. Justice ought to hold the balance between them. Yet the
parties are, and must be, themselves the judges; and the most
numerous party, or in other words, the most powerful faction,
must be expected to prevail...
When a majority is included in a faction... the form of popular
government enables it to sacrifice to its ruling passions or
interest both the public good and private rights of other citizens.
To secure the public good and the private rights
171
against the danger of such a faction, and at the same time to
preserve the spirit and the form of popular government, is then
the great object to which our inquiries are directed...
By what means is this object attainable? Either the existence of
the same passion or interest in a majority at the same time must
be prevented, or the majority, having such coexistent passion or
interest, must be rendered, by their number and local situation,
unable to concert and carry into effect schemes of oppression...
From this view of the subject it may be concluded that a
pure democracy, by which I mean a society consisting of a
small number of citizens, who assemble and administer the
government in person, can admit of no cure for the mischiefs
of faction. A common passion or interest will, in almost every
case, be felt by the majority of the whole; a communication and
concert results from the form of government itself, and there
is nothing to check the inducements to sacrifice the weaker
party... Hence it is that such democracies have ever been
spectacles of turbulence and contention; have ever been found
incompatible with personal security or the rights of property;
and have been in general short in their lives as they have been
violent in their deaths...
A republic, by which I mean a government in which the scheme
of representation takes place, opens a different prospect and
promises the cure for which we are seeking...
The two great points of difference between a democracy and
a republic are: first, the delegation of the government in the
latter to a small number of citizens elected by the rest; secondly,
the greater number of citizens and greater sphere of country
over which the latter may be extended.
The effect of the first difference is, on the one hand, to refine
and enlarge the public views by passing them through the
medium of a chosen body of citizens, whose wisdom may best
discern the true interest of their country and whose patriotism
and love of justice will be least likely to sacrifice it to temporary
or partial considerations. Under such a regulation it may well
happen that the public voice, pronounced by the representatives
of the people, will be more consonant to the public good than if
pronounced by the people themselves... The question resulting
is, whether small or extensive republics are most favorable to
the election of proper guardians of the public weal; it is clearly
decided in favor of the latter...
It must be confessed that... By enlarging too much the number
of electors, you render the representative too little acquainted
with the all their local circumstances and lesser interests; by
reducing it too much,
you render him unduly attached to these, and too little fit to
comprehend and pursue great and national objects. The federal
Constitution forms a happy combination in this respect; the
great and aggregate interests being referred to the national, the
local and particular to the State legislatures.
The other point of difference is the greater number of citizens
and extent of territory which may be brought within the
compass of republican than of democratic government; and it
is this circumstance which renders factious combinations to
be less dreaded in the former than in the latter. The smaller
the society, the fewer probably will be the distinct parties
and interests composing it; the fewer the distinct parties and
interests, the more frequently will a majority be found of the
same party; and the smaller number of individuals composing
a majority, and the smaller the compass within which they
are placed, the more easily will they concert and execute their
plans of oppression. Extend the sphere and you take in a greater
variety of parties and interests; you make it less probable that a
majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the
rights of the other citizens; or, if such a common motive exists,
it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their own
strength and act in unison with each other...
The influence of factious leaders may kindle a flame within
their particular States but will be unable to spread a general
conflagration through the other States. A religious sect may
degenerate into a political faction in a part of the Confederacy;
but the variety of sects dispersed over the entire face of it must
secure the national councils against any danger from that
source. A rage of paper money, for an abolition of debts, for
an equal division of property, or any other improper or wicked
project, will be less apt to pervade the whole body of the Union
than a particular member of it, in the same proportion that
such a malady is more likely to taint a particular county or
district than an entire State...
[T]herefore, we behold a republican remedy for the diseases
most incident to republican government. And according to
this degree of pleasure and pride we feel in being republicans
ought to be our zeal in cherishing the spirit and supporting the
character of federalists.
PUBLIUS
[A]s each representative will be chosen by a greater number of
citizens in the large than in the small republic, it will be more
difficult for unworthy candidates to practise with success...
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James Madison:
The Federalist Papers #51 (1787)
To promote the ratification of the new Constitution, Alexander
Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison teamed up to write a
series of newspaper articles under the name, ‘Publius.” These articles,
eighty-five in all, are known together as The Federalist Papers and
have become justly famous not only as high-class propaganda, but as
brilliant commentary on the principles underlying the Constitution.
One of the most famous of the Federalist Papers, Number Fifty
one, explains the Constitutional principle of checks and balances.
According to Madison, what are some of problems faced by the new
republic? How does the proposed Constitution protect against the
problems Madison has noted?
To what expedient, then, shall we finally resort, for maintaining
in practice the necessary partition of power among the several
departments, as laid down in the Constitution? It is evident that
the members of each department should be as little dependent
as possible on those of the others, for the emoluments annexed
to their offices...
But the great security against a gradual concentration of those
several powers in the same department consists in giving to those
who administer each department the necessary constitutional
and personal motives to resist the encroachments of the others.
The provision for defense must in this, as in all other cases,
be made commensurate to the danger of the attack. Ambition
must be made to counteract ambition. The interest of the man
must be connected with the constitutional rights of the place.
It may be a reflection on human nature, that such devices
should be necessary to control the abuses of government. But
what is government itself, but the greatest of all reflections
on human nature? If men were angels, no government would
be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external
nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In
framing a government which is to be administered by men
over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable
the government to control the governed; and in the next place
oblige it to control itself. A dependence on the people is, no
doubt, the primary control on the government; but experience
has taught mankind the necessity of auxiliary precautions...
There are... two considerations particularly applicable to the
federal system of America, which place that system in a very
interesting point of view...
First. In a single republic all the power surrendered by
the people is submitted to the administration of a single
government, and the usurpations are guarded against by
a division of the government into distinct and separate
departments. In the compound republic of America the power
surrendered by the people is first divided between two distinct
governments [federal and state], and then the portion allotted
to each subdivided among distinct and separate departments.
Hence a double security arises to the rights of the people. The
different governments will control each other, at the same time
that each will be controlled by itself.
Second. It is of great importance in a republic not only to
guard the society against the oppression of its rulers, but to
guard one part of society against the injustice of the other
part. Different interests necessarily exist in different classes of
citizens. If a majority be united by common interest, the rights
of the minority will be insecure. There are but two methods
of providing against this evil: the one by creating a will in
the community independent of the majority... the other by
comprehending in the society so many separate descriptions of
citizens as will render an unjust combination of a majority of
the whole very improbable, if not impracticable... The second
method will be exemplified in the federal republic of the
United States. Whilst all authority in it will be derived from
and dependent on the society, the society itself will be broken
into so many parts, interests and classes of citizens, that the
rights of individuals, or of the minority, will be in little danger
from interested combinations of the majority.
In a free government the security for civil rights might be the
same as that for religious rights. It consists in the one case in
the multiplicity of interests, and in the other in the multiplicity
of sects. The degree of security in both cases will depend on the
number of interests and sects; and this may presume to depend
on the extent of country and number of people comprehended
under the same government...
Justice is the end of government. It is the end of civil society. It
ever has and ever will be pursued until it be obtained, or until
liberty is lost in the pursuit. In a society under the forms of
which the stronger faction can readily unite and oppress the
weaker, anarchy may as truly be said to reign as in a state of
nature, where the weaker individual is not secured against the
violence of the stronger...
In the extended republic of the United States, and among the
great variety of interests, parties, and sects which it embraces,
a coalition of a majority of the whole society could seldom
take place on any other principles than those of justice and
general good.... It is no less certain than it is important... that
the larger the society... the more duly capable it will be of self
government. And happily for the republican cause.
173
Selected Arguments of Antifederalists
(1780s)
The Antifederalists were persons who opposed the ratification of the
U.S. Constitution in 1787-1788. They conceded that the central
government needed more power than it had under the Articles of
Confederation, but they argued that the Framers of the Constitution
had gone too far, and, deeply suspicious of political power, feared that
the centralized government proposed by the Framers would lead to a
new kind of tyranny. As you read, look for the main arguments that
these Antifederalists put forth against the proposed Constitution.
Melancton Smith. “Representation in Government” (1788)
[W]hen we speak of representatives... they resemble those
they represent. They should be a true picture of the people,
possess a knowledge of their circumstances and their wants,
sympathize in all their distresses, and be disposed to seek their
true interests. The knowledge necessary for the representative
of a free people not only comprehends extensive political
and commercial information, such as is acquired by men of
refined education, who have leisure to attain to high degrees
of improvement, but it should also comprehend that kind of
acquaintance with the common concerns and occupations of
the people, which men of the middling class of life are, in
general, more competent to than those of a superior class. To
understand the true commercial interests of a country not
only requires just ideas of the general commerce of the world,
but also, and principally, a knowledge of the productions of
your own country, and their value, what your soil is capable of
producing, the nature of your manufactures, the capacity of the
country to increase both. To exercise the power of laying taxes,
duties, exercises, with discretion, requires something more
than an acquaintance with the abstruse parts of the system
of finance. It calls for a knowledge of the circumstances and
ability of the people in general a discernment how the burdens
imposed will bear upon the different classes.
The number of representatives should be so large, as that, while
it embraces the men of the first class, it should admit those of
the middling class of life. I am convinced that this government
is so constituted that the representatives will generally be
composed of the first class in the community, which I shall
distinguish by the name of the natural aristocracy of the
country...
From these remarks, it appears that the government will
fall into the hands of the few and the great. This will be a
government of oppression.
...A system of corruption is known to be the system of
174 fieldston american reader
government in Europe...[and] it will be attempted among us.
The most effectual as well as natural security against this is a
strong democratic branch in the legislature, frequently chosen,
including in it a number of the substantial, sensible, yeomanry
of the country. Do the House of Representatives answer this
description? I confess, to me they hardly wear the complexion
of a democratic branch; they appear the mere shadow of
representation.
George Clinton. “In Opposition to Destruction of States’
Rights”(1788)
The... premises on which the new form of government is erected,
declares a consolidation or union of all thirteen parts, or states,
into one great whole, under the firm of the United States... But
whoever seriously considers the immense extent of territory
comprehended within the limits of the United States, together
with the variety of its climates, productions, and commerce,
the difference of extent, and number of inhabitants in all; the
dissimilitude of interests, morals, and politics in almost every
one, will receive it as an intuitive truth, that a consolidated
republican form of government therein, can never form a
perfect union, establish justice, insure domestic tranquillity,
promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of
liberty to you and your posterity, for to these objects it must
be directed: this unkindred legislature therefore, composed of
interests opposite and dissimilar in nature, will in its exercise,
emphatically be like a house divided against itself..
From this picture, what can you promise yourself, on the score
of consolidation of the United States into one government?
Impracticability in the just exercise of it, your freedom
insecure... you risk much, by indispensably placing trusts of
the greatest magnitude, into the hands of individuals whose
ambition for power, and aggrandizement, will oppress and
grind you - where from the vast extent of your territory, and
the complication of interests, the science of government will
become intricate and perplexed, and too mysterious for you to
understand and observe; and by which you are to be conducted
into a monarchy, either limited or desp
Patrick Henry. “Need for a Bill of Rights”
This proposal of altering our federal government is of a most
alarming nature’ You ought to be watchful, jealous of your
liberty; for, instead of securing your rights, you may lose them
forever... I beg gentlemen to consider that a wrong step made
now will plunge us into misery, and our republic will be lost,
and tyranny must and will arise...
The necessity of a Bill of Rights appears to me to be greater in
this government than ever it was in any government before...
All rights not expressly and unequivocally reserved to the
volume i – fall 2007
people are impliedly and incidentally relinquished to rulers, as
necessarily inseparable from the delegated powers...
This is the question. If you intend to reserve your unalienable
rights, you must have the most express stipulation; for, if
implication be allowed, you are ousted of those rights. If the
people do not think it necessary to reserve them, they will be
supposed to be given up.
[W]ithout a Bill of Rights, you will exhibit the most absurd
thing to mankind that ever the world saw a government [i.e.
state governments] that has abandoned all its powers - the
powers of taxation, the sword, and the purse. You have disposed
of them to Congress, without a Bill of Rights - without check,
limitation, or control... You have Bill of Rights to defend
against a state government, which is bereaved of all its power,
and yet you have none against Congress, thought in full and
exclusive possession of all power!
Document-Based Question The Constitution:
A Democratic Document?
Historians traditionally depicted the framers of the Constitution
as great liberals, defenders of the rights of man, and the creators
of a democratic society. But beginning in the early 20th century,
revisionists began to challenge this view of the framers. Some
historians, led by Charles Beard argued that the Constitutional
Convention was dominated by an elite and that the Constitution
itself is an instrument written to protect elite interests. As you
examine the following primary source documents consider what it
indicates about the framers - were they democrats or elitists?
As you read the following documents, pay close attention to what is
being said and how each document might be used to defend or refute
the following statement. Be sure to note the source of each document - often who is speaking is as important as what is being said.
The Constitution was an undemocratic document designed
to protect a minority of wealthy men from the potential
tyranny of the masses.
You may defend this statement, refute this statement, or defend it in
part and refute it in part.
Document A
Source: Constitution, Article I, sections 2 and 3
The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members
chosen every second year by the People of the Several States.
The Senate of the United States shall be composed by two
senators from each state, chosen by the Legislature thereof, for
six years, and each senator shall have one vote.
Document B
Source: Constitution, Article I, section 9
No title of nobility shall be granted by the United States: And
no person holding any office of Profit or Trust under them,
shall, without the consent of Congress, accept of any present,
Emolument, Office, or Title, of any kind whatsoever, from any
King, Prince, or foreign states.
Document C
Source: Constitution, Article IV, section 4
The United States shall guarantee to every state in this Union
175
a Republican form of government, and shall protect each of
them against invasion; and on Application of the Legislature,
or of the Executive (when the Legislature cannot be convened)
against domestic violence.
Document D
Source: Constitution, Article VI, section 9
[N]o religious test shall ever be required as a Qualification to
any office of public Trust under the United States.
Document E
Source: Constitution, Article II, section 1
The Executive power shall be vested in a President of the United
States of America. He shall hold his office during the Term of
four years, and, together with the Vice President, chosen for
the same term, be elected, as follows:
Each state shall appoint, in such Manner as the Legislature
thereof may direct, a Number of electors, equal to the whole
Number of Senators and Representatives to which the State
may be entitled in the Congress... The electors shall meet in
their respective states, and vote by ballot for two persons... the
Votes shall be counted. The Person having the greatest number
of votes shall be President, if such a number shall be a majority
of the whole number of electors appointed...
Document F
Source: Constitution, Article I, section 2
Representatives and direct taxes shall be apportioned to
the several states which may be included within this union,
according to their respective numbers, which shall be
determined by adding to the whole number of free persons,
including those bound to service for a number of years, and
excluding Indians not taxed, and three-fifths of all other
persons.
Document G
Source: Constitution, Article IV, section 2
No person held to Service or Labor in one state, under the laws
thereof, escaping into another, shall, in Consequence of any
Law or Regulation therein, be discharged from such service
or labor, but shall be delivered up on the claim of the party to
whom such service or labor may be due.
Document H
176 fieldston american reader
Source: Constitution, Article III, section 1
The judicial power of the United States, shall be vested in one
Supreme Court, and in such inferior courts as the Congress
may time to time ordain and establish. The Judges, both of
the Supreme and inferior courts, shall hold their offices
during good behavior, and shall, at stated times, receive for
their services, a Compensation, which shall not be diminished
during their Continuance in office.
Document I
Source: Constitution, Article I, section 9
The privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended,
unless when in classes of rebellion or invasion the public safety
may require it.
No bill of attainder or ex post facto law shall be passed.
No capitation, or other direct tax shall be laid, unless in
proportion to the Census or Enumeration herein before
directed to be taken.
No tax or duty shall be laid on Articles exported from any
state.
Document J
Source: Gouverneur Morris
The time is not distant, when this country shall abound with
mechanics [artisans] and manufacturers [industrial workers]
who will receive bread from their employers. Will such men be
the secure and faithful guardians of liberty?... Children do not
vote. Why? Because they want [lack] prudence, because they
have no will of their own. The ignorant and dependent can be
as little trusted with the public interest.
Document K
Source: Constitution, Article I, section 8
The Congress shall have the power to lay and collect Taxes,
duties, and imposts, to pay the debts and provide for the
common defence...
To regulate commerce with foreign nations...
To coin money, regulate the value thereof...
To raise and support Armies...
To provide for the calling forth of the militia to execute
the Laws of the Union, suppress insurrections, and repel
invasions...
Document L
Source: John Jay
The natural aristocracy...are defenders of the worthy, the better
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sort of people, who are orderly and industrious, who are content
with their situations and not uneasy in their circumstances...
[There is a fear that] republican equality which deadens
the motives of industry, and places Demerit on a footing
with Virtue... The proper amount of inequality and natural
distinctions should be recognized. Is there no distinction of
character? Surely persons possessed of knowledge, judgment,
information, integrity, and having extensive connections, are
not to be classed with persons void of reputation or character.
Document M
Source: Constitution, Article I, section 8
Congress has the power to... make all laws which shall be
necessary and proper for carrying into Execution the foregoing
powers, and all other powers vested by this Constitution in the
Government of the United States...
Document N
Source: Constitution, Article VI
This Constitution, and laws of the United States which shall be
made in pursuance thereof, shall be the Supreme Law of the
Land; and the Judges in every state shall be bound thereby, any
thing in the Constitution or Laws of any state to the Contrary
withstanding.
Document O
Source: Bill of Rights, Amendment X
The powers not delegated to the United States by the
Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to
the states respectively, or to the people.
Document P
Source: Melancton Smith
The knowledge necessary for the representative of a free people
not only comprehends extensive political and commercial
information, such as is acquired by men of refined education,
who have leisure to attain to high degrees of improvement, but
it should also comprehend that kind of acquaintance with the
common concerns and occupations of the people, which men
of the middling class of life are, in general, more competent
to than those of a superior class. To understand the true
commercial interests of a country, not only requires just ideas
of the general commerce of the world, but also, and principally,
a knowledge of the productions of your own country... I am
convinced that the government is so constituted that the
representatives will generally be composed of the first class in
the community, which I shall distinguish by the name of the
natural aristocracy of the country...
Document Q
Source: Abraham Yates
The influence of the great [among the ordinary people] is too
evident to be denied... The people are too apt to yield an implicit
assent to the opinions of those characters whose abilities are
held in the highest esteem, and to those in whose integrity and
patriotism they can confide, not considering that the love of
domination is generally in proportion to talents, abilities, and
superior requirements.”
Document R
Source: James Madison, Federalist #10
But the most common and durable source of factions has been
the various and unequal distribution of property. Those who
hold and those who are without property have ever formed
distinct interests in society. Those who are creditors, and those
who are debtors, fall under a like discrimination. A landed
interest, a manufacturing interest, a mercantile interest, a
moneyed interest, with many lesser interests, grow up of
necessity in civilized nations, and divided them into different
classes, actuated by different sentiments and views. The
regulation of these various and interfering interests forms the
principal task of modern legislation....
A religious sect may degenerate into a political faction in a
part of the Confederacy; but the variety of sects dispersed over
the entire face of it must secure the national councils against
any danger from that source. A rage of paper money, for an
abolition of debts, for an equal division of property, or any
other improper or wicked project, will be less apt to pervade
the whole body of the Union than a particular member of it, in
the same proportion that such a malady is more likely to taint
a particular county or district than an entire State...
Document S
Source: from Charles Beard, An Economic Interpretation of the
Constitution, 1913
A majority of the members [of the Constitutional convention]
were lawyers by profession.
Most of the members came from towns, on or near the coast...
Not one member represented in his immediate and personal
economic interests the small farming or mechanic [artisan]
classes.
The overwhelming majority of the members [of the Constitutional
177
convention], at least five-sixths, were immediately, directly,
and personally interested in the outcome of their labors at
Philadelphia, and were to a greater or lesser extent economic
beneficiaries from the adoption of the Constitution.
[Of the 54 delegates:]
40 were holders of public securities (holders of Continental
and state debt)
24 were creditors (lenders of money)
15 were southern slaveholders
14 were involved in land speculation
11 were involved in manufacturing, commerce, and shipping
Source: Amos Singletary , 1788
These lawyers, and men of learning, and moneyed men, that
talk so finely and gloss over matters so smoothly, to make us
poor illiterate people swallow down the pill, expect to get
into Congress themselves. They expect to be managers of the
Constitution, and to get all the power and money into their
own hands. And then they will swallow up all those little folks,
and the states, like the great Leviathan...
Document T
Source: Alexander Hamilton, Federalist #35
The idea of an actual representation of all classes of the people
is altogether visionary. Unless it were expressly provided for in
the Constitution that each different occupation should send one
or more members, the thing would never take place in practice.
Mechanics and manufacturers will always be inclined, with
few exceptions, to give their votes to merchants in preference
to persons of their own professions or trades. Those discerning
citizens are well aware that the mechanic and manufacturing
arts furnish the materials of mercantile enterprise and industry.
Many of them are, indeed, connected with the operations of
commerce. They know that the merchant is their natural patron
and friend; they are aware that however great the confidence
they may justly feel in their own good sense, their interests
can more effectually be promoted by the merchant than by
themselves. They are sensible that their habits in life have not
been such as to give them those acquired endowments, without
which in a deliberative assembly the greatest natural abilities
are for the most part useless; and that the influence and
weight of the superior acquirements of the merchants render
them more equal to a contest with any spirit which might
happen to infuse itself into the public councils, unfriendly
to the manufacturing and trading interests... [A]rtisans and
manufactures will commonly be disposed to bestow their
votes upon the merchants whom they recommend. We must
therefore consider merchants as the natural representatives of
all these classes of the community.
With regard to the learned professions, little need be observed;
they truly form no distinct interest in society, and according
to their situation and talents, will be indiscriminately be the
objects of the confidence and choice of each other and of
other parts of the community... They will feel a neutrality to
the rivalships between different branches of industry, and...
thus more likely to be an impartial arbiter among the diverse
interests of the society...
Document U
178 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
Charles Beard: The Constitution
A Minority Document (1913)
The Economic Interests of Members of the Convention
A survey of the economic interests of the members of the
Convention present certain conclusions:
A majority of the members were lawyers by profession.
Most of the members came from towns, on or near the coast,
that is, from the regions in which personalty was largely
concentrated.
Not one member represented in his immediate personal
economic in­terests the small farming or mechanic classes.
The overwhelming majority of members, at least five-sixths,
were imme­diately, directly, and personally interested in the
outcome of their labors at Philadelphia, and were to a greater
or less extent economic beneficiaries from the adoption of the
Constitution.
1. Public security interests were extensively represented in
the Con­vention. Of the fifty-five members who attended
no less than forty appear on the Records of the Treasury
Department for sums varying from a few dol­lars up to more
than one hundred thousand dollars. . . .
It is interesting to note that, with the exception of New York,
and possibly Delaware, each state had one or more prominent
representatives in the Convention who held more than a
negligible amount of securities, and who could therefore speak
with feeling and authority on the question of providing in the
new Constitution for the full discharge of the public debt....
2. Personalty invested in lands for speculation was represented
by at least fourteen members....
3. Personalty in the form of money loaned at interest was
represented by at least twenty-four members. . . .
4. Personalty in mercantile, manufacturing, and shipping
lines was represented by at least eleven members. . . .
5. Personalty in slaves was represented by at least fifteen
members....
It cannot be said, therefore, that the members of the
Convention were “disinterested.” On the contrary, we are
forced to accept the profoundly significant conclusion that they
knew through their personal experiences in economic affairs
the precise results which the new government that they were
setting up was designed to attain. As a group of doctrinaires,
like the Frankfort assembly of 1848, they would have failed
miserably; but as prac­tical men they were able to build the new
government upon the only foun­dations which could be stable:
fundamental economic interests.
The Constitution as an Economic Document
It is difficult for the superficial student of the Constitution,
who has read only the commentaries of the legists, to conceive
of that instrument as an economic document. It places no
property qualifications on voters or officers; it gives no outward
recognition of any economic groups in society; it men­tions no
special privileges to be conferred upon any class. It betrays
no feel­ing, such as vibrates through the French constitution of
1791; its language is cold, formal, and severe.
The true inwardness of the Constitution is not revealed by an
exami­nation of its provisions as simple propositions of law; but
by a long and careful study of the voluminous correspondence
of the period, contemporary newspapers and pamphlets, the
records of the debates in the Convention at Philadelphia
and in the several state conventions, and particularly, The
Federalist, which was widely circulated during the struggle over
ratification. The correspondence shows the exact character of
the evils which the Con­stitution was intended to remedy; the
records of the proceedings in the Philadelphia Convention
reveal the successive steps in the building of the framework
of the government under the pressure of economic interests;
the pamphlets and newspapers disclose the ideas of the
contestants over the ratification; and The Federalist presents the
political science of the new sys­tem as conceived by three of the
profoundest thinkers of the period, Ham­ilton, Madison, and
Jay.
Doubtless, the most illuminating of these sources on the
economic character of the Constitution are the records of the
debates in the Conven­tion, which have come down to us in
fragmentary form; and a thorough treatment of material forces
reflected in the several clauses of the instrument of government
created by the grave assembly at Philadelphia would require a
rewriting of the history of the proceedings in the light of the
great interests represented there. But an entire volume would
scarcely suffice to present the results of such a survey, and an
undertaking of this character is accordingly impossible here.
The Federalist, on the other hand, presents in a relatively
brief and systematic form an economic interpretation of the
Constitution by the men best fitted, through an intimate
knowledge of the ideals of the framers, to expound the
political science of the new government. This wonderful piece
of argumentation by Hamilton, Madison, and Jay is in fact the
finest study in the economic interpretation of politics which
exists in any language; and whoever would understand the
Constitution as an economic document need hardly go beyond
it. It is true that the tone of the writers is somewhat modi­fied
on account of the fact that they are appealing to the voters to
ratify the Constitution, but at the same time they are, by the
force of circumstances, compelled to convince large economic
groups that safety and strength lie in the adoption of the new
system.
