American prose (1607-1865)

Preface

This book is a companion volume to American Poems, and like that is intended chiefly for use in schools and colleges. The selections from American prose of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are expected to supply all the reading in these periods that most classes will need; they have been chosen for their historical significance as well as their literary interest, and represent the various phases of American life in colonial and revolutionary times. The selections from the prose of the nineteenth century are limited to tales, essays, and orations by the greater writers, and stop with the end of the Civil War; this limitation of scope has made it possible to include ample material for classroom study and much for outside reading, in the chief authors, and in most cases to print complete works. It may be especially noted that the speeches by Calhoun, Webster, and Lincoln afford a basis for the study of American oratory in its prime, and at a great crisis in the history of the nation.

The text follows with scrupulous care the text of the early editions. I have reproduced spelling, capitalization, punctuation, use of italics, etc., in the belief that- students should read even the older works as they originally appeared, thus becoming familiar with their flavor and atmosphere, and gaining a sense of the historical development of language and typographical usage. The interchange of i and/ and of u and v has not been kept, however, because it is confusing to inexperienced readers; and obvious misprints, and a few eccentricities of punctuation and capitalization that obscured the thought, have been corrected.

The explanatory notes are few and brief, dealing only with points of real difficulty to students of average intelligence. The illustrative notes consist mainly of specimens of contemporary

VI PREFACE

criticism on writers of the nineteenth century; they have been collected from many sources, and show the impression made at home and abroad by the most famous American authors during their lifetime.

My thanks are due to Mr. Champlin Burrage, librarian of the John Carter Brown Library at Brown University, and to his assistants, for aid in utilizing the resources of that unique collection of Americana; to Librarian Harry L. Koopman and his staff, for facilitating my use of the Brown University Library; and to Doubleday, Page & Co., and Mr. J. S. Bassett, for permission to print extracts from the copyright edition of William Byrd's works. My wife has been co-editor of the book, helping in the choice of material, aiding in the collation of texts, preparing the copy, making the indices, and sharing in the labor of reading the proofs.