Indeed, every fundamental appeal in it is to some material and
sub­stantial interest. Sometimes it is to the people at large in
179
the name of pro­tection against invading armies and European
coalitions. Sometimes it is to the commercial classes whose
business is represented as prostrate before the follies of the
Confederation. Now it is to creditors seeking relief against
paper money and the assaults of the agrarians in general; now
it is to the holders of federal securities which are depreciating
toward the vanishing point. But above all, it is to the owners
of personalty anxious to find a foil against the attacks of
levelling democracy, that the authors of The Federalist address
their most cogent arguments in favor of ratification. It is true
there is much discussion of the details of the new framework
of government, to which even some friends of reform took
exceptions; but Madison and Ham­ilton both knew that these
were incidental matters when compared with the sound basis
upon which the superstructure rested.
In reading the pages of this remarkable work, a study in political
economy, it is important to bear in mind that the system, which
the authors are describing, consisted of two fundamental partsone positive, the other negative:
I. A government endowed with certain positive powers, but
so con­structed as to break the force of majority rule and prevent
invasions of the property rights of minorities.
II. Restrictions on the state legislatures which had been so
vigorous in their attacks on capital.
Under some circumstances, action is the immediate interest
of the dominant party; and whenever it desires to make an
economic gain through gov­ernmental functioning, it must
have, of course, a system endowed with the requisite powers.
Examples of this are to be found in protective tariffs, in
ship subsidies, in railway land grants, in river and harbor
improvements, and so on through the catalogue of so-called
“paternalistic” legislation. Of course it may be shown that the
“general good” is the ostensible object of any particular act;
but the general good is a passive force, and unless we know
who are the several individuals that benefit in its name, it has
no meaning. When it is so analyzed, immediate and remote
beneficiaries are discovered; and the former are usually found
to have been the dynamic element in securing the legisla­tion.
Take for example, the economic interests of the advocates who
appear in tariff hearings at Washington.
On the obverse side, dominant interests quite as often
benefit from the prevention of governmental action as from
positive assistance. They are able to take care of themselves
if let alone within the circle of protection created by the law.
Indeed, most owners of property have as much to fear from
positive governmental action as from their inability to secure
advantageous legislation. Particularly is this true where the
field of private property is al­ready extended to cover practically
every form of tangible and intangible wealth. This was clearly
set forth by Hamilton:
180 fieldston american reader
It may perhaps be said that the power of preventing bad laws
includes that of preventing good ones. . . . but this objection
will have little weight with those who can property estimate the
mischiefs of that inconstancy and mutability in the laws which
form the greatest blemish in the character and genius of our
govern­ments. They will consider every institution calculated
to restrain the excess of lawmaking, and to keep things in the
same state in which they happen to be at any given period, as
more likely to do good than harm.... The injury which may
possibly be done by defeating a few good laws will be amply
compensated by the advantage of preventing a number of bad
ones.”
The Underlying Political Science of the Constitution
Before taking up the economic implications of the structure of
the federal government, it is important to ascertain what, in
the opinion of The Feder­alist, is the basis of all government. The
most philosophical examination of the foundations of political
science is made by Madison in the tenth num­ber. Here he lays
down, in no uncertain language, the principle that the first and
elemental concern of every government is economic.
1. “The first object of government,” he declares, is the
protection of “the diversity in the faculties of men, from
which the rights of property originate.” The chief business of
government, from which, perforce, its essen­tial nature must
be derived, consists in the control and adjustment of con­
flicting economic interests. After enumerating the various
forms of propertied interests which spring up inevitably in
modern society, he adds: “The regu­lation of these various
and interfering interests forms the principal task of modern
legislation, and involves the spirit of party and faction in the
ordi­nary operations of the government.”
2. What are the chief causes of these conflicting political
forces with which the government must concern itself?
Madison answers. Of course fanci­ful and frivolous distinctions
have sometimes been the cause of violent con­flicts”; but the
most common and durable source of factions has been the
various and un­equal distribution of property. Those who hold
and those who are without prop­erty have ever formed distinct
interests in society. Those who are creditors, and those who
are debtors, fall under a like discrimination. A landed interest,
a manu­facturing interest, a mercantile interest, a moneyed
interest, with many lesser inter­ests grow up of necessity in
civilized nations, and divide them into different classes actuated
by different sentiments and views.”
3. The theories of government which men entertain are
emotional reactions to their property interests. “From the
protection of different and unequal faculties of acquiring
property, the possession of different degrees and kinds of
property immediately results; and from the influence of these
on the sentiments and views of the respective proprietors,
ensues a division of society into different interests and parties.”
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Legislatures reflect these in­terests. “What,” he asks, “are the
different classes of legislators but advocates and parties to the
causes which they determine.” There is no help for it. “The
causes of faction cannot be removed,” and “we well know that
neither moral nor religious motives can be relied on as an
adequate control.”
4. Unequal distribution of property is inevitable, and from
it contend­ing factions will rise in the state. The government
will reflect them, for they will have their separate principles
and “sentiments”; but the supreme danger will arise from the
fusion of certain interests into an overbearing majority, which
Madison, in another place, prophesied would be the landless
prole­tariat, -- an overbearing majority which will make its
“rights” paramount, and sacrifice the “rights” of the minority.
“To secure the public good,” he de­clares, “and private rights
against the danger of such a faction and at the same time
preserve the spirit and the form of popular government is then
the great object to which our inquiries are directed.”
5. How is this to be done? Since the contending classes
cannot be eliminated and their interests are bound to be
reflected in politics, the only way out lies in making it difficult
for enough contending interests to fuse into a majority, and in
balancing one over against another. The machinery for doing
this is created by the new Constitution and by the Union. (a)
Public views are to be refined and enlarged “by passing them
through the medium of a chosen body of citizens.” (b) The very
size of the Union will enable the inclusion of more interests
so that the danger of an overbearing majority is not so great.
“The smaller the society, the fewer probably will be the distinct
parties and interests composing it; the fewer the distinct parties
and interests, the more frequently will a majority be found of
the same party. . . . Extend the sphere, and you take in a greater
variety of parties and interests; you make it less probable that
a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade
the rights of other citizens; or if such a common motive exists,
it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their
strength and to act in unison with each other.”Q.E. D., “in
the extent and proper structure of the Union, therefore, we
behold a republican remedy for the diseases most incident to
republican government.”
The Structure of Government or the Balance of Powers
The fundamental theory of political economy thus stated by
Madison was the basis of the original American conception
of the balance of powers which is formulated at length in four
numbers of The Federalist and consists of
the following elements:
1. No mere parchment separation of departments of
government will be effective. “’The legislative department is
everywhere extending the sphere of its activity, and drawing
all power into its impetuous vortex. The founders of our
republic ... seem never for a moment to have turned their
eyes from the danger to liberty from the overgrown and all-
grasping prerogative of an hereditary magistrate, supported
and fortified by an hereditary branch of the legislative authority.
They seem never to have recollected the danger from legislative
usurpations, which, by assembling all power in the same hands,
must lead to the same tyranny as is threatened by executive
usurpations.”
2. Some sure mode of checking usurpations in the government
must be provided, other than frequent appeals to the people.
“’There appear to be insuperable objections against the proposed
recurrence to the people as a provision in all cases for keeping
the several departments of power within their constitutional
limits.” In a contest between the legislature and the other
branches of the government the former would doubtless be
victorious on account of the ability of the legislators to plead
their cause with the people.
3.
What then can be depended upon to keep the
government in close rein? “The only answer that can be
given is, that as all these exterior provisions are found to
be inadequate, the defect must be supplied by so contriving
the interior structure of the government as that its several
constituent parts may, by their mutual relations, be the means
of keeping each other in their proper places.... It is of great
importance in a republic not only to guard the society against
the op­pression of its rulers, but to guard one part of the society
against the injustice of the other part. Different interests
necessarily exist in different classes of citizens. If a majority
be united by a common interest, the rights of the minority will
be insecure.” There are two ways of obviating this danger: one
is by establishing a mon­arch independent of popular will, and
the other is by reflecting these con­tending interests (so far as
their representatives may be enfranchised) in the very structure
of the government itself so that a majority cannot dominate
the minority which minority is of course composed of those
who possess property that may be attacked. “Society itself will
be broken into so many parts, interests, and classes of citizens,
that the rights of individuals, or of the minority, will be in
little danger from interested combinations of the majority.”
4.
The structure of the government as devised at
Philadelphia reflects these several interests and makes
improbable any danger to the minority from the majority. “The
House of Representatives being to be elected im­mediately by
the people, the Senate by the State legislatures, the President
by electors chosen for that purpose by the people, there would
be little probability of a common interest to cement these
different branches in a predilection for any particular class of
electors.”
5.
All of these diverse interests appear in the amending
process but they are further reinforced against majorities. An
amendment must receive a two-thirds vote in each of the two
houses so constituted and the approval of three-fourths of the
states.
6.
The economic corollary of this system is as follows:
Property inter­ests may, through their superior weight in power
and intelligence, secure advantageous legislation whenever
181
necessary, and they may at the same time obtain immunity
from control by parliamentary majorities.
If we examine carefully the delicate instrument by which
the framers sought to check certain kinds of positive action
that might be advocated to the detriment of established and
acquired rights, we cannot help marvelling at their skill. Their
leading idea was to break up the attacking forces at the starting
point: the source of political authority for the several branches
of the government. This disintegration of positive action at
the source was further facilitated by the differentiation in the
terms given to the respective depart­ments of the government.
And the crowning counterweight to “an interested and overbearing majority,” as Madison phrased it, was secured in the
pecu­liar position assigned to the judiciary, and the use of the
sanctity and mystery of the law as a foil to democratic attacks.
Conclusions:
At the close of this long and arid survey--partaking of the
nature of catalogue--it seems worth while to bring together
the important conclusions for political science which the data
presented appear to warrant.
The movement for the Constitution of the United States was
originated and carried through principally by four groups
of personalty interests which had been adversely affected
under the Articles of Confederation: money, public securities,
manufactures, and trade arid shipping.
The first firm steps toward the formation of the Constitution
were taken by a small and active group of men immediately
interested through their personal possessions in the outcome
of their labors.
No popular vote was taken directly or indirectly on the
proposition to call the Convention which drafted the
Constitution.
A large propertyless mass was, under the prevailing suffrage
qualifications, excluded at the outset from participation (through
representatives) in the work of framing the Constitution.
The members of the Philadelphia Convention which drafted
the Constitution were, with a few exceptions, immediately,
directly, and personally interested in, and derived economic
advantages from, the establishment of a new system.
The Constitution was essentially an economic document
based upon the concept that the fundamental private rights of
property are anterior to government and morally beyond the
reach of popular majorities.
The major portion of the members of the Convention are on
record as recognizing the claim of property to a special and
defensive position in the Constitution.
In the ratification of the Constitution, about three-fourths of
the adult males failed to vote on the question, having abstained
from the elections at which delegates to the state conventions
were chosen, either on account of their indifference or their
disfranchisement by property qualifications.
182 fieldston american reader
The Constitution was ratified in a vote of probably not more
than one-sixth of the adult males.
It is questionable whether a majority of the voters participating
in the elections for the state conventions in New York,
Massachusetts, New Hamp­shire, Virginia, and South Carolina,
actually approved the ratification of the Constitution.
The leaders who supported the Constitution in the ratifying
conventions represented the same economic groups as the
members of the Philadelphia Convention; and in a large
number of instances they were also directly and personally
interested in the outcome of their efforts.
In the ratification, it became manifest that the line of cleavage
for and against the Constitution was between substantial
personality interests on the one hand and the small farming
and debtor interest on the other,
The Constitution was not created by “the whole people” as the
jurists have said; neither was it created by “the states” as the
Southern nullifiers long contended; but it was the work of a
consolidated group whose interests knew no state boundaries
and were truly national in their scope.
volume i – fall 2007
Staughton Lynd:
The Conflict Over Slavery
According to the abolitionist critique, slavery helped to shape the
Constitution because slavery was the basis of conflict between
North and South, and compro­mising that conflict was the main
work of the Constitutional Convention.
Both in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, one line of
argument against the significance of slavery in the genesis of
the Constitution has stressed the fact that the words “slave” and
“slavery” do not appear in the Constitution, and con­tended that,
to quote Farrand, “there was comparatively little said on the
subject [of slavery] in the convention.” This might be called the
argument from silence.
But we know why the Founders did not use the words “slave”
and “slavery in the Constitution. Paterson of New Jersey stated
in the Convention that when, in 1783, the Continental Congress
changed its eighth Article of Confederation so that slaves would
henceforth be included in apportioning taxation among the States,
the Congress “had been ashamed to use the term ‘Slaves’ and
had substituted a description.” Iradell, in the Virginia ratifying
convention, said similarly that the fugitive slave clause of the
proposed Constitution did not use the word “slave” because of
the “particular scruples” of the “northern delegates”; and in 1798
Dayton of New Jersey, who had been a member of the Convention,
told the House of Representatives that the purpose was to avoid
any “stain” on the new govern­ment. If for Northern delegates the
motive was shame, for Southern members of the Convention it
was prudence. Madison wrote to Lafayette in 1830, referring to
emancipation: “I scarcely express myself too strongly in saying,
that any allusion in the Convention to the subject you have so
much at heart would have been a spark to a mass of gunpowder.”
Madison’s metaphor hardly suggests that the subject of slavery was
of secondary importance to the Convention.
Farrand’s own magnificent edition of the Convention records
amply refutes his contention that the subject of slavery was
little discussed. The South Carolinians in particular were
often on their feet demanding security for what one of them
called “this species of property.” And yet the role of slavery in
the Convention went much further than this. For we have it
on Madison’s authority that it was “pretty well understood” that
the “institution of slavery and its consequences formed the line
of discrimination” between the contending groups of states
in the Convention. Slavery, that is to say, was recognized as
the basis of sectionalism; and it is not a difficult task to show
that sectional conflict between North and South was the major
tension in the Convention.
According to Franklin, debate in the Convention proceeded
peaceably (“with great coolness and temper”) until on June 11,
the rule of suffrage in the national legislature was discussed.
Farrand would have us believe that the three-fifths ratio which
resulted was not a compromise in the Convention, that it had
been recom­mended by Congress in 1783, adopted by eleven
states before the Convention met, and was part of the original
New Jersey Plan. Farrand’s statement is misleading, however, for
all the above remarks refer to counting three-fifths of the slaves
in apportioning taxation. What was at issue in Convention was
the extension of this rati o to representation: what George Ticknor
Curtis called “the naked question whether the slaves should
be included as persons, and in the proportion of three fifths,
in the census for the future apportionment of representatives
among the States.” The two applications were very different.
As Luther Martin told the Mary­land legislature, taxing slaves
discouraged slavery, while giving them political rep­resentation
encouraged it. Thus tempers rose in the Convention from the
moment that Rutledge and Butler of South Carolina asserted
that representation in the House should be according to quotas
of contribution; years later Rufus King observed that the threefifths clause “was, at the time, believed to be a great concession,
and has proved to have been the greatest which was made to
secure the adoption of the constitution.”
On June 25 there occurred the first perfectly sectional vote of the
Convention, the five states from Maryland to Georgia voting to
postpone consideration of the election of the Senate until the
three-fifths clause regarding elections for the House had been
settled. On June 29, Madison made the first of many statements
as to the sectional nature of the issue:
If there was real danger, I would give the smaller states the defensive
weapons. But there is none from that quarter. The great danger to our
general government is the great southern and northern interests of the
continent being opposed to each other. Look to the votes in congress,
and most of them stand divided by the geog­raphy of the country, not
according to the size of the states.
The next day Madison reiterated that “the States were divided
into different inter­ests not by their difference of size, but by
other circumstances; the most material of which resulted partly
from climate, but principally from their having or not having
slaves.” Farrand comments on these observations that “Madison
was one of the very few men who seemed to appreciate the real
division of interests in the country.” Yet Madison’s emphasis on
sectional conflict at the Convention was echoed by Pinckney
on July 2, by King on July 10, by Mason on July 11, and, with
reluctance, by Gouverneur Morris on July 13; and when on July
14 Madison once more asserted that slavery, not size, formed
the line of discrimination between the States, as previously
remarked, he said that this was “pretty well understood” by the
Convention. Slavery was thus the basis of the great Convention
crisis, when, as Gouverneur Morris later said, the fate of America
was suspended by a hair.
But this crisis, and the crisis which followed over the import of
slaves, cannot be understood from the records of the Convention
alone. The great Convention compromises involving slavery
were attempts to reconcile disputes which had been boiling up
for years in the Continental Congress.
183
II
Sectional conflict, like the ghost in Hamlet, was there from the
beginning. When in September 1774 at the first Continental
Congress Patrick Henry made his famous declaration “I am
not a Virginian, but an American,” the point he was making
was that Virginia would not insist on counting slaves in
apportioning represen­tation; Henry’s next sentence was:
“Slaves are to be thrown out of the Question, and if the freemen
can be represented according to their Numbers I am satisfyed.”
The next speaker, Lynch of South Carolina, protested, and the
question was left unsettled. Thus early did South Carolinian
intransigence overbear Virginian liberalism.
Again in July 1776, the month of the Declaration of
Independence, the problem of slave representation was brought
before Congress in the debate over the pro­posed Articles of
Confederation. The Dickinson draft of the Articles produced
three controversies, strikingly similar to the three great
compromises of the subsequent Constitutional Convention:
“The equal representation of all the states in Congress aroused
the antagonism of the larger states. The apportionment of
common expenses according to total population aroused the
bitter opposition of the states with large slave populations.
The grant to Congress of broad powers over Western lands
and boundaries was resisted stubbornly by the states whose
charters gave them large claims to the West.” In its ten-year
existence the Continental Congress succeeded in solving only
the last of these controversies, the question of Western lands,
and accordingly emphasis has tended to fall on it in histories
of the Confederation. But the other two problems were just as
hotly debated, in much the same language as in 1787; and on
these questions, as Charming observes, there was a “different
alignment in Congress” than on the matter of Western lands:
a sectional alignment.
The eleventh Article of the Dickinson draft stated that money
contributions from the States should be “in Proportion to the
Number of Inhabitants of every Age, Sex and Quality, except
Indians not paying Taxes.” On July 30, 1776, Samuel Chase
of Maryland (later a prominent Antifederalist) moved the
insertion of the word “white,” arguing that “if Negroes are
taken into the Computation of Num­bers to ascertain Wealth,
they ought to be in settling the Representation”; Gou­verneur
Morris would use this same formula in July 1787 to resolve the
deadlock over representation in the House. In the debate which
followed the changes were rung upon several themes of the
Constitutional Convention. Wilson of Pennsyl­vania said that
to exempt slaves from taxation would encourage slaveholding;
in response to the observation that if slaves were counted,
Northern sheep should also be counted, Benjamin Franklin
remarked that “sheep will never make any Insurrections”;
Rutledge of South Carolina anticipated the August 1787 debate
on navigation laws by warning that “the Eastern Colonies
will become the Carriers for the Southern. They will obtain
184 fieldston american reader
Wealth for which they will not be taxed”; and his colleague
Lynch again threw down a South Carolina ultimatum: “if it
is debated, whether their Slaves are their Property, there is an
end of the Confederation.”
The war had scarcely ended when the sectional debate resumed.
We tend to think of Thomas Jefferson as a national statesman,
and of the controversy over whether new states would be slave
or free as something subsequent to 1820. How striking, then,
to find Jefferson writing from Congress to Governor Benjamin
Har­rison of Virginia in November 1783 about the Northwest
Territory: “if a state be first laid off on the [Great] lakes it will
add a vote to the Northern scale, if on the Ohio it will add one
to the Southern.” This concern would never be out of the minds
of Southern politicians until the Civil War. Jefferson did, of
course, attempt to exclude slavery from the Territories. But on
the ninth anniversary of Lexington and Concord, Congress,
on motion of Spaight of North Carolina, seconded by Read
of South Carolina, struck this provision from Jefferson’s draft
proposals.
A principal issue between North and South in these first years
of the Critical Period was financial. Southern resistance to
Northern financial manipulations did not wait until the 1790’s:
it began, if one must choose a date, when Delaware, Maryland,
Virginia, and both the Carolinas voted against the devaluation
plan of March 18, 1780, with every Northern state except
divided New Hampshire voting Aye. After the war the issue
became still more intense. The Revolutionary campaigns in
the South took place largely in the last three years of the war
“when neither Congress nor the states,” in the words of E. James
Ferguson, “had effective money and the troops were supported
by impressment.” The result was that of the three major
categories of public debt – Quartermaster and Commissary
certificates issued to civilians; loan certificates; and final
settlement certificates issued to the Continental army -- the
South held only 16 percent. The public debt of the South was a
state debt, while the various kinds of Federal debt were held by
Northerners: as Spaight of North Carolina put it, “the Eastern
[i.e., Northern] States ... have ­ got Continental Securities for
all monies loaned, services done or articles impressed, while
to the southward, it has been made a State debt.” Hence when
Congress sought to tax all the states to repay the Federal debt,
the South protested; and when Congress further provided that
Northern states could meet their Congres­sional requisitions
with securities, so that only the South need pay coin, the
South was furious. Madison told Edmund Randolph in
1783 that unless the public accounts were speedily adjusted
and discharged “a dissolution of the Union will be inevi­table.”
“The pious New-Englanders,” Read of South Carolina wrote
in April 1785, “I think tis time to carry their long projected
Scheme into Execution and make the southern states bear the
burthen of furnishing all the actual money.”
Sectional considerations underlay many an action of the early
1780’s where they might not, at first glance, seem evident.
Jefferson’s appointment as United States representative in
volume i – fall 2007
France is an example. Jefferson had been appointed to the
commission to negotiate a peace, as had Laurens of South
Carolina; but Jefferson did not go and Laurens was captured
by the British en route to Europe, so that three Northerners
-- John Jay, John Adams, and Benjamin Franklin -- carried
the burden of the peace talks. The treaty completed, the same
three men stayed on in Europe to represent American interests
there, and it was this that aroused Southern concern. James
Monroe expressed it in March 1784, writing to Governor
Harrison. Monroe pointed out that Virginia owed British
merchants 2,800,000 in debts, which according to the peace
treaty must now be paid. “It is important to the southern
States to whom the negotiation of these treaties are committed;
for except the fishery and the fur-trade (the latter of w’h Mr.
Jeff’n thinks ... may be turn’d down the Potow’k); the southern
States, are as States, almost alone interested in it.” In May,
with Jefferson’s appointment achieved, the Virginia delegates
in Con­gress wrote the governor: “It was an object with us, in
order to render the Com­mission as agreable as possible to the
Southern States to have Mr. Jefferson placed in the room of
Mr. Jay.” The previous arrangement, the Virginians went on,
involved “obvious inequality in the Representation of these
States in Europe”; had it con­tinued, it would have presented
“an insurmountable obstacle” to giving the com­mission such
great powers.
Here in microcosm was the problem of the South until its
victory at the 1787 Convention: recognizing the need for
stronger Federal powers, it feared to create them until it was
assured that the South could control their use.
III
Even as early as the 1780’s the South felt itself to be a conscious
minority. This was evident, for example, in the comment of
Virginia delegates as to the location of the national capital.
“The votes in Congress as they stand at present,” wrote the
delegates from the Old Dominion, “are unfavorable to a
Southern situation and untill the admission of Western States
into the Union, we apprehend it will be found impracticable to
retain that Body [Congress], any length of time, Southward
of the middle States.” In the fall of 1786, when the clash over
shutting the Missis­sippi to American commerce was at its
height, Timothy Bloodworth of North Carolina remarked
that “it is well known that the ballance of Power is now in the
Eastern States, and they appear determined to keep it in that
Direction.” This was why such Southerners as Richard Henry
Lee, later the nation’s leading Antifeder­alist pamphleteer, were
already opposing stronger Federal powers in 1785. “It seems
to me clear, beyond doubt,” Lee wrote to Madison, “that the
giving Congress a power to Legislate over the Trade of the
Union would be dangerous in the extreme to the 5 Southern or
Staple States, whose want of ships and seamen would expose
their freightage and their produce to a most pernicious and
destructive Monopoly.” This was a strong argument, which
would be heard throughout the South till 1861; it was this fear
which in all probability caused George Mason and Edmund
Ran­dolph of Virginia to refuse to sign the Constitution in
1787. Recognizing the force of Lee’s argument, Madison
wrote to Jefferson in the summer and fall of 1785 that
commercial distress was causing a call for stronger powers
in Congress throughout the North, but that the South was
divided. Lee was “an inflexible adversary, Gray­son [William
Grayson, another Virginia Antifederalist in 1788] unfriendly.”
Ani­mosity against Great Britain would push the South toward
commercial regulation, but the high price of tobacco would
work against it. “S. Carolina I am told is deliberating on the
distresses of her commerce and will probably concur in some
general plan; with a proviso, no doubt against any restraint
from importing slaves, of which they have received from Africa
since the peace about twelve thousand.”
Madison concluded by telling his comrade in France that he
trembled to think what would happen should the South not
join the other states in strengthening Congress.
Others beside Madison trembled at this thought: the possibility
of disunion was openly and seriously discussed in the 1780’s,
particularly by those who knew of the fiercely sectional debates
in Congress. And if disunion was only the speculation of a
few in 1785, the great controversy over the Mississippi in 1786
shook many more from their complacence.