W. C. B.

La Jolla, California April 6, 1916

Contents

PAGE

Preface

From A True Relation i

Letter I 176 From Free Thoughts on the Proceedings of the Continental

Congress . 180

A Pretty Story 183

Speech in the Virginia Convention of Delegates 197

From A Narrative of Col. Ethan Allen's Captivity .... 200

From Common Sense 202

CONTENTS

The Unanimous Declaration of the Thirteen United States of

America 205

Answer to Congress on His Appointment as Commander-in-Chief 209

To Mrs. Martha Washington 209

From A Letter to the President of Congress 211

From Farewell Address 214

From The Federalist

Further Defects of the Present Constitution 216

From A History of New York 224

From The Sketch Book

Rip Van Winkle 229

The Mutability of Literature • . 243

From Tales of a Traveller

The Strolling Manager 252

From The Alhambra

Legend of the Arabian Astrologer ........ 264

A Descent into the Maelstrom 280

The Fall of the House of Usher 295

The Pit and the Pendulum 313

The Purloined Letter 327

The American Scholar 345

The Over-Soul 362

Nature 377

Behavior 391

The Minister's Black Veil 406

Dr. Heidegger's Experiment 418

Rappaccini's Daughter ' . . . . 428

Feathertop; a Moralized Legend 455

CONTENTS xi

Henry D. Thoreau From Walden

Where I Lived, and What I Lived For 474

Brute Neighbors 487

From The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table

From Leaves from My Journal in Italy and Elsewhere

At Sea 536

Carlyle 564

Speech on the Slavery Question 589

The Constitution and the Union 608

Address at Cooper Institute 647

Address at the Dedication of the Gettysburg National Cemetery . 666

Second Inaugural Address 667

Index of Authors 735

Index of Titles 735

FROM

A TRUE RELATION

40. miles I passed up ye river, which for the most part is a quarter of a mile broad, & 3. fatham & a half deep, exceeding osey, many great low marshes, & many high lands, especially about ye midst at a place called Moysonicke, a Peninsule of 4. miles ci[r]cuit, betwixt two rivers joyned to the main, by a neck of 40. or 50. yards, and 40. or 50 yards from the high water marke: on both sides in the very necke of the maine, are high hills and dales, yet much inhabited, the He declining in a plaine fertile corne field, the lower end a low marsh. More plentie of swannes, cranes, geese, duckes, and mallards, & divers sorts of fowles none would desire: more plaine fertile planted ground, in such great proportions as there I had not seene, of a light blacke sandy mould, the cliffes commonly red, white and yellowe coloured sand, & under red & white clay; fish great plenty, & people aboundance, the most of their inhabitants, in view of ye neck of Land, where a better seat for a towne cannot be desired. At the end of forty miles this river invironeth many low Hands, at each high water drowned for a mile, where it uniteth it selfe, at a place called Apokant the highest Towne inhabited.

10. miles higher I discovered with the barge: in the mid way, a great tree hindred my passage which I cut in two: heere the river became narrower, 8. 9 or 10. foote at a high water, and 6. or 7. at a lowe: the streame exceeding swift, & the bottom hard channell, the ground most part a low plaine, sandy soyle. This occasioned me to suppose it might issue from some lake or some broad ford, for it could not be far to the head, but rather then I would endanger the barge, Yet to have beene able to resolve this doubt, & to discharge the imputation of malicious tungs, that halfe suspected I durst not for so long delaying, some of the company as desirous as my self, we resolved to hier a Canow, and returne with the barge to Apocant, there to leave the barge secure, and put our selves uppon the adventure: the country onely a vast and wilde wildernes, and but onely that Towne. Within three or foure mile we hired a Canow, and 2. Indians to row us ye next day a fowling: having made such provision for the barge as was needfull, I left her there to ride, with expresse charge not any to go ashore til my returne. Though some wise men may condemn this too bould attempt of too much indiscretion, yet if they well consider the friendship of the Indians, in conducting me, the desolatenes of the country, the propabilitie of some lacke, & the malicious judges of my actions at home, as also to have some matters of worth to incourage our adventurers in england, might well have caused any honest minde to have done the like, as wel for his own discharge as for the publike good.

Having 2 Indians for my guide & 2 of our own company, I set forward, leaving 7 in the barge. Having discovered 20 miles further in this desart, the river stil kept his depth and bredth, but much more combred with trees.. Here we went ashore (being some 12 miles higher then ye barge had bene) to refresh our selves, during the boyling of our vituals: one of the Indians I tooke with me, to see the nature of the soile, & to crosse the boughts of the river: the other Indian I left with M. Robbinson and Thomas Emry, with their matches light and order to discharge a peece, for my retreat at the first sight of any Indian. But within a quarter of a houre I heard a loud cry, and a hollowing of Indians, but no warning peece. Supposing them surprised, and that the Indians had betraid us, presently I seazed him & bound his arme fast to my hand in a garter, with my pistoll ready bent to be revenged on him: he advised me to fly, and seemed ignorant of what was done. But as we went discoursing, I was struck with an arrow on the right thigh,. but without harme: upon this occasion I espied 2 Indians drawing their bowes, which I prevented in discharging a french pistoll. By that I had charged againe 3 or 4 more did the like, for the first fell downe and fled: at my discharge they did the like. My hinde I made my barricado, who offered not to strive. 20. or 30. arrowes were shot at me but short. 3 or 4 times I had discharged my pistoll ere the king of Pamaunck called Opeckankenough with 200 men, invironed me, eache drawing their bowe, which done they laid them upon the ground, yet without shot. My hinde treated betwixt them and me of conditions of peace; he discovered me to be the Captaine: my request was to retire to ye boate: they demaunded my armes, the rest they saide were slaine, onely me they would reserve.

The Indian importuned me not to shoot. In retiring being in the midst of a low quagmire, and minding them more then my steps, I stept fast into the quagmire, and also the Indian in drawing me forth. Thus surprised, I resolved to trie their mercies: my armes I caste from me, till which none durst approch me. Being ceazed on me, they drew me out and led me to the King. I presented him with a compasse diall, describing by my best meanes the use therof , whereat he so amazedly admired, as he suffered me to proceed in a discourse of the roundnes of the earth, the course of the sunne, moone, starres and plannets. With kinde speeches and bread he requited me, conducting me where the Canow lay and John Robbinson slaine, with 20 or 30. arrowes in him. Entry I saw not. I perceived by the aboundance of fires all over the woods, At each place I expected when they would execute me, yet they used me with what kindnes they could.

Approaching their Towne, which was within 6 miles where I was taken, onely made as arbors and covered with mats, which they remove as occasion requires: all the women and children, being advertised of this accident, came foorth to meet them, the King well guarded with 20 bowmen 5 flanck and rear, and each flanck before him a sword & a peece, and after him the like, then a bowman, then I on each hand a boweman, the rest in file in the reare, which reare led foorth amongst the trees in a bishion, eache his bowe and a handfull of arrowes, a quiver at his back grimly painted: on eache flanck a sargeant, the one running alwaies towards the front the other towards the reare, each a true pace and in exceeding good order. This being a good time continued, they caste themselves in a ring with a daunce, and so eache man departed to his lodging.

The Captain conducting me to his lodging, a quarter of Venison and some ten pound of bread I had for supper : what I left was reserved for me, and sent with me to my lodging. Each morning 3. women presented me three great platters of fine bread, more venison then ten men could devour I had: my gowne, points and garters, my compas and a tablet they gave me again. Though 8 ordinarily guarded me, I wanted not what they could devise to content me: and still our longer acquaintance increased our better affection.

FROM

A MAP OF VIRGINIA

They [the Indians] are very strong, of an able body and full of agilitie, able to endure to lie in the woods under a tree by the fire, in the worst of winter, or in the weedes and grasse, in Ambuscado in the Sommer. They are inconstant in everie thing, but what feare constraineth them to keepe. Craftie, timerous, quicke of apprehension & very ingenuous. Some are of disposition fearefull, some bold, most cautelous, all Savage. GeneraUy covetous of coppeer, beads, & such like trash. They are soone moved to anger, and so malitious, that they seldome forget an injury: they seldome steale one from another, least their conjurers should reveale it, and so they be pursued and punished. That they are thus feared is certaine, but that any can reveale their offences by conjuration I am doubtfull. Their women are carefull not to bee suspected of dishonesty without the leave of their husbands. Each houshold knoweth their owne lands & gardens, and most live of their owne labours.

For their apparell, they are some time covered with the skinnes of wilde beasts, which in winter are dressed with the haire, but in sommer without. The better sort use large mantels of deare skins not much differing in fashion from the Irish mantels. Some imbrodered with white beads, some with copper, other painted after their manner. But the common sort have scarce to cover their nakednesse but with grasse, the leaves of trees, or such like. We have seen some use mantels made of Turky feathers, so prettily wrought and woven with threeds that nothing could bee discerned but the feathers, that was exceeding warme and very handsome. But the women are alwaies covered about their midles with a skin and very shamefast to be seene bare. They adorne themselves most with copper beads and paintings. Their women some have their legs, hands, brests and face cunningly imbrodered with diverse workes, as beasts, serpentes, artificially wrought into their flesh with blacke spots. In each eare commonly they have 3 great holes, whereat they hange chaines bracelets or copper. Some of their men weare in those holes, a smal greene & yellow coloured snake, neare halfe a yard in length, which crawling & lapping her selfe about his necke often times familiarly would kisse his lips. Others wear a dead Rat tied by the tail. Some on their heads weare the wing of a bird, or some large feather with a Rattell. Those Rattels are somewhat like the chape of a Rapier but lesse, which they take from the taile of a snake. Many have the whole skinne of a hawke or some strange fowle, stuffed with the wings abroad. Others a broad peece of copper, and some the hand of their enemy dryed. Their heads and shoulders are painted red with the roote Pocone braied to powder mixed with oyle, this they hold in somer to preserve them from the heate, and in winter from the cold. Many other formes of paintings they use, but he is the most gallant that is the most monstrous to behould.