The Mississippi question of the 1780’s was a part of the larger
question of the destiny of the West which, ultimately, would
be the immediate cause of the Civil War. Farrand is less
than accurate in his attempt to disengage the question of the
admission of new states at the Constitutional Convention from
sectional strife. For if there is a single key to the politics of
Congress and the Convention in the Critical Period, it is that
the South expected the West to be slave rather than free and to
tilt the balance of power southward, while in Bancroft’s words
“an ineradicable dread of the coming power of the Southwest
lurked in New England, especially in Massachusetts.” That
group in Congress recognized as “the Southern interest” (1786)
“the Southern party” (1787) or “the Southern Delegation”
(1788) fought throughout the 1780’s to forestall the admission
of Vermont until at least one Southern state could be added
simultaneously, to hasten the development of the West, and to
remove all obstacles to its speedy organization into the largest
possible number of new states. It was here that the Mississippi
question entered. What was feared if America permitted
Spain to close New Orleans to American commerce was not
only a separation of the Western states, but a slackening of
the south­westward migration which Southerners counted on
to assure their long-run pre­dominance in the Union.
“The southern states,” wrote the French minister to his superior
in Europe,
are not in earnest when they assert that without the navigation
of the Mississippi the inhabitants of the interior will seek an outlet
185
by way of the lakes, and will throw themselves into the arms of
England.... The true motive of this vigorous oppo­sition is to be found
in the great Preponderance of the northern states, eager to incline the
balance toward their side; the southern neglect no opportunity of
increas­ing the population and importance of the western territory,
and of drawing thither by degrees the inhabitants of New England. .
. . These new territories will gradually form themselves into separate
governments; they will have their representatives in congress, and
will augment greatly the mass of the southern states.
Otto is abundantly confirmed by the debates of the
Virginia ratifying convention, and still more by Monroe’s
correspondence of late 1786. On August 12, 1786, Monroe
wrote from Congress to Patrick Henry:
P.S. The object in the occlusion of the Mississippi on the part of these
people so far as it is extended to the interest of their States (for those
of a private kind gave barb to it): is to break up so far as this will
do it, the settlements on the western waters, prevent any in future,
and thereby keep the States Southward as they now are -- or if
settlements will take place, that they shall be on such principles as to
make it the interest of the people to separate from the Confederacy, so
as effectually to exclude any new State from it. To throw the weight
of population eastward and keep it there....
Like many another Southerner in the next seventy-five years,
Monroe ended by saying that, if it came to separation, it was
essential that Pennsylvania join the South. So forceful was the
effect of his letter on Henry, Madison wrote Washington in
December, that Henry, who had hitherto advocated a stronger
Union, began to draw back. By 1788 he, like Lee, Grayson,
and Monroe, would be an Antifederalist.
The upshot of the Mississippi squabble was that the long efforts
to vest Con­gress with power over commerce were threatened
with failure at the very brink of success. As delegates made
their way to the Annapolis Convention in the fall of 1786,
Bloodworth of North Carolina wrote that because of the
Mississippi con­troversy “all other Business seems out of View at
present.” “Should the measure proposed be pursued,” Grayson
told the Congress, “the Southern States would never grant
those powers which were acknowledged to be essential to the
existence of the Union.” When Foreign Secretary Jay attempted
to have instructions, author­izing him to give up American
insistence on using the river, adopted by a simple Congressional
majority of seven states, it stirred in many Southern breasts the
fear of being outvoted. Even before the Mississippi question
came before Congress Southerners like Monroe had insisted
that, if Congress were to regulate commerce, commercial laws
should require the assent of nine or even eleven states. Jay’s
attempt (as Southerners saw it) to use a simple majority to
push through a measure fundamentally injurious to the South
greatly intensified this apprehension. When the Constitutional
Convention met, the so-called Pinckney Plan suggested a two­thirds Congressional majority for commercial laws, and both
186 fieldston american reader
the Virginia ratifying convention (which voted to ratify by a
small majority) and the North Carolina convention (which
rejected ratification) recommended the same amendment.
In the midst of the Mississippi controversy, men hopeful for
stronger govern­ment saw little prospect of success. Madison
wrote Jefferson in August 1786 that he almost despaired of
strengthening Congress through the Annapolis Convention or
any other; in September, Otto wrote to Vergennes: “It is to be
feared that this discussion will cause a great coolness between
the two parties, and may be the germ of a future separation of
the southern states.”
IV
Why then did the South consent to the Constitutional
Convention? If the South felt itself on the defensive in the
1780’s, and particularly so in the summer and fall of 1786, why
did its delegates agree to strengthen Federal powers in 1787?
If a two-thirds majority for commercial laws seemed essential
to Southerners in August of one year, why did they surrender
it in August of the next? Were Madison and Washington, as
they steadfastly worked to strengthen the national government,
traitors to the interests of their section, or was there some view
of the future which nationalist Southerners then entertained
which enabled them to be good South­erners and good
Federalists at the same time?
It is Madison, once more, who provides the clue. He saw that
if the South were to agree in strengthening Congress, the plan
which gave each state one vote would have to be changed in
favor of the South. And in letters to Jefferson, to Randolph,
and to Washington in the spring of 1787 he foretold in a
sentence the essential plot of the Convention drama. The basis
of representation would be changed to allow representation
by numbers as well as by states, because a change was “rec­
ommended to the Eastern States by the actual superiority of
their populousness, and to the Southern by their expected
superiority.”
So it fell out. Over and over again members of the Convention
stated, as of something on which all agreed, that “as soon as the
Southern & Western popu­lation should predominate, which
must happen in a few years, the South would be compensated
for any advantages wrung from it by the North in the meantime.”
When Northerners insisted on equality of votes in the Senate,
it was partly because they feared what would happen when the
South gained its inevitable (as they supposed) majority. “He
must be short sighted indeed,” declared King on July 12,
who does not foresee that whenever the Southern States shall be
more numerous than the Northern, they can & will hold a language
that will awe the North­ern States] into justice. If they threaten to
separate now in case injury shall be done them, will their threats be
less urgent or effectual, when force shall back their demands?
Gouverneur Morris echoed this gloomy prophecy the next day.
“The consequence of such a transfer of power from the maritime
volume i – fall 2007
to the interior & landed interest,” Madison quoted him,
will he foresees be such an oppression of commerce, that he shall be
obliged to vote for ye. vicious principle of equality in the 2d. branch
in order to provide some defence for the N. States agst. it.
“It has been said,” Morris added, “that N.C. [,] S.C. and Georgia
only will in a little time have a majority of the people in America.
They must in that case include the great interior Country, and
every thing was to be apprehended from their getting the power
into their hands.”
This false expectation explains why Georgia and the Carolinas
who (as Gun­ning Bedford noted) should by present population
have been “small” states, con­sidered themselves “large” states at
the Convention. This expectation clarifies, it seems to me, why
the South gave way in its demand that commercial laws require a
two-thirds majority; for would not time and the flow of migration
soon provide such a majority without written stipulation? At the
crucial Virginia ratifying convention no one questioned that the
South would soon be the most populous section of the country.
The difference lay between those who thought this inevitable
event made it safe to strengthen the Federal government now,
and those, like Henry and Mason, who counseled waiting until
the Southern Congressional majority made absolutely safe a
transfer of power.
The irony, of course, was that the expectation was completely
erroneous. The expected Southern majority in the House never
materialized, and the Senate, not the House, became the bulwark
of the South. In 1790, the population of the South had been
growing more rapidly than the North’s population for several
decades, and was within 200,000 of the population north of the
Potomac. True to the general expectation in 1787, the Southwest
filled up more rapidly than the area north of the Ohio River. In
1820, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan contained a pop­
ulation of almost 800,000, but Missouri, Kentucky, Tennessee,
Alabama, Missis­sippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas held over
1,300,000 persons. Nevertheless, in the original thirteen states
the Northern population pulled so far ahead of the Southern that
in 1820 the white population of Northern states and territories
was almost twice that of Southern states and territories. Thus
the South never obtained the Congressional majority which
statesmen of both sections had anticipated at the time of the
Constitutional Convention.
When the dream of a Southern majority in Congress and the
nation collapsed, there fell together with it the vision of a Southern
commercial empire, drawing the produce of the West down the
Potomac and the James to “a Philadelphia or a Baltimore” on the
Virginia coast. It was not, as it so often seems, an accident that
the Convention of 1787 grew from the Annapolis Convention,
or that Virginians were the prime movers in calling both.
Throughout the 1780’s Madison, Jefferson, Monroe, and to an
almost fanatical degree, Washington, were intent on strength­
ening the commercial ties between Virginia and the West. As
early as 1784, Jef­ferson suggested to Madison cooperation with
Maryland in opening communi­cation to the West, and during
that year and the next both Washington and Monroe toured the
Western country with their grand plan in mind. Jefferson and
Monroe pushed a Potomac location for the national capital partly
with the hope that it would “cement us to our Western friends
when they shall be formed into separate states” and help Virginia
to beat out Pennsylvania and New York in the race for Western
trade. Virginia had given up its claims to Western land, but its
leaders hoped for a commercial dominion just as satisfactory: as
Jefferson put it, “almost a monopoly of the Western and Indian
trade.” “But smooth the road once,” wrote the enraptured
Washington, “and make easy the way for them, and then see
what an influx of articles will be poured upon us; how amazingly
our exports will be increased by them, and how amply we shall
be compensated for any trouble and expense we may encounter
to effect it.” The West, then, would not only give the South
political predominance but also, as Madison wrote Jefferson,
“double the value of half the land within the Commonwealth ...
extend its commerce, link with its interests those of the Western
States, and lessen the immigration of its Citizens.” This was the
castle-in-the-air which Virginians pictured as they worked to
bring about the Constitutional Convention, this was the plan for
economic development so abruptly and traumatically shattered
by Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton.
In the Spring and Summer of 1788, however, as the South with
the North moved to ratify the Constitution, few foresaw the
clouds on the horizon. The Constitutional Convention, with a
Southern majority (in Bancroft’s words) “from its organization
to its dissolution,” seemed to have wrought well for the South.
Madison alone, from his vantage-point in Congress, fretted
about that body’s continued preoccupation with sectional issues.
After wrangling all Spring about the admission of Kentucky,
Congress turned to that old favorite, the location of the capital.
“It is truly mortifying,” Madison wrote to Washington, to see
such “a display of locality,” of “local and state considerations,”
at the very “outset of the new Government.” The behavior of
Congress would give “the most popular arguments which have
been inculcated countenance to some of federalists,” and “be
regarded as at once a proof by the southern anti­preponderancy
of the Eastern strength.” “I foresee contentions,” he wrote the
next Spring, “first between federal and anti-federal parties, and
then between northern and southern parties.” Before long he
would be leading the opposition.
V
Even this sampling of the printed sources suggests that
sectional conflict based (to quote Madison once more) on “the
institution of slavery and its consequences” was a potent force
in the shaping of the Constitution. The conclusion seems
ines­capable that any interpretation of the Convention which
stresses realty and per­sonalty, large states and small states,
or monarchy and democracy, but leaves slav­ery out, is an
inadequate interpretation.
187
Henry Steele Commager:
A Constitution for All the People
By June 26, 1787, tempers in the Federal Convention were
already growing short, for gentlemen had come to the explosive
question of representation in the upper chamber. Two days later
Franklin moved to invoke divine guidance, and his motion was
shunted aside only because there was no money with which to
pay a chaplain and the members were unprepared to appeal
to Heaven without an intermediary. It was not surprising that
when James Madison spoke to the question of representation
in the proposed legislature he was conscious of the solemnity
of the occasion. “We are,” he said, “framing a system which we
wish to last for ages” and one that might “decide forever the
fate of Republican Government.”
It was an awful thought, and when, a few days later, Gouverneur
Morris spoke to the same subject he felt the occasion a most
solemn one --- even the irrepressible Morris could be solemn.
“He came here,” he observed (so Madison noted),
As a Representative of America; he flattered himself. He came here
in some degree as a Representative of the whole human race, for
the whole human race will be affected by the proceedings of this
Convention. He wished gentlemen to extend their views beyond the
present moment of time; beyond the narrow limits ... from which
they derive their political origin.
Much has been said of the sentiments of the people. They were
unknown. They could not be known. All that we can infer is that
if the plan we recommend be reasonable & right, all who have
reasonable minds and sound intentions will embrace it.
These were by no means occasional sentiments only. They
were sentiments that occurred again and again throughout
the whole of that long hot summer, until they received their
final, eloquent expression from the aged Franklin in that
comment on the rising, not the setting, sun. Even during the
most acrimonious debates members were aware that they were
framing a constitution for ages to come; that they were creating
a model for people everywhere on the globe; there was a lively
sense of responsibility and even of destiny. Nor can we now, as
we contemplate that Constitution which is the oldest written
national constitution, and that federal system which is one of
the oldest and the most successful in history --- regard these
appeals to posterity as merely rhetorical.
That men are not always conscious either of what they do or of
the motives that animate them is a familiar rather than a cynical
observation. Some 45 years ago Charles A. Beard propounded
an economic interpretation‑ an interpretation which submitted
that the Constitution was essentially (that is a crucial word)
188 fieldston american reader
an economic document and that it was carried through the
Convention and the state ratifying conventions by interested
economic groups for economic reasons. “The Constitution,”
Mr. Beard concluded, “was essentially an economic document
based upon the concept that the fundamental private rights of
property are anterior to government and morally beyond the
reach of popular majorities.”
At the time it was pronounced, that interpretation caused
something of a sensation, and Mr. Beard was himself eventually
to comment with justifiable indignation on the meanness
and the vehemence of the attacks upon it‑and him. Yet the
remarkable thing about the economic interpretation is not the
criticism it inspired but the support it commanded. For within
a few years it had established itself as the new orthodoxy,
and those who took exception to it were stamped either as
professional patriots --- perhaps secret Sons or Daughters of
the Revolution --- naive academicians who had never learned
the facts of economic life.
The attraction that the economic interpretation had for the
generation of the twenties and thirties and that it still exerts
even into the fifties is one of the curiosities of our cultural
history, but it is by no means an inex­plicable one. To a
generation of materialists Beard’s thesis made clear that the
stuff of history was material. To a generation disillusioned by
the exploitations of big business it discovered that the past,
too, had been ravaged by economic exploiters. To a generation
that looked with skeptical eyes upon the claims of Wilsonian
idealism and all but rejoiced in their frustration, it suggested
that all earlier idealisms and patriotisms ‑ even the idealism
and patriotism of the framers had been similarly flawed by
selfishness and hypocrisy.
Yet may it not be said of An Economic Interpretation of the
Constitution that it is not a conclusion but a point of departure?
It explains a great deal about the forces that went into making
the Constitution, and a great deal, too, about the men who
assembled in Philadelphia in 1787, but it tells us extraordinarily
little about the document itself. And it tells us even less about
the historical meaning of that document.
What were the objects of the Federal Convention? The
immediate objects were to restore order; to strengthen the
public credit; to enable the United States to make satisfactory
commercial treaties and agreements; to provide conditions
in which trade and commerce could flourish; to facilitate
management of the western lands and of Indian affairs. All
familiar enough. But what, in the light of history, were the
grand objects of the Convention? What was it that gave
Madison and Morris and Wilson and King and Washington
himself a sense of destiny?
There were two grand objects, objects inextricably interrelated.
volume i – fall 2007
The first was to solve the problem of federalism, that is, the
problem of the distribution of powers among governments.
Upon the wisdom with which members of the Convention
distinguished between powers of a general and powers of a local
nature, and assigned these to their appropriate governments,
would depend the success or failure of the new experiment.
Here are two fundamental challenges to the Beard interpretation.
First, the Constitution is primarily a document in federalism; and
second, the Constitution does not in fact confess or display the
controlling influence of those who held that “the fundamental
private rights of property are anterior to government and morally
beyond the reach of popular majorities.”
But it was impossible for the children of the eighteenth century
to talk or think of powers without thinking of power, and
this was a healthy realism. No less troublesome and more
fundamental than the problem of the distribution of powers, was
the problem of sanctions. How were they to enforce the terms
of the distribution and impose limits upon all the governments
involved? It was one thing to work out the most ideal distribution
of general and local powers. It was another thing to see to it that
the states abided by their obligations under the Articles of Union
and that the national government respected the autonomy of the
states and the liberty of individuals.
Let us look more closely at these two contentions. The first
requires little elaboration or vindication, for it is clear to all
students of the Revolutionary era that the one pervasive and
overbranching problem of that generation was the problem
of Imperial organization. How to get the various parts of any
empire to work together for common purposes? How to get
central control over war, for example, or commerce or money
without impairing local autonomy? How, on the other hand,
to preserve personal liberty and local self-government without
impairing the effectiveness of the central government? This was
one of the oldest problems in political science, and it is one of the
freshest as old as the history of the Greek city‑states.
Those familiar with the Revolutionary era know that the second
of these problems was more difficult than the first. Americans
had, indeed, learned how to limit government: the written
constitutions, the bills of rights, the cheeks and balances, and
so forth. They had not yet learned (nor had anyone) how to
“substitute the mild magistracy of the law for the cruel and
violent magistracy of force.” The phrase is Madison’s.
Let us return to the Economic Interpretation. The correctness
of Beard’s analysis of the origins and backgrounds of the
membership of the Convention, of the arguments in the
Convention, and of the methods of assuring ratification, need
not be debated. But these considerations are in a sense, irrelevant
and immaterial. For though they are designed to illuminate the
document itself, in fact they illuminate only the processes of its
manufacture.
The British failed to solve the problem of imperial order; when
pushed to the wall they had recourse to the hopelessly doctrinaire
Declaratory Act, which was, in fact, a declaration of political
bankruptcy. As Edmund Burke observed, no people are going to
be argued into slavery. The Americans then took up the vexatious
problem. The Articles of Confederation were set up satisfactorily
enough as far as the distribution of powers was concerned but
wholly wanting in sanctions. The absence of sanctions spelled
the failure of the Articles and this failure led to the Philadelphia
Convention.
Now it will be readily conceded that many, if not most, of the
questions connected with federalism were economic in character.
Involved were such practical matters as taxation, the regulation
of commerce, coinage, western lands, slavery and so forth. Yet
the problem that presented itself to the framers was not whether
government should exercise authority over such matters as these;
it was which government should exercise such authority‑and
how should it be exercised?
The idea that property considerations were paramount in
the minds of those assembled in Philadelphia is misleading
and unsound and is borne out neither by the evidence of the
debates in the Convention nor by the Constitution itself. The
Constitution was not essentially an economic document. It was,
and is, essentially a political document. It addresses itself to the
great and fundamental question of the distribution of powers
between governments. The Constitution was and is a document
that attempts to provide sanctions behind that distribution, a
document that sets up, through law, a standing rule to live by
and provides legal machinery for the enforcement of that rule.
These are political, not economic functions
There were, after all, no anarchists at the Federal Convention.
Everyone agreed that some government had to have authority
to tax, raise armies, regulate commerce, coin money, control
contracts, enact bankruptcy legislation, regulate western
territories, make treaties, and do all the things that government
must do. But where should these authorities be lodged‑with the
state governments or with the national government they were
about to erect, or with both?
Not only were the principles that consumed the framers political
rather than economic, the solutions that they formulated to the
great questions that confronted them were dictated by political,
not by economic considerations.
This question was a political, not an economic one. And
the solution at which the framers arrived was based upon a
sound understanding of politics, and need not be explained by
reference to class attachments or security interests.
189
Certainly if the framers were concerned primarily or even
largely with protecting property against popular majorities,
they failed signally to carry out their purposes. It is at this
point in our consideration of the Economic Interpretation
of the Constitution that we need to employ what our literary
friends call explication du texte. For the weakest link in the
Beard interpretation is precisely the crucial one, the document
itself. Mr. Beard makes amply clear that those who wrote the
Constitution were members of the propertied classes, and that
many of them were personally involved in the outcome of what
they were about to do; he makes out a persuasive case that the
division over the Constitution was along economic lines. What
he does not make clear is how or where the Constitution itself
reflects all these economic influences.
Much is made of the contract clause and the paper money
clause of the Constitution. No state may impair the obligations
of a contract whatever those words mean, and they apparently
did not mean to the framers quite what Chief Justice Marshall
later said they meant in Fletcher v. Peck or Dartmouth College
Woodward. No state may emit bills of credit or make anything
but gold and silver coin legal tender in payment of debts.
These are formidable prohibitions, and clearly reflect the
impatience of men of property with the malpractice of the
states during the Confederation. Yet quite aside from what the
states may or may not have done, who can doubt that these
limitations upon the states followed a sound principle‑the
principle that control of coinage and money belonged to the
central, not the local governments, and the principle that
local jurisdictions should not be able to modify or overthrow
contracts recognized throughout the Union?
What is most interesting in this connection is what is so often
over‑looked --- that the framers did not write any comparable
prohibitions upon the United States government. The United
States was not forbidden to impair the obligation of its contracts,
not at least in the Constitution as it came from the hands of
its property‑conscious framers. Possibly the Fifth Amendment
may have squinted toward such a prohibition; we need not
determine that now, for the Fifth Amendment was added by
the states after the Constitution had been ratified. So, too, the
emission of bills of credit and the making of other than gold and
silver legal tender were limitations on the states, but not on the
national government. There was, in fact, a lively debate over the
question of limiting the authority of the national government
in the matter of bills of credit. When the question came up on
August 16, Gouverneur Morris threatened that “The monied
interest will oppose the plan of Government, if paper emissions
be not prohibited.” In the end the Convention dropped out
a specific authorization to emit bills of credit, but pointedly
did not prohibit such action. Just where this left the situation
troubled Chief Justice Chase’s Court briefly three‑quarters
of a century later; the Court recovered its balance, and the
190 fieldston american reader
sovereign power of the government over money was not again
successfully challenged.
Nor were there other specific limitations of an economic character
upon the powers of the new government that was being erected
on the ruins of the old. The framers properly gave the Congress
power to regulate commerce with foreign nations and among
the states. The term commerce as Hamilton and Adair (and
Crosskey, too) have made clear was broadly meant, and the
grant of authority, too, was broad. The framers gave Congress
the power to levy taxes and, again, wrote no limitations into
the Constitution except as to the apportionment of direct taxes;
it remained for the most conservative of Courts to reverse itself,
and common sense, and discover that the framers had intended
to forbid an income tax! Today, organizations that invoke the
very term “constitutional” are agitating for an amendment
placing a quantitative limit upon income taxes that may be
levied. Fortunately, Madison’s generation understood better
the true nature of governmental power.
The framers gave Congress in ambiguous terms, to be
sure authority to make “all needful Rules and Regulations
respecting the Territory or other Property” of the United States,
and provided that “new states may be admitted.” These evasive
phrases gave little hint of the heated debates in the Convention
over western lands. Those who delight to find narrow and
undemocratic sentiments in the breasts of the framers never
cease to quote a Gouverneur Morris or an Elbridge Gerry on
the dangers of the West. And it is possible to compile a horrid
catalogue of such statements. But what is significant is not
what framers said, but what they did. They did not place any
limits upon the disposition of western territory, or establish
any barriers against the admission of western states.
The fact is that we look in vain at the Constitution itself for any
really effective guarantee for property or any effective barriers
against what Beard calls “the reach of popular majorities.” It
will be argued, however, that what the framers feared was the
states, and that the specific prohibitions against state action,
together with the broad transfer of economic powers from state
to nation, were deemed sufficient guarantee against state attacks
upon property. As for the national government, care was taken
to make that sufficiently aristocratic, sufficiently representative
of the propertied classes, and sufficiently checked and limited
so that it would not threaten basic property interests.
It is at this juncture that the familiar principle of limitation
on governmental authority commands our attention. Granted
the wisest distribution of powers among governments, what
guarantee was there that power would be properly exercised?
What guarantees were there against the abuse of power?
What assurance was there that the large states would not ride
roughshod over the small, that majorities would not crush
minorities or minorities abuse majorities? What protection was
volume i – fall 2007
there against mobs, demagogues, and dangerous combinations of
interests or of states? What protection was there for the commercial
interest, the planter interest, the slave interest, the securities
interests, the land speculator interests?
It was Madison who most clearly saw the real character of this
problem and who formulated its solution. It was not that the people
as such were dangerous; “The truth was,” he said on July 11, “that
all men having power ought to be distrusted to a certain degree.”
Long before Lord Acton coined the aphorism, the Revolutionary
leaders had discovered that power corrupts. They understood, too,
the drive for power on the part of individuals and groups. All this
is familiar to students of The Federalist, No. 10. It should be familiar
to students of the debates in Philadelphia, for there, too, Madison
set forth his theory and supported it with a wealth of argument.
Listen to him on one of the early days of the Convention, June
6, when he is discussing the way to avoid abuses of republican
liberty abuses which “prevailed in the largest as well as the smallest
states:
And were we not thence admonished [he continued] to enlarge the sphere
as far as the nature of the Government would admit. This was the only
defense against the inconveniences of democracy consistent with the
democratic form of Government [our emphasis]. All civilized Societies
would be divided in to different Sects. Factions & interests, as they
happened to consist of rich & poor, debtors and creditors, the landed, the
manufacturing, the commercial interests, the inhabitants of this district
or that district, the followers of this political leader or that political
leader, the disciples of this religions Sect or that religious Sect. In all cases
where a majority are united by a common interest or passion, the rights
of the minority are in danger.... In a Republican Govt. the Majority if
united have always an opportunity [to oppress the minority. What is the
remedy?] The only remedy is to enlarge the sphere, & thereby divide the
Community into so great a number of interests & parties. That in the
first place a majority will not be likely at the same moment to have a
common interest separate from that of the whole or of the minority; and
in the second place, that in case they should have such an interest, they
may not be apt to unite in the pursuit of it. It was incumbent on us then
to try this remedy, and . . . to frame a republican system on such a scale &
in such a form as will control all the evils which have been experienced.