Their buildings & habitations are for the most part by the rivers or not farre distant from some fresh spring. Their houses are built like our Arbors of small young springs bowed and tyed, and so close covered with mats, or the barkes of trees very handsomely, that notwithstanding either winde, raine or weather, they are as warme as stooves, but very smoaky, yet at the toppe of the house there is a hole made for the smoake to goe into right over the fire. Against the fire they lie on little hurdles of Reedes covered with a mat, borne from the ground a foote and more by a hurdle of wood. On these round about the house they lie heads and points one by thother against the fire, some covered with mats, some with skins, and some starke naked lie on the ground, from 6 to 20 in a house. Their houses are in the midst of their fields or gardens which are smal plots of ground, some 20, some 40. some 100 some 200. some more, some lesse; some times from 2 to 100 of those houses togither, or but a little separated by groves of trees. Neare their habitations is little small wood or old trees on the ground, by reason of their burning of them for fire. So that a man may gallop a horse amongst these woods any waie, but where the creekes or Rivers shall hinder.

Men women and children have their severall names according to the severall humor of their Parents. Their women (they say) are easilie delivered of childe, yet doe they love children verie dearly. To make them hardy, in the coldest mornings they wash them in the rivers and by painting and ointments so tanne their skins, that after a year or two, no weather will hurt them.

The men bestowe their times in fishing, hunting, wars & such manlike exercises, scorning to be seene in any woman like exercise, which is the cause that the women be verie painefull and the men often idle. The women and children do the rest of the worke. They make mats, baskets, pots, morters, pound their come, make their bread, prepare their victuals, plant their corne, gather their corne, beare al kind of burdens and such like.

Their fire they kindle presently by chafing a dry pointed sticke in a hole of a little square peece of wdod, that firing it selfe, will so fire mosse, leaves, or anie such like drie thing, that will quickly burne.

In March and Aprill they live much upon their fishing weares, and feed on fish, Turkies and squirrels. In May and June they plant their fieldes and live most of Acornes, walnuts, and fish. But to mend their diet, some disperse themselves in small companies & live upon fish, beasts, crabs, oysters, land Torteyses, straw berries, mulberries, & such like. In June, Julie, and August they feed upon the rootes of Tocknough berries, fish and greene wheat. It is strange to see how their bodies alter with their diet, even as the deare and wilde beastes they seeme fat and leane, strong and weak. Powhatan their great king and some others that are provident, rost their fish and flesh upon hurdles as before is expressed, and keepe it till scarce times.

For fishing and hunting and warres they use much their bow and arrowes. They bring their bowes to the forme of ours by the scraping of a shell. Their arrowes are made some of straight young sprigs which they head with bone, some 2 or 3 inches long. These they use to shoot at squirrels on trees. An other sort of arrowes they use made of reeds. These are peeced with wood, headed with splinters of christall or some sharpe stone, the spurres of a Turkey, or the bill of some bird. For his knife he hath the splinter of a reed to cut his feathers in forme. With this knife also, he will joint a Deare or any beast, shape his shooes, buskins, mantels, &c. To make the noch of his arrow hee hath the tooth of a Bever, set in a sticke, wherewith he grateth it by degrees. His arrow head he quickly maketh with a little bone, which he ever weareth at his bracer, of any splint of a stone, or glasse in the forme of a hart; and these they glew to the end of their arrowes. With the sinewes of Deare, and the tops of Deares homes boiled to a jelly, they make a glew that will not dissolve in cold water.

For their wars also they use Targets that are round and made of the barkes of trees, and a sworde of wood at their backs, but oftentimes they use for swords the home of a Deare put through a peece of wood in forme of a Pickaxe. Some, a long stone sharpned at both ends used in the same manner. This they were wont to use also for hatchets, but now by trucking they have plenty of the same forme of yron. And those are their chiefe instruments and armes.

Their fishing is much in Boats. These they make of one tree by bowing & scratching away the coles with stons & shels till they have made it in forme of a Trough. Some of them are an elne deepe, and 40 or 50 foot in length, and some will beare 40 men, but the most ordinary are smaller and will beare 10, 20, or 30. according to their bignes. Insteed of oares, they use paddles and sticks with which they will row faster then our Barges.

Betwixt their hands and thighes, their women use to spin the barks of trees, deare sinews, or a kind of grasse they call Pemmenaw; of these they make a thred very even & readily. This thred serveth for many uses, as about their housing, apparell, as also they make nets for fishing, for the quantity as formally braded as ours. They make also with it lines for angles. Their hookes are either a bone grated as they nock their arrows, in the forme of a crooked pinne or fishook, or of the splinter of a bone tied to the clift of a litle stick, and with the ende of the line, they tie on the bate. They use also long arrowes tyed in a line wherewith they shoote at fish in the rivers. But they of Accawmack use staves like unto Javelins headed with bone. With these they dart fish swimming in the water. They have also many artificiall weares in which they get abundance of fish.

FROM

OF PLIMOTH PLANTATION

THE PILGRIMS' SEARCH FOR A HARBOR

The month of November being spente in these affairs, & much foule weather falling in, the 6. of Desemr: they sente out their shallop againe with 10. of their principall men, & some sea men, upon further discovery, intending to circulate that deepe bay of Cap-codd. The weather was very could, & it frose so hard as ye sprea of ye sea lighting on their coats, they were as if they had been glased; yet that night betimes they gott downe into ye botome of ye bay, and as they drue nere ye shore they saw some 10. or 12. Indeans very busie aboute some thing. They landed aboute a league or 2. from them, and had much a doe to put a shore any wher, it lay so full of flats. Being landed, it grew late, and they made them selves a barricade with loggs & bowes as well as they could in ye time, & set out their sentenill & betooke them to rest, and saw ye smoake of ye fire ye savages made yt night. When morning was come they devided their company, some to coaste along ye shore in ye boate, and the rest marched throw ye woods to see ye land, if any fit place might be for theii dwelling. They came allso to ye place wher they saw the Indans ye night before, & found they had been cuting up a great fish like a grampus, being some 2. inches thike of fate like a hogg, some peeces wher of they had left by ye way; and ye shallop found 2. more of these fishes dead on ye sands, a thing usuall after storms in yt place, by reason of ye great flats of sand that lye of. So they ranged up and doune all yt day, but found no people, nor any place they liked.

When ye sune grue low, they hasted out of ye woods to meete with their shallop, to whom they made signes to come to them into a creeke hardby, the which they did at high water; of which they were very glad, for they had not seen each other all yt day, since ye morning, So they made them a barricado (as usually they did every night) with loggs, staks, & thike pine bowes, ye height of a man, leaving it open to leeward, partly to shelter them from ye could & wind (making their fire in ye midle, & lying round aboute it) , and partly to defend them from any sudden assaults of ye savags, if they should surround them. So being very weary, they betooke them to rest. But aboute midnight, they heard a hideous & great crie, and their sentinell caled, "Arme, arme"; so they bestired them & stood to their armes, & shote of a cupple of moskets, and then the noys seased. They concluded it was a companie of wolves, or such like willd beasts; for one of ye sea men tould them he had often heard shuch a noyse in Newfound land. So they rested till about 5. of ye clock in the morning; for ye tide, & ther purposs to goe from thence, made them be stiring betimes. So after praier they prepared for breakfast, and it being day dawning, it was thought best to be earring things downe to ye boate. But some said it was not best to carrie ye armes downe, others said they would be the readier, for they had laped them up in their coats from ye dew. But some 3. or 4. would not cary theirs till they wente them selves, yet as it fell out, ye water being not high enough, they layed them downe on ye banke side, & came up to breakfast.