This long quotation is wonderfully eloquent of the attitude of the
most sagacious of the framers. Madison, Wilson, Mason, Franklin,
as well as Gerry, Morris, Pinckney, and Hamilton feared power.
They feared power whether exercised by a monarch, an aristocracy,
an army, or a majority, and they were one in their determination
to write into fundamental law limitations on the arbitrary exercise
of that power. To assume, as Beard so commonly does, that the
fear of the misuse of power by majorities was either peculiar to the
Federalists or more ardent with them than with their opponents,
is mistaken. Indeed it was rather the anti‑Federalists who were
most deeply disturbed by the prospect of majority rule; they, rather
than the Federalists, were the “men of little faith.” Thus it was
John Lansing, Jr., of New York (he who left the Convention rather
than have any part in its dangerous work) who said that “all free
constitutions are formed with two views to deter the governed
from crime, and the governors from tyranny.” And the ardent
Patrick Henry, who led the attack on the Constitution in the
Virginia Convention­ and almost defeated it complained not of too
little democracy in that document, but too much.
The framers, to be sure, feared the powers of the majority, as they
feared all power unless controlled. But they were insistent that,
in the last analysis, there must be government by majority; even
conservatives like Morris and Hamilton made this clear. Listen
to Hamilton, for example, at the very close of the Convention.
Elbridge Gerry, an opponent of the Constitution, had asked
for a reconsideration of the provision for calling a constitutional
convention, alleging that this opened the gate to a majority
that could “bind the union to innovations that may subvert the
State‑Constitutions altogether.” To this Hamilton replied that
There was no greater evil in subjecting the people of the U.S. to the major
voice than the people of a particular State.... It was equally desirable
now that an easy mode should be established for supplying defects which
will probably appear in the New System.... There could be no danger in
giving this power, as the people would finally decide in the case.
And on July 13, James Wilson, another staunch Federalist, observed
that “The majority of people wherever found ought in all questions
to govern the minority.”
But we need not rely upon what men said; there is too much of
making history by quotation anyway. Let us look rather at what
men did. We can turn again to the Constitution itself. Granted
the elaborate system of checks and balances: the separation of
powers, the bicameral legislature, the executive veto, and so forth
checks found in the state constitutions as well, and in our own
democratic era as in the earlier one what provision did the framers
make against majority tyranny? What provisions did they write
into the Constitution against what Randolph called “democratic
licentiousness”?
They granted equality of representation in the Senate. If this meant
that conservative Delaware would have the same representation
in the upper chamber as democratic Pennsylvania, it also meant
that democratic Rhode Island would have the same representation
as conservative South Carolina. But the decision for equality
of representation was not dictated by considerations either
economic or democratic, but rather by the recalcitrance of the
small states. Indeed, though it is difficult to generalize here, on
the whole it is true that it was the more ardent Federalists who
favored proportional representation in both houses.
They elaborated a most complicated method of electing a Chief
Executive, a method designed to prevent the easy expression of
any majority will. Again the explanation is not simple. The fact
was that the framers did not envision the possibility of direct votes
191
for presidential candidates which would not conform to state lines
and interests and thus lead to dissension and confusion. Some
method, they thought, must be designated to overcome the force
of state prejudices (or merely of parochialism) and get an election;
the method they anticipated was a preliminary elimination
contest by the electoral college and then eventual election by the
House. This, said George Mason, was what would occur nineteen
times out of twenty. There is no evidence in the debates that the
complicated method finally hit upon for electing a President was
designed either to frustrate popular majorities or to protect special
economic interests; its purpose was to overcome state pride and
particularism.
Senators and Presidents, then, would not be the creatures of
democracy. But what guarantee was there that senators would
be representatives of property interests, or that the President
himself would recognize the “priority of property”? Most states
had property qualifications for office holding, but there are none in
the Federal Constitution. As far as the Constitution is concerned,
the President, congressmen, and Supreme Court justices can all
be paupers.
Both General Charles Cotesworth Pinckney and his young cousin
Charles, of South Carolina, were worried about this. The latter
proposed a property qualification of $100,000 (a tidy sum in those
days) for the Presi­dency, half that for the judges, and substantial
sums for members of Congress. Franklin rebuked him. He was
distressed, he said, to hear anything “that tended to debase the
spirit of the common people.” More surprising was the rebuke from
that stout conservative, John Dickinson. “He doubted,” Madison
reports, “the policy of interweaving into a Republican constitution a
veneration for wealth. He had always understood that a veneration
for poverty & virtue were the objects of republican encouragement.”
Pinckney’s proposal was overwhelmingly rejected.
What of the members of the Lower House? When Randolph
opened “the main business” on May 29 he said the remedy for the
crisis that men faced must be “the republican principle,” and two
days later members were discussing the fourth resolution, which
provided for election to the Lower House by the people. Roger
Sherman of Connecticut thought that the people should have as
little to do as may be about the Government,” and Gerry hastened
to agree in words now well worn from enthusiastic quotation that
“The evils we experience flow from an excess of democracy.” These
voices were soon drowned out, however. Mason “argued strongly
for an election by the people. It was to be the grand depository
of the democratic principle of the Govt. “ And the learned James
Wilson, striking the note to which he was to recur again and
again, made clear that he was for raising the federal pyramid to a
considerable altitude, and for that reason wished to give it as broad
a basis as possible. He thought that both branches of the legislature
and the President as well for that matter‑ should be elected by the
people. “The Legislature,” he later observed, “ought to be the most
exact transcript of the whole Society.”...
192 fieldston american reader
Was the Constitution designed to place private property beyond
the reach of majorities? If so, the framers did a very bad job.
They failed to write into it the most elementary safeguards for
property. They failed to write into it limitations on the tax power,
or prohibitions against the abuse of the money power. They failed
to provide for rule by those whom Adams was later to call the wise
and the rich and the well‑born. What they did succeed in doing
was to create a system of cheeks and balances and adjustments and
accommodations that would effectively prevent the suppression
of most minorities by majorities. They took advantage of the
complexity, the diversity, and the pluralism, of American society
and economy to encourage a balance of interests. They worked
out sound and lasting political solutions to the problems of class,
interest, section, race, and religion, party.
Perhaps the most perspicacious comment on this whole question
of the threat from turbulent popular majorities against property
and order came, mirabile dictu, from the dashing young Charles
Pinckney of South Carolina he of the “lost” Pinckney Plan. On
June 25 Pinckney made a major speech and thought it important
enough to write out and give to Madison. The point of departure
was the hackneyed one of the character of the second branch of
the legislature, but the comments were an anticipation of De
Tocqueville and Lord Bryce. We need not, Pinckney asserted, fear
the rise of class conflicts in America, nor take precautions against
them.
The genius of the people, their mediocrity of situation & the
prospects which are afforded their industry in a Country which
must be a new one for centuries are unfavorable to the rapid
distinction of ranks. . . If equality is . . . the leading feature of
the U. States [he asked], where then are the riches & wealth
whose representation & protection is the peculiar province of this
permanent body [the Senate]. Are they in the hands of the few
who may be called rich; in the possession of less than a hundred
citizens? Certainly not. They are in the great body of the people....
[There was no likelihood that a privileged body would ever develop
in the United States, he added, either from the landed interest, the
moneyed interest, or the mercantile.] Besides, Sir, I apprehend that
on this point the policy of the U. States has been much mistaken.
We have unwisely considered ourselves as the inhabitants of an
old instead of a new country. We have adopted the maxims of a
State full of people.... The people of this country are not only very
different from the inhabitants of any State we are acquainted with
in the modern world; but I assert that their situation is distinct
from either the people of Greece or of Rome.
Not a government cunningly contrived to protect the interests
if capable of extending to its citizens the blessings of liberty and
happiness was that not, after all, what the framers created?
volume i – fall 2007
3
iv.
the early republic: forging a
national identity:
1791-1824
IV. The Early Republic: Forging a National Identity:
1791-1824
193
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Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson
Popular Rule
Though both Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson served
as members of President Washington’s cabinet, the two held very
different views on the newly founded U.S. government and the role
of the masses in that government. During the 1790s the views of
Hamilton and Jefferson would develop into two competing political
ideologies and eventually form the basis of the first political parties
in the U.S. The following are excerpts of Hamilton and Jefferson’s
views on popular rule. Notice each man’s view of the elite and the
masses. What role does each man see for the elite and the masses in
government? Why?
Excerpts from Alexander Hamilton:
All communities divide themselves into the few and the many.
The first are rich and well born; the other, the mass of the
people. The voice of the people has been said to be the voice
of God; and however generally this maxim has been quoted
and believed, it is not true in fact. The people are turbulent
and changing; they seldom judge or determine right. Give
therefore to the first class a distinct, permanent share in the
government. They will check the unsteadiness of the second;
and as they cannot receive any advantage by change, they will
therefore maintain good government.
Can a democratic assembly who annually [through annual
elections] revolve in the mass of the people, be supposed
steadily to pursue the public good? Nothing but a permanent
body can check the imprudence of democracy. Their turbulent
and changing disposition requires checks. (1787)
Take mankind in general, they are vicious, their passions may
be operated upon... Take mankind as they are, and what are
they governed by? There may be in every government a few
choice spirits, who may act from more worthy motives. One
great error is that we suppose mankind more honest than they
are. Our prevailing passions are ambition and interest; and it
will be the duty of a wise government to avail itself of those
passions, in order to make them subservient to the public good.
(1787)
(1792)
Excerpts from Thomas Jefferson:
Those who labor in the earth are the chosen people of God, if
ever he had a chosen people, whose breasts he has made his
particular deposit for substantial and genuine virtue. (1784)
Men... are naturally divided into two parties. Those who fear
and distrust the people... Those who identify themselves with
the people, have confidence in them, cherish and consider
them as the most honest and safe... depository of the public
interest. (1824)
The mass of mankind has not been born with saddles on their
backs, nor a favored few booted and spurred, ready to ride
them legitimately, by the grace of God. (1826)
I have such reliance on the good sense of the body of the people
and the honesty of their leaders that I am not afraid of their
letting things go wrong to any length in any cause. (1788)
Whenever the people are well-informed, they can be trusted
with their own government; whenever things get so far wrong
as to attract their notice, they may be relied on to set them to
rights. (1789)
I am not among those who fear the people. They, and not the
rich, are our dependence for continued freedom. (1876)
I have great confidence in the common sense of mankind in
general. (1800)
My most earnest wish is to see the republican element of
popular control pushed to the maximum of its practicable
exercise. I shall then believe that our government may be pure
and perpetual. (1816)
Your people, sir, is a great beast. (1792)
I have an indifferent [low] opinion of the honesty of this
country, and ill foreboding as to its future system. (1783)
I said that I was affectionately attached to the republican
theory... I add that I have strong hopes for the success of that
theory; but in candor I ought also to add that I am far from
being without doubts. I consider its success as yet a problem.
195
Thomas Jefferson: The Importance of
Agriculture (1784)
Alexander Hamilton, Report on the
Subject of Manufactures (1791)
In this famous passage, Jefferson voices his confidence in yeomen
farmers and his fear of the influence of industry. As you read,
consider why Jefferson has confidence in yeomen and why he is
fearful of industry.
In the following report to Congress, Alexander Hamilton, President
Washington’s Secretary of the Treasury, sets forth the advantages of a
manufacturing system, and he forecasts the changes which later came
with the growth of industry. Compare Hamilton’s report to Jefferson’s
views outlined in his “Importance of Agriculture.”
The political economists of Europe have established it as
a principle that every state should endeavor to manufacture
for itself; and this principle, like many others, we transfer to
America, without calculating the difference of circumstance
which should often produce a difference of result.
In Europe the lands are either cultivated, or locked up against
the cultivator. Manufacture must therefore be resorted to of
necessity, not of choice, to support the surplus of their people.
But we have an immensity of land courting the industry of
the husbandman. Is it best then that all our citizens should
be employed in its improvement, or that one half should be
called off from that to exercise manufactures and handicraft
arts for the other? Those who labor in the earth are the chosen
people of God, if he ever had a chosen people, whose breasts
he has made his peculiar deposit for substantial and genuine
virtue.... Corruption of morals in the mass of cultivators is
a phenomenon of which no age nor nation has furnished an
example. It is the mark set on those who, not looking up to
heaven, to their own soil and industry, as does the husbandmen,
for their subsistence, depend for it on the casualties and caprice
of customers. Dependence begets subservience and venality,
suffocates the germ of virtue, and prepares fit tools for the
designs of ambition....
Generally speaking, the proportion which the aggregate of
the other classes of citizens bears in any state to that of its
husbandmen is the proportion of its unsound to its healthy
parts, and is a... barometer whereby to measure its degree of
corruption. While we have land to labor then, led us never wish
to see our citizens occupied at a workbench, or twirling a distaff.
Carpenters, masons, smiths, are wanting in husbandry; but,
for the general operations of manufacture, let our workshops
remain in Europe. It is better to carry provisions and materials
to workmen there than bring them to the provisions and
materials, and with them their manners and principles. The
loss by the transportation of commodities across the Atlantic
will be made up in happiness and permanence of government.
The mobs of great cities add just so much to the support of pure
government, as sores do to the strength of the human body.
It is the manners and the spirit of a people which preserve a
republic in vigor. A degeneracy in these is a canker which soon
eats to the hearts of its laws and constitution.
196 fieldston american reader
The expediency of encouraging manufactures in the United States...
appears at this time to be generally admitted. The embarrassments
which have obstructed the progress of our external trade, have led
to serious reflections on the necessity of enlarging the sphere of
our domestic commerce.... [Other nations’ regulations against our
agricultural produce] beget an earnest desire that a more extensive
demand for that surplus may be created at home...
[Both the manufacturer and the farmer] furnishes a certain
portion of produce of his labor to the other, and each destroys a
corresponding portion of the produce of the labor of the other. In
the meantime, the maintenance of two citizens, instead of one,
is going on; the State has two members instead of one; and they,
together, consume twice the value of what is produced from the
land....
It may be inferred that manufacturing establishments not only
occasion a positive augmentation of the produce and revenue of the
society, but that they contribute essentially to rendering them greater
than they could possibly be without those establishments....
[Increasing manufacturing encourages all of the following
benefits]....
As to the division of labor:
It has justly been observed, that there is scarcely any thing of greater
moment in the economy of a nation than the proper division of
labor. The separation of occupations causes each to be carried to
a much greater perfection.... This arises principally from... the
greater skill and dexterity naturally resulting from a constant and
undivided application to a single object....
1. As to an extension of the use of machinery...
The employment of machinery... is an artificial force brought in aid
of the natural force of man; and, to all the purposes of labor, is an
increase of hands, an accession of strength.... May it not, therefore,
be fairly inferred, that those occupations which give greatest scope
to the use of this auxiliary, contribute most to the general stock of
industrious effort, and, in consequence to the general product of
industry....
2. As to additional employment of classes of the community not
originally engaged in the particular business...
[Manufacturing institutions] afford occasional and extra
volume i – fall 2007
employment to industrious individuals and families, who are
willing to devote... [their leisure time] as a resource for multiplying
their acquisitions or their enjoyments. The husbandman himself
experiences a new source of profit and support from the increased
industry of his wife and daughters, invited and stimulated by
the demands of the neighboring manufactories....Women and
children are rendered more useful, and the latter more early useful,
by manufacturing establishments....
Thomas Jefferson: Opinion on the
Constitutionality of the Bank (1791)
5. As to the furnishing greater scope for the diversity of talents
and dispositions which discriminate men from each other...
There is, in the genius... of this country, a particular aptitude for
mechanic improvements, it would operate as a forcible reason for
giving opportunities to the exercise of that species of talent, by the
propagation of manufactures.
There were only three banks in the entire country when Alexander
Hamilton, in 1790, proposed the Bank of the United States to be
modeled on the Bank of England. It would be a private institution
under strict governmental supervision, and it would be useful to the
United States Treasury in issuing notes, in safeguarding surplus tax
money, and in facilitating numerous public financial transactions.
President Washington questioned whether creating a bank was
constitutional or whether it was an unconstitutional abuse of
Congressional powers. Before signing the bank bill, Washington
solicited the views of some of his cabinet members. The opinion of
Jefferson, given below, elicited a rebuttal from Hamilton, which is
the following document. As you read Jefferson’s opinion think about
how his belief that the bank was not constitutional reflected his
Democratic-Republican political ideology.
6. As to the affording of a more ample and various field for
enterprise. The spirit of enterprise... must necessarily be contracted
and expanded in proportion to the simplicity or variety of the
occupations and productions which are to be found in a society.
It must be less in a nation of mere cultivators than in a nation
of cultivators and merchants; less in a nation of cultivators
and merchants, than in a nation of cultivators, artificers and
merchants.
I consider the foundation of the Constitution as laid on this
ground -- that all powers not delegated to the United States
by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are
reserved to the states, or to the people. (10th Amendment).
To take a single step beyond the boundaries thus specifically
drawn around the powers of Congress is to take possession
of a boundless field of power, no longer susceptible of any
definition.
7. As to the creating... and securing... a more steady demand for
the surplus produce of the soil...
[This] is the principle means by which the establishment of
manufactures contributes to an augmentation of produce or
revenue of a country, and has an immediate and direct relation to
the prosperity of agriculture.It is evident that the exertions of the
husbandman will be steady or fluctuating, vigorous or feeble, in
proportion to... the adequateness or inadequateness, of the markets
on which he must depend....
The incorporation of a bank, and the powers assumed by this
bill, have not, in my opinion, been delegated to the United
States by the Constitution.
This idea of an extensive domestic market for the surplus produce
of the soil, is of the first consequence. It is, of all things, that which
most effectually conduces to a flourishing state of agriculture....
[it will] cause the lands which were in cultivation to be better
improved and more productive....
It has been much urged that a bank will give great facility
or convenience in the collection of taxes. Suppose this were
true; yet the Constitution allows only the means which
are “necessary,” not those which are merely “convenient,”
for effecting the enumerated powers. If such a latitude of
construction be allowed to this phrase as to give it any nonnumerated power, it [the latitude] will go to for every one; for
there is not one [power] which ingenuity may not torture into
a convenience, in some instance or another, to some one of so
long a list of enumerated powers. It would swallow up all the
delegated powers [of the states], and reduce the whole to one
power...
4. As to the promotion of emigration from foreign countries...
[Many] would probably flock from Europe to the United States to
pursue their own trades and professions....
The foregoing considerations seem sufficient to establish, as
general propositions, that it is the interest of nations to diversify
the industrious pursuits of the individuals who compose them;
that the establishment of manufactures is calculated not only
to increase the general stock of useful and productive labor, but
to improve the state of agriculture in particular, - certainly to
advance the interests of those who are engaged in it....
The second general phrase is “to make all laws necessary and
proper for carrying into execution the enumerated powers.” But
they can all be carried into execution without a bank. A bank
therefore is not necessary, and consequently not authorized by
this phrase.
197
Alexander Hamilton: Opinion on the
Constitutionality of the Bank (1791)
Hamilton supported the bank and defended its constitutionality from
Jefferson’s attacks. Think carefully about how Hamilton’s position
on the constitutionality of the bank reflected Federalist ideology.
If the end be clearly comprehended within any of the specified
powers, and if the measure have an obvious relation to that end,
and is not forbidden by any provision of the Constitution, it
may safely be deemed to come within the compass of national
authority.
There is also this further criterion, which may materially assist
the decision: Does the proposed measure abridge a preexisting
right of any state or of any individual? If it does not, there is a
strong presumption in favor of its constitutionality...
“Necessary” often means no more than needful, requisite,
incidental, useful, or conducive to... [A] restrictive interpretation
of the word unnecessary is also contrary to the sound maxim
of construction, namely, that the powers contained in a
constitution... ought to be construed liberally in advancement
of the public good.
A hope is entertained that it has, by this time, been made to
appear to the satisfaction of the President, that a bank has
a natural relation to the power of collecting taxes--to that
of regulating trade -- to that of providing for the common
defense--and that, as the bill under consideration contemplates
the government in the light of a joint proprietor of the stock of
the bank, it brings the case within the provision of the clause
of the Constitution which immediately respects [relates to]
the property of the United States [Evidently Article IV, Sec.
III, para. 2: The Congress shall have the power to... make all
needful rules and regulations respecting the territory or other
property belonging to the United States.]
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Hamiltonian Federalists and Jeffersonian
Republicans: Views on the Revolution
During the 1790s Hamilton and Jefferson’s competing theories of the
role of government and the specific policies of the U. S. government
led to the creation of two political parties - the Federalist Party,
founded by supporters of Hamilton, and the Republican Party,
founded by the supporters of Jefferson. What common themes can you
find that underlie Hamilton and Jefferson’s views of the following
events?
The French Revolution
Document A
Source: Alexander Hamilton
“The cause of France is compared with that of America during
its late revolution. Would to heaven that the comparison were
just. Would to heaven we could discern in the mirror of French
affairs, the same humanity, the same decorum, the same
gravity, the same order, the same dignity, the same solemnity,
which distinguished the cause of the American Revolution....
All still unite that the troubles of France may terminate in
the establishment of a free and good government.... None can
deny that the cause of France has been stained by the excesses
and extravagances for which it is not easy, if possible to find a
parallel in the history of human affairs, and from which reason
and humanity recoil.”
Document B
Source: Thomas Jefferson
“You will have heard... of the peril into which the French
Revolution is brought by the flight of their King. Such are
the fruits of that form of government which heaps importance
on idiots... I still hope that the French Revolution will issue
happily. I feel that the permanence of our own leans in some
degree on that; and that a failure there would be a powerful
argument to prove there must be a failure here.... The liberty of
the whole earth was depending on the issue of the contest, and
was ever such a prize won with such little innocent blood....
Rather than it should have failed I would have seen half the
earth desolated; were there but an Adam and an Eve left in
every country, and left free, it would be better then it now is.”
The British Government
Document C
Source: Alexander Hamilton
“I believe the British government forms the best model the
world ever produced, and such has been its progress in the
minds of the many that this truth gradually gains ground.”
Document D
Source: Thomas Jefferson
“It is [Britain’s] government which is so corrupt... it was certainly
the most corrupt and unprincipled government on earth.
The Whiskey Rebellion
Document E
Source: Alexander Hamilton
“Shall the majority govern or be governed? Shall the nation
rule or be ruled? Shall the general will prevail, or the will of
a faction? Shall there be government or no government? It is
impossible to deny that this is the true and whole question....
The Constitution... contains this express clause: ‘The Congress
shall have the power to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts and
excises.....” Your representatives in Congress, pursuant to the
commission derived from you, and with your full knowledge...
have laid an excise.... But the four western counties of
Pennsylvania undertake to rejudge and reverse your decrees....
[Citizens of these counties] say, ‘It shall not be collected. We
will punish, expel and banish the officers who shall attempt
the collection. We will do the same by every other person
who shall dare to comply with your decree expressed in the
constitutional charter.... The sovereignty shall not reside with
you, but with us....”’
Document F
Source: Thomas Jefferson
“The excise law is an infernal one. The first error was to admit
it by the Constitution; the second, to act on that admission....
The information of our militia [in Pennsylvania is]... that
though the people there let them pass quietly, they were objects
of their laughter, not of their fear.... [The people of Western
Pennsylvania’s] detestation of the excise law is universal, and
has now associated to it a detestation of the government;
and that separation, which perhaps was a very distant and
problematic event, is now near... and determined in the mind
of every man.”
Document G
Source: Thomas Jefferson
199
“A little rebellion now and again is a good thing, and as
necessary in the political world as storms in the physical.... It is
the medicine necessary for the sound health of government.”
The Alien and Sedition Acts: Intolerance
and the Search for Order
Document A
Source: Jedediah Morse, “The Present Dangers and Consequent
Duties,” 1799
“Our dangers are of two kinds, those which affect our religion,
and those which affect our government. They are, however, so
closely allied that they cannot, with propriety, be separated.
The foundations which support the interests of Christianity,
are also necessary to support a free and equal government
like our own. In all those countries where there is little or no
religion, or a very gross and corrupt one, as in Pagan countries,
there you will find, with scarcely a single exception, arbitrary
and tyrannical governments, gross ignorance and wickedness,
and deplorable wretchedness among the people. To kindly
influence Christianity we owe the degree of civil freedom, and
political and social happiness which mankind now enjoy. In the
proportion as the genuine effects of Christianity are diminished
in any nation, either through unbelief, or the corruption of any
of its doctrines, or the neglect of its institutions, in the same
proportion will the people from that nation recede from the
true blessings of genuine freedom, and assume the miseries of
genuine despotism...
It has long been suspected that secret societies, under the
influence and direction of France, holding principles subversive
of our religion and government, exist somewhere in this
country. Evidence of this suspicion is well‑founded, and since
then, proof has been accumulating, I have, my brethren an
official, authenticated list of the names, ages, places of nativity,
professions, etc. of the officers of this secret society, which is
instituted in Virginia... The members are chiefly emigrants
from France, with the addition of a few Americans... You will
perceive, my brethren, from this concise statement of facts, that
we have in truth secret enemies, not a few, scattered through
our dear country... enemies whose professed design is to subvert
and overturn our holy religion and our free and excellent
government... And the pernicious fruits of their insidious
and secret efforts, must be visible to every eye not obstinately
closed... Among these fruits may be reckoned our unhappy and
threatening political divisions, the virulent opposition to some
of the laws of this country, the Pennsylvania insurrection, the
industrious circulation of baneful and corrupting books, and
consequently the wonderful spread of infidelity, impiety, and
immorality...”
Document B
Source: Professor David Tappan, “A Warning to Harvard
Seniors,” 1798
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“As the present crisis of human affairs is very solemn, as we, in
common with our fellow citizens, feel a lively interest in it, and
as this University is soon to resign a considerable number of
her sons to the service of their country and mankind, I cannot
help but seize this opportunity to address these students as to
some large observations and counsels, suggested chiefly by the
present state of the world...
There is a society...which under the mask of universal
philanthropy has been aiming at the complete dominion of
the
minds and bodies of mankind... A proposition was made
at the last convention for abolishing the altars of God, and
have been artfully contrived to destroy the observation
and even the memory of the Christian sabbath. They also
decreed that death was an everlasting sleep... So extensive a
conspiracy against government and religion easily accounts
for the rapid progress of disorganizing principles, and the
wonderful success of French arms and intrigues... the zealous
circulation of certain newspapers which are uniformly devoted
to malignant falsehood and sedition, which aim to directly
tend to undermine the religious, moral, and civil institutions
of this country... In this way you may effectively counterwork
the subtle policy of the common enemies of God and man.
While they are seeking to brutalize the world, you are invited,
indeed, have been summoned, to oppose this infernal artifice
by supporting the great pillars of social order. While they are
outraging female modesty and dignity, reducing both men and
women to brutal impurity and barbarism, while this be the
boasted work of modern reformers, be it yours to assert the
dignity of man, to guard and preserve the worth of the female
character...”
The Revolution of 1800
Document A
Source: James Madison, 1819
“The Revolution of 1800...was as real a revolution in the
principles of our government as that of 1776 was in its form; not
effected by the sword, indeed, as that, but by the rational and
peaceable instrument of reform, the suffrage of the people.”
Document B Source:
Republicanism, 1801
Abraham
Bishop,
Connecticut
“Every country is divided into two classes of men‑‑one which
lives by the labor of the head, and the other by the labor of
hands; each claims that its services are the hardest and most
important; the first professes great zeal for the public good,
and means nothing by it; the last does his days work, makes
no professions, but brings his produce to the best markets. The
first always governs the last either by deceit or by force. Deceit
is the mildest way, but it requires great labor and management;
force is surest.
It will not be easy to break through the thick folds of error and
imposture with which the friends of order keep the great part
of mankind encompassed...You have been taught to reverence
your friends of order...That humiliation that ordinary people
feel in the presence of wealth and power has been a leading
cause of all the slavery on earth...All your feelings of inferiority
and humiliation, all that makes you bow your heads and doff
your caps in front of gentlemen, that indeed, the whole culture
that sustained rule by the gentry elite are delusions fabricated
by all the great, the wise, the rich, and mighty men of the
world, those well‑fed, well‑dressed, chariot‑rolling, caucus
keeping, levee reveling federalists...These are the agents
of delusion, these so‑called gentlemen, that one‑tenth of
society who claim superiority over the rest...Why should
nine‑tenths of ordinary people look up with fear and awe to
these deceiving few?...These self‑styled friends of order have,
in all nations, been the cause of all the convulsions and the
distress, which have agitated the world...They fool people with
their charming outsides, engaging manners, powerful address,
and inexhaustible argument. They know well the force and
power of every word; the east, west, north, and south of every
semi‑colon; and can extract power from every dash...They are
able to say more and argue better on the wrong side of the
question than the people are on either side of it....
The [subjects of the gentry’s guile are] the laboring and
subordinate people throughout the world. Their toil goes to
support the splendor, luxury, and vices of the deluders, or
their blood flows to satiate lawless ambition...[Imagine] the
luxurious courtier who must have his peas and salmon before
201
the frost has left the earth, or the ice the river, and who loathes
the sight of vegetable or animal food in the season of it; who
rides in a gig with half a dozen lackeys behind him; who curses
every taverner, excommunicates every cook, and hecks over the
table because his eggs were not brought to him in a pre­existent
state...Such a man can never have any opinion of the plebeians
who are toiling to furnish the means of his splendor.”
Document C
Source: William Manning, The Key of Liberty, 1790’s
“[The struggle] is between the many and the few, based on a
conceived difference of interest between those that labor for a
living and those that git a living without bodily labor; Those
who do not have to do bodily work are the merchant, physician,
lawyer, and divine, the philosopher and school master the
judicial and executive officers, and many others. These orders
of men, once they have attained their life of ease and rest that
at once creates a sense of superiority, tend to associate together
and look down with two much contempt on those who labor...
Although the hole of them do not amount to one eighth part of
the people, these gentry have the spare time and the arts and
schemes to combine and consult with one another, and have
the power to control the government in a variety of ways.”
Document D
Source: Benjamin Rush, Autobiography, 1792
“A man who has been bred a gentleman cannot work...and
therefore he lives by borrowing without intending to pay,
or upon the public or his friends. A gentleman cannot wait
upon himself, and therefore his hands and his legs are often
as useless to him as if they were paralytic. If a merchant be
a gentleman he would sooner lose 50 customers than be seen
to carry a piece of goods across the street. If a Doctor should
chance to be a gentleman he would rather let a patient die than
assist in giving him a glyster or in bleeding him...”
those arts and refinements, and elegance’s which require riches
and leisure to their production, are not to be found among the
majority of our citizens...The want of learning and of science in
the majority is one of the things which strikes foreigners who
visit us very forcibly. Our representatives to all our Legislative
bodies, National, as well as of the States, are elected by the
majority unlearned. For instance from Philadelphia and its
environs we send to congress not one man of letters. One of
them indeed is a lawyer but of no eminence, another a good
Mathematician, but when elected he was a Clerk in a bank.
The others are just plain farmers. From the next county is
sent a Blacksmith, and from just over the river a Butcher. Out
state legislature does not contain one individual of superior
talents. The fact is, that superior talents excite distrust, and
the experience of the world perhaps does not encourage the
people to trust men of genius...This government of what may
be called, an unlettered majority, has put down that ideal
rank which manners had established, excepting in our great
cities depending on commerce and crowded with foreigners,
where the distinction between what is called the Gentlemen,
and others still subsists, and produces circles of association
separate from each other...in Philadelphia even this distinction
has almost disappeared, those who expect it having early
excluded themselves from the present race of well-dressed
men and women. Of this state of society the solid and general
advantages are undeniable; but to a cultivated mind, to a man of
letters to a lover of the arts it presents a very unpleasant picture.
The importance attached to wealth, and the freedom which
opens every legal avenue to wealth to every one individually
has two effects, which are unfavorable to morals: It weakens
the ties that binds individuals to each other, by making all
citizens rivals in the pursuit of riches; and it renders the means
by which they are attained more indifferent...In this kind of
society, the public good is best promoted by the exertion of
each individual seeking his own good in his own way.”
Document E
Source: Benjamin Latrobe, (architect and engineer) Letter to
Philip Mazzei,.1806
“After the adoption of the federal constitution, the extension of
the right of suffrage in all the states to the majority of all the
adult male citizens, planted a germ which has gradually evolved,
and has spread actual and practical democracy and political
equality over the whole union. There is no doubt whatsoever
but that this state of things in our country produces the greatest
sum of happiness that perhaps any nation ever enjoyed...But the
cost has been high. Most men have to labor, and consequently
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The Kentucky Resolutions of 1799
The Kentucky and Virginia Resolutions of I 798-99 were a series
of resolutions passed by the legislatures of these states protesting
the Alien and Sedition Acts. The Kentucky Resolutions were
drafted by Thomas Jefferson and the Virginia Resolutions by
James Madison. They are a democratic protest against what
Jefferson, Madison and other Republicans considered to be
a dangerous usurpation of power by the federal government.
The Kentucky Resolution of 1799 was the most radical of the
resolutions and asserted that states had the power to nullify the
laws of the federal government.
As you read, think about how the Kentucky Resolutions
reflected Democratic-Republican ideology and why it makes
sense that Democratic-Republicans like Jefferson and Madison
would have opposed the Alien and Sedition Acts.
be the measure of their powers: That the several states who
formed that instrument [the Constitution] being sovereign
and independent, have the unquestionable right to judge of the
infraction; and, That a nullification of those sovereignties, of
all unauthorized acts done under the color of that instrument is
the rightful remedy: That this commonwealth does, under the
most deliberate reconsideration, declare, that the said Alien
and Sedition laws are, in their opinion, palpable violations of
the said Constitution.... although this commonwealth, as a
party to the federal compact, will bow to the laws of the Union,
yet, it does at the same time declare, that it will not now, or
ever hereafter, cease to oppose in a constitutional manner,
every attempt at what quarter soever offered, to violate that
compact.... This commonwealth does now enter against [the
Alien and Sedition Acts] in solemn PROTEST.
The representatives of the good people of this commonwealth
[of Kentucky], in General Assembly convened, have maturely
considered the answers of sundry states in the Union, to [the
ongoing debate and discussion of]... certain unconstitutional
laws of Congress, commonly called the Alien and Sedition
Laws, would be faithless, indeed, to themselves and to those
they represent, were they silently to acquiesce in the principles
and doctrines attempted to be maintained.... Our opinions of
these alarming measures of the general government, together
with our reasons for those opinions, were detailed with decency,
and with temper and submitted to the discussion and judgment
of our fellow citizens throughout the Union.... Faithful to
the true principles of the federal Union, unconscious of any
designs to disturb the harmony of that Union, and anxious
only to escape the fangs of despotism, the good people of this
commonwealth are regardless of censure or calumniation.
Lest, however, the silence of this commonwealth should be
construed into an acquiescence in the doctrines and principles
advanced... therefore,
Resolved, That this commonwealth considers the federal
Union, upon the terms and for the purposes specified in...
[the Constitution], conducive to the liberty and happiness
of the several states: That it does now unequivocally declare
its attachment to the Union, and to that compact... and will
be among the last to seek its dissolution: That if those who
administer the general government be permitted to transgress
the limits fixed by that compact [the Constitution], by a total
disregard to the special delegations of power therein contained,
an annihilation of the state governments... will be the inevitable
consequence: [That the construction of the Constitution argued
for by many) state legislatures, that the general government is
the exclusive judge of the extant of the powers delegated to it,
stop not short of despotism — since the discretion of those who
administer the government, and not the Constitution, would
203
Rhode Island and New Hampshire’s
Responses to the Virginia and Kentucky
Resolutions (1799)
Every State from Maryland north replied to the Virginia and
Kentucky Resolutions, rejecting the constitutional principles
set forth by Jefferson and Madison. The following are brief
excerpts of the responses of the legislatures of Rhode Island
and New Hampshire. As you read, consider Rhode Island and
New Hampshire’s response to the “doctrine of nullification”
proposed in the Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions. Why
would Rhode Island and New Hampshire have felt compelled
to respond to Kentucky’s assertion that states have the power
to rule federal Laws unconstitutional?
domestic....
The state legislatures are not the proper tribunals to determine
the constitutionality of the laws of the general government...
the duty of such decision is properly and exclusively confided
in the judicial department.
If the legislature of New
Hampshire, for mere speculative purposes were to express an
opinion on the...
Alien and Sedition Bills, that opinion would unreservedly be
that those acts are constitutional.
The State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations
(February 1799):
1. Resolved, That, in the opinion of this legislature, the
second section of the third article of the Constitution of the
United States, in these words, to wit, -” The judicial power
shall extend to all cases arising under the laws of the United
States,” - vests in the Federal Courts, exclusively, and in the
Supreme Court of the United States, ultimately, the authority
on the constitutionality of any act or law of the Congress of
the United States.
2. Resolved, That for any state legislature to assume that
authority would be 1st. Blending together legislative and judicial powers;
2nd. Hazarding an interruption of the peace of the states by
civil discord, in a case of a diversity of opinions among the
state legislatures; each state having, in that case, no resort for
vindicating its own opinions, but the strength of its own arm;
3rd. Submitting most important questions of law to less
competent tribunals; and
4th. An infaction of the Constitution of the United States....
3. Resolved, That, although, for the above reasons, this
legislature... do not feel themselves authorized to consider and
decide on the constitutionality of the Alien and Sedition laws...
[do] declare that in their private opinions, these laws are within
the powers delegated to Congress.
New Hampshire Resolution on the Kentucky and Virginia
Resolutions (Tune 1799):
The legislature of New Hampshire unequivocally expresses a
firm resolution to maintain and defend the Constitution of
the United States... against every aggression, either foreign or
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Washington’s Farewell Address,
September 17, 1796
Friends and Fellow-Citizens:
The period for a new election of a citizen to administer the
Executive Government of the United States being not far
distant, and the time actually arrived when your thoughts must
be employed in designating the person who is to be clothed
with that important trust, it appears to me proper, especially as
it may conduce to a more distinct expression of the public voice,
that I should now apprise you of the resolution I have formed
to decline being considered among the number of those out of
whom a choice is to be made....
Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for your
welfare, which cannot end with my life1 and the apprehension
of danger natural to that solicitude, urge me on an occasion
like the present to offer to your solemn contemplation and to
recommend to your frequent review some sentiments which are
the result of much reflection, of no inconsiderable observation,
and which appear to me all important to the permanency of
your felicity as a people. These will be offered to you with the
more freedom as you can only see in them the disinterested
warnings of a parting friend, who can possibly have no personal
motive to bias his counsel....
The unity of government which constitutes you one people is
also now dear to you. It is justly so, for it is a main pillar
in the edifice of your real independence, the support of your
tranquillity at home, your peace abroad, of your safety, of your
prosperity, of that very liberty which you so highly prize. But as
it is easy to foresee that from different causes and from different
quarters much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to
weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth, as this is
the point in your political fortress against which the batteries
of internal and external enemies will be most constantly and
actively (though often covertly and insidiously) directed, it
is of infinite moment that you should properly estimate the
immense value of your national Union to your collective and
individual happiness... The name of AMERICAN, which
belongs to you, in your national capacity, must always exalt the
just pride of patriotism more than any appellation derived from
local discriminations....
The North, in an unrestrained intercourse with the South,
protected by the equal laws of a common government, finds
in the productions of the latter great additional resources of
maritime and commercial enterprise and precious materials of
manufacturing industry. The South, in the same intercourse,
benefiting by the agency of the North, sees its agriculture grow
and its commerce expand... .The East, in a like intercourse with
the West, already finds, and in the progressive improvement of
interior communications by land and water will more and more
find, a valuable vent for the commodities which it brings from
abroad or manufactures at home. The West derives from the
East supplies requisite to its growth and comfort, and, what
is perhaps of still greater consequence, it must of necessity
owe the secure enjoyment of indispensable outlets for its own
productions to the weight, influence, and the future maritime
strength of the Atlantic side of the Union, directed by an
indissoluble community of interest as one nation....
While, then, every part of our country thus feels an immediate
and particular interest in union, all the parts combined can
not fail to find in the united mass of means and efforts greater
strength, greater resource, proportionately greater security from
external danger, and less frequent interruption of their peace
by foreign nations; and what is of inestimable value, they must
derive from union an exemption from those broils and wars
between themselves, which so frequently afflict neighboring
countries not tied together by the same government, which
their own rivalships alone would be sufficient to produce, but
which opposite foreign alliances, attachments, and intrigues
would stimulate and embitter. Hence, likewise, they will avoid
the necessity of those overgrown military establishments which,
under any form of government, are inauspicious to liberty, and
which are to be regarded as particularly hostile to republican
liberty....
Observe good faith and justice toward all nations. Cultivate
peace and harmony with all. Religion and morality enjoin this
conduct. And can it be that good policy does not equally enjoin
it? It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, and at no distant
period a great nation to give to mankind the magnanimous
and too novel example of a people always guided by an exalted
justice and benevolence....
In the execution of such a plan nothing is more essential than
that permanent, inveterate antipathies against particular
nations and passionate attachments for others should be
excluded, and that in place of them just and amicable feelings
toward all should be cultivated. The nation which indulges
toward another an habitual hatred or an habitual fondness is
in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its
affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its
duty and its interest....
Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence (I conjure you
to be1ieve me, fellow-citizens) the jealousy of a free people
ought to be constantly awake, since history and experience
prove that foreign influence is one of the most baneful foes of
republican government....
The great rule of conduct for us in regard to foreign nations is,
in extending our commercial relations to have with them as
205
little political connection as possible. So far as we have already
formed engagements, let them be fulfilled with perfect good
faith. Here let us stop.
Europe has a set of primary interests which to us have none, or
a very remote relation. Hence she must be engaged in frequent
controversies, the causes of which are essentially foreign to
our concerns. Hence, therefore, it must be unwise in us to
implicate ourselves by artificial ties in the ordinary vicissitudes
of her politics or the ordinary combinations and collisions of
her friendships or enmities.
Our detached and distant situation invites and enables us t6
pursue a different course. if we remain one people, under an
efficient government, the period is not far off when we may defy
material injury from external annoyance; when we may take
such an attitude as will cause the neutrality we may at any time
resolve upon to be scrupulously respected; when belligerent
nations, under the impossibility of making acquisitions upon
us, will not lightly hazard the giving us provocation; when we
may choose peace or war, as our interest, guided by justice,
shall counsel.
Why, by interweaving our destiny with that of any part of
Europe, entangle our peace and prosperity in the toils of
European ambition, rivalship, interest, humor, or caprice?
It is our true policy to steer clear of permanent alliances with
any portion of the foreign world, so far, I mean, as we are now
at liberty to do it; for let me not be understood as capable of
patronizing infidelity to existing engagements. I hold the
maxim no less applicable to public than to private affairs
that honesty is always the best policy. I repeat, therefore, let
those engagements be observed in their genuine sense. But in
my opinion it is unnecessary and would be unwise to extend
them....
Thomas Jefferson: First Inaugural Address
This address, one of Jefferson’s most felicitous works, is memorable as
a consummation of eighteenth-century elegance in style, as well as
for its conciliatory tone and its restatement of republican principles.
To the seventy-eight year old revolutionary leader, Samuel Adams,
Jefferson wrote a few weeks after its delivery:
“I addressed a letter to you, my very dear and ancient friend, on the
4th of March: not indeed to you by name, but through the medium
of some of my fellow citizens, whom occasion called on me to address.
In meditating the matter of that address, I often asked myself, is
this exactly in the spirit of the patriarch, Samuel Adams? is it as he
would express it? Will he approve of it?”
Friends and Fellow-Citizens:
Called upon to undertake the duties of the first executive office
of our country, I avail myself of the presence of that portion of my
fellow-citizens which is here assembled to express my grateful
thanks for the favor with which they have been pleased to look
toward me, to declare a sincere consciousness that the task is
above my talents, and that I approach it with those anxious and
awful presentiments which the greatness of the charge and the
weakness of my powers so justly inspire. A rising nation, spread
over a wide and fruitful land, traversing all the seas with the
rich productions of their industry, engaged in commerce with
nations who feel power and forget right, advancing rapidly to
destinies beyond the reach of mortal eye when I contemplate
these transcendent objects, and see the honor, the happiness,
and the hopes of this beloved country committed to the issue
and the auspices of this day, I shrink from the contemplation,
and humble myself before the magnitude of the undertaking.
Utterly, indeed, should I despair did not the presence of many
whom I here see remind me that in the other high authorities
provided by our Constitution I shall find resources of wisdom,
of virtue, and of zeal on which to rely under all difficulties.
To you, then, gentlemen, who are charged with the sovereign
functions of legislation, and to those associated with you, I
look with encouragement for that guidance and support which
may enable us to steer with safety the vessel in which we are all
embarked amidst the conflicting elements of a troubled world.
During the contest of opinion through which we have passed
the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes
worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to
think freely and to speak and to write what they think; but
this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced
according to the rules of the Constitution, all will, of course,
arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in
common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in
mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority
is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be
reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which
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equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression. Let
us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind.
Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection
without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things.
And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that
religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and
suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political
intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and
bloody persecutions. During the throes and convulsions of
the ancient world, during the agonizing spasms of infuriated
man, seeking through blood and slaughter his long-lost liberty,
it was not wonderful that the agitation of the billows should
reach even this distant and peaceful shore; that this should be
more felt and feared by some and less by others, and should
divide opinions as to measures of safety. But every difference
of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by
different names brethren of the same principle. We are all
Republicans, we are all Federalists. If there be any among
us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its
republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments
of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated
where reason is left free to combat it. I know, indeed, that
some honest men fear that a republican government can not be
strong, that this Government is not strong enough; but would
the honest patriot, in the full tide of successful experiment,
abandon a government which has so far kept us free and firm
on the theoretic and visionary fear that this Government, the
world’s best hope, may by possibility want energy to preserve
itself? I trust not. I believe this, on the contrary, the strongest
Government on earth. I believe it the only one where every man,
at the call of the law, would fly to the standard of the law, and
would meet invasions of the public order as his own personal
concern. Sometimes it is said that man can not be trusted with
the government of himself. Can he, then, be trusted with the
government of others? Or have we found angels in the forms of
kings to govern him? Let history answer this question.
Let us, then, with courage and confidence pursue our own
Federal and Republican principles, our attachment to union
and representative government. Kindly separated by nature
and a wide ocean from the exterminating havoc of one quarter
of the globe; too high-minded to endure the degradations of
the others; possessing a chosen country, with room enough for
our descendants to the thousandth and thousandth generation;
entertaining a due sense of our equal right to the use of our own
faculties, to the acquisitions of our own industry, to honor and
confidence from our fellow-citizens, resulting not from birth,
but from our actions and their sense of them; enlightened by
a benign religion, professed, indeed, and practiced in various
forms, yet all of them inculcating honesty, truth, temperance,
gratitude, and the love of man; acknowledging and adoring an
overruling Providence, which by all its dispensations proves
that it delights in the happiness of man here and his greater
happiness hereafter with all these blessings, what more is
necessary to make us a happy and a prosperous people? Still
one thing more, fellow-citizen a wise and frugal Government,
which shall restrain men from injuring one another, shall leave
them otherwise free to regulate their own pursuits of industry
and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor
the bread it has earned. This is the sum of good government,
and this is necessary to close the circle of our felicities.
About to enter, fellow-citizens, on the exercise of duties which
comprehend everything dear and valuable to you, it is proper
you should understand what I deem the essential principles
of our Government, and consequently those which ought to
shape its Administration. I will compress them within the
narrowest compass they will bear, stating the general principle,
but not all its limitations. Equal and exact justice to all men,
of whatever state or persuasion, religious or political; peace,
commerce, and honest friendship with all nations, entangling
alliances with none; the support of the State governments
in all their rights, as the most competent administrations
for our domestic concerns and the surest bulwarks against
anti-republican tendencies; the preservation of the General
Government in its whole constitutional vigor, as the sheet
anchor of our peace at home and safety abroad; a jealous care
of the right of election by the people a mild and safe corrective
of abuses which are lopped by the sword of revolution where
peaceable remedies are unprovided; absolute acquiescence in
the decisions of the majority, the vital principle of republics,
from which is no appeal but to force, the vital principle and
immediate parent of despotism; a well-disciplined militia, our
best reliance in peace and for the first moments of war, till
regulars may relieve them; the supremacy of the civil over the
military authority; economy in the public expense, that labor
may be lightly burthened; the honest payment of our debts
and sacred preservation of the public faith; encouragement of
agriculture, and of commerce as its handmaid; the diffusion
of information and arraignment of all abuses at the bar of the
public reason; freedom of religion; freedom of the press, and
freedom of person under the protection of the habeas corpus,
and trial by juries impartially selected. These principles form
the bright constellation which has gone before us and guided
our steps through an age of revolution and reformation. The
wisdom of our sages and blood of our heroes have been devoted
to their attainment. They should be the creed of our political
faith, the text of civic instruction, thc touchstone by which to
try the services of those we trust; and should we wander from
them in moments of error or of alarm, let us hasten to retrace
our steps and to regain the road which alone leads to peace,
liberty, and safety.
I repair, then, fellow-citizens, to the post you have assigned me.
With experience enough in subordinate offices to have seen the
difficulties of this the greatest of all, I have learnt to expect that
it will rarely fall to the lot of imperfect man to retire from this
station with the reputation and the favor which bring him into
207
it. Without pretensions to that high confidence you reposed in
our first and greatest revolutionary character, whose preiminent
services had entitled him to the first place in his country’s love
and destined for him the fairest page in the volume of faithful
history, I ask so much confidence only as may give firmness
and effect to the legal administration of your affairs. I shall
often go wrong through defect of judgment. When right, I
shall often be thought wrong by those whose positions will not
command a view of the whole ground. I ask your indulgence
for my own errors, which will never be intentional, and your
support against the errors of others, who may condemn what
they would not if seen in all its parts. The approbation implied
by your suffrage is a great consolation to me for the past, and
my future solicitude will be to retain the good opinion of those
who have bestowed it in advance, to conciliate that of others by
doing them all the good in my power, and to be instrumental
to the happiness and freedom of all.
Relying, then, on the patronage of your good will, I advance
with obedience to the work, ready to retire from it whenever
you become sensible how much better choice it is in your power
to make. And may that Infinite Power which rules the destinies
of the universe lead our councils to what is best, and give them
a favorable issue for your peace and prosperity.
Important Decisions of the
Supreme Court
1. MARBURY V. MADISON (1803)
William Marbury was one of the federal judges appointed by
President Adams under the Judiciary Act of 1801, an act which
was repealed by the newly elected Republican controlled a year
after it was passed. Marbury’s commission had been signed by
President Adams but it had not been delivered; and the new
Secretary of State1 James Madison, under the instructions
of President Thomas Jefferson1 refused to give Marbury his
commission Marbury asked the Supreme Court for a writ of
mandamus ordering Madison to deliver his commission as a
justice of the peace for Washington, D.C. Section 13 of the
Judiciary Act of 1789 empowered the Supreme Court to issue
such a writ.
DECISION:Marbury had a right to the appointment, but the
Supreme Court had no power to issue the writ for him since
this would have been an exercise of original jurisdiction. not
warranted by the Constitution. Congress had no power to
add to the original jurisdiction granted the Supreme Court
by the Constitution. In an obiter dictum the Supreme Court
stated that “The particular phraseology of the Constitution
of the United States confirms and strengthens the principle,
supposed to be essential to all written constitutions, that a law
repugnant to the constitution is void, and that courts, as well
as other departments, are bound by that instrument.”