But presently, all on ye sudain, they heard a great & strange crie, which they knew to be the same voyces they heard in ye night, though they varied their notes, & one of their company being abroad came runing in, & cried, "Men, Indeans, Indeans"; and wthall, their arowes came flying amongst them. Their men rane with all speed to recover their armes, as by ye good providence of God they did. In ye mean time, of those that were ther ready, tow muskets were discharged at them, & 2. more stood ready in ye enterance of ther randevoue, but were comanded not to shoote till they could take full aime at them; & ye other 2. charged againe with ail speed, for ther were only 4. had armes ther, & defended ye baricado which was first assalted. The crie of ye Indeans was dreadfull, espetially when they saw ther men rune out of ye randevoue towourds ye shallop, to recover their armes, the Indeans wheeling aboute upon them. But some running out with coats of malle on, & cutlasses in their hands, they soone got their armes, & let flye amongs them, and quickly stopped their violence. Yet ther was a lustie man, and no less valiante, stood behind a tree within halfe a musket shot, and let his arrows flie at them. He was seen shoot 3. arrowes, which were all avoyded. He stood 3. shot of a musket, till one taking full aime at him, and made ye barke or splinters of ye tree fly about his ears, after which he gave an extraordinary shrike, and away they wente all of them. They left some to keep ye shalop, and followed them aboute a quarter of a mille, and shouted once or twise, and shot of 2. or 3. peces, & so returned.

This they did, that. they might conceive that they were not affrade of them or any way discouraged. Thus it pleased God to vanquish their enimies, and give them deliverance; and by his spetiall providence so to dispose that not any one of them were either hurte, or hitt, though their arrows came close by them, & on every side them, and sundry of their coats, which hunge up in ye barricado, were shot throw & throw. Aterwards they gave God sollamne thanks & praise for their deliverance, & gathered up a bundle of their arrows, & sente them into England afterward by ye mr. of ye ship, and called that place ye first encounter. From hence they departed, & costed all along, but discerned no place likly for harbor ; & therf ore hasted to a place that their pillote, (one Mr. Coppin who had bine in ye cuntrie before) did assure them was a good harbor, which he had been in, and they might fetch it before night; of which they were glad, for it begane to be foule weather. After some houres sailing, it begane to snow & raine, & about ye midle of ye afternoone, ye wind increased, & ye sea became very rough, and they broake their rudder, & it was as much as 2. men could doe to steere her with a cupple of oares. But their pillott bad them be of good cheere, for he saw ye harbor; but ye storme increasing, & night drawing on, they bore what saile they could to gett in, while they could see. But herwith they broake their mast in 3. peeces, & their saill fell over bord, in a very grown sea, so as they had like to have been cast away; yet by Gods mercie they recovered them selves, & having ye floud with them, struck into ye harbore.

But when it came too, ye pillott was deceived in ye place, and said, ye Lord be mercifull unto them, for his eys never saw yt place before; & he & the mr. mate would have rune her ashore, in a cove full of breakers, before ye winde. But a lusty seaman which steered, bad those which rowed, if they were men, about with her, or ells they were all cast away ; the which they did with speed. So he bid them be of good cheere & row lustly, for ther was a faire sound before them, & he doubted not but they should find one place or other wher they might ride in saftie. And though it was very darke, and rained sore, yet in ye end they gott under ye lee of a smalle iland, and remained ther all yt night in saftie. But they knew not this to be an iland till morning, but were devided in their minds; some would keepe ye boate for fear they might be amongst ye Indians; others were so weake and could, they could not endure, but got a shore, & with much adoe got fire, (all things being so wett,) and ye rest were glad to come to them; for after midnight ye wind shifted to the north-west, & it frose hard. But though this had been a day & night of much trouble & danger unto them, yet God gave them a morning of comforte & refreshing (as usually he doth to his children), for ye next day was a faire sunshining day, and they found them sellvs to be on an iland secure from ye Indeans, wher they might drie their stufe, fixe their peeces, & rest them selves, and gave God thanks for his mercies, in their manifould deliverances. And this being the last day of ye weeke, they prepared ther to keepe ye Sabath. On Munday they sounded ye harbor, and founde it fitt for shipping;