IMPORTANCE: This was the first time the Supreme Court
declared a law of Congress unconstitutional (Section 13 of the
Judiciary Act of 1789), the first instance of judicial review. The
Court did not declare another act of Congress unconstitutional
until Dred Scott v. Sandford (1857). As of 1979 only 105 acts
of Congress have been declared unconstitutional in whole or in
part, although thousands of laws are passed every year.
2. McCULLCH V. MARYLAND (1819)
Congress incorporated the Bank of the United States, and
established a branch in. Baltimore, Maryland. The State of
Maryland required all banks not chartered by the state to pay a
tax on each issuance of bank notes. McCulloch, the cashier of
the Baltimore branch of the Bank of the United States, issued
notes without complying with the state law. Maryland sued
for the taxes due it.
DECISION:The Constitution empowers the government
with the right to lay and collect taxes, to borrow money, to
regulate commerce, to declare and conduct war, and to raise
and support armies and navies. In the “elastic clause,” Art.
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I sec.8, Congress has also been granted the power “to make
all laws which shall be necessary and power for carrying into
execution” the expressed powers in the Constitution. Therefore,
by incorporating a bank, Congress is creating the means to
attain the goals of the powers entrusted to it. “let the end be
legitimate, let it be within the scope of the Constitution, and
all means which are appropriate, which are plainly adapted to
that end, which are not prohibited, but consist with the letter
and spirit of the Constitution, are constitutional.” The power
to tax involves the power to destroy, and a state cannot have
this power over legitimate constitutional rights exercised by the
federal government. The tax levied by Maryland was therefore
unconstitutional.
IMPORTANCE: This was the first time the Supreme
Court declared that an act passed by a state legislature was
unconstitutional. The Supreme Court also accepted the
doctrine of implied powers.
JOHN MARSHALL EXPOUNDS THE
CONSTITUTION
If any one proposition could command the universal assent of
mankind, we might expect it to be this: that the government of
the Union, though limited in its powers, is supreme within its
sphere of action. This would seem to result necessarily from its
nature. It is the government of all; its powers are delegated by
all; it represents all, and acts for all. Though any one State may
be willing to control its operations, no State is willing to allow
others to control them. The nation, on those subjects on which
it can act, must necessarily bind its component parts. But this
question is not left to mere reason: the people have, in express
terms, decided it, by saying, “this Constitution, and the laws of
the United States, which shall be made in pursuance thereof,”
“shall be the supreme law of the land,” and by requiring that
the members of the State legislatures, and the officers of the
executive and judicial departments of the States, shall take the
oath of fidelity to it.
The government of the United States, then, though limited in
its powers, is supreme; and its laws, when made in pursuance of
the Constitution, form the supreme law of the land, “anything
in the constitution or laws of any State to the contrary
notwithstanding.”
McCulloch V. Maryland, 1819
3. DARTMOUTH COLLEGE V. WOODWARD (1819)
In 1769 Dartmouth College was chartered by the English
monarch. In 1816 the state legislature of New Hampshire
passed a law completely reorganizing the government of the
college and changing the name to Dartmouth University.
The former trustees of the college brought an action against
Woodward, who was secretary and treasurer of the college.
The state decided against the former trustees and they appealed
the case to the Supreme Court.
DECISION: The original charter granted by England was a
contract, “a contract for the security and disposition of property....
It is then a contract within the letter of the Constitution, and
within its spirit also.” The act of 1816 by the New Hampshire
legislature substantially impaired the operations of the college
as originally intended by the founders, and thereby violates
Art.I, sec.l0. It is therefore unconstitutional.
IMPORTANCE: Charters are contracts, and the Constitution
protected contracts against state encroachments. Thus business
enterprises (which are chartered by the states) are protected
by their charters. This made it easy for business to grow, but
difficult for states to regulate abuses by business. Since the
states lacked adequate power the federal government stepped
into this area, starting with control of the railroads in 1886.
4. GIBBONS v. OGDEN (1824)
New York State gave exclusive navigation rights to all water
within the jurisdiction of the state to R.R. Livingston and
R. Fulton, who in turn assigned Ogden the right to operate
between New York City and New Jersey ports. Gibbons
owned two steamships running between Elizabethtown and
New York, which were licensed under Act of Congress. Ogden
obtained an injunction against Gibbons, who appealed.
DECISION:Only the Federal Government can regulate
commerce between two states (in this case, on the Hudson
River), as stated in Art.I, sec.8. When state law and federal
law come into conflict, federal law must be supreme.
IMPORTANCE: “commerce” was interpreted broadly,
to mean both goods and people. States were limited in their
rights to control commerce because the Constitution delegated
that power to Congress. This was the first case to go to the
Court under the commerce clause.
JOHN MARSHALL EXPOUNDS THE
CONSTITUTION
This instrument contains an enumeration of powers expressly
granted by the people to their government. It has been said
that these powers ought to be construed strictly. But why
ought they to be so construed? Is there one sentence in the
Constitution which gives contenance to this rule? In the last of
the enumerated powers, that which grants, expressly, the means
for carrying all others into execution, Congress is authorized
“to make all laws which shall be necessary and proper” for the
purpose. But this limitation on the means which may be used
is not extended to the powers which are conferred; nor is there
one sentence in the Constitution, which has been pointed out
209
by the gentlemen of the bar or which we have been able to
discern, that prescribes this rule. We do not, therefore, think
ourselves justified in adopting it. What do the gentlemen
mean by a strict construction? It they contend only against
that enlarged construction which would extend words beyond
their natural and obvious import, we might question the
application of the term, but should not controvert the principle.
If they contend for that narrow construction which, in support
of some theory not to be found in the Constitution, would
deny to the government those powers which the words of the
grant, as usually understood, import, and which are consistent
with the general views and objects of the instrument; for that
narrow construction, which would cripple the government, and
render it unequal to the objects for which it is declared to be
instituted, and to which the powers given, as fairly understood,
render it competent; then we cannot perceive the propriety of
this strict construction, nor adopt it as the rule by which the
Constitution is to be expounded. As men whose intentions
require no concealment generally employ the words which
most directly and aptly express the ideas they intend to convey,
the enlightened patriots who framed our Constitution, and the
people who adopted it, must be understood to have employed
words in their natural sense, and to have intended what they
have said....
The Report and Resolutions of the
Hartford Convention January 4, 1815
The dissatisfaction of the New England Federalists with Republican
policies and the War of 1812 culminated in the Hartford Convention
on December 1814. The Convention was attended by delegates
from Massachusetts, Connecticut, Vermont, Rhode Island and
New Hampshire. The resolutions of the convention arrived in
Washington, D.C. just after the news of General Andrew Jackson’s
victory at N~ Orleans and the Treaty of Ghent. As you read, consider
the complaints and proposals of the New England Federalists who
met at Hartford. Why do they support such proposals? And, think
about how these proposals might have been viewed by an American
people proud of their victory in the War of 1812.
First - ... [certain states have collectively acted] by exciting
local jealousies and ambition so as to secure popular leaders in
one section of the Union, the control of public affairs. . .
Fourthly - The abolition of existing taxes, requisite to prepare
the country for those changes to which nations are always
exposed.
Fifthly - the influence of patronage in the distribution of offices,
which in these states has been almost invariably made among
men the least entitled to such distinction. . . .
Sixthly - The admission of new states into the Union formed
at pleasure in the western region, has destroyed the balance of
power which existed among the original States....
Seventhly - The easy admission of naturalized foreigners, to
places of trust, honor or profit, operating as an inducement to
the malcontent subjects on the Old World to come to these
States....
Eighthly -Hostility to Great Britain, and partiality to the late
government of France....
Lastly and principally - A visionary and superficial theory
in regard to commerce, accompanied by a real hatred but a
feigned regard to its interests, and a ruinous perseverance in
efforts to render it an instrument of coercion and war....
Therefore resolved...
That it be and is hereby recommended... to authorize an
immediate and earnest application to be made to the
government of the United States, requesting their consent to
some arrangement, whereby the said states may separately or in
concert, be empowered to assume upon themselves the defense
of their territory against the enemy.
210 fieldston american reader
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That the following amendments of the constitution of the
United States be recommended to the states....
First. Representatives and direct taxes shall be apportioned
among the several states... according to their respective number
of free persons... excluding Indians not taxed, and all other
persons....
Second. No new state shall be admitted into the Union by
Congress... without the concurrence of two thirds of both
houses.
Third. Congress shall not have the power to lay any embargo
on the ships or vessels of the citizens of the United States... for
more than sixty days....
Fifth. Congress shall not make or declare war... without the
concurrence of two thirds of both houses....
Seventh. The same person shall not be elected president of the
United States a second time; nor shall the president be elected
from the same state two terms in succession....
The Monroe Doctrine (1823)
... At the proposal of the Russian Imperial Government,
made through the minister of the Emperor residing here, a
full power and instructions have been transmitted to the
minister of the United States at St. Petersburg to arrange by
amicable negotiation the respective rights and interests of
the two nations on the northwest coast of this continent. A
similar proposal had been made by his Imperial Majesty to the
Government of Great Britain, which has likewise been acceded
to. The Government of the United States has been desirous by
this friendly proceeding of manifesting the great value which
they have invariably attached to the friendship of the emperor
and their solicitude to cultivate the best understanding with
his Government. In the discussions to which this interest
has given rise and in the arrangements by which they may
terminate the occasion has been judged proper for asserting,
as a principle in which the rights and interests of the United
States are involved, that the American continents, by the free
and independent condition which they have assumed and
maintain, are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for
future colonization by any European powers.
It was stated at the commencement of the last session that a
great effort was then making in Spain and Portugal to improve
the condition of the people of those countries, and that it
appeared to be conducted with extraordinary moderation. It
need scarcely be remarked that the result has been so far very
different from what was then anticipated. Of events in that
quarter of the globe, with which we have so much intercourse
and from which we derive our origin, we have always been
anxious and interested spectators. The citizens of the United
States cherish sentiments the most friendly in favor of the
liberty and happiness of their fellowmen on that side of the
Atlantic. In the wars of the European powers in matters
relating to themselves we have never taken any part, nor does
it comport with our policy so to do. It is only when our rights
are invaded or seriously menaced that we resent injuries or
make preparation for our defense with the movements in this
hemisphere we are of necessity more immediately connected,
and by causes which must be obvious to all enlightened and
impartial observers. The political system of the allied powers is
essentially different in this respect from that of America. This
difference proceeds from that which exists in their respective
Governments and to the defense of our own, which has been
achieved by the loss of so much blood and treasure, and
matured by the wisdom of their most enlightened citizens, and
under which we have enjoyed unexampled felicity, this whole
nation is devoted. We owe it, therefore, to candor and amicable
relations existing between the United States and those powers
to declare that we should consider any attempt on their part
to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as
dangerous to our peace and safety with the existing colonies
211
or dependencies of any European power we have not interfered
and shall not interfere. But with the Governments who have
declared their independence and maintained it, and whose
independence we have, on great consideration and on just
principles, acknowledged, we could not view any interposition
for the purpose of oppressing them, or controlling in any other
manner their destiny, by any European power in any other
light than as the manifestation of an unfriendly disposition
toward the United States. In the war between those new
Governments and Spain we declared our neutrality at the time
of their recognition, and to this we have adhered, and shall
continue to adhere, provided no change shall occur which, in
the judgment of the competent authorities of this Government,
shall make a corresponding change on the part of the United
States indispensable to their security.
The late events in Spain and Portugal shew that Europe is
still unsettled. Of this important fact no stronger proof can
be adduced than that the allied powers should have thought
it proper, any principle satisfactory to themselves, to have
interposed by force in the internal concerns of Spain. To
what extent such interposition may be carried, on the same
principle is a question in which all independent powers whose
governments differ from theirs are interested, even those most
remote, and surely none more so than the United States. Our
policy in regard to Europe which was adopted at an early stage
of the wars which have so long agitated that quarter of the
globe, never the less remains the same, which is, not to interfere
in the internal concerns of any of its powers; to consider the
government de facto as the legitimate government for us;
to cultivate friendly relations with it, and to preserve those
relations by a frank, firm, and manly policy, meeting in all
instances the just claims of every power, submitting to injuries
from none. But in regard to these continents circumstances
are eminently and conspicuously different. It is impossible that
the allied powers should extend their political system to any
portion of either continent without endangering our peace and
happiness; nor can anyone believe that our southern brethren,
if left to themselves, would adopt it of their own accord. It
is equally impossible, therefore, that we should behold such
interposition in any form with indifference. If we look to the
comparative strength and resources of Spain and those new
Governments, and their distance from each other, it must be
obvious that she can never subdue them. It is still the true
policy of the United States to leave the parties to themselves,
in the hope that other powers will pursue the same course.
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3
v.
the disgusting spirit of
equality: the age of jackson
and antebellum reform:
1824-1860
V
The Disgusting Spirit of Equality: The Age of Jackson and Antebellum
Reform: 1824-1860
213
214 fieldston american reader
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Transcendentalism Defined
Though closely related to the English and European Ro­mantic
movement of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.
the philosophy called Transcendentalism that gained a large
following in New England during the early 1830’s was not
merely an American restatement of Romantic ideas. Rather,
it was the combining of these ideas with existing elements of
American belief, The result was a philosophical movement in
many ways similar to that which had occurred in England
and Germany, but at the same time different. The Romantic
movement, in holding with the individual worth and goodness
of humanity, glorifying the pleasures of communion with
nature, condemning society for its distracting and corrupting
materialism, and urging individual freedom of expressionfreedom from the rules and constraints of earlier philosophies
and theologies— appealed to a country beginning to chafe at
the restrictions of an already declining Puritanism.
The term Transcendentalism is not itself an invention of the
New England Transcendentalists; the German philoso­pher
Immanuel Kant (1724—1804) had used it In his writ­ing. To
its New England advocates the term came to embody the
central idea of their philosophy.’ that there is some knowledge
of reality, or truth, that man grasps not through logic or
the laws of science but through the intuition of his divine
intellect. Because of this inherent, extra-intellectual ability,
the Transcendentalists believed that each person should follow
the sway of his own beliefs and ideas, how­ever divergent
from the social norm they might be. They believed that the
individual’s intuitive response to any given situation would
be the right thing for him to do. Closely related to this idea
is that of the integrity of the individual, the belief that each
person is inherently good, capable of making his own decisions,
and worthy of the respect of every other human being. These
ideas found a sympathetic response among a people who had
long held in high regard the democratic and individualistic
principles of the early settler, statesman, and citizen.
Inevitably, these ideas were to clash with the doctrines
of organized religion. An earlier group of New England
intellectuals broke away from Puritanism and founded the
Unitarian Church during the late eighteenth century. Their
spilt with the established church was in a large part due to
the intellectual and commercial trends of the age. In a day
when commerce and science had become predominant,
where material comfort and social mobility were becoming
increasingly accessible to more and more people, the old
religion—Puritanism-must have indeed seemed irrelevant.
By the 1830’s the Unitarians, yesterday’s rebels, had become
Boston’s establishment, dominating the city’s intellectual
centers, both the church and Harvard University
Ironically, Emerson as well as many other early
Transcendentalists began their careers as divinity students.
studying at the latter institution for the Unitarian minister.
Many of these people were, in fact, the children of influential
members of the Unitarian church. The former rebels, Boston’s
economic, social, political, and cultural elite, found themselves
by the early 1830’s embroiled in yet another intellectual
insurrection, though this time it was they who were under
attack.
Transcendentalists like Emerson did not limit their attacks
solely to questions of theology, but went beyond church
issues to the very fabric of society itself. To them, sterility in
religion had its analogues in both public and private life. They
believed that rationalism, the philosophy from which modern
science had sprung, denied the profound sense of mystery
that these thinkers found in both nature and hu­manity. They
felt that current thought had reduced God to a watchmaker
who once having built and wound the Universe now sat back
and detachedly observed, The individual in this scheme was
likewise reduced, as Thoreau said, “to a cog” or wheel in this
universal machine, Social con­formity, materialism, and what
they believed to be a lack of moral commitment angered these
young men and women. In addition to their writings, their
beliefs found expression in various movements: feminism,
abolitionism, utopianism and communalism, and even the
beginnings of labor unionism.
In their opposition to the rationalistic tendencies of their age,
the Transcendentalists adopted a type of philosophy best
termed Idealism, Actually, Transcendentalism incorporates
rates elements from many philosophies and religions; Neo
Platonism, Puritan mysticism, Hinduism, Pantheism, and
European Romanticism, to name but a few, Unlike the
rationalists, idealists believe that material objects do not
have a real existence of their own. Rather, these objects are
diffused parts or aspects of God, the Over-Soul, Material
objects therefore mirror or reflect an ideal world. Thus, by
contemplating objects in nature, the individual can tran­scend
this world and discover union with God and the Ideal. The key
innate quality used by the individual to achieve this state of
union is his intuition, Intuition is granted every soul at birth.
Tangential to this belief is reincarnation, for at death idealists
believe that the individual’s soul returns to its source, God,
where it maybe again dispatched to this world as another life.
Transcendentalism greatly influenced the course of American
literature, affecting the writings of both those who adhered to
its principles and those who reacted against them.
215
Ralph Waldo Emerson: Poems
(1803—1882)
Emerson was nineteenth-century America’s most notable prophet
and sage. He was an apostle of progress and optimism, and
his dedication to self-reliant individualism inspired his fellow
Transcentialist Bronson Alcott to observe, “Emerson’s church consists
of one member—himself; He waits for the world to agree with him.
“Emerson was born in Boston, the son of a Unitarian minister and the
descendents of a long line of distinguished New England clergymen.
He was educated at the Boston Latin School and at Harvard. After
his graduation from college in 1821 Emerson taught in a Boston
school for young ladies. In 1825 he entered the Harvard Divinity
School, where he absorbed the liberal, intellec­tualized Christianity
of Unitarianism. It rejected the Calvinist ideas of predestination
and Iota/depravity, substituting instead a faith in the saving grace
of divine love and a belie! in the eventual brotherhood of man in a
Kingdom of Heaven on earth.
In 1829 Emerson was ordained the Unitarian minister of the Second
Church of Boston. He was a popular and successful preacher, but
after three years he had come to doubt the efficacy of the sacrament of
the Lord’s Supper, and his growing objections to even the remnants
of Christian dogma surviving in early nineteenth-century
Unitarianism led him to conclude that “to be a good minister it was
necessary to leave the ministers.”
After preaching his farewell sermon Emerson went on a tour of
Europe, where he met Coleridge, Carlyle, and Wordsworth and was
strongly influenced by the ideas of European Romanticism. Upon
returning to America, he began his lifelong career as a public lecturer,
which took him to meeting halts and lyceums in cities and villages
throughout much of the nation. He bought a house in Concord,
Massachusetts, and there he associated with Thoreau, Hawthorne,
Bronson Alcott, Margaret Fuller, and others who belonged to the
informal Transcendentalist Club, organized for the “exchange of
thought among those interested in the new views in philosophy,
theology, and literature.”
In Concord, Emerson became the chief spokesman of
transcendentalism in America. His philosophy was a compound of
Yankee Puritanism and Unitarianism merged with the teachings of
European romanticism. The word “transcendental” had long been
used in philosophy to describe truths that were beyond the reach of
man’s limited senses, and as a transcendentalist, Emerson argued
for intuition as a guide to universal truth. He believed that God is
all-loving and all-pervading, that His presence in men made them
divine and assured their salvation. Emerson believed that there is
an essential unity in apparent variety, that there is a correspondence
between the world and the spirit, that nature is an image in which
man can perceive the divine.
216 fieldston american reader
Emerson’s beliefs were a balance of skepticism and faith, stirred
by moral fervor. To many of his readers they have seemed neither
coherent nor complete. His early writings were rejected as “the latest
form of infidelity. “He has been called “St. Ralph, the Optimist”
and charged with having a serene ignorance of the true nature of
evil. His exaltation of intuition over reason has been dismissed as a
justification of infantile enthusiasms; his celebration of individualism
has been judged an argument for mindless self-assertiveness.
Emerson was a seer and poet, not a man of cool logic. In his letters,
essays, and poems he sought to inspire a cultural rejuvenation, to
transmit to his listeners and readers his own lofty perceptions. His
appeal lay in his rejection of outworn traditions and in his faith
in goodness and inevitable progress. His words both dazzled and
puzzled his audience. Like his philosophy, his writing seemed to
lack organization, but it swarmed with epigrams and memorable
passages. The nineteenth century found him a man who had
“something capital to say about everything, “ and his ideas influenced
American writers from Melville, Thoreau, Whitman, and Emily
Dickinson in the nineteenth century to E. A. Robinson, Robert
Frost, Hart Crane, and Wallace Stevens in the twentieth century.
Emerson’s perceptions of man and nature as symbols of universal
truth encouraged the development of the symbolist movement in
American writing. His assertion that even the commonplaces of
American the were worthy of the highest art helped to establish a
national literature. His repudiation of established traditions and
institutions encouraged a literary revolution; his ideas, expressed
in his own writing and in the works of others, have been taken
as an intellectual foundation for movements of social change
that have profoundly altered modern America. Emerson was
no political revolutionary. He preached harmony in a discordant
age, and he recognized the needs of human society as incompatible
with unrestrained individualism. As he grew older he became
increasingly conservative, but he remained a firm advocate of selfreliant idealism, and in his writings and in the example of his life
Emerson has endured as a guide for those who would shun al/foolish
consistencies and escape blind submission to fate.
EACH AND ALL
Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown
Of thee from the hill-top looking down;
The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm;
The sexton, tolling his hell at noon,
Deems not that great Napoleon
Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
Nor knowest thou what argument
Thy life to thy neighbor’s creed has lent.
volume i – fall 2007
All are needed by each one;
Nothing is fair or good alone.
I thought the sparrow’s note from heaven,
Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
I brought him home, in his nest, at even;
He sings the song, but it cheers not now,
For I did not bring home the river and sky;
He sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye.
Their flag to April’s breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood.
And fired the shot heard round the world.
The foe long since in silence slept;
Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept
Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.
The delicate shells lay on the shore;
The bubbles of the latest wave
Fresh pearls to their enamel gave,
And the bellowing of the savage sea
Greeted their safe escape to me.
I wiped away the weeds and foam,
I fetched my sea-born treasures home;
But the poor, unsightly, noisome things
Had left their beauty on the shore
With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.
On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
The lover watched his graceful maid,
As ‘mid the virgin train she strayed,
Nor knew her beauty’s best attire
Was woven still by the snow-white choir.
At last she came to this hermitage,
Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;—
The gay enchantment was undone,
A gentle wife, but fairy none.
FABLE
1837
Then I said, “I covet truth;
Beauty is unripe childhood’s cheat;—
I leave it behind with the games of youth:”
As I spoke, beneath my feet
The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath,
Running over the club-moss burrs;
I inhaled the violet’s breath;
Around me stood the oaks and firs;
Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground undo;
Over me soared the eternal sky,
Full of light and of deity;
Again I saw, again I heard,
The rolling river, the morning bird;—
Beauty through my senses stole;
I yielded myself to the perfect whole.
CONCORD HYMN
SUNG AT THE COMPLETION OF THE BATTLE
MONUMENT, JULY 4, 1837
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.
The mountain and the squirrel
Had a quarrel,
And the former called the latter “Little Prig”;
Bunt replied,
“You are doubtless very big;
But all sorts of things and weather
Must be taken in together,
To make up a year
And a sphere.
And I think it no disgrace
To occupy my place.
If I’m not so large as you,
You are not so small as I,
And not half so spry.
I’ll not deny you make
A very pretty squirrel track;
Talents differ; all is well and wisely put;
If I cannot carry forests on my back,
Neither can you crack a nut.”
DAYS
Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,’
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands.
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdoms, stars, and sky that holds them all.
I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp,
217
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I, too late,
Under her solemn fillet saw scorn.
from “NATURE”
I BECOME A TRANSPARENT EYEBALL
Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a
clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of
special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration.
I am glad to the brink of fear
In the woods, too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his
slough, and at what period soever of life is always a child.
In the woods is perpetual youth.
Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign,
a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he
should tire of them in a thousand years.
In the woods, we return to reason and faith.
There I feel that nothing can befall me in life,—no disgrace, no
calamity (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair.
Standing on the bare ground,-my head bathed by the blithe air
and uplifted into infinite space,—all mean egotism vanishes.
I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing;
I see all;
the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am
part or parcel of God.
The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and
accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances, master or
servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance.
I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty.
In the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate
than in streets or villages.
In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of
the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own
nature.
218 fieldston american reader
Henry David Thoreau: Civil Disobedience
I heartily accept the motto, “That government is best which
governs least”; and I should like to see it acted up to more
rapidly and systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to
this, which also I believe--”That government is best which
governs not at all”; and when men are prepared for it, that will
be the kind of government which the will have. Government is
at best but an expedient; but most governments are usually, and
all governments are sometimes, inexpedient. The objections
which have been brought against a standing army, and they
are many and weighty, and deserve to prevail, may also at last
be brought against a standing government. The standing army
is only an arm of the standing government. The government
itself, which is only the mode which the people have chosen to
execute their will, is equally liable to be abused and perverted
before the people can act through it. Witness the present
Mexican war, the work of comparatively a few individuals
using the standing government as their tool; for in the outset,
the people would not have consented to this measure.
This American government--what is it but a tradition, though
a recent one, endeavoring to transmit itself unimpaired to
posterity, but each instant losing some of its integrity? It has
not the vitality and force of a single living man; for a single man
can bend it to his will. It is a sort of wooden gun to the people
themselves. But it is not the less necessary for this; for the
people must have some complicated machinery or other, and
hear its din, to satisfy that idea of government which they have.
Governments show thus how successfully men can be imposed
upon, even impose on themselves, for their own advantage. It
is excellent, we must all allow. Yet this government never of
itself furthered any enterprise, but by the alacrity with which
it got out of its way. It does not keep the country free. It does
not settle the West. It does not educate. The character
inherent in the American people has done all that has been
accomplished; and it would have done somewhat more, if the
government had not sometimes got in its way. For government
is an expedient, by which men would fain succeed in letting one
another alone; and, as has been said, when it is most expedient,
the governed are most let alone by it. Trade and commerce, if
they were not made of india-rubber, would never manage to
bounce over obstacles which legislators are continually putting
in their way; and if one were to judge these men wholly by
the effects of their actions and not partly by their intentions,
they would deserve to be classed and punished with those
mischievious persons who put obstructions on the railroads.
But, to speak practically and as a citizen, unlike those who
call themselves no-government men, I ask for, not at one no
government, but at once a better government. Let every man
make known what kind of government would command his
respect, and that will be one step toward obtaining it.
After all, the practical reason why, when the power is once
in the hands of the people, a majority are permitted, and for
volume i – fall 2007
a long period continue, to rule is not because they are most
likely to be in the right, nor because this seems fairest to the
minority, but because they are physically the strongest. But a
government in which the majority rule in all cases can not be
based on justice, even as far as men understand it. Can there
not be a government in which the majorities do not virtually
decide right and wrong, but conscience?--in which majorities
decide only those questions to which the rule of expediency is
applicable? Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least
degree, resign his conscience to the legislator? WHy has every
man a conscience then? I think that we should be men first,
and subjects afterward. It is not desirable to cultivate a respect
for the law, so much as for the right. The only obligation which
I have a right to assume is to do at any time what I think right.
It is truly enough said that a corporation has no conscience;
but a corporation on conscientious men is a corporation with
a conscience. Law never made men a whit more just; and, by
means of their respect for it, even the well-disposed are daily
made the agents on injustice. A common and natural result
of an undue respect for the law is, that you may see a file of
soldiers, colonel, captain, corporal, privates, powder-monkeys,
and all, marching in admirable order over hill and dale to
the wars, against their wills, ay, against their common sense
and consciences, which makes it very steep marching indeed,
and produces a palpitation of the heart. They have no doubt
that it is a damnable business in which they are concerned;
they are all peaceably inclined. Now, what are they? Men at
all? or small movable forts and magazines, at the service of
some unscrupulous man in power? Visit the Navy Yard, and
behold a marine, such a man as an American government can
make, or such as it can make a man with its black arts--a mere
shadow and reminiscence of humanity, a man laid out alive
and standing, and already, as one may say, buried under arms
with funeral accompaniment, though it may be,
“Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the
rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the grave where out hero was buried.”
The mass of men serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as
machines, with their bodies. They are the standing army, and
the militia, jailers, constables, posse comitatus, etc. In most
cases there is no free exercise whatever of the judgement or
of the moral sense; but they put themselves on a level with
wood and earth and stones; and wooden men can perhaps
be manufactured that will serve the purpose as well. Such
command no more respect than men of straw or a lump of
dirt. They have the same sort of worth only as horses and dogs.
Yet such as these even are commonly esteemed good citizens.
Others--as most legislators, politicians, lawyers, ministers,
and office-holders--serve the state chiefly with their heads;
and, as the rarely make any moral distinctions, they are as
likely to serve the devil, without intending it, as God. A very
few--as heroes, patriots, martyrs, reformers in the great sense,
and men--serve the state with their consciences also, and so
necessarily resist it for the most part; and they are commonly
treated as enemies by it. A wise man will only be useful as a
man, and will not submit to be “clay,” and “stop a hole to keep
the wind away,” but leave that office to his dust at least:
“I am too high born to be propertied, To be a second at control,
Or useful serving-man and instrument To any sovereign state
throughout the world.”
He who gives himself entirely to his fellow men appears to
them useless and selfish; but he who gives himself partially to
them in pronounced a benefactor and philanthropist.
How does it become a man to behave toward the American
government today? I answer, that he cannot without disgrace
be associated with it. I cannot for an instant recognize that
political organization as my government which is the slave’s
government also.
All men recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right
to refuse allegiance to, and to resist, the government, when
its tyranny or its inefficiency are great and unendurable. But
almost all say that such is not the case now. But such was the
case, they think, in the Revolution of ‘75. If one were to tell me
that this was a bad government because it taxed certain foreign
commodities brought to its ports, it is most probable that I
should not make an ado about it, for I can do without them.
All machines have their friction; and possibly this does enough
good to counter-balance the evil. At any rate, it is a great evil
to make a stir about it. But when the friction comes to have its
machine, and oppression and robbery are organized, I say, let
us not have such a machine any longer. In other words, when a
sixth of the population of a nation which has undertaken to be
the refuge of liberty are slaves, and a whole country is unjustly
overrun and conquered by a foreign army, and subjected to
military law, I think that it is not too soon for honest men to
rebel and revolutionize. What makes this duty the more urgent
is that fact that the country so overrun is not our own, but ours
is the invading army.
Paley, a common authority with many on moral questions, in
his chapter on the “Duty of Submission to Civil Government,”
resolves all civil obligation into expediency; and he proceeds to
say that “so long as the interest of the whole society requires it,
that it, so long as the established government cannot be resisted
or changed without public inconveniencey, it is the will of God.
. .that the established government be obeyed--and no longer.
This principle being admitted, the justice of every particular
case of resistance is reduced to a computation of the quantity of
the danger and grievance on the one side, and of the probability
and expense of redressing it on the other.” Of this, he says,
every man shall judge for himself. But Paley appears never to
have contemplated those cases to which the rule of expediency
does not apply, in which a people, as well and an individual,
must do justice, cost what it may. If I have unjustly wrested a
plank from a drowning man, I must restore it to him though I
drown myself. This, according to Paley, would be inconvenient.
But he that would save his life, in such a case, shall lose it. This
people must cease to hold slaves, and to make war on Mexico,
though it cost them their existence as a people.
219
In their practice, nations agree with Paley; but does anyone
think that Massachusetts does exactly what is right at the
present crisis?
“A drab of stat, a cloth-o’-silver slut, To have her train borne up,
and her soul trail in the dirt.”
Practically speaking, the opponents to a reform in
Massachusetts are not a hundred thousand politicians at the
South, but a hundred thousand merchants and farmers here,
who are more interested in commerce and agriculture than
they are in humanity, and are not prepared to do justice to
the slave and to Mexico, cost what it may. I quarrel not with
far-off foes, but with those who, neat at home, co-operate with,
and do the bidding of, those far away, and without whom the
latter would be harmless. We are accustomed to say, that the
mass of men are unprepared; but improvement is slow, because
the few are not as materially wiser or better than the many.
It is not so important that many should be good as you, as
that there be some absolute goodness somewhere; for that will
leaven the whole lump. There are thousands who are in opinion
opposed to slavery and to the war, who yet in effect do nothing
to put an end to them; who, esteeming themselves children
of Washington and Franklin, sit down with their hands in
their pockets, and say that they know not what to do, and
do nothing; who even postpone the question of freedom to
the question of free trade, and quietly read the prices-current
along with the latest advices from Mexico, after dinner, and, it
may be, fall asleep over them both. What is the price-current
of an honest man and patriot today? They hesitate, and they
regret, and sometimes they petition; but they do nothing in
earnest and with effect. They will wait, well disposed, for other
to remedy the evil, that they may no longer have it to regret. At
most, they give up only a cheap vote, and a feeble countenance
and Godspeed, to the right, as it goes by them. There are nine
hundred and ninety-nine patrons of virtue to one virtuous
man. But it is easier to deal with the real possessor of a thing
than with the temporary guardian of it.
All voting is a sort of gaming, like checkers or backgammon,
with a slight moral tinge to it, a playing with right and wrong,
with moral questions; and betting naturally accompanies it. The
character of the voters is not staked. I cast my vote, perchance,
as I think right; but I am not vitally concerned that that right
should prevail. I am willing to leave it to the majority. Its
obligation, therefore, never exceeds that of expediency. Even
voting for the right is doing nothing for it. It is only expressing
to men feebly your desire that it should prevail. A wise man
will not leave the right to the mercy of chance, nor wish it to
prevail through the power of the majority. There is but little
virtue in the action of masses of men. When the majority shall
at length vote for the abolition of slavery, it will be because
they are indifferent to slavery, or because there is but little
slavery left to be abolished by their vote. They will then be the
only slaves. Only his vote can hasten the abolition of slavery
who asserts his own freedom by his vote.
I hear of a convention to be held at Baltimore, or elsewhere, for
220 fieldston american reader
the selection of a candidate for the Presidency, made up chiefly
of editors, and men who are politicians by profession; but I
think, what is it to any independent, intelligent, and respectable
man what decision they may come to? Shall we not have the
advantage of this wisdom and honesty, nevertheless? Can we
not count upon some independent votes? Are there not many
individuals in the country who do not attend conventions? But
no: I find that the respectable man, so called, has immediately
drifted from his position, and despairs of his country, when
his country has more reasons to despair of him. He forthwith
adopts one of the candidates thus selected as the only available
one, thus proving that he is himself available for any purposes
of the demagogue. His vote is of no more worth than that of
any unprincipled foreigner or hireling native, who may have
been bought. O for a man who is a man, and, and my neighbor
says, has a bone is his back which you cannot pass your hand
through! Our statistics are at fault: the population has been
returned too large. How many men are there to a square
thousand miles in the country? Hardly one. Does not America
offer any inducement for men to settle here? The American
has dwindled into an Odd Fellow--one who may be known
by the development of his organ of gregariousness, and a
manifest lack of intellect and cheerful self-reliance; whose first
and chief concern, on coming into the world, is to see that the
almshouses are in good repair; and, before yet he has lawfully
donned the virile garb, to collect a fund to the support of the
widows and orphans that may be; who, in short, ventures to
live only by the aid of the Mutual Insurance company, which
has promised to bury him decently.
It is not a man’s duty, as a matter of course, to devote himself
to the eradication of any, even to most enormous, wrong; he
may still properly have other concerns to engage him; but it is
his duty, at least, to wash his hands of it, and, if he gives it no
thought longer, not to give it practically his support. If I devote
myself to other pursuits and contemplations, I must first see,
at least, that I do not pursue them sitting upon another man’s
shoulders. I must get off him first, that he may pursue his
contemplations too. See what gross inconsistency is tolerated.
I have heard some of my townsmen say, “I should like to have
them order me out to help put down an insurrection of the slaves,
or to march to Mexico--see if I would go”; and yet these very
men have each, directly by their allegiance, and so indirectly,
at least, by their money, furnished a substitute. The soldier is
applauded who refuses to serve in an unjust war by those who
do not refuse to sustain the unjust government which makes
the war; is applauded by those whose own act and authority
he disregards and sets at naught; as if the state were penitent
to that degree that it hired one to scourge it while it sinned,
but not to that degree that it left off sinning for a moment.
Thus, under the name of Order and Civil Government, we
are all made at last to pay homage to and support our own
meanness. After the first blush of sin comes its indifference;
and from immoral it becomes, as it were, unmoral, and not
quite unnecessary to that life which we have made.
volume i – fall 2007
The broadest and most prevalent error requires the most
disinterested virtue to sustain it. The slight reproach to which
the virtue of patriotism is commonly liable, the noble are
most likely to incur. Those who, while they disapprove of
the character and measures of a government, yield to it their
allegiance and support are undoubtedly its most conscientious
supporters, and so frequently the most serious obstacles to
reform. Some are petitioning the State to dissolve the Union,
to disregard the requisitions of the President. Why do they not
dissolve it themselves--the union between themselves and the
State--and refuse to pay their quota into its treasury? Do not
they stand in same relation to the State that the State does to
the Union? And have not the same reasons prevented the State
from resisting the Union which have prevented them from
resisting the State?
How can a man be satisfied to entertain and opinion merely,
and enjoy it? Is there any enjoyment in it, if his opinion is
that he is aggrieved? If you are cheated out of a single dollar
by your neighbor, you do not rest satisfied with knowing you
are cheated, or with saying that you are cheated, or even with
petitioning him to pay you your due; but you take effectual
steps at once to obtain the full amount, and see to it that you
are never cheated again. Action from principle, the perception
and the performance of right, changes things and relations; it
is essentially revolutionary, and does not consist wholly with
anything which was. It not only divided States and churches,
it divides families; ay, it divides the individual, separating the
diabolical in him from the divine.
Unjust laws exist: shall we be content to obey them, or shall
we endeavor to amend them, and obey them until we have
succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once? Men, generally,
under such a government as this, think that they ought to wait
until they have persuaded the majority to alter them. They
think that, if they should resist, the remedy would be worse
than the evil. But it is the fault of the government itself that
the remedy is worse than the evil. It makes it worse. Why is it
not more apt to anticipate and provide for reform? Why does it
not cherish its wise minority? Why does it cry and resist before
it is hurt? Why does it not encourage its citizens to put out
its faults, and do better than it would have them? Why does
it always crucify Christ and excommunicate Copernicus and
Luther, and pronounce Washington and Franklin rebels?
One would think, that a deliberate and practical denial of
its authority was the only offense never contemplated by its
government; else, why has it not assigned its definite, its
suitable and proportionate, penalty? If a man who has no
property refuses but once to earn nine shillings for the State,
he is put in prison for a period unlimited by any law that I
know, and determined only by the discretion of those who put
him there; but if he should steal ninety times nine shillings
from the State, he is soon permitted to go at large again.
If the injustice is part of the necessary friction of the machine
of government, let it go, let it go: perchance it will wear
smooth--certainly the machine will wear out. If the injustice
has a spring, or a pulley, or a rope, or a crank, exclusively for
itself, then perhaps you may consider whether the remedy will
not be worse than the evil; but if it is of such a nature that it
requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then I say,
break the law. Let your life be a counter-friction to stop the
machine. What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not
lend myself to the wrong which I condemn.
As for adopting the ways of the State has provided for
remedying the evil, I know not of such ways. They take too
much time, and a man’s life will be gone. I have other affairs
to attend to. I came into this world, not chiefly to make this
a good place to live in, but to live in it, be it good or bad. A
man has not everything to do, but something; and because
he cannot do everything, it is not necessary that he should be
petitioning the Governor or the Legislature any more than it
is theirs to petition me; and if they should not hear my petition,
what should I do then? But in this case the State has provided
no way: its very Constitution is the evil. This may seem to be
harsh and stubborn and unconcilliatory; but it is to treat with
the utmost kindness and consideration the only spirit that can
appreciate or deserves it. So is all change for the better, like
birth and death, which convulse the body.
I do not hesitate to say, that those who call themselves
Abolitionists should at once effectually withdraw their
support, both in person and property, from the government
of Massachusetts, and not wait till they constitute a majority
of one, before they suffer the right to prevail through them. I
think that it is enough if they have God on their side, without
waiting for that other one. Moreover, any man more right than
his neighbors constitutes a majority of one already.
I meet this American government, or its representative, the
State government, directly, and face to face, once a year-no more--in the person of its tax-gatherer; this is the only
mode in which a man situated as I am necessarily meets it;
and it then says distinctly, Recognize me; and the simplest,
the most effectual, and, in the present posture of affairs, the
indispensablest mode of treating with it on this head, of
expressing your little satisfaction with and love for it, is to deny
it then. My civil neighbor, the tax-gatherer, is the very man I
have to deal with--for it is, after all, with men and not with
parchment that I quarrel--and he has voluntarily chosen to be
an agent of the government. How shall he ever know well that
he is and does as an officer of the government, or as a man, until
he is obliged to consider whether he will treat me, his neighbor,
for whom he has respect, as a neighbor and well-disposed
man, or as a maniac and disturber of the peace, and see if he
can get over this obstruction to his neighborlines without a
ruder and more impetuous thought or speech corresponding
with his action. I know this well, that if one thousand, if one
hundred, if ten men whom I could name--if ten honest men
only--ay, if one HONEST man, in this State of Massachusetts,
ceasing to hold slaves, were actually to withdraw from this copartnership, and be locked up in the county jail therefor, it
would be the abolition of slavery in America. For it matters
221
not how small the beginning may seem to be: what is once well
done is done forever. But we love better to talk about it: that we
say is our mission. Reform keeps many scores of newspapers
in its service, but not one man. If my esteemed neighbor, the
State’s ambassador, who will devote his days to the settlement
of the question of human rights in the Council Chamber,
instead of being threatened with the prisons of Carolina, were
to sit down the prisoner of Massachusetts, that State which is
so anxious to foist the sin of slavery upon her sister--though
at present she can discover only an act of inhospitality to be
the ground of a quarrel with her--the Legislature would not
wholly waive the subject of the following winter.
Under a government which imprisons unjustly, the true place
for a just man is also a prison. The proper place today, the only
place which Massachusetts has provided for her freer and less
despondent spirits, is in her prisons, to be put out and locked out
of the State by her own act, as they have already put themselves
out by their principles. It is there that the fugitive slave, and
the Mexican prisoner on parole, and the Indian come to plead
the wrongs of his race should find them; on that separate but
more free and honorable ground, where the State places those
who are not with her, but against her--the only house in a slave
State in which a free man can abide with honor. If any think
that their influence would be lost there, and their voices no
longer afflict the ear of the State, that they would not be as an
enemy within its walls, they do not know by how much truth
is stronger than error, nor how much more eloquently and
effectively he can combat injustice who has experienced a little
in his own person. Cast your whole vote, not a strip of paper
merely, but your whole influence. A minority is powerless while
it conforms to the majority; it is not even a minority then; but it
is irresistible when it clogs by its whole weight. If the alternative
is to keep all just men in prison, or give up war and slavery, the
State will not hesitate which to choose. If a thousand men were
not to pay their tax bills this year, that would not be a violent
and bloody measure, as it would be to pay them, and enable
the State to commit violence and shed innocent blood. This
is, in fact, the definition of a peaceable revolution, if any such
is possible. If the tax-gatherer, or any other public officer, asks
me, as one has done, “But what shall I do?” my answer is, “If
you really wish to do anything, resign your office.” When the
subject has refused allegiance, and the officer has resigned from
office, then the revolution is accomplished. But even suppose
blood shed when the conscience is wounded? Through this
wound a man’s real manhood and immortality flow out, and
he bleeds to an everlasting death. I see this blood flowing now.
I have contemplated the imprisonment of the offender, rather
than the seizure of his goods--though both will serve the
same purpose--because they who assert the purest right, and
consequently are most dangerous to a corrupt State, commonly
have not spent much time in accumulating property. To such
the State renders comparatively small service, and a slight tax
is wont to appear exorbitant, particularly if they are obliged to
earn it by special labor with their hands. If there were one who
222 fieldston american reader
lived wholly without the use of money, the State itself would
hesitate to demand it of him. But the rich man--not to make any
invidious comparison--is always sold to the institution which
makes him rich. Absolutely speaking, the more money, the less
virtue; for money comes between a man and his objects, and
obtains them for him; it was certainly no great virtue to obtain
it. It puts to rest many questions which he would otherwise be
taxed to answer; while the only new question which it puts is
the hard but superfluous one, how to spend it. Thus his moral
ground is taken from under his feet. The opportunities of living
are diminished in proportion as that are called the “means” are
increased. The best thing a man can do for his culture when
he is rich is to endeavor to carry out those schemes which he
entertained when he was poor. Christ answered the Herodians
according to their condition. “Show me the tribute-money,”
said he--and one took a penny out of his pocket--if you use
money which has the image of Caesar on it, and which he has
made current and valuable, that is, if you are men of the State,
and gladly enjoy the advantages of Caesar’s government, then
pay him back some of his own when he demands it. “Render
therefore to Caesar that which is Caesar’s and to God those
things which are God’s”--leaving them no wiser than before as
to which was which; for they did not wish to know.
When I converse with the freest of my neighbors, I perceive that,
whatever they may say about the magnitude and seriousness of
the question, and their regard for the public tranquillity, the
long and the short of the matter is, that they cannot spare the
protection of the existing government, and they dread the
consequences to their property and families of disobedience to
it. For my own part, I should not like to think that I ever rely
on the protection of the State. But, if I deny the authority of the
State when it presents its tax bill, it will soon take and waste all
my property, and so harass me and my children without end.
This is hard. This makes it impossible for a man to live honestly,
and at the same time comfortably, in outward respects. It will
not be worth the while to accumulate property; that would
be sure to go again. You must hire or squat somewhere, and
raise but a small crop, and eat that soon. You must live within
yourself, and depend upon yourself always tucked up and ready
for a start, and not have many affairs. A man may grow rich in
Turkey even, if he will be in all respects a good subject of the
Turkish government. Confucius said: “If a state is governed
by the principles of reason, poverty and misery are subjects
of shame; if a state is not governed by the principles of reason,
riches and honors are subjects of shame.” No: until I want the
protection of Massachusetts to be extended to me in some
distant Southern port, where my liberty is endangered, or until
I am bent solely on building up an estate at home by peaceful
enterprise, I can afford to refuse allegiance to Massachusetts,
and her right to my property and life. It costs me less in every
sense to incur the penalty of disobedience to the State than it
would to obey. I should feel as if I were worth less in that case.
Some years ago, the State met me in behalf of the Church, and
commanded me to pay a certain sum toward the support of a
volume i – fall 2007
clergyman whose preaching my father attended, but never I
myself. “Pay,” it said, “or be locked up in the jail.” I declined to
pay. But, unfortunately, another man saw fit to pay it. I did not
see why the schoolmaster should be taxed to support the priest,
and not the priest the schoolmaster; for I was not the State’s
schoolmaster, but I supported myself by voluntary subscription.
I did not see why the lyceum should not present its tax bill,
and have the State to back its demand, as well as the Church.
However, as the request of the selectmen, I condescended to
make some such statement as this in writing: “Know all men
by these presents, that I, Henry Thoreau, do not wish to be
regarded as a member of any society which I have not joined.”
This I gave to the town clerk; and he has it. The State, having
thus learned that I did not wish to be regarded as a member of
that church, has never made a like demand on me since; though
it said that it must adhere to its original presumption that time.
If I had known how to name them, I should then have signed
off in detail from all the societies which I never signed on to;
but I did not know where to find such a complete list.
I have paid no poll tax for six years. I was put into a jail once
on this account, for one night; and, as I stood considering the
walls of solid stone, two or three feet thick, the door of wood
and iron, a foot thick, and the iron grating which strained the
light, I could not help being struck with the foolishness of that
institution which treated my as if I were mere flesh and blood
and bones, to be locked up. I wondered that it should have
concluded at length that this was the best use it could put me
to, and had never thought to avail itself of my services in some
way. I saw that, if there was a wall of stone between me and
my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to climb or
break through before they could get to be as free as I was. I
did nor for a moment feel confined, and the walls seemed a
great waste of stone and mortar. I felt as if I alone of all my
townsmen had paid my tax. They plainly did not know how to
treat me, but behaved like persons who are underbred. In every
threat and in every compliment there was a blunder; for they
thought that my chief desire was to stand the other side of that
stone wall. I could not but smile to see how industriously they
locked the door on my meditations, which followed them out
again without let or hindrance, and they were really all that
was dangerous. As they could not reach me, they had resolved
to punish my body; just as boys, if they cannot come at some
person against whom they have a spite, will abuse his dog. I
saw that the State was half-witted, that it was timid as a lone
woman with her silver spoons, and that it did not know its
friends from its foes, and I lost all my remaining respect for it,
and pitied it.
Thus the state never intentionally confronts a man’s sense,
intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses. It is not
armed with superior with or honesty, but with superior physical
strength. I was not born to be forced. I will breathe after my
own fashion. Let us see who is the strongest. What force has
a multitude? They only can force me who obey a higher law
than I. They force me to become like themselves. I do not hear
of men being forced to live this way or that by masses of men.
What sort of life were that to live? When I meet a government
which says to me, “Your money our your life,” why should I be
in haste to give it my money? It may be in a great strait, and
not know what to do: I cannot help that. It must help itself;
do as I do. It is not worth the while to snivel about it. I am
not responsible for the successful working of the machinery
of society. I am not the son of the engineer. I perceive that,
when an acorn and a chestnut fall side by side, the one does
not remain inert to make way for the other, but both obey their
own laws, and spring and grow and flourish as best they can,
till one, perchance, overshadows and destroys the other. If a
plant cannot live according to nature, it dies; and so a man.
The night in prison was novel and interesting enough. The
prisoners in their shirtsleeves were enjoying a chat and the
evening air in the doorway, when I entered. But the jailer
said, “Come, boys, it is time to lock up”; and so they dispersed,
and I heard the sound of their steps returning into the hollow
apartments. My room-mate was introduced to me by the
jailer as “a first-rate fellow and clever man.” When the door
was locked, he showed me where to hang my hat, and how
he managed matters there. The rooms were whitewashed
once a month; and this one, at least, was the whitest, most
simply furnished, and probably neatest apartment in town.
He naturally wanted to know where I came from, and what
brought me there; and, when I had told him, I asked him in my
turn how he came there, presuming him to be an honest an, of
course; and as the world goes, I believe he was. “Why,” said he,
“they accuse me of burning a barn; but I never did it.” As near
as I could discover, he had probably gone to bed in a barn when
drunk, and smoked his pipe there; and so a barn was burnt. He
had the reputation of being a clever man, had been there some
three months waiting for his trial to come on, and would have
to wait as much longer; but he was quite domesticated and
contented, since he got his board for nothing, and thought that
he was well treated.
He occupied one window, and I the other; and I saw that if
one stayed there long, his principal business would be to look
out the window. I had soon read all the tracts that were left
there, and examined where former prisoners had broken out,
and where a grate had been sawed off, and heard the history of
the various occupants of that room; for I found that even there
there was a history and a gossip which never circulated beyond
the walls of the jail. Probably this is the only house in the town
where verses are composed, which are afterward printed in a
circular form, but not published. I was shown quite a long list
of young men who had been detected in an attempt to escape,
who avenged themselves by singing them.
I pumped my fellow-prisoner as dry as I could, for fear I should
never see him again; but at length he showed me which was my
bed, and left me to blow out the lamp.
It was like travelling into a far country, such as I had never
expected to behold, to lie there for one night. It seemed to me
that I never had heard the town clock strike before, not the
223
evening sounds of the village; for we slept with the windows
open, which were inside the grating. It was to see my native
village in the light of the Middle Ages, and our Concord was
turned into a Rhine stream, and visions of knights and castles
passed before me. They were the voices of old burghers that I
heard in the streets. I was an involuntary spectator and auditor
of whatever was done and said in the kitchen of the adjacent
village inn--a wholly new and rare experience to me. It was a
closer view of my native town. I was fairly inside of it. I never
had seen its institutions before. This is one of its peculiar
institutions; for it is a shire town. I began to comprehend what
its inhabitants were about.
In the morning, our breakfasts were put through the hole in
the door, in small oblong-square tin pans, made to fit, and
holding a pint of chocolate, with brown bread, and an iron
spoon. When they called for the vessels again, I was green
enough to return what bread I had left, but my comrade seized
it, and said that I should lay that up for lunch or dinner. Soon
after he was let out to work at haying in a neighboring field,
whither he went every day, and would not be back till noon; so
he bade me good day, saying that he doubted if he should see
me again.
When I came out of prison--for some one interfered, and paid
that tax--I did not perceive that great changes had taken place
on the common, such as he observed who went in a youth and
emerged a gray-headed man; and yet a change had come to my
eyes come over the scene--the town, and State, and country,
greater than any that mere time could effect. I saw yet more
distinctly the State in which I lived. I saw to what extent the
people among whom I lived could be trusted as good neighbors
and friends; that their friendship was for summer weather only;
that they did not greatly propose to do right; that they were
a distinct race from me by their prejudices and superstitions,
as the Chinamen and Malays are that in their sacrifices to
humanity they ran no risks, not even to their property; that
after all they were not so noble but they treated the thief as he
had treated them, and hoped, by a certain outward observance
and a few prayers, and by walking in a particular straight
through useless path from time to time, to save their souls.
This may be to judge my neighbors harshly; for I believe that
many of them are not aware that they have such an institution
as the jail in their village.
It was formerly the custom in our village, when a poor debtor
came out of jail, for his acquaintances to salute him, looking
through their fingers, which were crossed to represent the jail
window, “How do ye do?” My neighbors did not this salute
me, but first looked at me, and then at one another, as if I had
returned from a long journey. I was put into jail as I was going
to the shoemaker’s to get a shoe which was mender. When I was
let out the next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand, and,
having put on my mended show, joined a huckleberry party,
who were impatient to put themselves under my conduct; and
in half an hour--for the horse was soon tackled--was in the
midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our highest hills, two
224 fieldston american reader
miles off, and then the State was nowhere to be seen.
This is the whole history of “My Prisons.”
I have never declined paying the highway tax, because I am as
desirous of being a good neighbor as I am of being a bad subject;
and as for supporting schools, I am doing my part to educate
my fellow countrymen now. It is for no particular item in the
tax bill that I refuse to pay it. I simply wish to refuse allegiance
to the State, to withdraw and stand aloof from it effectually. I
do not care to trace the course of my dollar, if I could, till it
buys a man a musket to shoot one with--the dollar is innocent-but I am concerned to trace the effects of my allegiance. In fact,
I quietly declare war with the State, after my fashion, though
I will still make use and get what advantages of her I can, as is
usual in such cases.
If others pay the tax which is demanded of me, from a sympathy
with the State, they do but what they have already done in
their own case, or rather they abet injustice to a greater extent
than the State requires. If they pay the tax from a mistaken
interest in the individual taxed, to save his property, or prevent
his going to jail, it is because they have not considered wisely
how far they let their private feelings interfere with the public
good.
This, then is my position at present. But one cannot be too
much on his guard in such a case, lest his actions be biased by
obstinacy or an undue regard for the opinions of men. Let him
see that he does only what belongs to himself and to the hour.
I think sometimes, Why, this people mean well, they are only
ignorant; they would do better if they knew how: why give
your neighbors this pain to treat you as they are not inclined
to? But I think again, This is no reason why I should do as they
do, or permit others to suffer much greater pain of a different
kind. Again, I sometimes say to myself, When many millions
of men, without heat, without ill will, without personal feelings
of any kind, demand of you a few shillings only, without the
possibility, such is their constitution, of retracting or altering
their present demand, and without the possibility, on your side,
of appeal to any other millions, why expose yourself to this
overwhelming brute force? You do not resist cold and hunger,
the winds and the waves, thus obstinately; you quietly submit
to a thousand similar necessities. You do not put your head into
the fire. But just in proportion as I regard this as not wholly
a brute force, but partly a human force, and consider that I
have relations to those millions as to so many millions of men,
and not of mere brute or inanimate things, I see that appeal is
possible, first and instantaneously, from them to the Maker of
them, and, secondly, from them to themselves. But if I put my
head deliberately into the fire, there is no appeal to fire or to
the Maker for fire, and I have only myself to blame. If I could
convince myself that I have any right to be satisfied with men
as they are, and to treat them accordingly, and not according,
in some respects, to my requisitions and expectations of what
they and I ought to be, then, like a good Mussulman and
fatalist, I should endeavor to be satisfied with things as they
are, and say it is the will of God. And, above all, there is this
volume i – fall 2007
difference between resisting this and a purely brute or natural
force, that I can resist this with some effect; but I cannot expect,
like Orpheus, to change the nature of the rocks and trees and
beasts.
I do not wish to quarrel with any man or nation. I do not wish
to split hairs, to make fine distinctions, or set myself up as
better than my neighbors. I seek rather, I may say, even an
excuse for conforming to the laws of the land. I am but too
ready to conform to them. Indeed, I have reason to suspect
myself on this head; and each year, as the tax-gatherer comes
round, I find myself disposed to review the acts and position of
the general and State governments, and the spirit of the people
to discover a pretext for conformity.
“We must affect our country as our parents, And if at any time
we alienate Out love or industry from doing it honor, We must
respect effects and teach the soul Matter of conscience and
religion, And not desire of rule or benefit.”
I believe that the State will soon be able to take all my work
of this sort out of my hands, and then I shall be no better
patriot than my fellow-countrymen. Seen from a lower point
of view, the Constitution, with all its faults, is very good; the
law and the courts are very respectable; even this State and this
American government are, in many respects, very admirable,
and rare things, to be thankful for, such as a great many have
described them; seen from a higher still, and the highest, who
shall say what they are, or that they are worth looking at or
thinking of at all?
However, the government does not concern me much, and I
shall bestow the fewest possible thoughts on it. It is not many
moments that I live under a government, even in this world. If
a man is thought-free, fancy-free, imagination-free, that which
is not never for a long time appearing to be to him, unwise
rulers or reformers cannot fatally interrupt him.
I know that most men think differently from myself; but those
whose lives are by profession devoted to the study of these or
kindred subjects content me as little as any. Statesmen and
legislators, standing so completely within the institution,
never distinctly and nakedly behold it. They speak of moving
society, but have no resting-place without it. They may be men
of a certain experience and discrimination, and have no doubt
invented ingenious and even useful systems, for which we
sincerely thank them; but all their wit and usefulness lie within
certain not very wide limits. They are wont to forget that the
world is not governed by policy and expediency. Webster never
goes behind government, and so cannot speak with authority
about it. His words are wisdom to those legislators who
contemplate no essential reform in the existing government;
but for thinkers, and those who legislate for all tim, he never
once glances at the subject. I know of those whose serene and
wise speculations on this theme would soon reveal the limits
of his mind’s range and hospitality. Yet, compared with the
cheap professions of most reformers, and the still cheaper
wisdom an eloquence of politicians in general, his are almost
the only sensible and valuable words, and we thank Heaven for
him. Comparatively, he is always strong, original, and, above
all, practical. Still, his quality is not wisdom, but prudence.
The lawyer’s truth is not Truth, but consistency or a consistent
expediency. Truth is always in harmony with herself, and is not
concerned chiefly to reveal the justice that may consist with
wrong-doing. He well deserves to be called, as he has been
called, the Defender of the Constitution. There are really no
blows to be given him but defensive ones. He is not a leader, but
a follower. His leaders are the men of ‘87. “I have never made
an effort,” he says, “and never propose to make an effort; I have
never countenanced an effort, and never mean to countenance
an effort, to disturb the arrangement as originally made, by
which various States came into the Union.” Still thinking of
the sanction which the Constitution gives to slavery, he says,
“Because it was part of the original compact--let it stand.”
Notwithstanding his special acuteness and ability, he is unable
to take a fact out of its merely political relations, and behold it
as it lies absolutely to be disposed of by the intellect--what, for
instance, it behooves a man to do here in American today with
regard to slavery--but ventures, or is driven, to make some
such desperate answer to the following, while professing to
speak absolutely, and as a private man--from which what new
and singular of social duties might be inferred? “The manner,”
says he, “in which the governments of the States where slavery
exists are to regulate it is for their own consideration, under
the responsibility to their constituents, to the general laws of
propriety, humanity, and justice, and to God. Associations
formed elsewhere, springing from a feeling of humanity, or any
other cause, have nothing whatever to do with it. They have
never received any encouragement from me and they never
will. [These extracts have been inserted since the lecture was
read -HDT]
They who know of no purer sources of truth, who have traced
up its stream no higher, stand, and wisely stand, by the Bible
and the Constitution, and drink at it there with reverence
and humanity; but they who behold where it comes trickling
into this lake or that pool, gird up their loins once more, and
continue their pilgrimage toward its fountainhead.
No man with a genius for legislation has appeared in America.
They are rare in the history of the world. There are orators,
politicians, and eloquent men, by the thousand; but the
speaker has not yet opened his mouth to speak who is capable
of settling the much-vexed questions of the day. We love
eloquence for its own sake, and not for any truth which it may
utter, or any heroism it may inspire. Our legislators have not
yet learned the comparative value of free trade and of freed,
of union, and of rectitude, to a nation. They have no genius
or talent for comparatively humble questions of taxation and
finance, commerce and manufactures and agriculture. If we
were left solely to the wordy wit of legislators in Congress for
our guidance, uncorrected by the seasonable experience and
the effectual complaints of the people, America would not long
retain her rank among the nations. For eighteen hundred years,
though perchance I have no right to say it, the New Testament
225
has been written; yet where is the legislator who has wisdom
and practical talent enough to avail himself of the light which
it sheds on the science of legislation.
The authority of government, even such as I am willing to submit
to--for I will cheerfully obey those who know and can do better
than I, and in many things even those who neither know nor
can do so well--is still an impure one: to be strictly just, it must
have the sanction and consent of the governed. It can have no
pure right over my person and property but what I concede to
it. The progress from an absolute to a limited monarchy, from
a limited monarchy to a democracy, is a progress toward a true
respect for the individual. Even the Chinese philosopher was
wise enough to regard the individual as the basis of the empire.
Is a democracy, such as we know it, the last improvement
possible in government? Is it not possible to take a step further
towards recognizing and organizing the rights of man? There
will never be a really free and enlightened State until the State
comes to recognize the individual as a higher and independent
power, from which all its own power and authority are derived,
and treats him accordingly. I please myself with imagining a
State at last which can afford to be just to all men, and to treat
the individual with respect as a neighbor; which even would
not think it inconsistent with its own repose if a few were to
live aloof from it, not meddling with it, nor embraced by it,
who fulfilled all the duties of neighbors and fellow men. A
State which bore this kind of fruit, and suffered it to drop off
as fast as it ripened, would prepare the way for a still more
perfect and glorious State, which I have also imagined, but not
yet anywhere seen.
Martin Luther King, Jr.:
Letter from a Birmingham Jail
In the spring of 1963, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference
and Martin Luther King, Jr., joined Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth’s
Birmingham movement to demand the desegregation of what was
known as the most racist and segregated city in America. The
opposition was strident and brutal, with Bull Connor’s police
using fire hoses and billy clubs to repel the African-American
demonstrators. Even when SCLC mobilized the young people of
Birmingham to lead the marches down­town, police terrorized the
children, police dogs on them. The pictures from those demonstrations
helped galvanize Americans every-where in support of civil rights
legislation and eventually forced the Kennedy administration to
take a more activist stance in support of civil rights.
In the midst of these demonstrations, King was arrested. While in
jail, he responded in this letter to a statement of “moderate” white
ministers in Birmingham who had asked that the demonstrations be
curtailed, and who seemed to blame the victims of violence as much
as not more than the perpetrators. Here, King eloquently preaches
his own sermon to those ministers, calling into question a position
that would use “moderation” as a means of reinforcing oppression.
King’s sermon is similar to an Old Testament ‘ jeremiad” where the
prophets of Israel insisted on declaring the truth about their people.
MY DEAR FELLOW CLERGYMEN:
While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across
your recent statement calling my present activities “unwise and
un­timely.” Seldom do I pause to answer criticism of my work
and ideas. . . . But since I feel that you are men of genuine good
will and that your criticisms are sincerely set forth, I want to
try to answer your statement in what I hope will be patient and
reasonable terms.
I think I should indicate why I am here in Birmingham,
since you have been influenced by the view which argues
against “outsiders coming in.” . . . I am here because I have
organizational ties here. . . . But more basically, I am in
Birmingham because injus­tice is here.
Moreover, I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all commu­
nities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be
concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice
anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in
an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment
of destiny.
Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never
again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial “outside
agitator” idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can
never be con­sidered an outsider anywhere within its bounds.
You deplore the demonstrations taking place in Birmingham.
But your statement, I am sorry to say, fails to express a
226 fieldston american reader
volume i – fall 2007
similar concern for the conditions that brought about the
demonstrations.
I am sure that none of you would want to rest content with the
superficial kind of social analysis that deals merely with effects
and does not grapple with underlying causes. It is unfortunate
that demonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is
even more unfortunate that the city’s white power structure
left the Negro community with no alternative. In any
nonviolent campaign there are four basic steps: collection of
the facts to determine whether injustices exist; negotiation;
self-purification; and direct action. We have gone through all
these steps in Birmingham.
There can be no gainsaying the fact that racial injustice
engulfs this community. Birmingham is probably the most
thoroughly segregated city in the United States. Its ugly record
of brutality is widely know. Negroes have experienced grossly
unjust treatment in the courts. There have been more unsolved
bombing of Negro homes and churches in Birmingham than
in any other city in the nation. These are the hard, brutal facts
of the case. . .
On the basis of these conditions, Negro leaders sought to negoti­
ate with the city fathers. But the latter consistently refused to
en-gage in good-faith negotiation. Then, last September, came
the opportunity to talk with leaders of Birmingham’s economic
com­munity. In the course of the negotiations, certain promises
were made by the merchants for example, to remove the stores’
humili­ating racial signs. On the basis of these promises, the
Revered Fred Shuttlesworth and the leaders of the Alabama
Christian Movement for Human Rights agreed to a moratorium
on all demonstrations. As the weeks and months went by, we
realized that we were the victims of a broken promise. A few
signs, briefly removed, returned; the others remained.
As in so many past experiences, our hopes had been blasted,
and the shadow of deep disappointment settled upon us. We
had no alternative except to prepare for direct action, whereby
we would present our very bodies as a means of laying our
case before the conscience of the local and the national
community.
Mindful of the difficulties involved, we decided to undertake
the process of self-purification. We began a series of workshops
on nonviolence, and we repeatedly asked ourselves: “Are you
able to accept blows without retaliation?” “Are you able to
endure the or­deal of jail?” .
You may well ask, “Why direct action? Why sit-ins, marches,
and so forth? Isn’t negotiation a better path?” You are quite
right in calling for negotiation. Indeed, this is the very purpose
of direct action. Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such
a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which
has constantly re­fused to negotiate is forced to confront the
issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer
be ignored.
My citing the creation of tension as part of the work of the non­
violent resister may sound rather shocking. But I must confess
that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” I have earnestly
opposed violent tension, but there is a type of constructive,
nonviolent ten­sion which is necessary for growth.
Just as Socrates felt that is was necessary to create a tension
in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage
of myths and half-truths to the unfettered realm of creative
analysis and objective appraisal, s~ must we see the need for
nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that
will help men rise from the dark
depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood.
The purpose of our direct-action program is to create a
situation so crisis-packed that it will inevitably open the
door to negotiation. I therefore concur with you in your call
for negotiation. Too long has our beloved Southland been
bogged down in a tragic effort to live in monologue rather than
dialogue.
One of the basic points in your statement is that the action that I
and my associates have taken in Birmingham is untimely. Some
have asked: “Why didn’t you give the new city administration
time to act?” The only answer that I can give to this query
is that the new Birmingham administration must be prodded
about as much as the outgoing one, before it will act.
We have not made a single gain in civil rights without
determined legal and nonviolent pressure. . . . Lamentably,
it is an historical fact that privileged groups seldom give up
their privileges volun­tarily. Individuals may see the moral light
and voluntarily give up their unjust posture; but, as Reinhold
Niebuhr has reminded us, groups tend to be more immoral
than individuals.
We know through painful experience that freedom is never
volun­tarily given by the oppressor. It must be demanded by
the op­pressed. Frankly, I have yet to engage in a direct-action
campaign that was “well timed” in view of those who have not
suffered unduly from the disease of segregation.
For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the
ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait!” has
almost al­ways meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one
of our distin­guished jurists, that justice too long delayed is
justice denied.”
We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional
and God-given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving
with jet like speed toward gaining political independence, but
we still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of
coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have
never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.”
But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and
fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim;
when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and
even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast
majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in
an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society;
when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech
stammering as you seek to explain to your six-yea-old daughter
227
why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just
been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in
her eyes when she is told that Flintown is closed to colored
children, and see omi­nous clouds of inferiority beginning to
form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort
her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness
toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer
for a five-year-old son who is asking, “Daddy, why do white
people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a crosscountry drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night
in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no
motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and
day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when
your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name be-comes
“boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,”
and your wife and mother are never given the respected title
“Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by
the fact that you are a Negro, living-constantly at tiptoe stance,
never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued
with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever
fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness”—then you will
understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time
when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer
willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. hope, sirs, you
can understand our legitimate and unavoidable im­patience.
You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to
break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so
diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court’s decision of
1954 outlaw­ing segregation in the public schools, at first glance
it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws.
One may well ask: “How can you advocate breaking some laws
and obeying others?” The answer lies in the fact that there
are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to
advocate obeying just laws One has not only a legal but a moral
responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral
responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St.
Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.”
Now, what is the difference between the two? How does one
determine whether a law is just or unjust? A just law is a manmade code that squares with the moral law or the law of God.
An unjust law is a code that is out of harmony with the moral
law.
To put it in the terms of St. Thomas Aquinas: An unjust law is
a human law that is not rooted in eternal law and natural law.
Any law that uplifts human personality is just. Any law that
degrades human personality is unjust.
All segregation statutes are unjust because segregation distorts
the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator
a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of
inferiority. .
Let us consider a more concrete example of just and unjust laws.
An unjust law is a code that a numerical or power majority
group compels a minority group to obey but does not make
binding on itself. This is difference made legal. By the same
228 fieldston american reader
token, a just law is a code that a majority compels a minority
to follow and that it is willing to follow itself. This is sameness
made legal.
Let me give another explanation. A law is unjust if it is inflicted
on a minority that, as a result of being denied the right to vote,
had no part in enacting or devising the law. Who can say that
the legisla­ture of Alabama which set up that state’s segregation
laws was dem­ocratically elected?
Throughout Alabama all sorts of devious methods are used to
prevent Negroes from becoming registered voters, and there
are some counties in which, even though Negroes constitute
a majority of the population, not a single Negro is registered.
Can any law enacted under such circumstances be considered
democratically structured?
Sometimes a law is just on its face and unjust in its application.
For instance, I have been arrested on a charge of parading
without a permit. Now, there is nothing wrong in having an
ordinance which requires a permit for a parade. But such an
ordinance becomes unjust when it is used to maintain segregation and to
deny citizens the First-Amendment privilege of peaceful
assembly and protest.
I hope you are able to see the distinction I am trying to point
out. In no sense do I advocate evading or defying the law, as
would the rabid segregationist. That would lead to anarchy.
One who breaks an unjust law must do so openly, lovingly
and with a willingness to accept the penalty. I submit that an
individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust,
and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order
to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is
in reality express­ing the highest respect for law.
Of course, there is nothing new about this kind of civil disobe­
dience. It was evidenced sublimely in the refusal of Shadrach,
Mes­hach, and Abednego to obey the laws of Nebuchadnezzar,
on the ground that a higher moral law was at stake. It was
practiced su­perbly by the early Christians, who were willing
to face hungry lions and the excruciating pain of chopping
blocks rather than submit to certain unjust laws of the Roman
Empire.
To a degree, academic freedom is a reality today because So­crates
practiced civil disobedience. In our own nation, the Boston
Tea Party represented a massive act of civil disobedience.
We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in
Ger­many was “legal” and everything the Hungarian freedom
fighters did in Hungary was “illegal.” It was “illegal” to aid and
comfort a Jew in Hitler’s Germany. Even so, I am sure that,
had I lived in Germany at the time, I would have aided and
comforted my Jewish brothers. If today I lived in a Communist
country where certain principles dear to the Christian faith are
suppressed, I would openly advocate disobeying that country’s
anti-religious laws.
I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian
and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past
volume i – fall 2007
few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white
moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that
the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom
is not the White Citi­zen’s Councilor or the Ku Klux Klan, but
the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to
justice; who prefers a nega­tive peace which is the absence of
tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who
constantly says, “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I
cannot agree with your methods of direct
action”; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable
for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of
time and who constancy advises the Negro to wait for a “more
convenient season.
Shallow understanding from people of good will is more
frustrat­ing than absolute misunderstanding from people of
ill will. Luke­warm acceptance is much more bewildering
than outright rejection. I had hoped that the white moderate
would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of
establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they
become the dangerously struc­tured dams that block the flow of
social progress.
I had hoped that the white moderate would understand
that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of
the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the
Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and
positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and
worth of human personality.
Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the
creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden
tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where
it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be
cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all
its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice
must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to
the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion,
before it can be cured.
In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peace­
ful, must be condemned because they precipitate violence. But
is this a logical assertion? Isn’t this like condemning a robbed
man because his possession of money precipitated the evil act
of robbery? .
We must come to see that, as the federal courts have
consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge an individual to cease
his efforts to gain his basic constitutional rights because the
quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the robbed
and punish the robber.
I had also hoped that the white moderate would reject the myth
concerning time in relation to the struggle for freedom. .
Actually, time itself is neutral: it can be used either
destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that
people of ill will have used time much more effectively than
have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this
generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the
bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.
Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability:
it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be
coworkers with God, and without this hard work, time itself
becomes an ally of the forces of stagnation. We must use time
creatively;. in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do
right.
Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy
and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm
of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from
the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human
dignity.
You speak of our activity in Birmingham as extreme. At first
I was rather disappointed that fellow clergymen would see my
non­violent efforts as those of an extremist. I began thinking
about the fact that I stand in the middle of two opposing forces
in the Negro community.
One is a force of complacency, made up in part of Negroes who,
as a result of long years of oppression, are so drained of selfrespect and a sense of “somebodiness” that they have adjusted
to segregation; and in part of a few middle-class Negroes who,
because of a degree of academic and economic security and
because in some ways they profit by segregation, have become
insensitive to the problems of the masses.
The other force is one of bitterness and hatred, and it comes
peril­ously close to advocating violence. It is expressed in the
various black nationalist groups that are springing up across the
nation, the largest and best-known being Elijah Muhammad’s
Muslim move­ment. Nourished by the Negro’s frustration over
the continued existence of racial discrimination, this movement
is made up of people who have lost faith in America, who have
absolutely repudi­ated Christianity, and who have concluded
that the white man is an Incorrigible “devil.”
I have tried to stand between these two forces, saying that we
need emulate neither the “do-nothings” of the complacent nor
the hatred and despair of the black nationalist. For there is the
more excellent way of love and nonviolent protest. I am grateful
to God that, through the influence of the Negro church, the
way of nonviolence became an integral part of our struggle.
If this philosophy had not emerged, by now many streets of
the South would, I am convinced, be flowing with blood. And
I am farther convinced that if our white brothers dismiss as
rabble rousers” and “outside agitators” those of us who employ
non-violent direct action, and if they refuse to support our
nonviolent efforts, millions of Negroes will, out of frustration
and despair, seek solace and security in black-nationalist
ideologie, a development that would inevitably lead to a
frightening racial nightmare.
Oppressed people cannot remain oppressed forever. The yearn­
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ing for freedom eventually manifests itself, and that is what
has happened to the American Negro. Something within has
reminded him of his birthright of freedom, and something
without has re­minded him that it can be gained. Consciously
or unconsciously, he has been caught up by the Zeitgeist, and
with his black brothers of Africa and his brown and yellow
brothers of Asia, South America and the Caribbean, the
United States Negro is moving with a sense of great urgency
toward the promised land of racial justice.
If one recognizes this vital urge that has engulfed the Negro
community, one should readily understand why public
demonstra­tions are taking place. The Negro has many pent-up
resentments and latent frustrations, and he must release them.
So let him march; let him make prayer pilgrimages to the city
hall; let him go on freedom rides-and try to understand why
he must do so.
If his repressed emotions are not released in nonviolent
ways, they will seek expression through violence; this is not
a threat but a fact of history. So I have not said to my people,
“Get rid of your discontent.” Rather, I have tried to say that
this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into
the